Disclaimer: - The Winchesters don't belong to me; I just like playing with them.
A/N:- Thanks for the reviews. It's nice to know I'm on the right track. Here's the second chapter.
Chapter 2: – Confirmation
"This has gotta be it," Dean muttered, looking out of the windshield at the approaching houses, having seen nothing but fields for over half an hour.
"If we drive any further we'll be in the Atlantic," Sam muttered sleepily from under a jacket. Neither of them had slept much having been on the road for nearly three days.
"No shit Sherlock," Dean laughed cuffing his brother as he turned onto the road which led into the town.
"Fuck off Dean," Sam groaned, shifting in his seat and trying to go back to sleep.
"No way man, you dragged us half way across the country for this so you better wake up right now," he said, turning up the tape player from which Led Zeppelin blared out. He reached over and grabbed a handful of Sam's clothes trying to pull him up into sitting position.
Grumbling and cursing under his breath, Sam grudgingly sat up squinting in the harsh sunlight.
"Here," said Dean, handing him a polystyrene cup of black coffee. "It's probably cold, but should do the business."
Sam took the cup and gulped down the lukewarm liquid, swallowing hard against the nauseating sensation which revolted against the sludge his brother called coffee.
Dean smiled with satisfaction as his brother's face contorted. "You better not hurl in here," he muttered pushing Sam towards the open window. "There you go buddy," he said, patting him on the shoulder with an amused smirk.
Sam leant his head against the window frame and breathed deeply. "Don't even think about it," he muttered, as Dean opened his mouth.
"What? I didn't say anything?" Dean grinned.
"Yeah well you were thinking it!"
"Great, first you get friggin ESP and now you're turning into psychic Missouri! What next-"
"I'll shove a flagpole up your ass if you don't shut up."
"Ouch someone's got their boxers in a twist. They are boxers right? You don't go in for any of those briefs or G-string type thingy's."
"DEAN!" Sam snapped.
"Okay okay, just asking," he said, holding up his hand in defeat, though continuing to grin out of the windshield.
Sitting behind the counter of the local surf shack, a girl with curly chestnut-brown hair pulled back roughly in a bun sighed with boredom. She wore a bright aqua vest top, faded jeans and flip-flops. The shop had been empty all morning and she had cleaned everything at least five times.
Finally giving up hope of any customers or her father's appearance so she could have a lunch break, she grabbed the keys off the counter and headed for the door, sticking up a note in the window reading 'Will be back in five minutes. If it's urgent, I'm across the road at the café.' Locking up, she walked across the street towards the café as a classic black car turned the corner.
Dean drove the car slowly up the road glancing round at the white-washed houses and businesses which lined the street.
"That must be it," said Sam, pointing to a small surf shack on their left near to where a girl was crossing the street.
Dean pulled up into a small gravel car park overlooking the beach and turned off the engine. Leaning back he groaned as he rubbed his stiff neck and shoulders. "That has to be the longest trip we've ever done," he muttered, his eyes closed.
"Yeah," Sam agreed, as he pushed open the passenger door and let a gentle breeze blow through the hot and stuffy car. Sighing as he let out a deep breath, he slouched down into his seat, the hot sun dancing upon his face. "It's been a long time since I felt that breeze."
"Ehh?" said Dean, cracking open an eye. "What you rambling on about peewee?"
Sam threw an arm out, clubbing his brother in the stomach. He smiled as Dean drew in a sharp intake of breath and doubled over.
"Aww man, that was a bit below the belt," he said with a hollow laugh.
"Yeah, so is your brain!"
"Very funny," Dean muttered sarcastically, as he pushed open the car door and climbed out. "Come on smart ass, we got a job to do."
"Hey Bob," the girl smiled, as she entered the café and stood playing absent-mindedly with her detailed necklace, a delicate bracelet tinkling as it slid up her arm.
Bob, a rather short and plump man in his mid-fifties with silvery hair looked round with a broad smile across his ruddy face. "Alex!" he exclaimed. "Just the person I wanted to see." He threw aside the cloth he had been using to wipe down the already sparkling bar and motioned her forwards.
The café-restaurant was a small but bright and airy place. The bar lined the left hand side wall and was made of a deep, rich and highly varnished mahogany. Several booths lined the opposite wall with chintz chairs and spindly tables making up the rest of the mishmash of furniture.
"How are you doing hun?"
"Okay, I guess," Alex replied distantly, moving towards the bar and climbing onto a bar stool.
"And your father?" Bob continued, pouring Alex a glass of real lemonade and placing it in front of her.
Alex looked down at the bar, her shoulders sagging. She pulled at the elastic band which held her hair up in a bun, making her curls drop roughly onto her shoulders, hiding her face.
"I dunno," she sighed sadly. "Ever since the-" she gulped, "he's locked himself away in his study. He can't bear to be near me." 'And I don't blame him,' she added mentally.
Bob gave her a weak smile.
"So how's business?" she continued in a falsely cheery voice, trying to change the subject.
"See for yourself," Bob grinned, pointing at the empty café.
"Same over the road," Alex sighed, shaking her head.
"Always the same this time of year," Bob muttered, dusting off the till. "So what can I get you?"
"The usual," Alex smiled, though it wasn't reflected in her eyes.
"Coming right up," came the reply, as he walked down the counter to where a door leading to the kitchen stood open, wiping his hands on his crisp white apron.
Alex followed him down the counter, taking a step across the bar entrance.
"Ahahah," Bob muttered with a grin. "Where do you think you're going missy?"
"I was just-"
"Back that side of the counter if you don't mind," he laughed, trying to sound pompous to which Alex rolled her eyes.
Sam stepped out of the car, pushing the door closed behind him before following Dean up to the surf shack.
"Great," Dean muttered. "Nearly three days of travelling and they're out."
"Yeah, but the sign says they're across the street and I'm starving," Sam grinned.
They crossed the street and opened the café door, Sam instantly recognising the girl who was standing by the bar as the one from his vision.
"And stay away from my candy jar," Bob called from the kitchen, as Alex made her way back around the bar and leant over the counter for the jar. "They're for employees only."
"I … I would never dream of touching it," Alex tried innocently.
"Like hell you wouldn't," came the good-natured reply.
Alex smiled, giving her first proper smile since her birthday nearly a week before. "Anyway I do work here occasionally," she laughed meekly. Bob was always able to put a smile on her face with his easy manners and relaxed charm.
"Not right now you ain't. So keep those paws off!"
Still grinning gently, Alex took a seat at the bar and looked round as the door behind her swung open. Gazing at the two newcomers, she noted that one was slightly taller than the other, but both were handsome, though the pair looked tired and drawn, like she herself felt. The taller of the two wore a casual t-shirt, a pair of jeans and sneakers, whilst the shorter of the two sported a black jacket, t-shirt, jeans and boots.
Alex raised her eyebrow in amusement, thinking neither of them fitted the beach guy look, and looked rather grungy and dirty, both needing a shave. "Take a seat," she said, as they hesitated by the entrance. She turned back to the open kitchen door, shouting "Bob, you've got customers."
Bob popped his head around the doorway with a frying pan in his hand. "Well you gonna help me or not?"
"I thought I wasn't allowed behind the bar," Alex smiled cheekily.
"Smart ass," he muttered good-humouredly.
"Why thank you," Alex said, forcing her most charming smile, which wasn't reflected in her eyes.
Bob pointed a spatula at her playfully and with his other hand threw her an apron, trying to ignore the tormented expression he could see visibly in his young friend's eyes. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all," said Alex, tying the apron round her waist and making her way to the other side of the bar. "What can I get you?" she said, turning her attention to the two men.
"Two beers," Dean answered, wearing his most irresistible smile.
"Oi Bob, you better serve, they want alcohol."
"For god's sake Alex, I'm busy."
"Your licence," she shrugged, whisking out two bottles of chilled beer from the refrigerator and took the tops off with two nifty movements.
"You've done that before," Dean grinned. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam."
Looking at the pair lost in thought she muttered "I'm Alex." An amused smile twitched at the corners of her lips as she observed Dean's cheeky eyes, her eyebrow raised. "Can I get you anything else?"
"Yeah can we get some food?" Sam asked politely, glancing at his brother with a disbelieving look.
"What would you like?" she asked, trying to keep her own wandering gaze from glancing out of the glass windows towards the blackened upstairs floor of her house across the street.
"What's good?" Dean grinned, not noticing her wandering attention.
"Well Bob's specialty is a full blown BLT. Hot bacon, lettuce and tomato on a lightly toasted sandwich," she said, forcing her attention back to the two young men sitting in front of her. From the kitchen she could smell the cooking bacon as the aroma began to fill the air.
"We'll get two of those then please," Sam answered, hearing his stomach groan at the delicious smell wafting out of the kitchen.
Alex headed down to the open door asking Bob for two more sandwiches.
"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Sam whispered sharply.
"What?" tried Dean innocently.
"You know full well what," he hissed, rolling his eyes as Alex walked back up the bar.
Bending down and taking the candy jar, she grabbed a handful of sweets chucking some to Dean and Sam, who were sitting on stools at the other side of the counter, with a mischievous smile before replacing it hurriedly as Bob's footsteps came closer.
"Here you go Alex," he said, coming out of the kitchen and handing her a bag with her sandwich in it. "And you better not have touched my jar," he said, raising his eyebrow as he looked at it critically.
"Course I haven't," she said, smiling innocently as she gave him a quick heartfelt hug. "Anyway I better get back," she said, her spirits faltering as she looked towards the window. "Knowing my luck there'll be a mad rush or dad will be on the war path." She grimaced as she undid the apron and threw it back to him before leaving the café, running over the street and disappearing into the surf shack, leaving Dean, Sam and Bob to stare after her in silence.
"Where are you guys from?" Bob asked, turning his attention to the two young men sitting in front of him and trying to make idle chitchat.
"A bit of everywhere really," said Sam, glancing round at the deserted café. "We move around a lot. Don't like staying in the same place too long."
"Sounds interesting," Bob smiled. "I'm originally from a big city myself."
"Well this is about as far removed from a big city as you can get," Dean grinned.
"Yeah, well I fancied a change of scene," he muttered, neatening up the bottles of alcohol which lined the wall, trying not to remember what had made him leave. "So what can I get you boys?" he smiled, turning back to the pair and began wiping down the bar with his cloth.
"Two of your BLT's and two orders of fries please," Sam replied, looking at Dean who, trying to sound disinterested, took up the challenge of probing the man for information.
"Say, what happened over there?" Dean pointed at the burned out window of the house above the surf shack through the café-restaurant window. "I noticed it as we drove in to town."
Bob's hand paused mid-wipe. He looked up at the pair critically. Shrugging off the niggling sensation in the pit of his stomach he shrugged slightly. "It's such a shame," he began with a sad smile, the twinkle he had held in his eye just moments before, vanishing. "There was a terrible fire. Poor woman died."
"Do they know what caused it?" Sam said giving him a penetrating, sympathetic expression, a look that Dean, to his annoyance and his amazement found worked like a charm on people who had information they needed.
Bob looked at the pair again, his eyes looking over them critically, suspicious of their curiosity. Looking from the shorter of the two, who seemed somewhat nosy and cocky, to the taller, who seemed to be genuinely interested and attentive, he found himself saying, "No. It's a bit of a mystery."
Dean shook his head, grinning inwardly. 'I really need to get Sam to teach me that look,' he thought. 'The way he's always able to get people, no matter how suspicious they are, to open up to him is genius. Though I'm not gonna tell him that,' he added as an afterthought.
Bob sighed, his eyes drifting towards the windows, as he reluctantly continued. "Alex, the girl that was just here, was the one that found her and saw what happened, but the Sheriff and her father believe she was in such shock that she doesn't know what she saw."
"How do you mean," Sam asked, snatching a glance at Dean who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and looked at his brother uneasily.
"Well she seems to think the fire wasn't accidental. She thinks … he stammered, "She thinks someone or something was in the room with them and did it."
"Whoa," said Sam under his breath, trying to sound shocked.
"Sounds crazy doesn't it?" sighed Bob, shaking his head as he looked down at the bar and continued to clean it.
"Do you believe her?" asked Dean, as tentatively as he could muster.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," Bob sighed. "Anyway I've said too much. I don't want to scare off my only customers." He forced a smile. "I'll cook you guys your food. I bet you're starving." Bob turned and made his way back to the kitchen leaving Dean and Sam alone.
"Dean, that was the girl from my vision," Sam muttered in a harsh whisper as soon as Bob was out of sight. "I'm telling ya Dean it was her!"
"Great, so what have we got to work with here," Dean muttered under his breath, keeping his eye on the door.
"Dean, it's the thing that killed mom and Jess!" Sam snapped under his breath, trying not to be overheard.
"Sammy something doesn't feel right."
"How can it not feel right," Sam struggled, trying to restrain his anger. "And it's Sam!"
"Gut feeling," Dean replied, trying to stay calm.
"Dean I saw it!"
Dean shook his head in frustration. "It just doesn't feel right. Couldn't it be something else? I dunno a spirit or something? I mean you saw Alex glow for god's sake!"
"I-"
"Well here they are," Bob said, killing the conversation stone dead as he placed the two sandwiches and fries in front of them.
After they had devoured their meals in an uncomfortable silence and Bob had cleared away, Dean and Sam headed back across the street to the surf shack. The tense silence dissolved as they passed a display board advertising surf lessons and entered the shop.