Harvelle's Supernatural

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural


Chapter 3: Simon Said

Skylar's P.O.V.

"Jo, are you seriously going to bet Ed on a shooting game?" I asked.

Jo just smiled, leading the hunter to the arcade corner. "How much are ya wagering?"

The hunter, Ed, a local customer, scratched his beard before coming up with an offer, "Two hundred bucks."

"Deal," Jo said. "Hey Sky, you got a quarter?"

I sighed, digging into my apron and pulled out a quarter for her to use. She took it in mere seconds, putting it in the machine. Taking a deep breath, I went over to the bar to clean some glasses. Tonight, was a low flow, though top customers are here. Jo takes the opportunity to rob these sons of bitches in gambling bets.

As I watched, cleaning glasses while Jo goes all professional on the Game. Ed was bemused in every shot she got. About three minutes later, it was Game Over, and the smile on her face says she won or got a good score from the bet.

"Damn, Little Lady, that was my room money," The hunter muttered, handing her the cash.

"Then I guess you're taking a truck nap tonight," Jo murmured before walking away.

Ellen walked over to the poor man, "I'd have checked the high scores before I put your money down." As she pressed the score button. "Went and got yourself hustled, Ed."

Ellen walked over to the bar pouring a glass of water. She took a sip then looked at me, "And you got demoted to second place."

"Aw man, it took ten quarters to beat her," I sarcastically whined.

Ellen chuckled, shaking her head. She came around and rubbed my shoulders, seeing how tense I was. "Relax, Skylar, the letters will come soon."

"It's been a month, Mom," I said. "What if I don't get accepted?"

"Then we'll make another application and try another degree. Honey, you don't have to do business or economics. Do what feels right for you, okay." She added.

"I know, but with the economy," I started.

"Ignore it, and focus on what you want," Ellen interrupted.

"Okay, if not accepted, I'll look at an art institute," I said.

Ellen nodded, tucking my brown hair, kissed my cheek before heading to the kitchen. I sighed, thinking about the future. Though noticing how much I'm starting to look like Mom, from the brown hair, fair skin, an oval face, except the eyes. My hazel eyes belong to my dad, William. Funny how Jo inherit most of his traits except having Mom's eyes while it is the other way around on me.

Anyway, I continued cleaning glasses till hearing Jo greet the next customers. Looking up, I saw the Winchesters. I smiled when seeing Sam. He and I are good friends now. On occasion, we would call each other either it is helping for a case or a minor conversation. Other times we text. But the central part is when he needed to the left off some steam that he can't share with his brother Dean. I mean, there are some things you need to let out without getting punched or looked down upon.

Jo greeted Dean first, having that infatuated look. Ever since the Winchesters came to the Roadhouse, Jo has been head over heels on Dean. Well, not full-on romance. She admires him for looks and hunters' spirit. They exchanged a few words before Sam came in, said something then headed to the back room where the guest and Ash sleep at. Dean said something before following his brother, leaving Jo and bit left out. She walked over to me.

"Men," she said.

"They're hunters, Jo," I murmured. "They come and go."

"Yeah, but for once, two guys come in who aren't itching to get in our pants," Jo stated.

"Whatever," I sighed. "Mom would have Dean's ass and put it on the mantle if he tried asking you out. Also, isn't he a bit old for ya?"

"He's roughly five years older than me." She said. "And isn't Sam four years older than you?"

"We're just friends," I told her. "And even if there were something, it would probably be platonic and sibling-like."

"Girl, you seriously need to increase your self-esteem," Jo said. "I mean, you're nineteen, and you still dress like a high schooler."

I stared down at my outfit, seeing I was wearing boot-cut jeans, sneakers, and a printed shirt with the Batman logo on the chest with yellow sleeves. As for Jo, she stood there with a cute top showing her cleavage, skinny jeans, and boots. Sad to say, Jo got the curves. I, on the other hand, am too boney and flat chested. Ellen and Jo make a joke saying I would get my curves after having a baby, but that would be a very long time before I consider having kids. Therefore, what I wear is what I wear.

I grab the dish rag and tossing it at her face, "Get back to work."

Jo chuckled, taking the rag off her face and walked around doing her rounds.

.o0o.

After thirty minutes later, the Roadhouse settled down as Ellen, Jo, and I started cleaning up the place before closing. About five customers were finishing their drink, so there won't be any more rounds. Ellen worked on the tables, getting the condiments refilled, Jo swept the floor while I work on the bar. Dean sat on a stool drinking a bear.

"Can I have another refill?" Dean asked.

"Aren't you driving tonight?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I only had one so far, Sky." He answered.

I sighed, taking his glass and filled it half full. He smiled with a wink before taking the glass and having a sip. "Aren't you young to be working at the bar?"

"What people don't know won't kill them," I countered.

"True," he agreed.

We went back to our neutral silence. Jo went to the Jukebox, putting a coin in, and played "I can't fight this feeling anymore" by R.E.O. Speedwagon. I sighed, rolling my eyes. For nineteen years, I heard nothing but the song from the eighties and under. There hasn't been any updated music on that machine, and I practically know every song on that stupid playlist.

Jo grabbed a tray of glasses from the table and set it on the bar. Dean looked at her, arching a brow. Jo stared back at him.

"What?" she asked.

"R.E.O. Speedwagon?" Dean asked.

"Damn right, R.E.O.," Jo agreed. "Keven Cronin sings it from the heart."

"He sings it from the hair. There's a difference." Dean disagreed.

"That profile you've got Ash looking for?" she started, to which Dean nodded. "Your mom died the same way, didn't she? The fire in Sam's nursery. "

"Jo, leave it," I warned her.

Talking about deceased family members is a sensitive topic in the community. Mainly the majority of hunters got into the occupation because their loved one died because of the supernatural.

"Look, Jo," Dean sighed. "It's kinda a family thing."

"I could help," Jo offered.

"Jo," I warned her.

"I'm sure you could," Dean said. "But we got to handle this one ourselves. Besides, if I ran off with you, think your mother might kill me."

I snorted, looking over my shoulder to see Ellen staring at us. She probably heard the word

"Mother" and 'Kill me." This is perhaps true. Dean gave a crooked smile raising a glass to Ellen to assure her nothing terrible is going on.

"You're afraid of my mother?" Jo asked.

"I think so," Dean said, nervously chuckling.

We all chuckled, knowing that is true. If Jo or I either plan on going hunting, Ellen would hunt us down and drag us back to the Roadhouse. The only times she can trust Jo of leaving this place are two things: errands and school. Of course, one time, Jo took me out of state after graduating high school and spend a month on the road to California. Making a few pits stops in Las Vegas and Salt Lake City. Mom knew about it and made calls, yet she still had Ash check on our credit and debit cards to confirm this alibi.

Jo was so pissed she couldn't talk to Ellen for an entire month. I just let it slide, knowing mom is just concern like all parents. Of course, she wasn't pleased about the tattoos. Both of getting Big Sister and Little Sister, with the dot of the "i" in stars, as the inks are stained on our hips. Since we used to tap our hips together when dancing or fooling around.

Sam barged in on the group holding a file, "We have a match. We got to go."

"All right, Jo, Sky, see you later," Dean said, finishing his beer and heading out.

"Bye guys, drive safely," I said.

Both nodded and then headed out on their case. Jo sighed, staring at the ground. About thirty minutes did the rest of the customers left, leaving us Harvelle sisters and Ash alone at the Roadhouse. Ellen walked over, wrapping her arms around us.

"Come on, girls, let's get some shut-eye. Maybe sleep in tomorrow, too?" she offered.

I nodded, chuckling a little though Jo shrugged Ellen off marching to the upstairs loft. Mom took a deep breath, not risking an argument. I sighed, locking all the doors, and made sure security was on.

"Night Ash," I called out.

"Night Sky," He shouted from his room.

I smiled, then headed upstairs to bed.

.o0o.

The next day was the same, nearly empty, practically no customers, and it wasn't even three in the afternoon. Jo fiddled on her phone playing some game, Ellen counted the profit in the register and, Ash . . . Ash is doing something on his computer that was supernaturally related, while I checked out pictures on my camera. I woke up early this morning to catch the sunrise. Sunrise's during the summer is quite fascinating, and I spent all summer trying to capture the perfect shot. So, it was the same old, same old, boring-practically lazy day.

When Ellen finished counting the money and putting what is required in the vault and what should stay in the register, she headed over to Ash.

"Hey, Ash, mind doing me a favor?" Ellen asked.

"Sure, what do you need?" Ash replied.

"I like to know what the Winchesters are up to," Ellen said.

"Um . . . Yeah, they asked me not to share. It's kinda personal." He sheepishly said, rubbing his neck.

"Ash, you tell me what those boys are up to, or I'll put you on sobriety ban. No alcohol for an entire month," She threatened.

Like a nut that's just been crack, Ash started showing Ellen what he and the Winchesters have been doing. Let alone the case they are doing now. Jo came over sitting next to me as we watch Ash go full detail on everything.

"Seriously, how does mom do it?" Jo asked.

"Guys will do anything when their beer is in danger," I answered.

"Still," Jo said.

I shrugged. Men are like pirates. They need to plunder, fuck, and drink. If the rum is gone, they go insane. I guess that how it goes in redneck country? Or Mom just knows how men work in these parts. Let alone Ash's payment involves beer.

.o0o.

When the Winchesters came back a couple of days later, Ellen had a determined atmosphere. One that said, "I'm going to get answers." So, knowing not to butt in, Jo and I continue our chores getting the Roadhouse ready for tonight. It was the weekend, so possibly more hunters and bikers would be dropping by.

I was sweeping the floor as Jo cleaned the tables. The Winchesters were sitting at the bar, having a drink, celebrating in solving their case. Ellen walked over:

"Jo, Sky? Go pull another case of beer," Ellen instructed.

"Mom. Can't Sky get—" Jo protested.

"Now," Ellen insisted. "Please?"

Jo gave an exaggerated sighed but followed orders. I followed in pursuit of fetching beer. Although once we enter the kitchen. Jo stopped and leaned against the screen door spying on the conversation. I came over listening as well, curious about what Mom had to say to the boys.

"So, you, uh, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?" Ellen asked.

"Nope," Dean answered. "Not really . . . No offense. Just kind of a family thing."

"Not anymore." She said, dropping a stack of paper in front of them. "I got this stuff from Ash. . . Andrew Gallagher's house burned down on his sixth month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"

"Yeah, we think so," Sam confirmed.

"Sam," Dean protested.

"Why?" She asked, concerned.

"None of your business," Dean answered.

Uh oh, I thought. If anyone dares says, "None of your business." They are in for an earful of scolding. Ellen demands respect from Hunters and customers. No one dares holds a sharp tongue at her unless they want a scolding or bullet to the foot.

"You mind your tongue with me, boy." Ellen scolded. "This isn't just your war. This is war. Something big and bad is coming, and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. Now, at best, all we got is us –together. No secrets or half-truths here."

Quietly Jo went to get the case of beer then came back to listen to more on the conversation.

"There are people out there," Sam explained. "Like Andy Gallagher . . . Like me . . . And, um . . . We all have some kind of ability."

"Ability?" Ellen asked.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "A psychic ability. Me, I have, um . . . I have visions . . . Premonitions. I don't know. It's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us."

"What kind of plans?" Ellen asked.

"We don't know for sure," Sam answered.

"These people out there, these psychics, are they dangerous?" She asked again. The was something off about her. She seemed like she knows something about psychics.

"No," Dean answered. "No, all of them."

"But some are," Sam said, seriously. "Some are very dangerous."

"How many?" she asked.

"We've been about to track a clear pattern so far," Dean said. "They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's sixth month birthday."

Jo suggested we go out, not wanting to stall. So, we came out with the beer setting it on the counter.

"That's not true," Sam disagreed.

"What?" Dean replied.

"Webber or Ansem Weems or whatever his name is – I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. There's nothing out of the ordinary." Sam explained.

"Which breaks the pattern," Ellen noted. "So if there's any others like him, there would be nothing in the system, no way to track them all down."

"And so who knows how many of them are really out there?" Dean said.

"Jo, honey?" Ellen called out.

"Yeah," Jo replied.

"You better break out the whiskey instead," Ellen said.

Jo sighed and went to get the whiskey. Once she did, Ellen poured five shot glasses giving each to everyone. No one said anything as we took a swig. I made a smaller sip, cringing at the taste. Liquor is not my thing, let alone substantial drinks. Things are going to be crazy from here, that is for sure. I just hope we all make it, and none of us ends up dead and cremated.


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