The bone-chilling wind whipped down Hilshire Road the next morning as the Winchester boys approached a small gun store nestled between a mini mart and an ice cream parlor. A yellow and chipped sign spelled Samuel's in bold, black letter's and the windows were a cornicopia of guns: rifles, revolvers, bebe guns, shotguns, pistols, double and single barrles… All kinds of makes and models from various time periods.
Sam let out a low whistle, "Check it out," he pointed to an old rifle, "Looks like it came from the Civil War."
Dean gave a distainful sniff but snuck a curious glance when his brother turned away. He frowned as he noticed the posted store hours. "Aw come on!" He cried and punched the air, "It's closed!"
"Lee said we could pick it up at 7:30," Sam reasoned but Dean pointed to the hours painted on the window.
"It says it opens at 8 genius."
Sam chuckled, "Dude, the sign on the door says open." He made his way to the door and pushed it open. "Look who's the genius now dumbass."
"Yeah whatever, let's just get this over with," Dean huffed and muscled his way past Sam who merely smirked and followed in suit.
Teenage Wasteland by The Who blared like a foghorn throughout the store. Dean made an impressed face before turning to Sam.
"At least this dude's got decent taste in music!"
"What?" Sam saw Dean's mouth moving but could barely hear the hum of his voice over the music. Dean gave a dismissive wave of his hand in frustration .
Up at the back of the store, a thick cable rop hung from the ceiling with a sign reading: Pull For Service. Dean gave a noncomittal shrug as Sam reach out and tugged the rope.
The music abruptly switched off while a distant voice yelled, "In a minute!" followed by loud clanking noises. Around the corner came a fairly tall woman with golden skin and dark honey eyes.
"Lee?" Sam sputtered.
"Look who it is," Dean joked cruelly, "Sheriff wannabe in the flesh."
She pulled her hair out of its messy bun and propped her protective glasses on her head, "Mornin' sweet peas!" She smiled and the grease smeared on her cheeks shined from the overhead industrial lights.
"You work at a gun store?" Sam gaped.
"Jesus christ lady were do you not work!" Dean questioned.
"This is the last place y'all will find me," She assured before crouching below the counter and retrieving two canisters, "Now I want to explain myself." She looked down sheepishly and picked at the grime on the counter.
Dean snorted as he remembered the previous night's events, "Yeah you were acting like a fu-" He coughed as Sam elbowed him in the side, "Uh, I mean-you were very…unpleasant." Dean spat out the last word with a painful grin.
Lee merely pursed her lips and leaned her elbows on the counter, "Do y'all know how hard it is to be a woman bartender? 'Specially in a small southern town where girls are expected to get hitched at 18 and pop out little babies like her lady bits are a child factory?" She paused as Sam crinkled his brows in sympathy and a cross-armed Dean squinted at her.
"I get men all the time, comin' into my bar, thinking that just because they are a man that they can do what they please," She continued, "Expectin' me to roll over an behave like a 'good girl'." Lee glared pointedly at Dean, who suddenly found the grass green carpet highly interesting, "And if I let even just one person slide, then everything crumbles and I have to start all over to make it known that I don't take crap from anyone."
"Look, we understand where you're coming from and we know you weren't going out of your way to make things difficult," Sam assured with a small smile. "We appreciate you trying to explain it to us."
"Yeah what he said," Dean sniffed and looked around the store.
Lee gave a content nod before opening the first canister and pulling out Dean's gun, "Now I noticed how filthy this gun was and took it upon myself to give it a good scrub down."
Dean inspected the gun and gave a pleased nod, "Not bad… for a girl," he joked.
"Oh and here are your new bullets," She pushed forwad the other canister, "I still felt horrid for how things went down last night so I refilled your bullets with some extra gunpowder. Be careful though," She warned with a wink, "It'll cause an extra kick in your shot."
"I don't know what to say…" Dean muttered as he held a clean gun and refurbished bullets.
"Thanks, but we really do have to get going," Sam smiled apologetically and Lee nodded in understanding.
"One last thing I have to offer, let me clean your other guns for you."
The brothers frowned and their eyebrows pinched, "What makes you think we have other guns?" Sam questioned.
Lee rolled her eyes, "Please, how stupid do y'all think I am?"
"Do you really want us to answer that?" Lee flicked an eyebrow at Dean's remark but continued on.
"Y'all were talking about an important trip last night and it's the middle of huntin' season. Plus, this is a fine pistol you've got there, and I know my guns, it only seems reasonable to assume you got more than one lying around," She argued, "twenty minutes tops and off you can go!"
She smiled which melted any doubt in Sam's mind, "Okay, we'll be right back." Sam quickly pulled a groaning Dean out the store.
"Are you serious man?" Dean arched his eyebrows.
"Dude, free gun cleaning!" Sam shook his head as if it was a no brainer.
Back inside the store, Lee passionately started to disasemble the copious amount of guns and dug out a clean rag. "Holy hog bellies, these guns are filthy! Do y'all ever clean them?" She asked rhetorically.
Dean leaned against a display table with folded arms and studied how meticulous she was in her work. On the wall behind her was a collage of framed pictures, mostly of her at various stages in her life with an older man.
"Is that you dad?" Sam asked as he peered at a particular photo of Lee giving a tight squeeze to a man in a cowboy hat holding a dead turkey. She had a huge, cheesey grin plastered on her face with a foot popped in the air while the man gave a small, lop-sided smile.
"Hmm?" She answered absently and followed Sam's gaze, "Yeah, it is. Good ol' William Samuels," She chuckled to herself, "That was the Thanksgiving turkey right there."
Dean frowned at the man's name. He could have sworn he had heard it before but couldn't place where. With a shrug he turned to Lee, "So where is your old man anyways?"
"Dead…" She answered flatly without looking up.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam said.
"Don't be, he lived a good life. Did a lot of good," She assured with a shake of her head, "Besides, it happened a couple a years ago anyway."
Both brothers nodded, unsure of what to say. The store fell silent as Lee was finishing up a few more guns.
"So," She chirped up, "I just realized that I don't even know your names. Mind tellin' me?"
"Uh, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean," Sam jerked a thumb at Dean who gave a quick nod. Lee paused her cleaning and motioned her hand for Sam to continue.
Sam scrunched his face, not understanding what she wanted when Dean pipped up, "Johnson. Sam and Dean Johnson."
Lee smiled and started on a new gun, but not before Dean noticed a quick pause and curious frown pass over her face. A few more minutes of awkward silence ensued before Lee gave a satisfied grunt and presented all the clean guns with a flourish of jazz hands, "Ta da!"
"Twenty minutes, right on time," Dean noted from the clock on the wall. He began to make a impatient shuffle in the direction of the door.
"Thanks again," Sam beamed as he pulled his brother back by the nape of his shirt.
"No problem, I love doin' stuff like this," She claimed. Lee tucked the guns one by one into the bag. With a head tilt, she squinted and reached inside the bag to pull out an empty holster, "What's so special about this gun sweet peas?" She ordered as she inpected the leather.
"What do you mean?" Dean demanded. He leaned forward but pulled back quickly and sucked in air as realization rushed through him. 'It's for the colt!' he mouthed to Sam.
"Well, it's empty and I don't see the gun that belongs to this holster," she answered and after a low whistle she continued, "Lordy lord, I reckon this was specifically made for a colt, an old one too! I can tell by how it's molded and such…" Sam pursed his lips and glanced slowly to Lee who was busy looking at the inside.
"How do you know that?" Dean gruffed aggressively. Sam grabbed him and gave him a look of warning.
"I know guns. Y'all should let me have look at it. Colts are my specialty," She chuckled to herself. Lee gasped as she noticed a distinct engraving under the holster's leather loop. The brothers exchanged a look while Dean slowly reached for a knife in his boot.
'What are you doing?' Sam mouthed.
'Just in case!' Dean mouthed back.
"Holy shit," Lee hissed and the boys attention whipped back to her, "John finally found it," She murmured.
"What the fuck did you just say," Dean growled. His mind was reeling, thinking if she could be a demon or some supernatural beast who needed an asskicking.
Lee glanced up to the shocked faces, "This is the colt. Isn't it." She stated without question. "Y'all must be Winchesters. Y'all look like your daddy."
In a flash, the Dean slammed her against the wall with a knife to her throat, "Who are you? What the hell do you want?" He roared. Lee choked back a yelp and felt specks of spit crash into her cheek. "How do you know it's the colt?"
"Dean, wait!" Sam pleaded and eyed Lee. "She's not going to talk if you're holding her with a kung fu grip."
"Listen to you brother boy," She sputtered. Dean heard the click of a gun loading and felt the barrel of a gun jab into his gut.
Reluctantly Dean backed off and Lee put down her gun. She rubbed her throat to check for broken skin and gulped before turning to the boys.
"Cool your jets sweet pea, I'm not a demon," She paused and looped her thumbs through her belt loops, "My real name isn't Lee Samuels either. My name it Haleli Colt, that's how I know that the holster's for the legendary colt."
Sam's jaw dropped and Dean, who was running a hand down his face, froze midway and stared bug-eyed at the honey-eyed southerner.
"Bullshit." Dean swore as he studied her incedulously.
"I'm not lyin' sweet pea," She threw her hands up before settling onto a nearby stool. "Samuel Colt was my great grandaddy's great grandaddy."
"But you said your dad's name was William Samuels," Sam said and mimicked Lee by easing into the stool across from her.
"It's an alias," She answered, "My daddy didn't want all the hunters tryin' to locate him and fish out information about the colt all the time. He hunted and he was good at it. He didn't want to be bugged on the job."
"Bill!" Dean snapped his fingers and turned to Sam, "Bill Samuels, I read about him in dad's journal. Must have been short for William. Doesn't prove anything though" Dean muttered the last part.
"How did you even know who we are?" Sam asked.
"I had a hunch last night, but y'all proved me right earlier. I mean...Johnson…really?" She snorted, "John…Son? Y'all were practically broadcastin' it to that world!"
"It's not like we expected to meet any damn hunters or descendents of Samuel fucking Colt," Dean said gruffly from his spot against the counter, "If you really are that is…" He muttered.
"You got a problem boy?" Lee whirled around to face Dean.
"Yeah I do," He pushed off the wall and took a step toward Lee until they stood inches apart, "I don't know who the hell you are. First you delay us by keeping my gun! Then you start spouting this crap about you and Bill Samuels being a Colt-"
"He's the one that told your daddy about the colt!" Lee argued with her hands on her hips, "He's in your daddy's journal you stubborn mule!"
"Wake up and smell the cow patties outside princess because all hunters know about the colt. Hell even demons know!"
"Well he told him where to start lookin'!"
"How do I know you're telling the truth? Huh?" Dean steamed, "Are you even really related to Samuel Colt?"
"Only a member of the Colt family would recognize this inscription scratched into the leather. It's faint, but it's there!" She spat and pointed to an intricate carving in the leather with a smug grin.
"For all I know you could be a demon posing as some girl." Dean roared, "Pretending to be related to the legendary Samuel Colt, weaving a lie about Bill Samuels, executing this elaborate plan to capture us or something! Hell, we don't even have to colt anyways! How do we know you're telling the truth?"
Lee's stare turned icy as she curled her lips inward, "You don't." She said with a taut voice. Dean gave a humorless smile and rolled his eyes as she continued, "But I can assure you that I'm no demon filth-"
"Take it easy guys," Sam cut in and placed a hand on their shoulders to pry them apart.
"Besides," He scoffed and continued as if Sam hadn't inturrupted, "You don't even look like the old man." Dean pointed to the picture of Lee hugging the man holding the turkey.
In a fit of fury, Lee lunged at Dean kicking and screaming. Dean jumped back as Sam grabbed hold of her around the waist, trying to keep her at bay.
"You racist ass son of a bitch! Just because I don't look like the perfect white southern belle! He was my daddy…" Lee struggled a moment more before going limp and Sam loosened his grip
"He was my daddy!" She repeated as her shoulders shook from body shaking sobs, "And he's dead…"
She fell to her knees after Sam released her. Dean frowned with wide eyes and a furrowed brow while Lee laid on the floor crying. Sam looked at Dean before kneeling beside her and gave a tentative pat on the back.
"Say we believe you," Sam said slowly, "Say we believe what you say it true." Lee's sobs subsided and she turned her tear stained face towards the brothers.
"Look, I know you wonderin' why am I in this hick town when my family owns Colt Manufacturing Company," Lee hiccupped and wiped her eyes, "Thing is, is that, I don't really like my family all that much and the feelin' is mutual. Being a hunter has been in my family for generations and my daddy was the only one my grandaddy taught all the hunter secrets to. He was a hunter, my daddy, and he didn't care much for the wealth his trust gave me and I don't either."
"What kind of person doesn't care for their family," Dean sneered and ignored Sam's plea to be quiet.
"The kind that doesn't have acceptin' family that's who," Lee looked at the floor and sniffed, "They're all rascist and hate me because of my mama. She was a Chickasaw woman from Ohio, makin' me a half breed. That's why my daddy and I don't really look too similar," She paused to laugh bitterly, "And it burns my relatives that I am second in line to own the company after my cousin. To them I'm just some out of wedlock, illigitimate child."
"Oh," Dean's voice visibly softened. He gripped the counter as he felt himself slowly but surely believing what this woman was saying. Guilt gripped him with an iron hand as Dean realized what he had implied with his previous comment about her looks. "Who needs bitches like them anyways?"
Sam gave an exasperated sigh but was cut off from bark of laughter from Lee, "That's what my daddy always said." Dean perked up and smirked triumphantly at Sam who glared and shook his head.
"Hey look, I-uh- didn't… mean to imply that you were a demon…" Dean struggled
"I understand. In the hunting world, it's hard to prove your trustworthyness, and I can only give y'all my word," Lee ran her hand through her hair shuffled her feet, "I heard about John. I'm sorry, I know that's a hard thing to go through. If there is anythin' y'all ever need… I knew John, he was crazy, but he helped out my dad a lot."
"Thanks," Dean said quietly, "We'll keep that in mind." He looked up at Lee with a small grin. She returned a smile with a look of stale sorrow in her eyes that he knew so well. And at that moment, they forgave each other for the way they both acted.
"I'm sorry for all the trouble but we really do need to get going…" Sam broke the silence. He stuck his hand out, but Lee brushed it aside and pulled them both into a quick hug.
"No problem sweet pea, just stay safe now you hear," She handed them a slip of paper and followed them to their car, "Don't be shy, call and say hi once in a while to let me know y'all still living."
"Will do Pocahontas," Dean joked while slamming the trunk closed.
Lee shook her head with a chuckle as they packed into the Impala. She watched as they turned the corner and Dean flashed her a final wave before they disappeared for who knows how long. Jolts of electricity tingled her skin as Lee walked back into the store. The cold morning caused her to shiver and rub her arms before casting a worried glance and looked back to where the Impala disappeared. For some reason she felt a sickening feeling, like a pit in her stomach.
"Y'all are gonna be in for a world of hurt," Lee said with a soft whisper.
Author's Note: Ooh ominous! What did you all think about the story so far? Any review is welcomed! This is my first fan fiction and I am just hoping everything is at least decent.