Chapter Two
At the entrance of the Rock 'n a Hard Place tavern, Dean halted. He quickly scanned the dimly lit interior, noted the large crowd, the placement of the doors, attentive to every detail. For a hunter that could be the difference between life and death. Finding nothing more precarious than two men locked in an arm wrestling contest, and a buxom woman in a low-cut blouse leaning over a well-worn pool table, he nodded to Sam and they entered.
Dean grimaced hearing the twang of steel guitars and the wail of country music coming from the jukebox. God, with a name like Rock 'n a Hard Place, you'd think they'd be playing Metallica instead of this crap. Several couples two-stepped to the music on the small wooden dance floor. Shit, this is worse than a nightmare. We're so outta here.
He turned to Sam. "Let's get outta. . . ."
Dean paused, his gaze strayed to the bar and lingered on a pretty bartender. She was chatting and laughing with a middle-aged man wearing a black leather cowboy hat. She glanced up at Dean and winked, a saucy grin on her upturned lips. Their eyes locked briefly, then she returned her attention to the older man.
"Never mind." Motioning for Sam to find a seat at the bar, he said, "I'll be right back." When Sam made to follow him, Dean held up his hand. "Dude, you're so not following me into the men's room."
"Damn it, Dean, that was a banshee — "
"I know Sammy, but I can solemnly promise you I'm not going to die going to the bathroom."
Sam glared at him sullenly, hand tightening around his laptop. "Fine." He stalked to the bar and practically threw the computer on the counter.
In the restroom, Dean checked the stalls to make sure he was alone, then walked to the porcelain sink and splashed cold water on his face, brusquely raking his fingers through his hair. Dean gripped the edge of the sink, hands trembling and lower jaw quivering. He leaned closer to looked at himself in the mirror, frowning at the dark smudges under his eyes, before lowering his head.
Get a hold of yourself, Dean, it was only a dream — it wasn't real. The problem was it felt all too terrifyingly real. How can I tell Sammy his big brother is afraid to go to sleep? I can't. I just have to stay awake til I figure this out.
He splashed more water on his face, turned off the faucet and stretched his tired, aching muscles. Glancing back into the mirror, he found himself staring into the gray-blue eyes of the woman from the graveyard.
"You're going to die, Dean — you can't stop it from happening," she breathed.
Dean swung around to face her, but he was alone. Sonuvabitch. Turning back, he slammed his fist into the mirror. Shattered pieces of glass clattered into the sink, catching the light, and reflecting fractured images of Dean's face.
Dean massaged his throbbing knuckles, blood dripping into the sink from the cuts, then traced a path down to his wrist, feeling the erratic pulse beneath his skin. He stared long and hard at the thick, bluish-purple veins, searching for something that wasn't there.
No. I'm not going to — I would never . . . . Shaking his head, Dean pushed the thought out of his mind.
At the sound of the door creaking open, Dean turned to see Sam standing there. Sam's gaze swept from the broken mirror to Dean's bloodied hand, and then fixed firmly on him, hazel eyes pleading with Dean to confide in him.
"Dean?"
"No, Sam."
"Why not?" Sam crossed his arms, brows knitting together in anger and concern. "Why won't you let me help you?"
"Because there's nothin' wrong."
"Oh, yeah? Really? Graveyard, banshee, impending death . . . just stop me when any of this stuff starts ringing a bell."
"I'm not gonna die, Sammy."
"But the ban — "
"I don't care what she said, I'm not gonna die."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Cause you won't let me." Not trusting himself to say another word, Dean quickly brushed past Sam.
The moment he was out the door, Dean's gaze lit on the bronzed-skin beauty, behind the bar. Dark glossy chestnut bangs fringed her delicate features as waves of hair cascaded over her shoulders. A slow grin twisted on his face as he took in her voluptuous curves. A distraction, just what I need . . . and a damn beautiful distraction at that.
Dean strode to the bar, Sam following close behind. Sam took the only seat left available, opened his computer and started researching banshees as Dean leaned against the counter and waited until he could get her attention. She turned and Dean read, 'Remember my name, you'll be screaming it later' on the front of a black t-shirt that clung in all the right places, and smiled already feeling much better.
She dropped the towel she'd been using to clean the counter, sauntering toward them as she asked, "What'll ya have, boys?"
"A beer," Sam replied, head lowered, looking at his computer screen. "Whatever's on tap."
She nodded, then glanced over to Dean, her exotic jade eyes lingering on him for a moment, as she licked full, dewy pink lips. "And how about you, darlin'? What'll ya have?"
Dean looked at the name Mara embossed on her tag and offered his most dazzling smile. "I'd say you, sweetheart, but I don't want to sound too forward."
"Oh, very clever. Subtle with just a hint of desperation, I like that." Mara cocked a delicate brow, gesturing toward the men's room. "Tell me, did it take the whole time in the restroom coming up with that witty pickup line or was it just off the top of your head?" She laughed, the soft infectious sound causing several of the bar patrons to raise their heads and smile affectionately at her.
"Apparently I didn't need a pickup line seein' as I already caught your attention," Dean quipped, a devilish glint in his eyes.
Mara rested her elbows on the counter and leaned in closer to Dean. Her jade eyes sparkled mischievously, she bit at her lower lip, drawing his attention to the soft fullness of them. "Small country bar." She shrugged. "A girl can't help noticing the hottest guy in here."
"Oh, brother," Sam mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Get a room."
A frown creased her brow as Mara glared at him for a moment, then returned her attention to Dean. "So what can I get ya? One of my specialty drinks perhaps?" She gestured to a neon sign behind her with the names of drinks scrolled on it. "Good and strong, guaranteed you'll never have another drink like them anywhere."
Dean glanced up at the sign. "Soul Stealer, Killer Nightmare, Mind Erasers . . . yeah, those don't sound too ominous."
Mara giggled. "Yeah, they kind of do, don't they? My regulars order them, I just perfected them." Snatching a chilled mug from under the counter, she poured Sam a draft and handed it to him as she waited for Dean to decide. "So do you want to try one or do you want a beer like your friend is having . . . ah, I'm afraid I don't know your name?"
"I'm Dean." Dean gestured toward Sam. "And that's my brother, Sam."
"Nice to meet you, Sam and Dean. I'm Mara." She wiped her hands on a towel then extended one to Sam.
Sam took a quick sip of his beer, placed it on the counter, and shook her hand, smiling awkwardly. "Nice to meet you too, Mara."
Mara held her hand out to Dean. He took hold of it, swallowing hard as a sudden surge of heat coursed through his entire body. Reluctantly, he let go and looked at the sign for a few more seconds and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess I'll try one."
"Which one?"
"Surprise me." He gave her his most winsome smile.
"Trust me, I will."
Mara grabbed a shaker, dropped in some ice and then poured in several jiggers of vodka, Jager, and rum over it, before adding what looked like thick red syrup to the mixture. She shook it vigorously then poured some into two glasses.
Handing one glass to Dean, Mara held up the other. "Excuse me, everyone." Mara cleared her throat to garner everyone's undivided attention. "We have a newbie here tonight, you know the drill."
Everyone in the bar stopped what they were doing, raised their glasses and stared at Dean and Sam, waiting for Mara to continue. Scowling at Dean, Sam tried to sink down in his barstool. Dean shrugged and gave him a 'how was I supposed to know' look.
"Raise your glass, Dean," Mara lightly commanded.
Reluctantly, Dean did as she asked. "Mara, I don't really think this — "
"It's tradition, Dean." She smiled sweetly at him. Clearing her throat again, she raised her glass a little higher. "One sip to enthrall you." Everyone in the bar chimed in, taking a swig of their drinks. She took a drink and motioned for Dean to do the same. Dean quickly swallowed a mouthful, wincing as the fiery liquid burned the back of his throat. When he was finished, she continued, "One sip to poison the mind." She stopped and took another sip, followed by Dean and everyone else in the bar except for Sam who stared in open-mouth incredulity at his brother. "One sip to ensnare you." By now, Dean knew what he was supposed to do, and quickly took a long gulp of the intoxicatingly sweet liquid. "One sip to make you mine . . . and then the nightmares begin."
Dean drained the last of the drink from his cup and slammed the glass down on the counter. He grinned at Sam, definitely feeling more relaxed than he'd had in a long time. "Can I get another?"
"Sure thing, darlin'."
Sam leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "Damn it, Dean! What the hell do you think you're doing?" he whispered, so Mara couldn't hear him. "We're supposed to keep a low profile. Remember?"
"Would ya give me a break, dude? I'm just tryin' to have a little fun for a change." Dean took a long sip of the drink Mara placed in front of him. "Would it really kill you to enjoy yourself for once, instead of having your geekboy nose stuck in that damn computer all the time?"
"I was just trying to — "
"I know what you were trying to do, Sammy. I'm just sick of hearing about it." Dean raked his fingers through his hair, aggravated.
Sam threw his hands up in the air, a deep, angry scowl on his face as he shook his head. "You know what, Dean, do whatever the hell you want!" He pushed away from the barstool. "I'm going back to the motel."
"Whatever, dude."
Sam stared at him for a moment, lips a hard line against his teeth, brows pulling together in a frown.
"Fine."
Snatching his laptop off the bar, Sam stalked away, sidestepping the buxom woman in the low-cut blouse, who nearly stumbled over him. At the door, Sam glanced back at Dean, the muscle in his jaw jerking erratically, sad hazel eyes locking with stormy green ones briefly, before he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
In a moment of indecision, Dean prepared to follow Sam, but at the sound of Mara's seductive voice, all thoughts of leaving left him. He turned back to face her, his breath catching as his vision blurred.
"What's the matter with your brother?" She brushed glossy chestnut locks away from her angelic face.
"Oh, Sammy?" Dean thumbed a finger toward the door. "Nothin'." He grinned as he picked up his drink and gulped down the last of it. His stomach lurched violently in protest. "That's him in a good mood, you should see him when he's really brooding."
"Ah, one of those." Mara nodded, gesturing toward his empty glass. "We'll be closing soon, care for another before we do?"
"Sure, I'll be right back."
"All right. I'll be waiting."
Dean staggered to the restroom, the room shifting in and out of focus. He swallowed hard against the acrid bile rising in his throat. What the hell's the matter with me? I only had two drinks.
He'd barely made it to the toilet before he'd started heaving violently, dropping to his knees as pain wracked his entire body. Oh, God, Sammy, where are you? I need you.
The muscles in his stomach clenched in knots as he threw up again, tasting blood in the back of his mouth. Dean blinked hard several times, trying to clear the sparks of bright light floating in front of his eyes. When his vision began to clear, Dean's heart leapt painfully into his throat, his body trembling uncontrollably as he looked around the tiny stall. Blood was splattered everywhere.
Damn it, Sam! I promise you, I'm not going to die in this bathroom.
Slowly, muscles straining with the effort, he struggled to his feet. His mind reeled as he tried to grasp a reason why he should feel so violently ill. Sonuvabitch — Mara's toast. What had she said . . . one sip to poison the mind. Dean squeezed his eyes shut tightly as more pain tore through his body. One sip to ensnare. Dean lurched for the door, using what little strength he had left to open it up. One sip to make you mine. He braced against the doorframe. Sweat streaming down his face, he stared at the ominously empty bar and then up at Mara who sat perched atop the bar.
Then the nightmare begins. Dean's knees buckled, giving out, his back sliding down the cool wall, head lulling to the side. He watched helplessly as she hopped off the counter and strolled toward him.
Mara squatted beside him, elbows on her knees. "You were strong, Dean. I'll give you that much. But no one can run from me forever." She leaned in and licked the blood from his lips, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. She bit through the soft flesh, Dean screamed out in agony as blood spilled down her chin.
"You taste damn good, Dean." She stood, dragged him to his feet and hauled him toward the entrance of the tavern. "But I'm more interested in your nightmares."
"Sammy — "
Mara's demonic laughter echoed through the stillness of the empty bar. "He doesn't even exist anymore. You know that. It's just you, me and your nightmare now."
Furiously shaking his head, Dean tried desperately to break free of her clawing grasp, to no avail.
"I won't go back there — I won't." He blinked hard, eyelids growing heavy. His thoughts grew fuzzier and more scattered as each second passed. I've got to stay awake. I can't let her win.
Mara slammed him against the wall, pressed her body to his, warm breath against his ear. "Tell me, Dean, how does it feel to know that in the end you'll be viewed as pathetic by everyone you ever knew? That the great Dean Winchester will not die by the hand of a demon, but by his own?"
"I'm gonna kill you, you evil Bitch." Dean's head slumped to the side as darkness found him, but even in his sleep he heard her taunt.
"You can't kill a nightmare, Dean, but it sure as hell can kill you."
Chapter notes...hey, if you like it, let me know . . . lol! I live for these reviews;)