A/N: Yeah, well.. thats me. I guess. Thanks for the favorits and follows. Would be awesome to read a few opinions as well. There is always something one can do better!
WARNING: I don't know if I will continue this... and as ever: I am looking for someone to help me finish it - like Sherlock with his skull I need someone to tell me you are out of your mind or on the right path - , but furthermore beta it. English isn't my mother tongue and I hate when a reader has to cringe just reading my story.
But most importantly: ENJOY!
A few weeks prior...
The diner isn't very welcoming but as far as she knows the food is warm, the coffee strong and most patrons are just like her: running away from deeds and pasts no one wants to talk, think, mutter or anything else about. She feels her pocket; a few dollars, a necklace she isn't wearing at the moment - what a rookie mistake of her - and a piece of paper because Merlin only knows why someone should use a mobile.
With measured steps, her eyes taking in the whole room and if needed an escape she walks to the bar, smiling slightly at the woman behind it. She isn't that much older than her. Maybe in her late twenties with a warm smile and tired eyes, dirty-blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun.
"What can I bring you, honey?" She asks as soon as she sees the new guest dressed in black, leather and sadness.
"Coffee, please. And is that strawberry cake?" She says as she sits down, her boots squeaking against the metal food holder.
"Sure is. Made it myself a few hours ago. Want some?" The nice waitress pulls out a cup, a plate and serves her one of the best coffees she had in a long time and a maybe a bit too sweet piece of cake.
"Thank you." She murmurs and inhales the warm, homey scent.
"You're welcome. Eat up!" The waitress says cheerfully and begins to wipe down the bar and some glasses nearby. Inwardly the guest cringes, hoping against hope that there won't be more conversation she isn't up to - because if looked at objectively she doesn't even know the answers to some very easy questions anymore.
"So, what are you doing here?" She hears the waitress, tag says her name is Keira.
"Just taking a short pause. Will be on my way soon again." To where is the question she asks herself not for the first, and a part of her is afraid not for the last time as well.
"Oh, a road trip or are you looking for something? Or…?" Keira sounds uncertain, maybe because her partner for this - in lack of a better word - conversation doesn't seem to like it one bit. For a second she thinks her patron will sink in on herself, vanish into the cloud that seems to hang over her head literally.
"Or… it seems." She tries to smile, a crooked little thing that does nothing to clear her face of worry, concern and uncertainty.
"Well, good luck with whatever you try to accomplish." Keira says lightly, smiles warmly, looks friendly and opens her mouth to ask another question. Please, no…
"Keira!" Someone calls her away and the woman is relieved. There was a time when she liked the company of others. She never was a social butterfly, but friends and family were something she cherished above all. Before … everything.
The bells over the door chime with a nice little ring and she looks shortly in its direction, lucky she took a seat that allows her to keep an eye on most of the diner. The boots of the man that enter seem to be as heavy as her own, but maybe not. He doesn't seem to be crippled by a task like lead on his shoulders.
Keira appears again, refilling her mug with a small smile and a wink. The woman tries to smile back and gets it nearly right.
"What can I bring you, sir?" She asks the newcomer, voice chipper and welcoming just like with her.
"Coffee. And is this strawberry pie?" His voice sounds comforting somehow - and it doesn't matter that he is a stranger, looking slightly gruff and uncared for. Her eyes find his for a second and her breath catches in her throat while his impressive eyes widen slightly. Before she can disappear like she loves to do, he sits down next to her. His presence should be threatening because she knows who or better to say what he is. Hunter…
"Didn't think I would find one here…" He says under his breath, not whispering because this often pulls unwanted attention to a conversation he and probably she as well don't want anyone to hear.
"A case?" He continues to ask without looking at her. His hands are big, with nice fingers, a ring on one of them - married.
"Something like that…" She answers softly, doesn't want to cause a scene or seem suspicious.
"You have one or you don't normally." He says, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. She likes him a bit more.
"Normally seems to be the operating word here…." She scoffs softly, a breathless little, scornful laugh leaving her lips.
"I am John." He says, not holding out his hand.
"Mya." She mumbles back, her hands closing around the warm mug to keep this friggin cold away though she doesn't think that the cold makes her skin crawl. Sure as hell it is the branding on her neck instead. She shudders. Her hand finds the rim of her hood and pulls it away a bit. John next to her coughs suddenly.
"God, you are too young for this." He whisper-shouts, his shoulders tense. She smiles - a smile that is nearly identical to her old one. But it vanishes as pictures appear in front of her eyes. She closes them, suppresses the groan because of the headache these friggin afflatus always seem to trigger. Then it is over and a new knowledge fills her while the branding on her neck cause sweat to break out on her skin.
"Did you say the same to your sons?" She asks out of the blue - at least for John - and is prepared for the man's angry glare.
"What do you know about them?" She sees his jaw working - he desperately tries to hold himself back. But he doesn't hunch his shoulders, a sign for a fantastic self-control. Not really surprising, being a hunter and all...
"That they are looking for you, John. And that they need you sometimes - desperately." She calmly says, a rueful smile on her lips, her eyes shining with compassion and knowledge. He swallows.
"I know." His voice is filled with too many emotions to name and her heart stutters for a moment because this looks she had seen one time too many times. Without thinking her fingertips brush along his cheekbone. She doesn't want to flirt, doesn't want to get closer to him. She just wants to show him, she knows. It seems that John knows it as well, because he takes her hand, squeezes it for a second before placing it back on the bar.
There is silence. Heavy and thick. For a moment she fears that the heavy lead that seems to be her new armor will drown her. The wordless moment stretches, isn't uncomfortable, though. Maybe there aren't words for him?, she thinks.
"Do you know them?" He asks suddenly, his voice low and filled with longing and self-loathing. But there is determination as well. He is one of those persons drawn in too many directions at the same time…, Mya knows. A kindred spirit for her.
She averts her eyes because really - she doesn't know them, his sons. Not like he maybe thinks she does. She doesn't even know if she could tell anyone she knows herself, for Merlin's sake.
"Not exactly. They are important to me, but…" Before she can continue the door to the diner opens again and she suppresses the groan when she hears the accompanying sound. Like wings in the wind.
"Mya, there you are! So good to finally find you. Really good." Unconsciously her hand wanders to the hidden knife. Out of the corner of his eyes John sees her sudden gesture and turns around slightly as well, effectively blocking Mya at least a bit. The man who approaches them doesn't seem dangerous in the least - in John's eyes. But Mya's shoulders are tense, her face marred with a frown and worry a smokescreen over her otherwise clear brown eyes. Like she is hiding behind walls in her mind..., John thinks.
"What can I do for you, Alex?" She asks, her voice surprisingly normal though her heart beats too fast and the pain in her neck doesn't ease up.
"Just wanted to see you, honey buu. I thought I heard you talking about things that aren't of anyone's concern." He says and behind his wide, open smile lays something feral John has no doubt would frighten better men than him. His spine feels painfully ridged.
"He is their father…" The girl - Mya - presses through clenched teeth and the man standing before them, that would seem ridiculous if not for the way his eyes are far too intelligent and unconcerned about everything, furrows his brow as if confused. Then he laughs - an ugly sound. Confusing enough no one else but John and Mya seem to see him.
"We have a deal, honey buu. Do as I say-" His voice sounds like a purr from a cat no one trusts - a mangy old thing that is too wild for its own good, hurting the hand that feeds it.
"But…" Her voice in great contrast is low, nearly a whisper.
"No, buts." John watches over his shoulder as Mya's hands clench in her lap, one hand with a cheap looking ring, the other with scars along the knuckles. Her face is averted from the man, John sees. He tries to stand up, but a hand pushes him down.
"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Winchester. We have a few things to discuss, haven't we, Mya darling?" The strange man - if he really was one - says playfully, even going so far as throwing a wink in his direction.
"Yes, sir." Mya answers and John recognizes defeat when he hears, sees or feels it. He was the source of that particular emotion far too often. Her answer alone pulls him back to a time when his boys answered like that. Good little soldiers... He cringes.
"Very good, honey. Follow me, will you. You too, Mr. John Winchester." John watches Mya placing some money on the bar and he follows suit, feeling for his weapon in the waistband of his jeans. Shortly before they reach the door to leave the diner, Mya snaps her fingers and the movements and sounds previously missing - not that the hunter was aware a second before - return to the room.
Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading.