The Disenchanted Ghost of You

By: gengen0776

So, here is chapter 2…hope everyone is enjoying…I should be updating once a week now…thanks for your patience and please drop a review it means a lot!

Chapter 2

"S-so, Johnny," Becca began, after they'd been driving for a few minutes. Ticking her gaze his way she nervously noticed his eyelids droop shut. "Tell me about you…what brings you out to a rave on Christmas Eve?" She glanced over at him when he didn't answer immediately, worried that she'd done something wrong and he'd lost consciousness. Relief washed over her when she saw him staring out the windshield looking like he was weighing his answer. "I mean wouldn't you rather spend it with your family?" she asked when he still didn't respond.

A weary sigh escaped John's lips as he glance at her. "W-what about y-your family? T-they've gotta be m-missin' you."

"I-it's complicated," Becca replied evasively, without taking her eyes off the road.

"F-family…is the m-most important thing…th-there is," John breathed after a moment.

Becca glanced at him, a grin playing on her lips. "This, coming from the man who is not with his family on Christmas Eve."

A chuckle escaped John's lips; the comment reminded him of something Sam would say. "Y-you got me there…I-I g-guess." He grimaced as pain seared through his injured abdomen. He watched as Becca's grin melted from her lips and the concern returned to her face. "It's c-complicated."

"So, guess that makes us both very complicated people…th-that's great." Becca rolled her eyes and sighed, hoping they didn't have much further to go. "Doesn't leave much to talk about though."

Apparently, small talk was neither of their strong suits and she wasn't sure how else she could make sure John remained conscious. Becca searched for something else to say, some conversation that wasn't about the weather or 'how about those Mets' related to break the growing silence.

"T-take the nest…nex esit," John slurred from beside her, sending her heart pounding. Slurred speech was not good, not good at all. She hazarded a glance at him as she followed his direction and took the off ramp. "Head s-sosth ta Harsvelle Roadhouse." John fought the dark spots creeping into his vision, trying to blink them away. His head lolled back against the seat as he lost the battle and his eyelids slid closed.

"J-John?" Becca breathed frantically as she pulled to the shoulder of the road once they were clear of the off ramp. "Oh God, oh God! P-please don't be—"

"J-jus' drive."

Becca felt her panic momentarily subside, his words reassuring her that he was still with her. Yet, the fact that he hadn't opened his eyes left the worry that they might arrive too late brewing beneath the surface as she pulled back onto the road. "J-just stay with me, J-Johnny," she whispered as she sped south as he'd instructed, looking for any sign of the Roadhouse he'd mentioned.

After a few miles it came into view. Harvelle's Roadhouse wasn't much to look at. A rundown clapboard building, with a dingy façade, Becca might have missed it completely if not for its name shining out in neon lights. The lot was almost empty, save for a beat-up looking pickup truck and two motorcycles parked at the front of the place. She slid John's shiny black pickup into the empty spot closest to the door.

Cutting the engine she quickly slid out the door and hurried around to the passenger's door. She shivered violently as she pulled it open; December in Nebraska was not the place for a t-shirt. "C-c'mon J-Johnny," she coaxed through chattering teeth as she leaned across his immobile body to unclip his seatbelt. "D-don't think I c-can get you in th-there without s-some help." She pressed her cold fingers against John's neck praying for a pulse, unsure what to do if he was dead. That would be an awkward situation, she thought. She breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn't have to find out as she felt his weak pulse against her finger tips.

Seeing that the cool air had not had the rousing effect she'd hoped for, Becca slid her left arm between John's back and the seat. She carefully laced her arm around his torso and leaned her left shoulder beneath his right arm using her right hand to drape it over her shoulders. Slowly, she eased John out of the truck, preparing herself to bear the brunt of his weight. John's knees buckled beneath him as his feet touched the unpaved ground and Becca felt herself being pulled down with him. Her hand flew out to the door for support and using all the strength she could muster she managed to get them both upright again.

She'd stumbled a few steps when the door flew open and a burly biker with a shaved head stepped out. Calling his goodbyes over his shoulder, the biker didn't notice Becca until he turned and nearly ran into her. "Damn John, what'd ya get yerself inta this time?" he mumbled, hurriedly wrapping his arm around his injured friend and easing his weight off Becca as he half carried John inside. "Ellen! Get yer first aid kit!"

Rowan was one exit away from the Roadhouse when he saw John's truck ahead. He sighed relieved that he'd been right and would soon be caught up with his friend and the mystery redhead. As he watched the truck turn off at the next exit he noticed the flashing lights in his rearview mirror.

"Sonuvabitch," he muttered as he glanced down at the speedometer. He quickly weighed his options. He could easily speed up and get away from the State trooper who had now switched on his siren. There was no way he could keep up with Rowan's Porsche. The problem with that plan was that he was getting off at the next exit and he didn't want to waste time leading the trooper away from the Roadhouse. He needed to know John was okay.

Rowan pulled over to the shoulder of the highway, hoping it would be easier and quicker this way. After stowing the earlier discarded gun under the seat, he drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he waited for the lawman. A smile spread across his lips as he watched the Trooper tuck her hair into her hat and made her way over with commanding strides. Rowan forced the smile from his lips, replacing it with an all-too-real look of concern as he readied himself to talk his way out of another ticket.

He rolled down his window before the officer had a chance to rap on it. He glanced at the name tag on the lawwoman's jacket before looking up at her with his worried green-eyed gaze. "License and registration," she demanded her voice all business as she held out her hand without meeting his gaze. "Do you realize how fast you were driving?" she asked as he handed her his paperwork.

"I-I'm sorry officer…Morgan…I…I just got a call…m-my friend is…well he's not doing so well." She eyed him cautiously a moment as she looked from his license photo to him.

"Oh." He watched her posture relax as she met his gaze and knew he was off the hook. "W-well, I guess I could…ya know let you off with a…a warning," she stammered, her cheeks flushing. She looked away as she handed his documents back. "Y-you should be careful…the roads are very icy…wouldn't help yer friend if you got yourself…" her voice trailed off as she scrawled something on her pad and tore off the page. "H-hurt," she breathed, folding the paper in two as she looked back at him through veiled lashes.

"Thank you, Officer Morgan, I will." Rowan flashed her an earnest-looking smile as she handed him the slip of paper.

"Y-you…drive safe n-now." She turned away, pulling off her hat and shaking out her hair as she sauntered back to her car.

Rowan grinned as he watched her in his side mirror. When she'd slid back into her car he unfolded the slip of paper she'd handed him knowing what she'd written before he opened it.

Rachel Morgan 308-555-1212 call me

Rowan sighed as she pulled open the glove compartment and threw the paper in among the dozens of others he'd acquired after talking himself out of similar situations. I really should clean that out, he thought as he pulled back onto the highway being careful to remain within the speed limit as he made his way to the next exit and on to Harvelle's Roadhouse.

Becca watched through the open door as a woman with light brown hair, Ellen she assumed, hurried around the bar and to John's side. Becca hesitated to enter the bar as the commotion continued. What would they think? Would they think she'd hurt John? Ellen instructed the man who'd taken John from her to take him to the backroom as she quickly followed behind. As they disappeared from view, Becca fought between the urge to run and her need to know that John would be all right.

"Are you hurt?" Becca jumped as someone touched her shoulder. The petite blond, who looked no older than her, forced a friendly smile as she took Becca's arm and led her into the bar. "Your shakin' like a leaf," the girl added as she guided Becca to an empty seat near the bar.

"I-I'm…I'm okay," Becca mumbled, her eyes never leaving the door to the backroom.

"I think yer bleedin' mayb—"

"S'not my blood," Becca interrupted glancing down at her once white shirt that was now a mess with crimson splotches. Her fingers gingerly touched the largest of the stains noticing the blood stains on her hands. Too much blood…there's too much blood.

"Oh," the blond replied her hands dropping to her sides. "Don't worry, he'll be fine...my mom takes care of this kind of stuff all the time." Becca looked up at the girl, forcing a smile at her attempt to be comforting. "I'm Jo, by the way."

"B-Becca," she responded, wrapping her arms around herself as a shiver coursed through her. Shouldn't be cold, she thought as she gazed at Jo dressed in a tank top and jeans. It was obviously warm in the bar, so why was she shivering? Hearing a door open behind her, she turned quickly to see if someone who was coming out. She quietly prayed to see John walk out of there, on his own.

"Wha' the hell is goin' on out here?" a skinny young man, wearing only a pair of jeans and sporting a mullet asked, squinting their way. "I'm tryin' ta entertain a lady in her," he added with a meaningful shake of his head toward the barely-clothed girl standing in his doorway.

"Um…yeah you can…uh…go back to that, Ash," Jo assured, cringing as she shook her head. "Everything's under control out here."

"Thank…you," he sighed exaggeratedly as he returned to his entertaining.

"Sorry…Ash is…well…he's Ash." Jo smiled apologetically, noticing Becca's attention had returned to the backroom door. "He'll be fine. John's been in tougher scrapes than this."

Becca's gaze turned back to Jo, questioning what she'd just said. "John gets in trouble like this a lot?" Shivering again, she wondered how long it would take her to warm up.

Before Jo could respond the backroom door clattered open and Ellen emerged wiping her hands on a dishrag. Becca gaze immediately noticing the blood staining the front of the t-shirt the woman wore beneath her flannel shirt.

Setting the rag down Ellen pulled out a shot glass silently filling it with amber liquid. Swallowing it, before she quickly followed it with another shot. Glancing at Jo as she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, Ellen's eyes widened as she noticed Becca sitting beside her daughter. She watched the pale young red head shivering in the sweltering heat of the bar. Her arms clutched around her the front of her bloody white t-shirt.

"Joanna Beth," Ellen barked in a tone that caused Jo to jump to her feet.

"She's n-not hurt mom, i-it's John's blood," Jo assured, nervously glancing from Becca back to Ellen worried she'd missed something important.

"Get her some clean clothes, something warm," Ellen ordered moving around the bar to Becca's side as Jo hurried away. Becca was staring at the backroom door again, her face a pale mask of fear. "It's okay, honey," Ellen soothed, gently cupping Becca's face in her hands as she crouched next to her. "He's all patched up, and resting back there," she assured.

Becca blinked up at the woman, her muddled mind wondering how Ellen had come to be next to her when she hadn't noticed her move from the bar. "He's okay?" Becca whispered as Ellen's words sunk in. Ellen nodded with a reassuring smile. "C-can I…I want to see him…please," Becca requested through chattering teeth.

"First ya need to change," Jo chimed in, holding a small pile of clothes in one hand as she extended her free hand to Becca. "C'mon let's get you cleaned up." Becca hesitated, glancing at the backroom door and then at Ellen who nodded again, gently patting her shoulder. With a weary sigh Becca allowed herself to be led away by Jo, glancing back at Ellen who smiled reassuringly as she poured another shot of whiskey.

Rowan skidded his Porsche to a stop behind John's pick up, quickly cutting the engine. His senses were assaulted by the scent of John's blood as he slid gracefully from his car, carelessly slamming the door shut. The passenger door to John's pick up lay ajar and as Rowan moved to close it he noticed slick substance, he knew was blood, coating the lower back of the seat.

"Sonuvabitch, Winchester, can't ya ever wait?" he muttered as she slammed the door and stalked into the Roadhouse. The bar was empty except for Ellen standing at the bar pouring a drink.

"An' where the hell were you?" Ellen barked, glaring at him. Rowan noticed the blood on her shirt as she crossed arms and waited for his response. "I thought you two were takin' care of this nest together."

"Is he…is John all right?"

"No thanks to yer sorry vampire ass," she spat, pulling a knife from behind the bar and moving toward Rowan.

"It's not my fault he ran in there half-cocked without waiting for me!"

"If I find out you had anything to do with this…"

"H-he's right Ellen," John called from behind them as she leaned heavily against the doorjamb of the backroom door. "He was late and I was impatient…it was m-my fault." John slowly pushed away from the doorjamb and moved to the closest stool at the bar. "Pete, thanks for…you know," John apologized awkwardly. He and Pete weren't on the best terms, but the burly biker had still helped him and John wanted him to know he appreciated it.

"Don't mention it," Pete replied over his shoulder as he headed for the door. "Ellen," he added with a nod, before pushing out the door. The bar was silent as they listened to the rumble of Pete's Harley.

"G-got one of those fer me?" John asked when the sound of Pete's motorcycle had faded, nodding at the shot of whiskey on the bar.

"Here," Ellen said as she placed the bottle of whiskey and a clean shot glass in front of him. "I'm goin' ta bed. Lock up, would ya?" She added as she headed down the hall to her room.

End Notes:

So, John is going to be okay…but what about Becca? Hope you're still enjoying…if you are please take the time to drop me a little review…