A/N- Things are coming into light! Finally, some clues are revealed. I've come to realize I really love chapters with Sara in them - she's new and exciting, and I think she challenges Dean in a way that females don't often do on the show. If they were to introduce a character like her on the show, I'd be all for her. Dean deserves happiness - not that that reveals anything about this story ;) Thank you to the lovely AlaskaForever for her insightful reviews ;) ;)

Chapter 5

Dean eased his way into the bar. It was midday, so there were far less occupants than the night before. The only people he recognized was the woman in the purple dress, dark flower in her equally dark hair, who was sitting with a middle aged balding man. And then there was his mysterious bartending friend.

Dean eased himself onto a barstool as she headed his way. Today she wore a long sleeve black t shirt with ripped light wash jean shorts. As she approached, the sunlight from the windows settled upon her hair and seemed to make it glow against her black shirt. Her accompanying smile seemed to glow with its own form of light.

"Dean. I swear, you're back so soon it's like you never even left."

He flashed her a smile to match her own. "What can I say, I couldn't stay away." Even as he said it, he was surprised to find there was a ring of truth in his statement.

She laughed, and Dean found himself hanging on to the soft peals as they rang through the air. "I'm flattered. Of course, you look like you're familiar with the bar scene, so maybe it's just the fact that I serve alcohol that's drawn you back in."

He was silent for a moment as he watched her tan hands rub a glass smooth, circling and polishing. "You know, it's funny. You seemed to know my name last night, but I never got yours."

Her light blue eyes met his, and Dean could see the twinkle of amusement behind them. "You're right. We should definitely alleviate that problem. I'm Sara." A hand detached itself from cleaning, and he shook her hand firmly.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I'm glad to officially know your name Sara. Which kind of brings me back to my point – how did you know mine."

A corner of her mouth twitched as she looked at him knowingly. "What can I say. You just look like a Dean Winchester to me."

At that, the door to the bar opened, and the bell hanging from the wooden frame clanged, announcing another patron. Dean spared a glance from Sara only to be met with Sam's glare. The one that actually made him want to quickly disappear before he was skewered or shot full of rock salt. "Hey Sam."

"Dean." Sam's voice was iron and steel, and when he grabbed Dean's shoulder in a way of greeting, it was less of a pat and more of a 'if we weren't in a public place, I'd break your face' type of thing. Dean almost had the urge to gulp. Sam looked at him for a second and the message he sent was crystal clear. Don't take me not knocking you unconscious as a sign that what you did was ok. I'm going to interrogate her, and you're not gonna have a problem with it, mkay? Mkay.

Sara wasn't oblivious to the exchange between the two. She remained silent for a moment, and then asked, "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Yeah, a beer would be great." As she bustled around, Dean could see Sam's eyes evaluating and assessing her, trying to see a tell or sign that she was something supernatural. As she returned with the beer in hand, he handed her a money clip full of ones. "For the drink."

She took it and pulled out what was needed, fingering the clip as she did. "Nice clip. You know, most people nowadays cheat out on them, get those carbon fiber knockoffs. But this is really nice inlaid silver… with iron backing?" Dean practically saw Sam deflate a little as she handed him back the clip, and he couldn't help but stifle a little grin. That just got rid of dozens of potential monsters. Take that little bro. He had to admit, though, it was nice to know she wasn't a spirit, demon, fairy, leprechaun, phoenix, shapeshifter, skinwalker, wraith, djinn, lamia, pishtaco, and a few other things. He was liking his odds right about now.

Sam nodded, his mood a little less superior now that he'd been knocked down a peg. "Yeah, my dad got it for me."

She nodded understandingly. "Seems like a great graduation gift." She looked between the two of them. "Let me guess Dean, this is the family you're in town to visit. Your brother?"

"Yup, Sammy's my younger brother." Sam looked shifted a little at this reveal of information to a stranger.

She turned to Sam. "Well it's great to meet you Sam. Let me tell you, if you are anything like your brother, then I'm sure conversations with you are equally as fascinating. Your brother has quite the imagination."

Before either of the brothers could respond, the bell on the door gave a muted jingle and a rough male voice shouted into the air. "Alright, everybody, hands in the air! This is a stick up!"

They all turned, and before them stood a man with his face covered in a black ski mask, with a black hoodie and blue jeans. His eyes, dark and beady, were narrow and calculating. A pistol was in his hand, and was pointed right at Sam and Dean. Clearly he knew who the potential threats were here. He was right – Dean had already started reaching around his back for his special piece, but stopped when the gun was pointed right at him. Slowly he put his hands back in the air. Everyone else at the bar had their hands up, and a woman in the corner started to sob.

"Hey, bro, just chill ok? No one needs to get hurt here." Sam, always the voice of reason, was calm and steady. Dean was glad it was Sam talking for the moment – all he wanted to do was cuss out the guy and insult his intelligence. Either that or stand in front of Sara.

The man cocked the gun and repointed. "Shut up man!" He turned his head to Sara. "Give me the money. NOW!" Sara nodded slowly, her eyes steely, and opened the register.

It happened so fast. One second, the man's eyes had slid back to watch Sam and Dean, and then BANG. A shot reverberated in the bar, and Dean was shocked to see the man, not Sara, drop to his knees. A quick glance showed Sara standing behind the bar, a .45 Colt in her hands. Sam and Dean both leapt out of their seats, Sam to grab the gun away from the mask man and Dean to leap over the counter to Sara.

He gently wrested the gun away from her and took her into a deep hug. Her shoulders were trembling slightly, but she stayed silent as she returned the hug and buried her face into his jacket. They stood there for a while, her pressed against him and his head rested on hers. Dean couldn't help but notice her hair smelled like… mangoes. Or maybe oranges. Something citrusy and sweet. She's not crying. She could've just killed a man, and she's not even crying. I knew this girl was made of hunter material.

Sam's voice carried over the bar. "Dude, she got him in the hand. He's losing blood, but he's fine."

Dean separated himself enough to peer down at her. She stared up at him, her blue orbs magnetic and seemingly bottomless. "Did you do that on purpose?"

She shrugged. "Duh. I can aim you know. Killing a man isn't exactly on my bucket list. I figured if he was gonna walk in here and shoot until he got what he wanted, he didn't really need to use that hand."

Dean laughed at that, and he even heard Sam chuckling. What a girl.

They both headed out fairly quickly after that. Somehow, Sara seemed to understand their aversion to having the cops take a statement – but then again, she seemed to understand everything. They piled into the Impala and headed back to Bobby's.

After a moment of silence Sam spoke up from the passenger's seat. "I'm sorry Dean."

Dean waited for a moment, rolling the words around in his head. "Sorry for what Sam?"

Sam's words came haltingly, full of deliberation and hesitation. "Sorry for… doubting you. For making this out to be more than it really was. Sorry for assuming you were making the same mistakes I was… when clearly you're not."

"Thanks Sammy."

Sam was silent for a moment more and then spoke up again. "You understand why I make the assumption though, don't you?" Dean said nothing, so Sam continued. "Sara was… an easy explanation. We had no other clues… have no other clues, and suddenly you're talking about a suspicious girl, one who knew you. It just seemed so obvious. Granted, since when has our luck ever been that good?"

Dean chuckled. "Hah. Try never."

"Exactly… I am sorry about jumping to conclusions though. If anything… she's intriguing. Not really monster material though."

"Hah, I know that Sammy. I never pegged her for a monster, but there is…something…about her. She's different."

Sam was quiet for half a beat. "Do you see it, I don't know, going anywhere?"

Dean spared a glance at Sammy, then returned his eyes to the road. "I don't know. This life isn't really easy on relationships of any type. And this is the Apocalypse. At the same time… I haven't felt this way about anyone since Cammie. I don't know Sam, you're the long term relationship guy, not me."

Sam smiled at his big brother. "You know, if there was ever anyone to give it a go with, it'd be her."

Bert unlocked his door and sidled into the dark house. He plopped his keys onto their respective hook and tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair. Reaching for the light switch, he flipped it, but nothing happened. Huh. Must have blew a fuse. Maybe I left something on…Damn, I'm hungry. He'd ordered a burger at the bar that afternoon, but a shooter had come into the bar and held up the place. Nothing really happened – the situation was diffused when the bartender shot him in the hand, but the police had then arrived and it had taken hours for him to get out of there. Still without his burger.

He sighed as he made his way in the dark to the kitchen and opened his new fridge. The thing was relatively empty except for some dip and beer. It'll do. As he munched on some chips, he thought back to his date – the sultry Mia. He'd known it was his lucky day when she stopped him at the super market and asked him on a date. It was almost too good to be true, but hey, when he pinched himself, she was still there. During lunch (what little they had of it, anyway), he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She was a California nine, he was more of a South Dakota three. With her long, silky black hair, magnetic amethyst eyes, and purple floor length dress to cover those beautiful womanly curves, she was more a match for the model guy at the bar, not him.

As he turned to face his dining room, still munching on his chips, he noticed a vase on the island of his kitchen. Tucked inside the long neck were what looked like black irises, and upon closer inspection he saw the flowers had blood red tips and a deep purple inside. He'd seen that flower before, hadn't he? He just couldn't remember where. When he leaned forward and sniffed the flowers, he almost coughed from the strong scent. They smelled sickly sweet; it burned his throat going down his windpipe.

His vision started getting dark at the corners, and the scent seemed to swirl in his mind, clouding thoughts and coherency. He slid down the side of the island, drifted off into an unsettling slumber.

TBC- Please read and review- I love to hear comments, questions, concerns, thoughts, ponderments, and any other things you can regale me with!