More rain. Yet another Winchester metaphor.
At least, that's how Sam started to view the weather. There were so many strange things going on with it, more so than usual. Snow in Texas, earthquakes in North Carolina. And more rain. The bridge out of town was out, so they were stuck here another night. And Dean was still going on about the "chicks" at the bar.
"I mean, I'm adorable. Look at me Sammy? I'm the best option for a good time those chicks had in this god forsaken town."
"Dean, give it a rest, will you? You don't even sound like yourself anymore." Sam puts down the book he's reading, a study on Revelations, and stares hard at his brother. "In fact, you haven't been yourself since we helped Martin. What's wrong with you?"
"I don't want to talk about it. Let's go." Dean grabs his keys, throwing on his father's leather jacket. The smell of it, the deep rich scent of old leather, worn for years, always calmed him down, made him think of home.
"What? Where are we going?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"And tonight we go with flirty, yes?" Darcey twirls the beer bottle back and forth in her hands. When dressing for this evening, she had gone with subtle. Their first meeting, she always tried to blow the men away with her looks. Whatever would most make her stand out in a crowd. Just like Alex downplayed herself, trying to blend in. This evening found them both in dark jeans, Darcey in a pale green, loose fitting top, and Alex in a flattering black tank.
"No. Tonight you go with flirty. I get to remain my tough as nails self." Scanning the crowd, Alex thought to herself, this was a good evening. The crowd was fairly heavy for a rain soaked Friday night, and there were enough women to keep Alex and Darcey under the radar. And if there was any trouble, they'd be able to easily duck out the back door.
"You enjoy this part of the job, don't you Alex?"
"I enjoy a job well done."
"You know, they will probably figure we are up to something. I do not think they are as dumb as they appear."
"We're counting on that, remember? You remember why we're here, don't you?"
"I did. But, what if it all goes wrong? What if they 'zig' instead of 'zag'?" Her accent was becoming heavier with each word.
"Then you and I will work it out. Just like we always do."
Alex knew what Darcey was worried about. She was having the same thoughts. But on paper, this was such an easy job. Then again, the job that had killed Darcey's husband had also seemed easy. That job had the same set up; it worked in most circumstances. But the man they were after had pulled a gun on Darcey, and Brian had jumped in between them. Alex had finished the job for her friends, but after watching her husband die in her arms, Darcey was never the same. She had become the ice maiden. Nothing could crack her cool calm. For her to be worried, worried Alex.
"Show time," Darcey whispers, unfolding her 6 foot tall frame from the small table, and disappearing into the crowd.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
"So, that was double or nothing, right? And you just scratched on the eight ball."
"Know how to play..." Sam slurs at the skinny man standing in front of him. "Wanna go again."
"Your loss." Skinny, that's how Sam thinks of him, racks the balls up, lines up his shot, and makes a weak break. It was nearly impossible to hustle pool when the locals were so bad. The first game Sam had to sink Skinny's balls, claiming to be confused as to whether he was solids or stripes. Meanwhile, Dean was probably in a corner with some local girl. Either that, or drowning his sorrows in beer.
While he mentally plots Skinny's demise, he catches the faint "chink" of quarters being dropped on the table, followed by "I believe the term is, 'I've got next', no?" He turns to stare in to the sapphire blue eyes of Darcey.
"Aww, honey. You don't want to get into this. This is a man's game." Skinny laughs at Darcey, missing his shot.
"It would appear to be your turn, Mr...?"
Sam can't take his eyes off Darcey. He was tall, so he wasn't used to staring into a woman's eyes at such a close angle. He can hear Skinny mumbling, and showing off to his friends. "Richards. My name is Sam Richards."
"It is nice to meet you, Sam Richards. I will wait right here for you to beat your skinny friend," Darcey says with a wink.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Where's you French friend?" Dean plops down in the chair next to Alex, handing her a beer. Alex looks at the beer, then at Dean.
"Canadian."
"OK, then. Where's your Canadian friend?"
"Why do you care?"
"Look, I'm sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Dean...Van Halen." Normally, Dean didn't stumble when coming up with an alias. And he had used Van Halen so many times; it rolled right off his tongue. He actually wondered why no one ever called him out on it, before. But when Alex turned her dark eyes on him, it was as if all his thoughts just stopped.
"Well, Dean Van Halen, since we are being honest with each other, I'm Alexandra Hagar." Picking up the beer, and taking a sip, Alex waited, watching Dean's face for any hint of catching on to what she had just said.
"Then it would appear, Miss Alexandra Hagar, we're a perfect match," Dean replies, touching his beer to hers, taking a drink. Alex was just a little disappointed. For years they had been hearing tales about the Winchesters. Brian had even bought a couple of the Supernatural books once, after hearing about them. But the reality was a bit of a letdown; sitting next to her was a severely beaten down drunk. And that was the nicest way Alex could describe him.
"Would you excuse me, for just a moment? I need to make a phone call."
"Don't disappear on me." Dean calls after her, ordering another round of beers.
Alex slips out the back door, and into her SUV, pulling a phone from her back pocket. She presses a few buttons on speed dial, waiting for the other end to be picked up.
"We found them. My god, they're a mess. I almost feel sorry for them."
She listens to the voice, answering "I would say by the end of the weekend. It'll be good to see home for a few days." With that, she hangs up the phone, and reenters the bar.
