AN INDELIBLE MARK

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Indelible (definition): not able to be forgotten or removed.

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Chapter One

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Have you ever had an experience that maybe didn't span much time in the grand scheme of life, but left you forever profoundly changed? I had that happen years ago, and though the actual time involved only comprised a few days, my life was never the same again. I may be old now, but I remember the entire experience as crystal clear as if it was yesterday. My encounter with two strangers left an indelible mark…indeed, I shudder to think what my life would have been like if I had never met… Hmm.

What happened, you ask? Oh, well. You won't believe me…ok, ok fine. Settle down. Grab a cup of coffee (or tea, or wine), I'll tell you. Let's see…where to begin…? …

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They rolled into town on a quiet, crisp fall morning. I remember it vividly, because I had been walking to work, crunching and shuffling through the fallen leaves and wishing I had worn my jacket, when I was startled by the deep growl of an engine. Turning, I saw the most beautiful black beast of a car…my Dad had instilled in me a love for the classics, and she was gorgeous. Dad would have been salivating over her I thought sadly, feeling a sharp pang of grief at my loss, even a year later. I probably wouldn't have thought too much of it beyond that, except the car stopped right outside the diner where I worked. I watched as two men exited the car. They were bickering over something, but it seemed like a familiar argument, the kind you have just because you can not because you think anything will change. They were both tall and brunette, the taller of the two having longer hair, but I couldn't see a great deal beyond that as they vanished into the recesses of the diner. Since they were out of sight I snuck a slight caress and pat on the rear of the lovely Impala, only to turn and smack into a very solid chest. Hands went out to steady me, and I looked up into probably the greenest eyes I'd ever seen...which just so happened to belong to one of the owners of the car. Whoops! I must have looked as guilty as I felt, because he smiled suddenly, which transformed his face like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Staring, mesmerized, I blinked as he removed his hands and stepped back. Belatedly realizing he had spoken to me, I replied "Huh?" Wow, smooth one!

"I said, she's pretty spectacular, isn't she?" He repeated, indicating the car when it seemed I wasn't going to respond again.

"Oh!" I took a breath and mentally shook myself. "Yes, she's amazing! In beautiful condition…a '67, right?" Not sure why, but I was quite pleased with myself when he showed his surprise at my knowledge. He nodded.

"My Dad always loved classic cars," I explained, "and instilled that same love in me." He was obviously incredibly observant, as I could tell he caught my use of past tense by his tone as he replied, "Yeah, she was my Dad's car, and he taught me how to take good care of her." He smiled another smile, this time tinged with sadness, and we exchanged an understanding glance of mutual comfort for one another's losses.

"Dean?" called a voice, causing the man in front of me to look back at the diner where the other man stood, clearly curious as to what was keeping him.

"Coming." he replied, reaching into the car for something. I gathered my wits, smiled a farewell, and headed to the employee entrance, now late for my shift.

Caroline razzed me as I pulled on my apron and grabbed a notepad and pen. She had apparently been watching out the window and had seen my encounter with the stranger. I ignored her teasing, heading over to my manager for my section assignment, and then put my head down and got to work. I didn't realize until I had waited on several of my tables that in my section's back booth sat the very men from the Impala. Swallowing down any awkward feelings, I approached just in time to hear the long-haired man say, "I'll need to find the library to do some research on the house."

"I can help with that," came out of my mouth before I could think. What was with my brain today? Now I was gazing into piercing hazel eyes, equally as captivating as his companion's.

"Sam, meet our fellow car enthusiast…" the man I had met outside (Dean, my mind supplied) paused and peered at my nametag, "Francis." Startled, I looked down and realized I had grabbed the wrong apron. I glanced back up into his laughing eyes, and nervously laughed.

"Whoops!" I said, "Wrong apron. I'm actually Rosalie."

"Nice to meet you Rosalie." they said together, making me laugh again.

"I'm Dean," Dean said, then gestured to the longer haired man, "and this is my brother, Sam." Brothers! That makes so much sense…I smiled a greeting back, then my brain kicked into gear (finally!), and I got back to business, asking what they would like to eat. After jotting down their order I walked away, disconcerted by how flustered I had found myself after a very simple interaction. What was it with these guys? We had strangers come through town all the time, and none of them seemed to affect me in this way. I watched them covertly for a few minutes from behind the safety of the kitchen counter. There was something different about them...they were intense, talking with heads bent toward each other, occasionally glancing down and passing a worn notebook back and forth. Their faces were grim, and I got the sense that though they were young in years they had seen more of life than many. I watched as Dean said something to Sam, who then just stared back with his expressive eyes. I chuckled softly to myself as Dean clearly caved under that look, wondering what they were discussing and weaving all sorts of fantastical stories in my mind.

Caroline called something from across the room to me, pulling me from my daydreams. Chiding myself for being so distracted, I put my head down and got back to work, the lunch rush pushing all other thoughts from my head.

When I finally brought the check over at the end of the meal, Sam looked up at me and asked directions to the library. His smile of thanks was just as beautiful (can I call it beautiful on a man?) as his brother's, making him seem much younger and erasing the weariness that had shown a moment before. I reluctantly moved out of the way as they both exited the booth (so tall!), thanked me, and left.

Caroline was on me the minute the door closed. "Ros-a-lie," she said, drawing my name out, "who were those handsome strangers?" For some reason, though she had been my best friend for ages, I was loath to talk about them. I can't explain - it was for all intents and purposes just a normal everyday interaction, but for some reason it felt monumental, like something in my world was about to shift. Oh, if only I had known…

"Caro, they were just guys." I responded, probably a bit more tartly than I meant to. She looked taken aback, then shrugged. "Uh-huh." Thankfully, she left it at that, and I was left to ponder and savor what I assumed was a one-time interaction with two very nice gentlemen.