Fatal (Winchester Sister 2)

Roadhouse

"Just finish the engine," Dean told me. I followed orders and went back to my carburetor.

"I actually came down here because I managed to crack Dad's voicemail code on one of his phones." Sam explained. Nerd.

John. It's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.

"Seems legit," I commented, tightening up a pipe connector.

"That message is four months old."

"He kept that chicks message for four months?"

"I ran a trace on the number and I found an address."

"Uncle Bobby let you use on of his cars?"

-------------------

Harvelle's Roadhouse. Cute name. In a beat-up and poorly maintained mini-van, Dean could've just cried the whole way here if he wanted to. The color was hideous. "This is humiliating. I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

Sam and I ignored him and started taking a look around. So, it turns out that this place is closed. "Hey. Bring the, uh..." He chucked a bag of picks to me and I caught them and unlocked the door in one fluent motion. I'm awesome! Not really. "Anybody here? Hello?"

"I'll go check out here," Sam told Dean and I before walking out a back door. The two of us scoped out the bar before spotting some guy passed out on a pool table.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen..." Dean shrugged.

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna go check out that back room." Dean walked away. I kneeled on a bar stool and checked behind the bar. Well, this is just shady as f-

The barrel of a gun was pushed up against my lower back. This seems promising. "God, please let that be a rifle..."

The gun was cocked and a reply came from whoever was holding it, "no. I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move. And no, I don't care how old you are." A girl. Well, this straightens things out.

"Not moving, copy that. Just a tip though, you don't wanna put a rifle right against my back 'cause it makes it real easy to do..." I quickly turned and snatched the gun from her. "That." She looked around 25, blonde hair, average height for a girl that age. Before I could even process what was happening, she landed a hard blow on my nose. "Did you just hit me? I swear, you just hit me. Sam? Dean? Little bit of help in here!" I started muttering something about how I couldn't see as Sam and Dean walked in, hands behind their heads.

"We're, uh... A little tied up right now." After them, followed a couple handguns and a woman at least early 50's. "Sorry, Emerson."

"Emerson? Sam and Dean? Winchester?" The brunette woman questioned. We responded in unison and she laughed, "hey! I'm Ellen. This is my daughter, Jo."

I looked over at Jo who had by now lowered said rifle and held it by her side. "You're not gonna hit me again, are you?"

-------------------

Ellen handed me a towel wrapped around an ice pack. Man, Jo can throw one. "Thanks."

"You called our Dad? Said that you could help? What did you mean?" Dean inquired.

"Well, with the demon, o'course," she stated simply. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"Was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quartlerly that I missed? Who are you and how do you know about all of this?"

"I just run a saloon! But hunters are known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. He was like family once."

"How come he's never mentioned you before? I asked, poking at my sore nose.