𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕟
"You think I'll be lucky enough to get a lap dance before we-"
"Dude, shut the fuck up." Sam hissed, cutting me off as he whipped his head toward me to shoot me a nasty glare. All I could do was let out a chuckle in response.
What can I say? You gotta make your own fun in this serious, death-defying job we have. I admire my little brother for being so straight-edged and down to business...I do...it means I raised the kid well. But I will admit, it makes it a little harder to get through.
You gotta smile through the bullshit sometimes. More often than not, it's our only way to survive. We see so much blood...so much death...so much scary crap that everyone else in the world thinks only exists in TV and books....legends and fairytales...movies and nightmares. We've lost so many people we've cared about...our parents, for starters. This life is a lonely struggle...so when I get the opportunity to have some fun, take the edge off, or crack a joke...I'm going to. Whether he deems it appropriate or not.
There has to be some good with the bad. Because if not...what else is there to fight for?
It's been hunt after hunt after hunt lately. Some went great...others, not so much. It's a lot of weight on both our shoulders alone...sometimes I wish I just had someone besides Sam to share the burden with. Thank God I have him, obviously...but he does deserve a break from time to time. We both do.
There's nothing funny about a string of mysterious murders that we can't find any connection to, really. So far...besides this place we're currently combing through...it's just chalked up to a bunch of horny dudes willing to kill for a decent lay. Demented...sad...twisted, of course...but nothing has really screamed 'our kind of gig' so far.
Nothing....save the fact every person who seemed to mysteriously lose their marbles...lost it right after visiting this club.
A strip club.
I mean...Sam can't blame me for finding solace in this. He's excited about it too, deep down...I know he is. We plunder through graveyards, deal with our fair share of creepy ghost children. Often times, we find our monster in the lowliest of places....places that reek so bad, no amount of detergent will ever get the stink and the morbidity out of our clothes.
But for our lead to be a strip club....I mean...c'mon....who wouldn't be thrilled by that change of pace?
I sure as hell am. Even if our monster turns out to be camouflaging itself as some sexy ass stripper, and we'd unfortunately have no choice but to gank her...it'd be a relief from the grotesque horror of the usual shit we have to put down. And if we have to interview other strippers to try and get a lead...maybe I'll even be lucky enough to have a night of fun to take the edge off amidst all the brutality.
I'm not afraid to admit how excited that thought made me. Given the string of bad luck, blood and guts we've been through lately...I'd say Sam and I deserve a night off to just be stupid and be dudes...just appreciate the finer side of life.
He's not having it, of course. It's all work, no play with him. I can't say I blame the guy...we've been desperate for a win lately. It seems like the two of us are cursed with bad luck, no matter how hard we try to fight for the greater good of the world. It's unfair...the punchline to a bad joke, in all honesty. We bust our tails day and night...and we have been since both of us were old enough to even hold a weapon in our little hands. All for nothing. Scraps, loneliness, heartache...
So if he's mad at me for getting giddy about something as simplistic as the attraction to strippers...let the bitch be mad. I'm gonna have fun whether he wants me to or not. I deserve it...and so does he. He just needs to learn that even though our lives suck....it is okay to live a little here and there.
"We gotta focus. Do you even have your EMF reader?" he snapped toward me with a raised brow.
"'Do you have your EMF reader'?" I mocked him and rolled my eyes. "Of course I do, Sam. I'm not an idiot."
He opened his mouth to retort, and I gave him a dirty look that immediately encouraged him to keep his mouth shut. I pulled said EMF reader out of my pocket and flipped the on-switch before I started slowly working my way through the club. Sam stayed close to my side, keeping his head on a swivel and his pistol at the ready.
I raised the EMF reader as we walked around the bar, the stages, and down the hallway to the private rooms. Not a peep from the thing. Not a single red light flickered, absolutely nothing indicated anything paranormal. So, that at least crosses a malevolent spirit out of the suspect pool.
A shifter was my next best guess, so as we continued to search and examine the club, I kept my eyes peeled for anything grotesque. When a shifter sheds its skin and becomes a new shape, it literally sheds its skin...leaving a pile of discarded human flesh in its wake. Not a lot makes me queasy given my line of work, but that always has.
But as I took the time comb through each of the private rooms, I couldn't find a single indication of that either. It doesn't cross out the possibility...but if it is a shifter, there's gotta be a lair or something closeby where the thing can change itself discreetly. I shuddered at the thought, and my lunch threatened to work its way back up.
God, I fucking hate monsters.
"You find anything?" Sam asked from where he stood, hanging back against the doorway to keep a lookout.
"Nada." I responded in a defeated sigh. I'm sure if I were to hold up a blacklight in this room, I'd discover more than enough grotesquery to hold me over for the next five years...but nothing monster related. Just evidence of depraved humans. "You?" I asked.
"Nothing." he huffed. "There's not a speck of sulfur in this place, so that rules out demon. I haven't seen anything resembling a hex-bag anywhere, so I don't know if it's a witch either. I'm stumped."
"Me too." I groaned, stuffing my EMF reader back in my pocket. "There's gotta be something here we're not-"
My words were cut off by a loud thump emanating from the main area of the bar. The thump was then followed by a loud squeak, as if a chair was being slid across the floor.
We got company.
My back stiffened, and I shot a look to Sam, who was tensing up just the same. He raised his pistol out in front of him, grasping it firmly in both hands and keeping his finger hovering just above the trigger. I took up the same stance, raising my weapon in one hand and holding my flashlight in the other, both arms in front of me defensively.
I nodded my head toward the hallway, silently urging Sam and I forward. We stepped very slowly, not allowing a single footstep to be audible...not giving our unexpected guest anything resembling a warning, or a chance to flee.
We cleared the hallway, and stepped out into the open club. My eyes darted around, scanning the stages, the tables...searching for any sign of movement. When I finally saw something move from the corner of my eye, I turned my flashlight toward the bar, where I saw what appeared to be a woman, facing away from us and hunched over while rummaging through something beneath the liquor shelves.
I flashed a look to Sam, and he just gave me a single nod as he aimed his weapon for the woman, and I mirrored his actions as I readied myself to announce our presence.
"Hands where we can see 'em." I demanded firmly, keeping my feet planted and my arms steady, ready to shoot at the first sign of ill intent, or the first indication that she was going to bolt.
She shot upright, just before whirling around to face Sam and I. And as the beam from my flashlight fell across her face...everything got a little fuzzy for a moment. It felt like...like my heart skipped a beat. It sounds cringey, but...I think that's actually what happened.
She was...she was beautiful.
Her eyes were wide, clearly caught by surprise...it seems she was unaware she had company too. They glistened in the light, and they were the most piercing shade of (e/c) I'd ever seen. Deep...swirling...almost haunting, how mesmerizing they were. She had full lips, that were parted slightly in her surprise...and when she whipped her head around, locks of (h/c) waved wildly around her, some of them falling across her face.
The sight of her face alone was enough to encourage me to lower my weapon slightly, and I felt the urge to let my eyes travel down her body...just to see if it was as equally perfect as her face...or maybe just to see if she was even real.
But my eyes barely made it past her neck before I realized she was holding a pistol herself, aiming it directly toward me, and her surprised look hardened into one of severity. Seeing her take aim, I shook my head, trying to break out of whatever weird trance I'd just entered into...and I raised my own weapon again.
From the corner of my eye, I'd realized Sam had faltered a bit too. His gun was aimed lower than before, and he shook his own head...as if he just experienced that same awestruck moment that I did. I can't blame him, obviously... she was like...something from a dream.
"Who are you?" she demanded, (e/c) eyes flickering between my brother and I. Her voice...even in its angry tone...sent goosebumps crawling up my arms. That low, sensual kind of voice...almost like a pur, even though there was nothing intimate about the way she so brazenly aimed that gun at my face.
I cleared my throat, readjusting my stance as I tried to refocus my attention. She is a potential threat, and she could even be the monster we're searching for, I can't afford to let my guard down. Although...the thought of having to gank a woman so pretty...it sent a pang shooting through my chest.
"I was about to ask you the same question." Sam responded to her, his voice a little lower than normal, but still firm. "What are you doing here?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "My job." she snipped. "And if you two would be so kind as to fuck off, I could get back to doing it."
Damn....feisty thing, isn't she?
Shut the fuck up, Dean.
"And what's your job, exactly?" I questioned, raising a brow at her. "Little late in the night to be bartending, isn't it?"
A small smirk played at the corner of her lips, and she held up her other hand, which was wrapped around a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label whiskey. Sam and I's favorite.
"Can't blame a girl for helping herself to a free drink when the opportunity presents itself, can you?" she chuckled, though there was no humor whatsoever in that pretty face of hers.
"I like your taste." I admitted, shrugging my shoulder slightly. "Don't really like that murderous look in your eyes though. That look tells me you might have a taste for something a little more potent than whiskey."
"Oh yeah?" she scoffed. "Like what?"
"Like dropping bodies." Sam answered, his voice tight.
Her eyes widened a bit, and they flickered between us both for a moment, before she slowly lowered her weapon. "That's why you're here. You're following the murders." she concluded.
"And it looks like they lead us right to you, sweetheart." I added, though the muscles in my arms relaxed a bit as she let down her guard.
"I'm not your 'sweetheart', asshole." she spat back at me, causing my lips to twitch a bit, trying to bite back a smile. "And I'm not your murderer either."
"Kinda hard to believe that...when you're breaking in to the one place that connects all the vics like you own the joint." Sam countered.
"I'm sorry, are you two not doing the exact same thing?" she raised a brow, and neither of us truly had an answer to that rebuttal. She snickered at our silence, and then let out a huff as she tucked her pistol into the waistband of her jeans.
Jeans that hugged her curvy hips beautifully, I realized.
"Lower the guns, and I'll prove it to you." she stated, holding her palms up in surrender as she slowly stepped out from behind the bar, setting the bottle of whiskey on top of the counter.
As she revealed herself, I felt a lump form in my throat. Her body was in fact, as incredible as her face was. Lethal curves that were accentuated by dark, tight denim...and a form-fitting tank top that hugged around her breasts. She had some meat on her bones...but some serious muscle underneath it. Her hips swayed as she walked slowly, and it didn't even look like she was trying to do so. She was shorter than me by a few inches, but I could tell she would actually be able to hold her own against either one of us in a fight.
Maybe...hopefully...she's not our monster. But she didn't exactly seem like the type of woman you'd wanna fuck with either.
At least....not in a bad way.
I studied her for a second, before turning to look toward Sam. He was eyeing her closely too, his jaw tight. But then he looked at me, and at the same time, we silently decided to give her a chance to prove her supposed innocence. Keeping our eyes locked on her, we lowered our weapons, and tucked them away.
She walked closer, watching us both carefully, before she paused a few feet away from us. She held out her arm, revealing the underside of her forearm as she clenched her hand in a tight fist. With her other hand, she pulled a silver knife out of her pocket...and before either of us had a chance to react, she placed the blade against her skin, and began to make a small incision, blood trickling down her arm and dripping down onto the floor.
She let out a small hiss as she did, and my eyes widened in utter disbelief.
She finished her cut, showing it off to Sam and I. It was just a normal cut...no sizzling...no screaming...just blood.
"See?" she sniffed, stowing away the knife. "I'm not a shifter. If you've got holy water in your pocket, I'll take a swig of that too if need be."
I didn't realize my mouth was agape, not until I heard Sam close his and clack his teeth together. I closed mine as well, studying her wound carefully, before letting my eyes rest on her face once again, seeing her now for what she was.
"You're....you're a hunter?" Sam spoke my thoughts out loud.
She nodded. "I'm not the killer. I'm trying to find it. So if you two don't plan to help with that, then stay out of my way." she warned.
"You think it's a shifter, then." Sam continued, ignoring her warning. "That's why you're packing silver."
She shrugged, turning away from us to walk back toward the bar. I tilted my head, unable to keep myself from watching those hips sway, and out of the corner of my eye, I think I saw Sam doing the exact same thing.
She went behind the bar again and found a dishrag, before she proceeded to press it against the bleeding wound on her arm.
"I don't know what it is for sure." she sighed, frowning slightly as she leaned back against the shelves. "I've been tracking it for a while...it's a slippery son of a bitch, whatever it is."
I smiled at that remark, crossing my arms over my chest as I studied her.
"There's nothing at any of the crime scenes. Just bodies...just different killers. But all of their stories match up to a T...besides this 'dream woman'. It all has to be the same thing...a shifter is the only thing that makes any sense, but...I just haven't found its nest yet. I was hoping I'd find something here." she continued.
"After a stiff glass of whiskey, of course." I added on with a chuckle.
She smiled as her gaze flickered up to me. "We all gotta have a little fun once in a while in this shitty life, don't we?" she flashed me a wink.
.......Oh, I'm in trouble.
I glanced toward Sam, and I thought he'd be scowling toward me or rolling his eyes. But instead, he was even smiling himself, crossing his own arms over his chest as his eyes stayed glued to her.
"I'm surprised we never saw you at any of the crime scenes," Sam continued. "Since you've been tracking it for a while."
"I guess our timing must have been off." she shrugged casually. "A shame too. Would have been nice to know I was amongst friends."
"'Friends', huh?" I reiterated. "What happened to me being an 'asshole'?"
She giggled...a light, lovely sound. "Sometimes, the best people are assholes." she smiled, just before she reached for that bottle of Johnny Walker and unscrewed the cap on it, grabbing a few glasses from beneath the bar and setting them up in a row. "Care to share a round with me? Based on your faces, it looks like you've come up empty here too. We could all use it."
I glanced toward Sam, and I narrowed my eyes at him...hoping to silently portray the message 'If you say 'no' to this, I will fucking kill you.' But thankfully, I didn't even need to do so. Because Sam nodded his head without even looking at me.
"I don't see why not...especially if it's on the house." he grinned toward her.
I cocked a brow at him. Letting loose and having a drink on the job? I could hardly believe it. Maybe...maybe he thought he was in big trouble too. Fucking great.
"I'm Sam, by the way." He introduced himself as he started walking toward the bar, claiming one of the barstools for himself. "This is my brother, Dean." I followed behind him, taking the barstool next to him, smiling at her as I sat down.
"Pleasure to meet you both." she grinned as she began to pour a generous amount of whiskey in each of the three glasses. "I'm Y/N. Sorry we couldn't be sharing a drink under better circumstances."
"Is there ever a better circumstance for us?" I chuckled, giving her a grateful nod as I grabbed one of the glasses.
She shrugged a shoulder, setting the bottle down before grabbing her own glass. "A very fair point."
Sam grabbed the final glass, and the three of us raised them up in a silent toast, before we simultaneously took a swig. Sam and I only took a sip of the whiskey, but as we lowered our glasses, we realized that Y/N kept going...she downed her entire glass in one go. She let out a satisfied sigh as she swallowed...and she never made a face...like the strong alcohol didn't even phase her...and then she began to pour herself another.
Fuck. She's perfect.
"So...how long have you been in the life for, Y/N?" Sam asked, setting his glass down and propping his elbows up on the counter.
She took a smaller sip of her second glass before setting it back down. "Longer than I'd care to admit." she chuckled. "My whole life, practically."
"We know how that is." I sighed. "Never gets any easier, does it?"
She shook her head. "No, it does not. It's not all bad though...I get to listen to my own music on road trips, see the country...it's lonely, and it doesn't pay well, but...it's the hand we were dealt. Someone's gotta do it."
"It's nice to meet someone who gets it." Sam chuckled, downing another sip of his drink.
"Now, the real question is...what kind of music are we talkin' about?" I asked with a smile.
She smirked in response. "Anything recorded after 1990 isn't considered music, first of all." she giggled. "Led Zepplin, Metallica, Van Halen....Bon Jovi rocks too, but only on occasion."
Oh, come ON! This....this ain't even fair.
"Jesus Christ." I breathed, downing the rest of my drink in an attempt to cope with the fact my fucking soul mate just happens to be casually standing in front of me.
"I will admit, though....hate me if you want," she spoke up, holding her hands up in an innocent gesture. "I do have a guilty pleasure, we all do."
"Oh? And what's that?" I urged.
"I do...from time to time....occasionally enjoy some Celine Dion. And that's the most honest I've ever been with anyone." she laughed.
My eyes darted over to Sam, who just so happens to have the exact same guilty pleasure, and his eyes widened as he gawked at her.
"Jesus Christ." he copied my sentiment before he, too, downed the rest of his drink.
BIG trouble. We are both in big....big trouble.
We all continued conversing amongst each other for a good while...just learning more about her, telling her more about us. In the grand scheme of things, we were probably wasting time...we had a case to solve, and we never knew when our mystery monster was going to strike next. But...at the moment, I don't think any of us cared.
She was just...enthralling. And we had so much in common with her it wasn't even funny.
We told her about how we lost our mom, and that's what started this whole long, heavy life for us. She'd told us she lost her siblings. She had a decent amount of them, from the way it sounded. I can't imagine how that must have been for her.
It seems it's been a long, lonely, tough road for all of us.
She adored all the same movies I do, and she even got stuck in some nerdy conversation with Sam about some author they were both into. Whenever Sam or I brought up a topic that wasn't exactly the most pleasant, she listened intently...allowing us to say whatever we wanted to say. It was almost healing...talking to her. Talking to someone who genuinely understands, yet doesn't take pity, at least not visibly.
She's well versed in all monsters too. We asked her questions just to see how much she knew, how fluent she was in Supernatural lore...and she never missed a question. She was practically an expert.
Time was flying as we got lost in each other's company, and before long, the very first rays of sunlight were beginning to trickle in through the front windows of the club. We'd even managed to kill the whole bottle between the three of us...but her words never slurred, she wasn't even phased. She could hold her liquor...that's for damn sure.
"Alright," Sam spoke up...yawning and stretching out his arms. "This has been...a really, really great time. And it was amazing meeting you, Y/N. But...we got work to do...and I'm not even sure where to start."
"You and I both." she murmured, leaning back against the shelves behind her as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Something about this case just isn't making any sense. It's people killing people. It's who they're killing for that's the issue here."
"Yeah," I nodded, furrowing my brows as I tried to refocus myself on the case. "And if it is a shifter...then I don't see why it would have any issue getting its own hands dirty. They enjoy killing for themselves."
"Maybe we just need to hit the books...see if there's anything in the lore that points to some kind of monster we're not even thinking of." Sam suggested.
"Well..." Y/N spoke up. "It sounds like you two kinda have a lone wolf thing going on, but...if you wouldn't mind the company...maybe I could help."
My brows shot up my forehead, and I turned to Sam, who was staring at me too, judging my reaction.
It was just him and I for so long. We have Bobby, our father figure for all intents and purposes...and he helps us out from time to time. But other than that, it's always just been my brother and I against the world. I don't think either of us had ever considered working alongside another hunter. We do have a system...a specific method to the way we work...and having too many cooks in the kitchen might be a little daunting.
But...on the other hand...this woman seems to know her stuff. And in this case, where we are well and truly stumped when it comes to what we're up against...we may just need all the help we can get. She's got the stomach for it, clearly...maybe having her come along wouldn't be such a bad thing. I could see her working alongside us...even if it is just until we get this case wrapped up.
It also doesn't hurt that she is....well...one hell of a sight for sore eyes...to put it as politely as possible.
Maybe just this one case...as long as Sam and I don't start foaming at the mouth over her. Which...honestly, may be an issue here. But...one I'd be willing to work through. I had a feeling about her...a good one, and my gut hasn't done me wrong yet.
"You....wanna work this case with us?" I confirmed, letting my gaze flicker back toward her.
She shrugged. "Well, we've both been working it for a while on our own. Maybe if we team up, we can cover more ground...get some more answers. If you'll have me that is."
Sam straightened up a bit, his lips pursing as he studied her face.
"I don't see why not." he finally answered. "I think we'd work well together...and any help would be appreciated."
I smirked. That answer was Sam-language for 'Please, fucking work with us.' Glad to see him and I are on the same page about something for once. Even if it means things may or may not get a little...tense.
Y/N smiled widely, exposing a row of perfect, glistening teeth. A smile that encouraged the rest of the oxygen in my lungs to fizzle out of me. "Well then," she giggled. "I'd say we should drink to 'teamwork' or something cheesy like that... but I think we just polished off the last of it." she observed as she picked up the empty bottle.
"Why not grab one for the road, then?" I chuckled.
I meant it as a joke, but she just shrugged before turning around and grabbing two more bottles of the same whiskey off the shelf. Sam and I laughed as she turned around and held them up beside her face. "What? They won't miss 'em." she smiled.
"I like your style, Y/N." I admitted, and Sam just shook his head as he chuckled.
She beamed at me as she set the bottles in front of us. "I promise you, sweetheart...you can't handle my 'style'." she flashed me a wink that nearly made my heart stop.
FUCK.
"Where are you guys staying?" she asked, thankfully before I took that little statement from her and fucking ran away with it.
"The uh....the roach motel just off the interstate." Sam told her with a clear of his throat, clearly as flustered as I was. "We're in room 108."
"Perfect." she smiled. "I'm gonna grab a couple things, and then I'll meet you guys back there...we can hit the books together."
"You wanna stay with us?" I nearly choked on my own spit as I asked the question.
She raised a brow at me. "Is....that a problem?"
Sam and I looked at each other for a moment, before we started to speak again...our words flowing out of us in a jumbled mess of 'no' 'not a problem' 'I mean, if you want'...we sounded like babbling morons.
Smooth. Real smooth.
She just laughed as Sam and I turned beat red. "Alright then, I'll see you there...partners." she purred the last word.
We kept our eyes glued to her as she stepped out from behind the bar and started to walk away from us. Just before she disappeared around the corner, she turned to look back at us over her shoulder, giving us a small wave of her hand.
"Bye Sam....bye Dean." she grinned, before turning and strutting down the hall, disappearing from view.
Both of us just gawked at that spot for a solid minute...neither of us speaking...neither of us moving....just...gobsmacked. Slowly, I turned to face him, and we just stared each other down as that entire interaction began to fully sink in. As we processed just what in the hell we signed ourselves up for by taking her on.
"Jesus Christ" we both mumbled beneath our breath in unison, as we polished off the last little sliver of whiskey in our glasses.