We stood in a lone field, the nearest town probably an hour in any one direction. The only light coming from the burning pyre in front of us. The burning fire that held the body of our father. Sam fidgeted around while I wiped my face, partly because it was itchy and partly because I had tears rushing down it. What did he do? What in the hell did he do? It's not like he could've done anything bad. But then again, this is my father we're talking about so who knows what happened. Dean remained silent, staring into the heat. But slowly snapping for sure.
"Hey, Dean?" I asked him, finding shelter under his arm. "Before he- did he say anything to you?"
"No. Nothin'." His voice cracked a little. For the first time in an extremely long time, I didn't believe him and that made me cry even more.
-------------------
"Hey, where's that wrench, man?"
"Should be on the table!"
"It ain't here!"
"Where else- Found it!" The wrench I've been looking for was thrown out from underneath the car. In the process of bending down to grab it, I laid on my stomach in a push up position. Being careful of my cast. Uncle Bobby wrapped a piece of fabric around it before we came out here so it wouldn't get dirty. But my hands were greasy as hell.
"How's it coming along?" I smirked. I already knew the answer.
"Slow," Dean yelled. Since apparently I can, he asked me to help put the Impala back together.
I laughed at that, standing back up and going back to the engine. "Time. Time and patience is all it takes," I leaned over the radiator to the carburetor.
"Time and patience? Really?! Time is too friggin' short and my patience is wearin' thin!"
I leaned back up and wiped my greasy hands on a near by rag. Sam approached. Man, I was kinda hoping he would have a drink or something. But no. "How's the car coming along?"
"Hang on. Just let me get a wrench and I'll show you!"
"In other words, slow. Ok. Need help?"
"You under a hood? Think I'll pass." Dean said getting out from under the car.
"How come she gets to?"
"Maybe because I've actually done it once or twice," I threw back, leaning back over the engine with a socket wrench.
"Need anything else then?"
"Stop it, Sam." Dean said with the WARNING! WARNING! ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION! look about him.
"Stop what?"
"Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay 'cause I'm ok! Really. I promise."
"It's just... We've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't bought up Dad once," Sam shrugged, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. Neither have I! It's just the way I'm dealing with it.
"Fine... You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." Dean and his sense of humor. Cracks me up every time.
"Don't patronize me, Dean. Dad's dead, the Colt's gone and you two are acting like nothing happened."
"Well, what do you want me to say?"
"Say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here with Emz buried under this damn car!"
"Revenge, huh?" I asked, switching a tool head over at the metal table. "Sounds good. You got any leads? Heads or tails on where the demon is from Dad's journal? 'Cause last time we checked, there wasn't any way to find the yellow-eyed bastard. And we do finally find it- oh, wait. Like you said, the Colt's gone. We've got nothing, Sam! Absolutely nothing! So the least we can do is fix the car. That came out a lot more harsher than intended. Sorry."
"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.
"You'd have to ask him that." If only I could... "Don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent if you if-" She paused, taking time to read our solemn faces. "He didn't send you... He's all right, isn't he?"
"No. No, he isn't." Sam explained, pulling my hand away from my nose. "It was the demon, we think. I guess, uh, it just got to him before he got to it."
"I'm so sorry," Ellen apologized.
"It's okay. We're doing alright." Dean said, glancing at me.
"How are you doing, sweetie?" That nickname... I hate it.
"I'm okay. My nose is a little numb but I'm fine." I looked around and Dean was rubbing his forehead. "Oh! Dad! Right! I'm good."
"I know how close you kids and your dad were."
"Really, lady! We're fine!" There snaps another bit of Dean's sanity.
"If you can help, we could use all the help we can get right now." Sam stated.
"Well, we can't. But Ash will."
"Who's Ash?" I asked, handing the ice pack back to Ellen over the bar.
"Ash!" I jerked around to the pool table when I heard some of the balls being knocked around.
This guy sat up, flailing around. "What? Closin' time?!"
"That's Ash?" I asked.
"Yep. He's a genius," Jo replied, smiling.
-------------------
Everyone huddled around a bar stool seated Ash who was leafing through one of Dad's folders. "This guy ain't a genius. He's a Lynard Skynard roadie," I commented.
Ash stopped what he was doing and turned to me, "I like you." I cowered behind Sam after that.
"This is about a years worth of our Dad's work. Just see what you make of it," Dean urged.
"C'mon. This ain't real. Nobody could track a demon like this."
"Our Dad could."
"There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations. Damn! They're signs. Omens." Wonderful. You all know what that means... "If you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like, crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been hit by lightning? Well, it ain't fun..."
"Can you track it or not?"
"Yeah. But something like this? I'm gonna need time. Give me... Fifty-one hours." Could've just said a little over a couple days.
Ash went to walk away before Dean called out to him, "I dig the haircut!"
"All business up front, party in the back." Ash walked into a room and slammed the door just as Sammy turned to me.
"Aw! Is wittle Emerson scared of a Wynard Skynard woadie?" He teased me, lifting his arm around my neck into a headlock.
"Leave me alone, Sammy!" I laughed.
"When's your birthday again?"
I gasped in mock shock, "you forgot my birthday?! You were my favorite! What kind of brother are you?!" My seriousness went downhill and I laughed again. I looked up and he had pulled that face. "No. No, no, no, no. Not the puppy eyes! Turn them off!"
"You two seem to get along well," Ellen commented from behind the bar.
Sam let me go. "Sometimes," I replied. "Sometimes as in ninety-nine percent of the time."
"How well do you work jobs together?"
"Pretty well, I guess. Why?"
"I was going to give this to a friend but maybe you can have a look through it," she explained, grabbing a folder from behind the police scanner.
COUPLE MURDERED
CHILD LEFT ALIVE
MEDFORD, WISCONSIN
Those words along with a few newspaper clippings were paper clipped to the front. "Poor kid. How old is she?" I asked, flipping to the Wisconsin clipping.
"Not even 11. Cops said no signs of forced entry or any evidence was left. What the hell happened?"
"Dean, come here. Check this out." Dean finished his conversation with Jo and walked over.
"Yeah?" Dean looked over the top of my head at the folder.
"Few murders that Ellen caught wind of. Looks like we might have a hunt, brother."