When Sam and Dean Winchester arrived in Colorado after a nauseating 12-hour drive from Arizona, the first place the elder brother sought out was a bar. They'd just put to rest a particularly ornery poltergeist who'd been kicking up sandstorms, and Dean was exhausted and thirsty. Although Sam had protested in defense of a motel and a good night's sleep, his efforts were in vain, for Dean had keenly reminded him that "I'm the one behind the wheel. And I'm the one with the wallet full of flat Jacksons, so sit quiet and enjoy the ride." Too exhausted to argue, Sam resigned to leaning his head ahainst the window to watch lazily as the city flashed by. Dean's narrowed eyes scanned the roadsides in search of a hole-in-the-wall sort of place to down a few beers before he found a crappy motel and crashed. Yes, he wanted sleep, but he wanted alcohol more. So when they drove past a small establishment in uptown Denver, Dean parked his Chevy Impala about a block away and headed out through the crisp, chilly air towards it.
"This is February?" Dean retorted, tucking his coat closer and frowning at the dirty brown slush clogging the curbs. Sam followed reluctantly, zipping up his jacket and rolling his eyes at his brother's back.
"We are going to find a motel after this, right?" He groaned quietly.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, stifling a yawn. It was only 8:45, but they had been driving for a long time. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not stupid."
The throb of an electric base pulsed through the door as they opened it and slipped inside to the warmth. It really was a tiny establishment -- only about seven tables along with a bar along the opposite wall. But the place was full of people, and the band up in the corner was smoking. This was a blues gig, Dean thought to himself. He could handle blues. Some of the most heartfelt music out there. His eyes scanned the band playing. A basist, a guitarist, a drummer, a keyboarder and a singer all cramped together on a tiny raised stage. But they all rocked. The vocalist had an impressively lilting voice, the pianist pounded away at the keys, slicing up a mournfully sassy tune, but it was the guitarist who caught Dean's eye most. The only female in the group, her long, slender fingers danced up and down the neck of the sleek, dark-blue instrument, carving out shrieks and groans that made Dean shiver inwardly. God, that girl could play. Her pretty, silvery-grey eyes were determined but playful, and as her solo ended, a triumphant smile twisted her full, sculpted lips. Dean found his eyes roving over the curvature of her body, from the hourglass contours of her torso, her long, confidently slim legs, the ample cleavage peeking out of the top of her flannel-covered, Led Zeppelin shirt --
"Dean, come on." Sam's voice, sharp and clean, intruded upon his foggy daydream. Shaking his head and blinking with a lazy grin, Dean followed his brother to a table near the window. There was a table there with a pan of freshly-grilled brats next to an array of condiments -- which Dean took immediate advantage of.
"What?" he snorted in reply to the look Sam gave him as he baptized his brat with ketchup and mustard. "I'm hungry."
"Well, would you like a little brat with your ketchup and mustard?" His brother retorted as he opened up his laptop to check the local news. Dean sneered over his shoulder at him as he sauntered up to the bar and ordered two beers. As he washed down a bite of his brat with the cold beverage, he continued to leer at the gorgeous guitar player. The sign on the door said that the jam session went until 9pm, and with a check of his watch, Dean confirmed that it was now 8:52. So a few more songs and they'd be done -- then he could go talk to her. She tossed her dark hair. It looked black, but but shone brown in the direct light. Tearing his attention away yet again from the girl, Sammy tapped Dean's arm.
"Dean, look at this." He said quietly, gesturing at the computer screen. Begrudgingly Dean diverted his gaze to the article opened there. "'Deaths of local women leave police baffled.'"
"You think it's our kind of thing?" Dean surmised, pursing his lips.
"Well, it says here that they're all unmarried women -- "
"So like virgins?"
"It doesn't say that, but..."
"Go on."
"Um, and they were found dead in their houses, alone, with the doors locked and no sign of an entry. But security camera footage tells us that they came inside and soon after were killed. Again, there was no one with them." Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "So this could be one of a few things... I mean, what are things that attack unmarried women? Dean?" When his brother didn't answer, Sam looked up to see him again staring at the guitarist. Letting out a sigh, Sam said, more loudly this time, "Dean."
"What?" He said vaguely, not looking at him.
"Do you think it's a spirit?" He pressed. "For it to attack specifically women..."
"Yeah, I don't know..." Dean shook his head, shrugging. He swung his gaze over to Sammy. "We'll do some research, see if this has happened before."
"Yeah, okay. I'll do some research." Sam raised an eyebrow and returned to his computer, typing local women's deaths into the search engine. Dean did some research of his own, staring at the girl on stage again. He nodded happily. Then the song they played ended, and the owner of the place got up to make an announcement.
"Now, we've got one more song before we'll say good night to y'all, sung by our very own house guitarist, Jacqueline Kingsleigh!" She said, and the crowd clapped. Dean felt a grin stretch across his face again as he saw the guitarist exchanging her electric for an accoustic before coming up to center stage.
"I hope you all can handle a little classic rock to finish up tonight, I know it's late." she said loftily into the mic, grinning. There were a few scattered cheers, one bursting from Dean's own mouth as he raised a fist. She swung the guitar around to her front, plucked the strings experimentally to see if it was in tune, then began to play.
"Oho," Dean laughed out loud as she began to strum the beginning chords of Ramble On by Led Zeppelin. "Yeah!" He was eager to see what she'd make of it. Perhaps if her skills were comparable to Jimmy Page's, her vocals could be on par with Robert Plant's. Doubtful, but Dean was casually hopeful. But the instance she began to sing, all of his doubts were washed away by sheer awe. Man, this girl was good.
"Leaves are falling all around... It's time I was on my way... Thanks to you, I'm much oblidged for such a pleasant stay... But now it's time for me to go... The autumn moon lights my way..." Then she made the jump up to the next notes with the utmost ease, "But now I smell the rain, and with it pain, and it's heading my way..."
As Dean listened, grinning, staring at the girl, until the song ended. Suddenly Sam tapped his arm, starting to say something about the sixties, when Dean, ignoring him, stood up and wandered over to the stage. An annoyed, put-out expression on his face, Sam simply shook his head and let his brother go off. Smirking to himself, Dean licked his lips, leaning against the wall next to her. She glanced up from fastening the clasps on her guitar case and flashed him a smile. She had on a bold shade of red lipstick, and one of her canine teeth was crooked. On top of that, below her left eye was a small black heart drawn in eyeliner. Adorable, Dean thought to himself.
"Hi," she said, almost expectantly.
"Hey. Jacqueline, was it?" Dean said brightly, licking his lips.
"Actually, it's just Jay." She replied with a roll of her clear grey eyes. "You?"
"I'm Dean," he replied, chuckling, as he extended a hand. Jay shook it with a polite smile. "Uh, need any help with that?" He gestured to her equipment.
"Oh, no, I've got it, thanks." She smiled almost condcescendingly and leaned back down, giving Dean a straight view down her shirt. His lips made a leisurely pull back from his teeth, but he looked away, concentrating on the drummer instead. He wasn't much to look at, so Dean turned back to Jay, startled to find that she was staring up at him.
"Can I help you with something?" She asked, her cherry-red lips catching slightly on her crooked tooth.
"I'm new to the area," Dean explained with a sheepish shrug. "Just getting a feel. My brother and I are just passing through."
"Ah, road trip?" Something sparkled in Jay's eyes -- something more than fond memory. As if her words had some deeper meaning. Slightly unnerved by it, Dean cleared his throat, saying, "Yeah, I suppose so. Uh, if it wouldn't be any trouble, do you think you could direct me to a good motel nearby?"
"Actually, I'm not a local either." Jay admitted as she folded her guitar strap into a small rectangle, which she then tucked into her bag. "I'll be leaving in about a week, maybe less. But until then, I'm staying at a place a few miles down the road, if you wanna follow me there once I'm ready to go. Shouldn't be too long."
"No, no, that's fine!" Dean told her, feeling a twinge of excitement in his stomach.
"Which, by the way, was not an invitation to hook up. I'm not that kind of girl." She added, giving him a stern glance.
"Oh, uh, of course you're not." Dean let out a forced laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "I wasn't assuming that you were."
"Good, I just wanted to make that clear." Jay said quietly, finally zipping up her black canvas equipment bag and shrugging into a red peacoat. She slung the electric guitar over her shoulder. As she reached down to grasp the handle of her beaten acoustic case, Dean cut past her.
"Let me get that for you," he offered, but she nudged his hand away.
"If anything, you can take my amp," she said with a lofty gesture of her head to the small amplifier at her feet.
"Sure, sure!" He leaned down to grab the thing by the plastic handle. It was surprisingly heavy. Determined not to let that hinder him, Dean hefted it up under his arm, following her out. He shot Sam an 'I'll be right back' look before the door shut behind him.
"I'm parked down a little ways, just up that street there." Jay told him, pointing across the road with her free hand. Her words manifested in the air in a curling mist. "It's the red El Camino."
Dean's eyes found the stunning vehicle almost instantly, and he let out a soft cry of delight. Winning car, winning girl... he thought to himself. "What a beauty!" he exclaimed honestly, letting out a low whistle. From the glossy dark red paint to the glinting silver rims, the car practically screamed well-maintained and expensive. It looked like it had been waxed just recently, too.
"Thanks," Jay said with a half-smile. "I've had it for three years. Won it in a poker game. The guy was so pissed. Didn't expect such a good poker face from a sweet little girl like me." She grinned cheesily at Dean as she unlocked the car and slid her bag and guitars into the back seat. Dean was liking her more and more with every second that passed in her presence. "That goes in the back," she instructed, the car keys jangling in her hand as she headed around to the driver's side. "I'll get it, one sec," then opening the door, she slid inside, ducking out of sight. The car engine revved, a gorgeous purr that made Dean smile. Good car.
She then came around and unlatched the back, heaving it up and holding it there while Dean slid the amplifier in.
"Next to the, er, toolbox? That good?" Dean said breathlessly, pushing the black box aside slightly.
"That's fine." Jay nodded, slamming it shut after he'd removed his hands. Then, leaning against the car, Jay surveyed Dean almost curiously.
"So, which car is yours?" She asked, trying to make idle conversation.
"Uh, well, it's a 67 Impala. It's a bit of a ways down the road, I don't know if you can see it from here." Dean shrugged off-handly.
She craned her neck slightly. "No, I can see it. Sweet ride."
"Eh, gets me from A to B." He said non-chalantly, but that was a lie. He poured his life into that car; after all, his dad had given it to him. He shook his head. "But hey, you look like you should be getting out. And I think Sammy and I are both tired." He spoke the words without realizing that she had no idea who 'Sammy' was.
"You mean your brother?" She guessed, her left hand, fisted, coming up to support her chin.
"Yeah, how'd you know?" Dean said in surprise.
"Eh, I saw you sitting with him, but the two of you didn't give off a 'couple-y vibe'." She said with a sly wink. Dean couldn't help the blush that crept over his face.
"Well, you're one of the few people who don't get that vibe." He said darkly. His eyes found her hand again, and his heart sank. There, on the ring finger of her left hand, was a slender gold band implanted with a small red garnet. It was like a drop of blood.
"Are you married?" He blurted out without thinking.
A dark look flitted behind her eyes. "I was," she nodded gravely. "But he died several years ago."
Dean felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Instantly his lips twisted into a guilty grimace. "Oh. I'm so sorry..."
"Don't be," Jay shook her head with a slightly breathless smile. "He died in a... a hunting accident. It was a while ago."
They were quiet. Dean licked his lips. A hunting accident, he thought to himself, shaking his head with a sigh. Finally, to break the silence, Dean said, "well, I should get Sam. Then we can head out."
"Yeah, sure. I'll wait for you. It'll be up this road, so start heading that direction and I'll show you the way." Jay pointed in the direction that her car was facing, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with her other hand.
"Okay. Just a moment." Dean smiled over his shoulder at Jay before heading back towards the bar. She smiled to herself in return, then jumped back in the driver's seat, cranking up the heat.
"So there you go. Hope you like it here." Jay said jokingly as she walked with Dean from the motel office. Dean offered her a sheepish laugh.
"Thanks. I am glad I met you." He grinned down at her, and she rolled her eyes.
"Well, good night then." She said without missing a beat, nodding briefly to him before turning her back to head towards her own room across the parking lot. "Keep warm. This Colorado weather -- there's no telling what it's gonna do next. Ciao!"
"Oh, Jay, wait!" Dean called out suddenly. Fighting annoyance and a flicker of nervousness, Jay looked over her shoulder at him.
"What do I need to do to get you off my back?" She asked sarcastically, shaking her head in mock frustration. Though some of it was true. This man was making her quite uncomfortable, as attractive as he was.
"Let me buy you a drink, maybe? Before you go running off again?" Dean suggested pathetically. Jay smiled again despite herself and suppressed a shiver.
"Not tonight," she told him, then turned away, striding back to her room.
"Yeah, okay, not tonight." Dean shrugged, frowning slightly. "Though I did mean tonight," he added under his breath, huffing a cloud of white fog into the cold night air.
"I know you did," Jay called back at him. He looked up in surprise. She was nearly an entire parking lot away already... How could she have heard that? Dean shook his head. He was definitely over-thinking this. He was exhausted and full of beer. But what a pistol. Jay, not Jacqueline, with red lipstick and a heart on her cheekbone. Mmm. Dean shook his head a second time and went back to the room, where Sam had already set up camp. He was perched on one of the beds with his laptop, scribbling notes on a pad.
"You're back sooner than I was expecting." He retorted when he saw Dean come in. Dean snorted.
"That isn't what I was after," he scoffed coolly, shrugging out of his jacket. "She used to be married, now she 'isn't that kind of girl'... But I know her type. Take her on a few dates, she'll loosen up."
"That's great, Dean." Sam drawled, not looking at him. "I'm so glad you've got that all figured out."
Dean glared dryly at him. "So, what've you got, college boy?"
"Well, so far I've found that all of the women who have been killed are widows. Husbands either died or abandoned them and vanished." Sam read out, squinting his eyes.
"So probably not virgins." Dean pointed out. Sam gave him a look.
"No, probably not." He sighed through his nose and continued on. "And these attacks have been happening once every four years for the past fifty years... Uh, exactly fifty years that is... But not until now in 2004 have the police noticed a pattern."
"Mmm. Cops are dumb."
"...And the coroner's report stated that 'each corpse had the appearance of being torn apart, with the liver, stomach, and intestines removed'..."
"Well, that's grim." Dean commented abruptly. "So what we've got is a handful of unmarried women who walked alone into their houses one unfortuate night and ended up getting ganked and it didn't happen again until four years later. Sounds methodical enough, most likely something up our alley. Does it say anything else?"
"No, only that these attacks have been going on every four years since 1944." Sam repeated with a huff.
"What day does the last attack happen on?" Dean wondered, kicking off his shoes. They tumbled across the floor, landing at random on the carpet. Then, inching back so that his neck was supported by the pillows, Dean stuffed his hands behind his head. He had a dark sort of feeling about what day it would be.
"February 29th." Sam replied heavily.
"Leap day, 2004." Dean crooned in confirmation, pursing his lips.
"Which is tomorrow," Sam added, looking over at his brother with a strange expression.
"Yeah, of course it is." Dean grumbled, then reaching over his bedside table and to the desk lamp that sat there, turned out the light.