The Life (Book One/Supernatural)

Everybody Loves a Clown

In the weeks after John had died, Sam and Dean had come here to stay because they didn't have anywhere else to go.

Sam was trying to deal. He looked like he didn't know how to deal with it, though.

Dean wasn't dealing. He wasn't doing anything other than working on the Impala out back to fix it like new.

Inside, Sam walked toward me. "Hey, Ness, can I use your computer real quick?"

"What for?" I asked.

"I found an old message on my dad's phone, and I wanted to see if I could trace the call," Sam answered.

"Here," I told him, holding out my hand.

Sam handed the phone to me.

I went through the messages.

Sam pointed at the right one. "There."

I hit play, hearing a familiar woman's voice. "John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."

"That message is four months old," Sam told me. "And there's no mention of her in Dad's journal."

"Well, I don't need to run a trace," I told him.

Sam hesitated. "Wait. Are you saying that you know who that is?"

I nodded. "Ellen Harvelle. She's married a hunter way back, and once he died, she took over his saloon and picked up a few tricks along the way. She's not technically a hunter, but, uh... She definitely knows how to take care of herself. So does her daughter. She doesn't want to start really hunting because of her."

"All right," Sam told me. "Can you give us a ride?"

I smirked.

~

I pulled up to Harvelle's Roadhouse Saloon in my car, getting out, walking toward the door.

Sam and Dean got out, following.

"Seriously?" Dean asked. "That's your car? A silver Ford Mustang, GT500KR by 1968

"Not everyone can have a Chevrolet Impala by 1967," I told them, turning to face them smugly. "And I happen to like my car the way it is."

Dean seemed impressed that I knew so much about it. "And how much did your cost?"

"Six years of hustling, credit card scams and working at TJz," I answered. "And at least my car is running."

Dean mocked offense.

I smiled, turning to walk inside.

Sam and Dean followed.

I tried to open the locked door.

"Do you have a, uh..." Sam trailed off.

"Of course," I answered, pulling out a lock pick, using it to open the door, walking inside.

The Roadhouse was quiet except for a fly buzzing.

A light bulb blew out.

We walked to the back to see a man with a mullet passed out on the pool table.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam asked. He looked at me. "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

"What gave you the first clue?" I asked. Sam and Dean walked into opposite ends of the bar. I walked up to the man on the bar. "Ash. Ash. Hey. Wake up." I shook his shoulder. "Ash!"