Mercy ▷ DEAN WINCHESTER

FOREWORD

❝ THE ROADHOUSE ❞

VIOLET CONTINUED TO run as fast as she could down the busy road, being cautious as not to get in the way of the cars heading her way. The blonde took in deep breaths as she ran down the familiar road whilst clutching onto her car keys for dear life. The young woman had been in such a worry whilst driving to Nebraska that she hadn't noticed that her car was almost out of gas. That, and she had a million other things on her mind.

When she finally noticed, it was too late. The car let out a weak splutter and Violet had no choice but to pull over on the side of the road.

Violet knew where she was headed. In fact, the bar she was headed to was only a few miles away from her current location. And as much as she dreaded leaving her car behind, Violet realised that she had no choice but to continue the rest of her journey on foot until she got help.

After spending over an hour of both running and walking to her destination Violet pulled to a stop outside a rather large, slightly run down looking bar. The sign read 'The Roadhouse' and for the first time in days, Violet was happy — relieved even.

The young woman wasted no time in barging into the bar which instantly earned her a bunch of startled looks from the customers inside. However, it was when their eyes drifted down to Violet's bloodied hands and clothes when people started to worry.

Violet watched in shock as a bunch of men got to their feet, guns being pulled out of the waistbands of their jeans, barrels pointed straight at the blondes' face. With tears falling down her face, Violet vigorously shook her head whilst she began to back away into one of the walls in an attempt to keep a safe distance from the strangers approaching her.

"You have to help me, please help me." The woman wailed in a pleading manner before falling to her knees in a bundle of tears.

The men watched Violet, but they didn't seem fazed by her act. They kept their guns held high, ready to shoot her if need be.

All of a sudden, Violet was being pulled onto her feet by one of the larger men in the group and a long silver knife was pressed against her throat in an aggressive manner. The blonde's eyes widened, fear filling them as she gazed into the cold blue eyes of the man holding her.

"Hold on a second Joey!" A woman suddenly called out.

Joey seemed hesitant to let go of Violet but after the death glare he was given by the older woman approaching the two, he did as he was told. Violet fell back down to her feet, stumbling as she attempted to regain her composure. The blonde looked away from the floor and into the caring eyes of one of her closest friends; Ellen Harvelle.

"Violet, what happened? You look like a mess." Ellen sighed whilst softly dragging the girl behind the bar.

Violet saw Ellen's eyes linger on her bloodied hands and clothes, but was thankful that the woman hadn't said anything about it — yet. The blonde was silent for a few moments until she was sure that she was out of earshot of the strangers in the bar. The young woman looked at Ellen with fresh tears brewing in her eyes.

"They killed him, Ellen. Jackson's dead." Violet said with a straight face before her lips curled into a frown.

It all seemed to be too much for the blonde at that point for she burst into tears merely a few seconds after. Ellen seemed rather taken aback by her' sudden outburst but she had to remain calm for Violet's sake.

"Violet, honey. What do you mean? Who killed Jackson?" Ellen asked, her brows were raised in an inquisitive manner and the older woman seemed stressed as she awaited an answer from the blonde.