1.1 Mother Knows Best: A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Chapter I: Uptown

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.'"