PitStop (Dean)

[Kayla Winchester]

She hadn't planned on stopping but as it was she was falling asleep at the wheel and her stomach growled and grumbled in protest. She Couldn't even remember when the last time she had eaten. Was in this morning or yesterday afternoon? She couldn't recall. She'd been driving nonstop since she'd left Tupelo. The sheriff there had just gotten a little too close, too suspicious. She couldn't risk it. She'd packed up her belongings and took off in the middle of the night.

She was running low on fuel and the truck was making a strange noise that she really didn't like as she spotted the little roadhouse up the road. It didn't look like much but as long as she could get something in her stomach and a bit of caffeine she didn't care if it was a one room shack. She slowed and the gravel crunched under her tires as she pulled into the lot. There weren't many cars there but the ones that were, were pretty sweet. She wasn't a gear head but she knew enough about old cars from her brother and his buddies. Hot rods and muscle cars were second nature where she was from. If you didn't have a pickup truck or a muscle car and you were a guy, well...let's just say talk started around the town. Preachers and other such professions of course were excluded.

She put the truck she affectionately referred to as Frankentruck in park beside a sleek black Impala...late 60's model if her memory served her. The engine of her truck was ticking and a faint steam coming from under the hood. That was never a positive sign. Ever.

With a sigh she open the door and hauled herself out, feeling a little dizzy as she stood and swaying a moment before she shut the door and blinked, pulling it together through sheer force of will to walk up to the little roadhouse's door and walk in.

The place was on the dark side but she didn't care. A jukebox in the corner by the door played some classic rock song as she was backlit by the sunlight pouring in behind her. She knew she probably looked like a wreck, blonde hair all pulled up in a ponytail little whisps on hair falling around her face from where the wind in the open window of the truck had blown it loose, wrinkled t-shirt, jean jacket, faded old blue jeans on complete with the hole in the knee that was fraying more and more each day.

She drew some looks from the patrons and just assumed her disheveled appearance was the source of it. She had no clue what kind of place she was really stepping into. She figured it was a local place, hence the distrustful looks from the patrons. She was an outsider after all. She expected it. It was the same in every little town she'd ever been to.

Sitting down at the bar and slipping out of her jacket she waited for the woman behind the bar to take her order, asking her about food. just the typical bar fare. That was fine. She ordered a cheeseburger and the steak fries and was very glad that there were Pepsi products as well, ordering a Mountain Dew. No alcohol for her.

She didn't pay that much attention to who was around her but the site of a very tall, young looking guy walking past caught her eye for the sheer size of him. He was a tower! "They must grow 'em big round these parts." she muttered softly to herself as she waited for her food.

[alice]

Well, they call me a Hunter, that's my name,
Call me the hunter, that’s how I got my fame.

Ain’t no need to hide, ain’t no need to run,
’Cause I’ve got you in the sights of my gun.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

The Roadhouse was one of Dean’s most favorite places, but ever since the accident with Jo and Ellen, Dean couldn’t even look at it. After the Roadhouse had burned down Ellen and Jo had tried to rebuild it, but they didn’t have much time to finish it. Bobby had found a hunter who he knew needed a house and a job and so he gave him the roadhouse—for him and his family—and that was the last they’d heard of them. Dean hadn’t been there since…well, before he died and went to hell. Now, he had decided he would go by and check up on the people there now.

[/color]

Dean parked his car in front of the Roadhouse, and looked up at it. It definitely looked newer than the last time he’d seen it, He let out a breath and walked in. It wasn’t the same as it was before. They had re-decorated it, and it looked like walking into a foreign place. Dean looked around, putting on his impressed face. He walked past a few people sitting at tables to the bar. There was a girl there, probably in her early twenties or late teens.[/color] “How's it goin',” Dean asked her, starting up a casual conversation. He wasn’t expecting her to know him, but he didn’t care.

Dean then found out her name was Caroline and she was twenty-five—which surprised Dean. She’d looked so young for her age. He talked with her for what seemed like a long time, asking her about her family and how they became hunters. Caroline seemed like a sweet girl, and Dean enjoyed talking to her, but he didn’t flirt. There was something about her that made Dean feel like she wasn’t the type...just like Jo. Dean gave her a small smile before getting up with his beer bottle. He walked around the bar, looking at the new furniture and décor. It wasn’t bad, but Dean kind of missed the old Roadhouse.[/color]

Just as Dean sat back at the bar, he heard the bell on top of the door chime as someone walked in. A girl walked in, looking extremely tired. Her hair was blonde, and looked somewhat unattended to, unlike all the other girls at the roadhouse. She walked up and sat a few seats down from him. He looked around and then decided maybe she needed someone to talk to. Dean got up, taking his beer bottle with him and taking a seat next to her.[/color] “Hey,” He said, nodding once with a smile playing on his lips.[/color][/blockquote]

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Word Count:421
Tag: Kayla
Lyrics: How many more times – Led Zepplin

[Kayla Winchester]

Looking up from her Mountain Dew as she heard the voice a tired smile came to her lips out of habit and common courtesy. It had been ingrained in her since birth to be polite and it was hard not to return his smile. But that smile just didn't reach her eyes, the weariness showing in them. Somehow it suggested experiences and a hauntedness beyond her years. A look many Hunters held about them after all they've seen. But she was no Hunter. Not in the sense that the patrons of this roadhouse was used to. "Hello" she said with a nod as she glanced away from him briefly and then back, trying to compose herself.

One hand raised to offer out to him, hesitating only a moment to grab a napkin to dry it off, the sweat form the glass of Dew on her palm and making her blush briefly. "Care for a seat?" She took his measure as she looked at him and waited for him to shake her hand, letting those instincts lead her. He didn't look like a cop. Didn't seem like a cop at all. Military maybe? Maybe but not a cop. There was a hardened look in his eyes like the boys back home that would come back from their tours in the military. That look that says they've seen and done far too much than any person should ever have to.

It softened the suspicion and wariness in her a bit and she gestured to the seat beside her, offering it to him. He wasn't watching her like an outsider at least like some of the others. And a friendly face was exactly what she needed right now. She glanced over the room and smiled as she looked back to him. "I don't suppose you know a mechanic around here that works fast and for cheap would you? Even a shadetree mechanic would work at this point. My old truck's steamin and makin funny sounds and I'd like to get it looked at before I got back on the road."

Her accent wasn't local that was certain. It had a soft quality about it that was neither one hundred percent Southern nor one hundred percent hillbilly but a lyrical tone that was somewhere in between. She had the look about her of someone that you'd find in a church bake sale instead of this place, an innocence to her that was open and friendly. it had served her well in her profession as a waitress across the nation as she stayed on the go, making people open up to her and warm to her. That was always handy in making tips but unlike a lot of people in the service industry it was a genuine kindness and warmth. it gave off the sense that if she asked how you were that day that it wasn't just idle chatter. She really was concerned for your well being.

Those big hazel eyes looked at Dean and she waited for him to either join her or answer or both, not pushing one way or another. But he'd been approachable where as the other patrons seemed to keep more to themselves. Sure, she could see in his confident smile and that implied lazy stance that he was a real heartbreaker. Of course that would be easy enough for him with those dimples and those lips and those eyes and....She cleared her throat and caught herself starring, blinking a few times and blushing as she looked back down at her glass on the bar top. Oh yes, this one was a heartbreaker if ever she saw one. And worse...he knew it.

[alice]

Well, they call me a Hunter, that's my name,
Call me the hunter, that’s how I got my fame.

Ain’t no need to hide, ain’t no need to run,
’Cause I’ve got you in the sights of my gun.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Dean smiled at the girl and extended his hand to hers. He smiled at her and sat down in the seat next to her. She was a very beautiful girl, her blue eyes—despite the tired look in them—glistened in the dim light coming from above. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he caught her staring at him. He was used to getting stared at by chicks—and he wasn’t one to deny that he liked it. Especially when those chicks were wild, experienced and ready to try new things. Despite the fact that Dean was a hunter, he still somehow managed to find time to find pleasure for himself. After he came back from Hell, however, he was slowed down by the events in his life, but he still tried. After all, a man had his needs.

[/color]

Taking a swing of his beer, Dean turned back to face the girl. He raised an eyebrow when she asked if he knew any local mechanics around. He did in fact know a few people around town who owned garages for fixing cars. However, he wasn’t going to direct her to an expensive mechanic who would take not only her money but her time as well. Who knew, maybe she would end up with a guy who wasn’t so much into paying with bills, but with other things. No. Dean would help her with no charge. Well…that was unless she wanted to give him something in return. He wouldn’t make her though.

“Well, I know a thing or two about cars. How about I take a look at it first?” Dean offered. He knew he was a great mechanic, but he didn’t like to brag about it.

The reason behind it was probably Dean’s worst nightmare: himself. When Dean was on a case a few years back, dealing with a man who had gone wild with practices about dreams, he’d been a victim of one of those dreams as well. In his dream, he saw his worst nightmare, which was ironically himself. He was scared of what he’d seen that night. Everything about him was monotone, remote and robot-like. He was a good hunter—just like his father had been. He liked classic rock music—just like his father had. He was a great mechanic—just like his father. Everything about Dean was exactly like John, even the way he walked, talked and dressed. Hell, even his car was his fathers. He didn’t even have anything that made him unique for what he really was.

Dean had become the one thing he was afraid to be his entire life: the perfect soldier. That was what Michael had been talking about. The blood-line was supposed to lead them to his father. John was the one who was supposed to be Michael’s vessel. Dean and Sam weren’t even supposed to be born, until John never had a brother. That was what ruined it. John was a single child, with no one who he cared about as much as Dean did about Sam. That’s when the backup plan took place. Dean and Sam. That was God’s big plan: Dean’s destiny. That was what the Angels believed anyways. John couldn’t do the job, so why not make him a freaking clone who was desperate enough to be their bitch.[/color]

That was one thing Dean hated about the Angels. They were so sure of everything. They talked about him like they knew everything about him, about Sam, and it made him mad. It was like they knew exactly what Dean and Sam were going to do every second of each day until they died, but they didn’t. Dean wasn’t going to let them plan his life for him. He was going to prove to everyone that he wasn’t the perfect toy soldier that everyone believed he was. He wasn’t the man his father had made him.[/color]

Dean shook the thoughts of the apocalypse and the Angels from his mind; trying not to think about Sam—or whatever Sam had become. He was the only person Dean lived for, the only person Dean cared about more than anything and anyone in the whole entire world. Bobby was close to Dean as well, but Sam was different. Dean waited for the girl, realizing then that he didn’t even know her name.[/color][/blockquote]

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Word Count:727
Tag: Kayla
Lyrics: How many more times – Led Zepplin

[Kayla Winchester]

Her face brightened a little at his words, a smile coming to her lips that practically lightened the entire room. Was her rotten luck really changing? The cheeseburger she'd ordered arrived complete with a huge side of fries that she hadn't but she just assumed it came with the burger and said nothing of it, smiling to the woman behind the counter and pulling a wad of crumpled up bills out of her pants pocket, smoothing them out as she paid for her soft drink and food. The burger smelled so good that her stomach audibly growled with her hunger and she blushed a little, a hand going over her stomach. "Excuse me.. been on the road a while. Guess I was hungrier than I thought." she apologized as she picked up a fry and nibbled at it, taking will power not to wolf it down.

"I'm parked right out front. You'll have to be careful though. I'm parked right next to this really cool muscle car and I don't think the owner would like it if it got scratched or smudged." she gave a small chuckle at that, having no clue it was his ride she was speaking of. "But I would be much obliged if you could look at it and if nothing else just a prognosis. Old Frankentruck's gotten me a long way. I'd hate to see him die."

She glanced to where he was again as she grabbed another french fry and paused with it halfway to her lips. "I'm sorry..I should have offered, especially seein how you're offerin' ta help me. Can I buy you anything to drink or eat?" She shrugged a little and slid her plate between them. "If nothing else I can share my fries..." she laughed a little "But I have ta warn ya, I'll fight ya over that burger."

Sure she was innocent, naive even, but she'd noticed the withdrawn way he'd lost himself in his thoughts for a moment there. It was something a person learns fast working in bars and other places that people go to forget their troubles. You spot it and learn how to turn their thoughts to more pleasant things or to at least know when to leave them alone. She'd seen the subtle play of emotions that traveled through his eyes and the muscles that clenched in his jaw slightly, the tension that settled into his shoulders. Sure he acted nonchalant and carefree but she had a suspicion that it was more act than anything.

Despite that, it showed depth of character and something more than a the passing devil may care playboy nature he tried to give off. It made her respect him just a little bit more. She'd always been one to take strays under her wing, even hiding them in the barn from her folks sometimes. And now here was this man that for all intents and purposes she saw as a kind of stray as well. An injured soul in need of a little reprieve.

Her head tilted a bit as she looked up at him and slipped another fry off the plate she offered. "My name's Kayla. Kayla Robinson. It's a pleasure to meet you...." she let the last trail off and linger in the air between them as she waited for him to answer.

[alice]

Well, they call me a Hunter, that's my name,
Call me the hunter, that’s how I got my fame.

Ain’t no need to hide, ain’t no need to run,
’Cause I’ve got you in the sights of my gun.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Dean smiled when Kayla offered him some of her fries.

[/color] “The burgers are to die for,” He agreed. His favorite food was definitely cheeseburgers and he’d tried so many in his lifetime that he thought he’d tried every possible cheeseburger by now. Apparently, he was wrong. The burgers at the new Roadhouse were amazing, even more than those he’d tried before. His smile broadened when he heard her stomach grumble. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head.[/color]

“Nah, that’s alright.” He said, taking another sip of his beer. “I already had one earlier,” He told her. After all, as much as Dean loved to ear, he wasn’t going to take the poor girl’s food; especially not when she was that hungry. She needed her energy if she was planning on hitting the road again. He glanced out the front window to see her old pickup truck and chuckled when he saw that she was talking about his car.[/color]

“She’s a babe isn’t she?” He said, admiring his car from inside. Dean loved women, yes, but in truth there was no woman in the world he loved and admired more than his baby. Dean looked back at him with his smile fixed on his handsome face. Dean knew that every girl in her right mind wanted Dean, and every good girl hoped he was the good guy of their dreams. But as much as Dean respected women, they were the only thing that made him forget at least some of what had happened to him in his long, miserable life.[/color]

Dean vaguely remembered a day where he and Sam were at a bar—on a case of course—and he’d stood in the way of an armed man with no problem at all. H wasn’t afraid of guns as much as other, normal people. Sure, he had a certain weakness when he wasn’t the one holding the trigger, but nonetheless, he was stronger. He remembered a woman come up to him and say that every woman in there wanted to ‘eat him alive’.[/color]

Dean had smiled on the inside; having confirmed that he was still, in fact the charming young man that he had always been. Despite that, he hadn’t left with her or any other woman in the bar—not including the demon he was going to kill.[/color]

Dean nodded when she introduced herself.[/color] “I’m Dean,” He said, refraining from saying his last name. If this girl was a hunter—which most people in the roadhouse were—she would most-likely be familiar with the name ‘Winchester’ or maybe even just ‘Dean’. If she wasn’t, then he wouldn’t introduce her to his misery.[/color]

“Why don’t you finish that up, and we’ll head out to take a look at your car?” He said, referring to her untouched burger.[/blockquote]

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Word Count:469
Tag: Kayla
Lyrics: How many more times – Led Zepplin

[Kayla Winchester]

She took a bite of the burger as he declined and chewed, listening, her cheek bulging out just a little bit as she did. Sure she was a lady and she knew her manners but she was also down to Earth and not one of those highfalutin types. High-maintenance had never been a term used to describe her. She'd never been the type to pick at a salad like other gals. Heck no. Part of the joy of life was in eating and eating well, a carry over of her Irish heritage. She looked over and followed his eyes out the window to the car parked beside her beat up farm truck. The poor truck had seen better days.

The fenders didn't match on it, there was a lot of rust here and there and the paint job was non-existent. It was a big hulking thing of metal and gears really, ugly to the eyes. The only thing new on it was the tires that still had really good tread. She lovingly called it Frankentruck for all the pieces and parts of various trucks it was made up of. She doubted there was much left on it that had been factory standard. But it served it's purpose. It was old enough that the VIN number on it didn't conform to the new standard, which made it harder to trace and for years it had been used to just drive over the fields and to the barn on the farm. It hadn't been meant for driving on the road.

But when she ran into her trouble with the law her Father and Brother had tuned it up and put new tires on it and got it road worthy as they could in that short amount of time. If they'd known they could have dropped a new motor in it but things were rushed as they'd helped her skip town and avoid a rigged trial where she'd get life if she were lucky. The death sentence if she weren't. Murder in her neck of the woods was taken seriously and prosecuted seriously. The fact that she'd been beat all to hell and hospitalized and had claimed that she had only defended herself didn't matter.

The witnesses to the crime couldn't remember seeing him beating here right there on the sidewalk. They only recalled her driving a knife through his chest. They also hadn't remembered seeing the inky black gloss over his eyes that had robbed them of any color and the huge plume of black smoke that had ripped from his mouth and spiraled into the sky when the knife had pierced his breast as he lunged down on top of her, going for that killing blow. It was like their memories had been tampered with or something. She just couldn't understand it, even now. How could they have not seen? These hadn't been strangers. They'd been friends, fellow parishioners. They KNEW her. And yet.....their memories were void.

Snapping herself back to the moment, the dark shadow of memory flitting through her eyes she swallowed her bite and washed it down with a swig of Mountain Dew as she answered him. "She sure is. My uncle had one like that once only his was candy apple red and he drove that thing like a bat out of Hell....till he wrapped it around a telephone pole that is. His was a '67 ...I guess that's what that one is too. I have to admit. I'm not to great with namin cars but I know what I like."

There was no spark of recognition as he spoke his name, but instead a warmth that came to her eyes as she smiled. She always felt a small pang of guilt and regret when she met new people, having to lie about her own name all the time. Robinson was an alias. Murdough was her true name but she could never own up to it. Not without risking it all. She'd come up with the alias by accident. The first time she'd actually checked into a seedy little roach motel off the main highway she had begun to sign in with her real name, stopping as she realized what she was doing. She couldn't go back and change the first name without drawing suspicion but the clerk had on a small, black & white TV behind the counter and 'The Graduate' was playing. She heard Dustin Hoffman say the name Mrs. Robinson and that was as good as any other name for her. She'd wrote it down in the register that night and had been using it ever since.

"It's a pleasure to meet ya Dean.", yes she'd noticed the lack of last name put on there but understood that sometimes a person just wasn't in the position to disclose. Knew it very well. Nodding to his words she hurried to eat the burger, the meat and bread and lettuce and tomatoes settling into her stomach and while it served to revive her blood sugar, as did the soda, it also made her comfortable, too comfortable and her eyelids drooped a little as she wiped her mouth and looked at the tray with it's partial burger still on it and load of fries. " wonder if they'd box that up for me to go. I'd hate to waste good food like that." she murmured softly.