Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural...duh
Summary: Post AHBL2. After nine years Winchester is still at it. OneShot!
Still At It
Dark, tall and brooding. I see them all the time; they come in here usually looking a fight and they usually never comeback. That's why this guy was different. He had comeback, been back every night for the past week.
He was quite handsome. Tall, with brown short cut hair almost military like but with little designer spikes. His eyes seemed to shield a hidden pain and that's what confused me even more, most guys with that look drink the night away, he doesn't. Just sits there hunched over his laptop and a leather bound journal, muttering things under his breath. Occasionally he'll get up and flirt with a girl or play some pool or poker or even darts. He'll talk and laugh then.
He looks in his late twenties but his eyes tell a different story, those are eyes that have seen hell and said to it, "How are you? Had a nice day? 'Cause I'm gonna fucking destroy you,"
Or maybe that's just me. Anyway he's been here a week. Rumours float around town quickly and from what I've heard he's a US Marshal, working on a case. I don't see why, all these deaths have all been suicidal. Why would a marshal be called in?
I notice him get up and walk over to me. He smiles, flashing a heart melting smile.
"Want another beer sir?" I ask, dropping my voice into a southern drawl, kinda like Daisy Duke. I don't enjoy doing it but my work friend, Jennifer says it'll get you more tips, so I do. I need all the money I can get to get out of this hick town.
"No, I'm good," he says slowly, "I just wanted to ask, did you know a Matthew Jenkins?"
I tense up, yeah I knew Matthew Jenkins. I dated him in high school, he had been my sweetheart until I found him fucking Brittney Donalds in the locker room in senior year. Hell I even knew that Matthew was one of these suicides. And did I feel sorry for him? No, not one bit.
"Did he say anything to you before he died anything unusual?"
The cops have already asked me this. In a small town like this everyone knows who was close to whom. I'd told them no, he hadn't said a thing to me. That was a lie and as I looked into his eyes I said the truth.
"Yes, he did,"
I was having a shower when it grew cold like winter. I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around myself. I wandered into my living room, and noticed how the air had grown still. I breathed and my breath came out like a white puff of smoke.
I turned on instinct and screamed. Behind me was a women, she looked like the Grudge or the Ring can't remember which. But at the same time I knew her. It was Brittney Donalds. The girl Matthew had cheated on me with, the girl Matthew broke up with when a Swedish girl moved into town, the girl me and my friends had bullied all those years. The girl who had but two months ago had killed herself with a pistol.
"I'm gonna make you bleed," gasped Brittney. I stepped back in shock, I had been to her funeral I had seen her body, how was she here?
Suddenly my front door burst open. A scatter of gun fire and Brittney was gone. I turned to see who my saviour was. It was the Marshal.
"You okay?" he said in a grunt walking into the room.
"What the hell happened!" I said shaking.
"Get changed and tell me what happened," he said ignoring me. I flinched, he said it like an order and seeing as he had the gun, I hastened to obey. I dried myself and got into some clothes in less then ten seconds.
"So what happened?"
I sat in his car as he drove to the cemetery. He had a nice car, a classic, a 1967 Chevy Impala. I leaned back in the leather seats and hugged myself. The car stopped in front of the cemetery and he got out. I got out as well.
I saw him go to the boot and lift out a heavy bag.
"So where's the grave?" he asked.
I directed him to the grave. I watched as he dug up the corpse and almost puked as I saw her. Suddenly I saw Brittney about five metres away. I screamed.
The man reacted quickly, pouring petrol on the body, and scattering salt on it. Brittney moving faster then a normal human approached me. Then he lit a match and threw it on the corpse. I looked as Brittney burst into flames.
"I think you'll be safe now," said the man with a small fire, "Want me to take you home?"
"Who are you?"
"Call me Winchester,"
Winchester drove me back. I sat in silence as we drove. I noticed a photo at my feet. I bent down and picked it up. It showed of a man, with two boys in the woods.
"That's my dad and brother and me," said Winchester.
"Where are they now?"
I didn't mean to ask but somehow it slipped out, "How?"
"Dad died saving my brother, and my brother died saving me,"
"No your not," said Winchester with a small smile, "You barely know me and if you knew what I've done then you wouldn't be,"
He pulled up in front of my house.
"Thanks for the lift,"
I nodded and got out and watched as the black Impala drove away in the night. I realised for a second I still held Winchester's photo in my hand I turned it over and read.
John, Dean (11) and Sam (7) Winchester in Wyoming, December 30, 1989.
So what does everyone think about it?