Just a short story to keep me going whilst I'm working on a different and, hopefully, longer adventure. I've put these three chapters up to force myself into getting on with the rest of this wee aside.

Sadly I own nothing of the rights to Supernatural and, although I can link myself to Jenson & Jared in 2 moves on the 6 degrees theory, that's the best I can do so far!

P.S. Just realised, that means Jenson & Jared can link themselves to me in 2 steps as well. What a lovely thought!



Dean stamped his feet and tried to breath warm air into his clasped hands. His nose was so cold it felt like it had an icicle of snot hanging off the end. He kept wiping at it, but it was just a sensation. He stuffed his hands deep into the pocket of his leather jacket. Sam was stood, bouncing from foot to foot, in front of his brother and with his back to him. Dean used his shoulder to give Sam a nudge,

"Come on Sammy. I'm freezing stood here. My balls've crawled so far inside me they've given me man boobs. This is stupid anyway. Why can't we just find a nice warm bar with nice warm whisky and a nice warm barmaid?"

Sam turned to Dean, his breath forming puffs of white clouds in the cold air,

"We'll be inside soon. I really want to see this woman in action."

Dean tried to shorten his neck and hide his chin inside the collar of his jacket,

"Why Sam? We both know they're all fakes. They just rip people off using mind games, guess work an' a line in patter that's vague enough to let people hear what they wanna hear out of it. It's nothing but a con Sam and I'm fed up of standing around with all these gullible idiots while the new ice age freezes my gonads!"

As Dean grumbled, movement began at the front of the long queue of people waiting outside the town theatre. Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder,

"Look. They're letting people in now. Just humour me and stick with it. You wouldn't dream of calling Missouri a fake, would you? All the reviews say this woman's the real deal and I'm curious. Anyway, if she is a con artist, we can just sit back and have fun picking out her methods. When did you last go out to a show?"

Dean looked thoughtful for a brief moment, then lifted his chin out of his coat and grinned,

"Two weeks ago. The star turn was a very talented young lady named Cherry Ripe. Dude, was she flexible!"

Sam shook his head and turned away from Dean again as they both began to shuffle forward with the rest of the queue.

As they gradually moved closer to the entrance, they passed posters advertising the presence of Mystical Melody, Speaker for the Spiritual Side, appearing one night only. The sepia toned photo showed a woman stretched languorously on a chaise-longe and wearing a figure hugging long black dress with serious cleavage that seemed about to burst out from the low cut neckline. Dean couldn't tell her age from the picture as she hid most of her face behind a black feathered fan, leaving only her heavily made up eyes peering seductively over the fan. Dean guessed she was either a brunette or a red head, it was hard to tell with the sepia tone. His journey towards the box office was spent admiring the woman's cleavage on each poster he passed.

Finally the brothers were in the theatre foyer, Sam having got their tickets. Much to Dean's dismay, Sam had insisted in paying extra for an official glossy "collector's" programme. Dean glared at Sam as his brother immediately opened the programme and began scanning the contents,

"Sam. Quit it will you? You look like a fan boy. It's embarrassing."

Sam smiled at Dean, closing the programme,

"Did I complain outside while you had your eyes on stalks staring at the woman's cleavage on every poster we passed?."

Dean had the good grace to shrug and look slightly embarrassed.

Sam gave a short laugh at the expression on his brother's face,

"Come on, this place has a bar. The show doesn't start for another 30 minutes, I'll buy you a drink."

The bar area was warm and brightly lit. There were people of all ages and types come to see Mystical Melody. Those who had seen her before were happily chatting about previous shows to those who were here for the first time. There was a general air of anticipation and excitement amongst the crowd. Dean raised his bottle in salute as two twenty-something's shimmied past, both looking playfully at him and giggling. Sam had his nose buried once more into the programme. Dean glanced at it over Sam's shoulder as Sam read through the woman's biography,

"So… Mystical Melody huh? Sounds like somethin' from Irvin Berlin. What is she? Some kind of Psychic Sally rip off?"

"Who knows. It says here that she's been able to channel the spirit world since she was 13 and that her great great grandmother was a spiritualist in England during Victorian times. Melody was born in America. Her grandparents emigrated over here just before World War II."

"So where did she grow up?"

Sam closed the programme before turning his head to fully look at Dean,

"Apparently she was born and raised in Kansas. In Lawrence to be specific."

Dean stared at his brother, looking to read behind Sam's neutral expression. He searched Sam's light brown eyes and realised Sam was worried, waiting to see how Dean would respond. Internally Dean struggled to reign in his sudden flash of anger. When he spoke his voice was mostly calm, only Sam could hear the slight tremor that signalled Dean was trying hard not to let rip,

"I'm guessing you knew that already and I'm guessing that's part of why you wanted to come here and see the show tonight, isn't it?"


Dean's internal anger hitched up the scale towards fury and, whilst Dean's voice remained low, his words hit lower,

"So…What are you hoping for Sam? A cheery hello from dad? Best wishes from mom? A wish you were here from Jess? Which is it Sam?"

Dean mentally cursed himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but it was too late now to retract them and he steeled himself for Sam's response. Sam had taken a step back from Dean, his expression switching from neutrality to a mix of anger, shock and hurt. When he answered his own voice was pitched equally low and Dean recognised the threat of danger contained within it,

"Don't Dean."

Over the tannoy came the request for people to make their way to their seats announcing that the show was due to start in five minutes. Dean broke eye contact with his brother, carefully reaching to place his half finished bottle of beer down on a nearby table. He had no doubt that he owed Sam one very sincere apology but he wasn't in the right place to say sorry just yet. Instead he self consciously avoided looking at Sam and continued to keep his own voice as calm and emotion free as he could,

"I guess we'd better find our seats."

Sam didn't answer, he simply turned and walked towards the doorway into the main theatre, not stopping to check whether Dean was coming with him or not. He had chosen two end seats and he stood back waiting. Dean stepped across him, taking the inner seat. Sam sat himself down on Dean's right side in the aisle seat, giving himself room to stretch his legs. As Dean shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, he felt a nudge from his left. He turned to the obese middle aged woman, a vision in pale pink, squashed into the seat next to him. She leaned closer to him and smiled. Dean noticed her bright orange lipstick had made it onto one of her badly stained front teeth. Her breath made it clear that she liked raw onions,

"Have you been to one of these before?"

Dean shook his head and tried to move his face further away from hers. She leaned in even closer and gave Dean a slow wink,

"You're in for a treat then Honey. This is my forth time. I'm really hoping she'll have a message from my late husband for me this time. He passed six years ago."

The woman's smile grew wider as she looked meaningfully at Dean,

"I've been alone ever since. I miss having a man in my bed. Know what I mean Honey?"

Dean's voice sounded squeaky even to himself,

"I'm sorry for your loss."

He turned away from the woman, sighing in relief when the theatre lights began to go down.