Disclaimer: All depictions of characters and ideas that are similar to the hit WB TV Series "Supernatural" are absolutely intentional and crafted with as much love and care as possible.

A/N: This is meant to be a brief prequel; it was inspired by LotRia's story, "Fatal Attractions." (takes place in Season 2 between 'Heart' and 'Folsom Prison Blues')

Initial idea: Something in the mystery about her story including a, "job with a paycheck," got me thinking about how the boys could have blundered into this. If there's any Supernatural character that best encompasses "blundering", I think it's Garth. Since he doesn't really show up until later in the series, I'm not naming him in the story.

Rating: K - probably due to the fact that Mr. Fizzles does not make an actual appearance.

Thank you, Ria, for helping me remember how to put my own thoughts down instead of just documenting calls. 3


Prelude to Unwanted Attention

(Prequel to Fatal Attractions by LotRia)

Spring, 2007, in La Grande, OR

The old Mexican restaurant had seen better days. The patio where they were seated was just a partially fenced-in slab of white concrete. It had a glass door leading into the restaurant to Dean's left; and open gates, in front of him and to the right, leading into the parking lot. The tables were an unhealthy looking mass of rusted metal and peeling paint and the umbrellas were all sun faded; but at least the food was good. Dean would have to remember to thank Bobby for the recommendation later. He was the one that suggested the boys make a pit stop here for a meeting with another hunter to get some information on an interesting job. When they asked what it would be, Bobby had said, "I'm not sure I believe it myself, so I'll let it be a surprise."

Dean pushed his empty plate away with a loud belch and checked his watch before scanning the parking lot again. Sam was still picking at his taco salad and looking wistfully off into the distance at the mountains. While the temperature was nice for sitting outside, the overcast wasn't promising to let the sun out any time soon. "What time did Bobby say this guy was going to show up," Dean asked.

Sam replied, "He didn't. Just said it would be some time between late morning and early afternoon." Sam peered in the direction of Dean's gaze; the clouds were darkening, but it didn't look like anything to worry about. "Don't tell me you're afraid of getting a little wet," he snorted with an impish grin on his face.

"Of course not," Dean grumbled, "It would just be nice to have some sunshine for a drive with the windows rolled down for a change." The waiter chose this moment to bring out Dean's fried ice cream. Dean rubbed his hands together as anticipation lit up his face. He picked up the spoon and had it halfway to his mouth when a loud bass sound intruded on the silence of their surroundings. He continued to hold this pose while watching an old Ford Ranchero pull into the parking lot and park next to his baby.

Sam turned around as the vehicle's engine coughed to a standstill. He had an amused look on his face as he watched the wiry man who got out of it place a pair of over-large shades in his pocket and start to circle the Impala. His jacket looked a bit warm for this weather and the rest of his clothes looked like something he mugged off a middle-school nerd from the 80's. He was rail thin and had mussed up, mousey brown colored hair.

Dean was not so amused. The spoon dropped back into the bowl, tasty treat forgotten, while the scrawny guy knelt to look at the rims and gaze into the windows at the interior. Touching the fender was too much. "Excuse me," Dean yelled. Skinny-dork looked around for whoever was being addressed. Seeing no one else, and with Dean's stern gaze pointedly addressing him, he shrugged his shoulders questioningly and pointed at himself. "Yes, you. Don't touch my car, " Dean growled.

"Sorry, man. I was just admiring the sheer beauty of the tuff lady, here. What do you call her," asked Skinny-dork as he started walking toward the boys.

Dean's face turned red as he responded, "Call her... Call her?!" he punctuated while pointing at the love of his life, "She's my baby, she doesn't need a name. What kind of douchey question is that, and who the hell are you, anyways?" Dean sensed Sam getting ready to kick him under the table, so he promptly ignored Skinny-dork and acted as if his questions were rhetorical. Focusing again on his dessert, he shoveled ice cream from dish to mouth and back with the same enthusiasm he would use to hack the head off a vampire.

"Hi. I was told I should seek out a couple of brothers about a job offer." Skinny-dork offered his hand to Dean, who continued to ignore him.

"Hi there, we do happen to be brothers looking for some work," Sam interjected with a polite smile while taking Skinny-dork's outstretched hand and shaking it, "feel free to sit down."

Skinny-dork happily shook Sam's hand, "Pleased to meet you. I've got the job information right here." He tapped his chest and then opened his jacket to reveal a number of pockets; they all appeared to be full of different devices, odds & ends, even something that looked like a sock. The mass of items filled out the jacket and had the effect of making him look bulkier than he really was, heck a t-back sleeveless t-shirt would look bulky on this guy.

Skinny-dork sat down as he pulled out a folded up newspaper section. "Any time I'm in a new town, I look up the personal ads to see if I can… uhh… make any new friends, you know what I mean?" He squinted self consciously as he smiled; then crossed his arms while leaning back in the chair. The boys stared blankly at him, not responding to his banter. Leaning forward again, he pointed at a circled item and continued, "This caught my attention, but I'm already engaged in a job right now. When I told Bo…" he broke off and looked at Sam, then Dean, then over his shoulder, "our mutual friend about it, he said you were probably the closest and could use the reward." The ad was short, the language bland: Wealthy collector seeks supernatural expert for consultation - $5000.00 - call 555-6663.

"Did you check this out at all," Sam asked.

"Naw, I've got my own little nest egg stashed away and I'm busy investigating a spook here in La Grande," Skinny-dork replied.

"Great," Dean mumbled as he finished the ice cream, "All we need is another wild goose chase."

Sam made a placating gesture in Dean's direction. "Looks like they just posted this two days ago. It could be legit. Thanks for bring this to us… uh… dude."

Skinny-dork nodded, "You're welcome, hombres. Those of us in the business..." he trailed off with a smile. As he stood up and started to leave, he addressed Dean, "I really think you should name that car. Plant a kiss of paint on that trunk with some love, man," then he put his shades back on and walked away.

Sam had to put a restraining hand on Dean's shoulder as he started to get up with an angry look on his face, spluttering imprecations. "No scrappy-nerd throwback is gonna…"

"Oh, almost forgot," Skinny-dork walked back to the table and turned a few pages of the open paper section, slid the funnies page out of it, then saluted the boys, "Hasta la vista."