A Fork In The Road Chapter 2: Shit Fire

The room is dark and cold. I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears and there’s a small, metallic pool forming on my tongue. As parts of the room come into focus I realize that I’m in what looks like a suburban living room. Children’s school pictures on the wall, 2 grinning red headed boys. The horrible flowered curtains reminded me of some 1970s home magazine cover. So much blood dripping from nose, down my chin, and onto my jeans. Wiping it away is not an option, my hands are bound behind my back and tied to a wooden chair. Every time I tug a bit I can feel my skin tearing and the pain makes everything spin. I think I’m gonna be sick.

“Hello again, I don’t believe I had the pleasure of a formal introduction when we last met.”

The slow hiss in his voice sounds familiar.

The light clicked on and there stood the thin, snake like man from the bar. I can see him better now and I wished that I couldn’t. Rotten teeth, scars, and all.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure but you’re not exactly a sight for sore eyes,” I cough out. Every muscle in my face hurts when I speak. I didn’t need a mirror to know that my nose is broken this time.

“Well sweetheart, this meat suit wasn’t my first choice but it will do. I just need a moment alone with Dean Winchessster, then I can return home.”

The extra hiss in Dean’s last name scared the shit out of me, sending a chill down my spine.

I thought for a moment before I answered, going over every possible way I could keep Dean from harm, then I broke out in hysterical laughter, “What makes you think that Dean will come for me, you’ve got to be the dumbest demon that I’ve ever met! Do your research, moron, Dean and I hate each other. He would rather watch me die than rescue me.”

The anger crept from the floor all the way up to the crease of his twisted smile and his eyes flashed black. The creature took of his trench coat, carefully folded it and lay it on the arm of a worn leather recliner before he glided over to me. He leaned into view, close enough that I could smell the rotting flesh on his breath, smile still resting on his lips and said, “It is you that should do some research, sweetheart. I know Dean’s past, I know his soul, I know his heart. I have waited a long time to contemplate his end. The hard part, when dealing with vermin like the Winchesssters, is trapping them. It took a while to find a way around their instinct but I did. If Dean cares for someone, more than himself, he will attempt to save them. You see, it’s not a matter of if he will come, it’s when.”

I know that Dean will try to save me, that’s just part of his motto; saving people, hunting things, the family business. Was I missing something though? This putrid creature is sure that Dean will come for me. Does he love me? If he loves me, in what way does he love me? I should be more frightened but once again all I can think of is him. The way his eyes hardly ever meet mine, the way my body tingles when he is close, the way…

“Not much to say I see. Well, all we can do is wait but I will tell you that I tend to become impatient if my demands are not met. I barrowed your cellular device to summon Dean. I hope you don’t mind,” the demons voice had calmed by the time he interrupted my thoughts. He was sitting on the tattered couch now, close enough to touch if I could extend my arm. I hadn’t noticed before but there is a clock just above the entry, 8:46pm. I have been here for a good 8 hours?

“Exactly when did you ‘barrow’ my cell phone,” I ask. Hoping that I may have an idea of what is to come.

“I did tell you that I do become upset if I am expected to wait,” he said as his eyes shot up to the clock. “It has been 3 hours and 4 minutes, far too long for a response as far as I’m concerned.”

I knew it, Dean is already here. Probably Sam as well. I haven’t been scared from the beginning or felt that this demons intention was to hurt me, his anger is focused on Dean. He must know this too so I’m sure that he is waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. Why? Who is this odd man, demon… whatever?

“Who are you?” The words shoot out of my mouth before I can catch them.

There’s that wicked grin again. He looks pleased as he begins to speak, “It’s not much concern to you but I can entertain a dying woman’s wish. My name is Thomas, son of Azazel, but you can call me Tom.”

A dying woman’s wish!? Shit, I was wrong about his intentions.

“You see, Dean has taken much from me including my father and now he must pay. I could take Sam, and I intend too, but I am starting small. You will be the first of my payback to Dean Winchessster, but not the last.” It seemed as if he had more to say but the explosion outside startled both of us.

Just as the creature stood up a fire erupted in front of the house. From what I could see a car was on fire, pretty close to the door.

“It looks like our guest may have arrived. Stay here if you would like your death to be pain free,” he said as he headed for the door.

Before I could blink I felt tugging at the ropes around my wrists. “Dean,” I said a bit too happily.

“No Gabby, it’s me. I’ll explain later, let’s get you out of here first,” Sam said with urgency.

Less than a second later I saw Tom’s silhouette in the doorway and Sam was pinned to the wall above the couch. The house began to shake and the lights flickered. Tom was less pleasant now, eyes black and mouth seething as he spoke, “Sam Winchessster, nice of you to join us! Plans do change and I’m willing to take 2 lives tonight rather than one. WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER?”

By now the creature was standing in front of the couch, just beneath Sam’s legs, gripping his throat tighter without laying a single boney finger on him.

“I’m right here, you skinny douche bag. Nice place you got here, where did ya find it, freaksforrent.net,” Dean said stepping through the front door. I was so focused on Sam and trying to finish getting out of my ropes I never saw him walk up. Was this part of their plan? Was there a plan?

Sam fell on the couch, and Dean shot him a quick glance. Tom’s eyes were so focused on Dean that he didn’t see the slight nod Sam gave him.

“Let them go, we all know it’s me that you want.” Dean smirked as he spoke, “I am pretty darn cute.”

My hands finally slipped free and I silently let Sam know. He shook his head no. What? We’re not going to help Dean. What the hell is going on?

“Fucking shit fire!” I yelled, and everyone’s eyes met mine. Dean fought back a smile as he cocked his head to the side.

“Shit fire, that’s a new one,” Dean said. The color drained from his face as he looked down to see the blood pooling under his shirt. This demon was quick, the knife was in and out before we could react.

Tom looked at me and smiled, “As I said, plans change. I will start with Dean instead, see how much he can take before I finish the both of you.”

I tried to move but Tom already had Sam and I pinned. He forced Sam next to me as Dean slid to the floor clutching his stab wound.

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” I couldn’t hold back the tears as the apology left my lips.

Dean looked at me and said two words, “Cas, now!”

Castiel appeared and touched Sam and I with each hand. Then we were in a motel room, all of us except Dean.

A Fork In The Road Chapter 1: The Bar

The sound of the lock opening on the bar door jarred me. How long have I been standing here?

“Well well now, don’t usually get pretty ladies like yourself in here this early. Hell, we don’t usually see pretty ladies much ‘round here at all,” the bartender said as he motioned for me to come inside. I wasn’t fond of his enthusiasm.

His eyes examined every inch of me as I squeezed past him into the dark, musty bar. Ugh… it smells like wet socks and vomit in here. It’s hard not to notice the awful clash in décor, even with the strong odor. Deer heads, NASCAR posters, and chipped red paint. Classy.

My left hand started to twitch as I realized my portly, middle aged host was still staring at me. What was left of his thin gray hair was neatly combed over his obviously balding head and a grin rested on his thin lips. Why is his shirt stained if he just opened?

“Have a seat there darlin’, what can I do ya for?” He cheerfully asked this as he wiped the bar top down with a dingy yellow rag, then preceded to wipe the sweat from his brow with the same piece of cloth. Thank God alcohol kills germs. Rather die from it than salmonella or who knows what else.

“Beer please. Guinness if you have it on tap.” I replied, hoisting my aching body onto the bar stool. “Make it two.”

“She speaks!” his voice boomed.

“Sorry. Not trying to seem rude. Long night.”

He could tell by my tone, (and appearance I’m sure), that I was not in the mood to discuss my night or anything for that matter.

A few moments later an ice cold Guinness appeared and I gulped half of it down immediately. Before the last few sips of that one were gone another showed up. The beer was my clarity, I needed it… a recent development but there is no functioning without it for the time being.

I’m not the best hunter but I get by. The last year has been pretty rough since mother passed. She was my rock, my teacher, my rescuer. Trying to walk in her footsteps is nearly impossible for me. Can I do this without her?

It was just she and I after my father, Harrison Guerrero, passed away in the fall of 1999.  My mother hunted from that point until she passed last year.  The doctors ruled dad’s death an accident but my mother knew better. She blamed herself and her curiosity for his death. She studied everything from the paranormal to the supernatural in college and even more so after. She briefly came in contact with a hunter during an overnight visit in a haunted house. The house was filled with vengeful spirits, one of which let her in on the fact that she was pregnant with me. The hunter she met was John Winchester and he saved both of our lives that night. Whenever my mother suspected something strange was happening she would give John a ring and he would handle it. She convinced my father that John was a distant cousin from her mother’s estranged side of the family and when John was on a hunt nearby he would have my mother check in on his 2 boys, Sam and Dean, and give her bits and pieces of stories to wet her palate.   

Catherine Guerrero was only 5’4 and a buck 20 soaking wet but she could hunt, and fight. My mother made every woman jealous. Her long blonde hair and emerald green eyes put every man within a ten mile radius in a coma. Her looks gave her an edge when it came to hunting. She was distracting and not intimidating so she had a spectacular advantage. The moment a monster let his or her guard down they lost their life. She passed on as much as she could to me before the cancer poisoned her entire body. Now every day I’m doing my best to make her proud.

The ticking of the wall clock interrupted my sulking. 10:16am. Shit, already?

Small details about my surroundings were coming into to focus. The bar is silent, no music or chatter, probably because it was still just Chubbs and I. Ok, that was awful. I could hear mother in my ear, “Not the smallest cub in the litter yourself, Gabby.”

I’m not sure if she would be proud of the 30lbs I’ve lost since she passed or see it as a sign of weakness. Huh, oh well. Too much on my mind to worry about that now, they will be here any minute and I need to be prepared.

It’s going to be hard enough explaining to Dean and Sam Winchester why I felt the need to weasel my way in on a case that they were already working, but the harder part will be apologizing for letting a very dangerous demon get away. That’s not even the hardest part, that’s right it gets worse! A couple months back Dean flew into California to pull me out of the gutter. Yes, he flew… though he hates flying. After I was cleaned up and off the bottle for a bit one thing led to another and Dean and I “bumped uglies” as he puts it. The thing is, it seemed like a lot more. Maybe it was just me being a girl but I felt something when we touched.

The sound of Baby pulling into the gravel parking lot snapped me back to reality. I could tell by the abrupt stop that Dean’s driving is probably a reflection of his mood. Pissed off.

“Gabby, are you out of your damn mind or just too stupid to learn your lesson?” Dean roared before he closed the Impala door, shocking even Sam who was wearing his long worry face.

“Hello, Sam,” I said sweetly as I gave him a warm hug and a peck on the cheek, “Long time no see.” I tried my best to ignore Dean and smile at Sam. My smile is genuine, I have always looked to Sam for advice and comfort. He is a good friend. Sam’s hands are on my shoulders at this point and it feels like he is staring into my soul… now I’m uncomfortable. It’s not Sam, I just don’t handle emotions or touching well. I always forget how tall he is.

In the softest tone Sam replies, “Gabby, I’m fine. It’s me that should be asking that! Do you need anything, are you hurt?” The genuine concern is comforting but still too much for me. I can feel tiny droplets gathering in my eyes.

“So, you’re deaf now too?” Dean asked, his voice was a bit softer but still sarcastic. I continued to ignore him because I know it drives him crazy… or at least I think it does.

“I’m ok, just some bumps and bruises, nothing some rest and a beer can’t cure,” I tried my hardest to convince Sam, and myself. “And no Dean, I haven’t been shit faced since California so you can keep whatever asshole comments you were about to pour out to yourself!” I snap, looking right at Dean for the first time. I had forgotten how perfectly symmetrical his face is. I could see the concern there now, underneath the anger. I could feel it too. Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, maybe not. The connection we shared had to be more than just friendship?

Sam is still staring at me, frowning, and when my eyes meet his again he asks, “Have you taken a moment, ya know, to assess your wounds?” That’s when I realize that I haven’t checked my wounds, showered, or even looked in a mirror. Shit. The look on Sam’s face wasn’t just concern, there was some pity swirled in there.

I’m sure that both of them can see the weight on me now. My face is an open book even though I would die before admitting what is actually going on in my head. So many thoughts, and for some reason the pressing issue was Dean seeing me this way. It’s been 3 months and some change since California. Dean and I took out a vamp nest and came back to my motel room with some burgers, beers, and a very large pie. The alcohol kept the cut on Dean’s eyebrow from clotting so I offered to stitch it up. When I finished the last stitch I looked at Dean, really looked at him, for the first time. In that moment he looked at me differently as well. The touch of his hand on my chin was soft and sweet, and as he gently leaned in our lips met, sending a wave of need through every inch of my skin. The sex was not what I expected, Dean was thoughtful and passionate, catering to my every need before his own. The next morning when I woke up he was gone. No note, no goodbye, nothing. Now here we are.

“HELLO… GABBY! Dammit Sam, I think her cookies got tossed around too much this time,” Dean said as he snapped his fingers in my face. Shit, when did he get so close? Was I blacking out?

“Maybe your breath just knocked me out for a few seconds. Try mints, they help.” I was proud of that line.

“You’re a comedian now! Haha, this is hilarious! One of Azazel’s demon spawn is roaming around and here you are cracking jokes.”

Thankfully Sam intervened, “Both of you just calm down, what’s gotten into you two. We’ve known each other for years and now all of a sudden you want to kill each other?”

The look on my face must be obvious because Sam spent 2 minutes looking back and forth between Dean and I before he broke out in a deep chuckle.

“You two, together? Seriously?” Sam could hardly choke the words out in between breaths.

“We’re not together,” Dean and I shouted simultaneously.

“OK, sure. I must have totally missed the mark,” Sam said quietly while trying to regain his composure. “OK, well then, we need a plan. Gabby, go get cleaned up and meet us back at The Palms motel off Sierra Highway in an hour. Sound good?”

“I can manage that,” I said in a whisper.

Sam gave me a nod as he and Dean both climbed back into Baby. I stood there as they drove away until I couldn’t see them anymore.

At this point only one other patron had entered the bar. He was a suspicious looking fellow. It was hot as hell in this town yet he wore a long black trench coat over his obviously thin frame. His shoulder length jet black hair was wrapped in a piece of twine with the exception of the thin strands that fell over his face. He’s so pale. How do you get that pale living in the desert?

“Hello.” He said as I tried to walk past him without meeting his eyes. “What do you recommend I order in this fine establishment?”

Even Chubbs looked concerned. He was staring now, his hand under the bar probably on a gun.

“Sorry, not from around here. You can’t go wrong with a cold beer,” I replied with a smile. I scanned his face now. It was oily and scarred, burn wounds maybe. He smiled but his teeth were rotten ranging in color from yellow to black, making me uneasy. I stood there for a moment until he turned to the bar and ordered a scotch, neat.

The instant I made it to the restroom I lost the contents of my stomach, which wasn’t much. I finally caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror as I rinsed my face. It’s amazing how you feel everything once you’ve seen the extent of an injury. My thick, curly hair was matted with highlights of red caked over its original chocolate color. My normally delicate nose was swollen to match the bruising under my eyes, and my lip was split on the top right. The scratches on my right cheek stung a bit but they will clear up in a matter of days. At least my nose isn’t broken, dodged a bullet there. The sound of glass breaking brought my attention to the door of the restroom. I waited for another sound, footsteps, talking, anything but I heard nothing.

Slowly, I opened to restroom door and peeked out, gripping a blade in my opposite had. The mirror behind the bar was broken and there was blood… a lot of blood. No sign of the snake like gentleman or Chubbs.

As I inch around the corner I see an arm on the ground, sticking out from behind the bar, dingy yellow cloth still in hand. Its Chubbs, he’s dead. Something hits me fast, and hard, and the lights go out.

It's Alive!

I'm here! I'm alive! I'm stuck finishing up the school semester! I would like to apologize to all of you that read my last blog, (which turned out to be a big, fat lie). I had every intention of being on the blogging and writing in general until I started working 3 jobs and the fall school semester. I have now kicked one job to the curb and the semester is almost over, (THANK GOD)!

Soon enough there will be some juicy things to read. Its a good thing that I had a moment to reflect on what direction I would like this blog to go. I have decided to start with some random stories, one of them being a Dean Winchester fan fiction short! Yummie... :)

Love to all!
xo Fallon

Coming Soon!!!

Thank you for all of your suggestions via email and phone calls, they helped get my creative juices flowing! I have come up with an idea for a short story that I think you may enjoy. Please comment on the blog itself! If not, I will not feel special and I just may eat some worms.

When offering advice or suggestions about the stories that I post please refer to the reading age first. I will identify if the story is meant for a young adult or adult audiences in the first post of each story. Remember, my primary focus is YA (young adult). I feel that many adults let their imagination slip away with time, it's a shame really. Also, like that last sentence there, I write just like I speak. There will be some intentional grammatical errors in my stories, beware! It is just me here, no editor or team reviewing these first.

That being said, look for the first part of my very first online short story in about a week! This is a BIG deal for me because I am a big ol' fat chicken who is afraid of all of you. I am going to hide now and start writing! Wish me luck!

xo Fallon

Suggestions?

Hello all!

So the journey begins! I am working on a fabulous story that I started about 2 years ago involving zombies but I feel it deserves more than than a few pages so I need your help! Throw me some ideas and I will form a short story out of them. I will try to include everyone's ideas into one silly compilation if it's possible. 

Most of you know what I like to write about but just to refresh your memory: Werewolves, vampires, zombies, ghosts, demons, angels, shapeshifters, special powers, and so on. Pretty much anything supernatural!

Ok... on your mark... get set... COMMENT!

xo Fallon

To blog or not to blog...

I have contemplated the idea of starting a blog for quite some time now but I always wondered who would read it? My spelling sucks, (thank you for the help spell-check), and my grammar is ok at best but I do have quite a few stories to tell. Though I have lived all of 29 years I have experienced more than most people do in an entire lifetime! Heartbreak, childbirth, travel, loss, weight loss, weight gain, supernatural encounters, life in a small town, life in the big city, you name it and I probably have a story to tell. On the other hand, I love to write! This is also a great way for me to test out my writing skills and see if I have what it takes to finish my novel. It is my dream to put my imagination on paper and share it with the world. If you are reading this you are most likely a close friend, family member, or wayward traveler like myself and I thank you for your support! What I ask is that you visit this blog as often as your schedule allows, show comment with constructive criticism, and hopefully enjoy the ramblings of my slightly insane mind.

xo Fallon