Return of the Prodigal Son
The Return of the Prodigal Son
Word Count: 900
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: (Gen) (Outsider POV) Ellen, Jed, Travis, mentions of Winchester
Warnings: none, other than show typical mentions of violence
Summary: Some nights, the books don't balance and the dishwasher breaks and Jo's new boyfriend drops a whole case of beer and some shellshocked hunter pulls a gun on someone's cell phone and Ellen wonders why she keeps this place open. But then she wouldn't know much about what's going on in the hunting world if she didn't.
Sometimes Ellen wondered why she kept this place going.
She and Bill had wanted a home and a source of legitimate income when Ellen found out she was pregnant with Jo. Opening a roadhouse just made sense, he said.
Hunters needed somewhere to go, he said. They needed someplace to go, to gather with kindred spirits, to shake off the dust of the last hunt, to share information. They needed a place where they didn't have to be on guard all the time. She agreed with most of it, although the last statement was bullshit. She had found that one out the last time Gordon Walker had passed through, the night she had to call rescue because Martin Creaser had come damn close to bleeding out in her floor.
But Bill, bless his glass half full heart, hadn't really thought through the realities of running a bar for hunters. First of all, it was running a bar, which meant balancing books and that the dishwasher broke on a Friday night right after the repairman's extra charge for after hours started and some young guy who wanted to impress Jo dropped a case of beer while trying to help.
Secondly, it was because they were hunters. Hunters who lived for any length of time had learned to live outside society. Using fake credit cards or hustling pool was such a habit for them that they had to be reminded those things didn't fly in Ellen's place. Most of them were alcoholics, which was good for business. Unfortunately most of them also had some degree of post traumatic stress disorder, which resulted in a weapon being brandished at least a couple nights a week.
They were also so used to sharing information that most of them gossiped like little old ladies. Usually it made Ellen roll her eyes. But tonight, while she was washing glasses behind the bar, her ears trained to listen for trouble caught a name that made her take notice.
"... got himself a new huntin' partner, and you'll never guess who it is." Jed grinned over his beer at the man sitting beside him.
"Dean Winchester ain't never hunted with anybody but his daddy and Bobby Singer, unless his daddy told him to." Travis scoffed.
"Yeah, but I'm tellin' ya, he is now." Jed insisted.
"Who, then?" Travis asked, taking a noisy slurp of his beer.
Oh yeah. That was one more thing about hunters. Maybe only one per cent of them had decent manners.
"His little brother Sam." Jed crowed.
"No way man." Travis shook his head. "Sammy got out. He was goin' to some top shelf university, magna summa lawdy and the whole bit. John was really proud of him."
"Yeah, but." Jed held up one finger in the exaggerated sort of way drunks make gestures. "I ran Sammy's name through the police data base. Turns out a couple months ago, his apartment went up in flames and his girlfriend was found inside with her gut slit open. I'm figurin', somethin' their daddy was huntin' come after Sam in revenge, and the girl got caught in the crossfire. Sam and Dean teamed up, and they're huntin' monsters together, but they're really huntin' their daddy. Dean's been callin' around for weeks, askin' if anybody's heard from John."
"You don't s'pose John's dead, do you?" Travis said. "Or missin', and the boys are lookin' for him? I mean this is Dean we're talking about. Sam and John ain't never seen eye to eye, but Dean still thinks his daddy hung the moon."
"Nah." Jed finished his beer and signalled for another one. "John Winchester is the one hunter I know who'll die of old age. He's the meanest son of a bitch out there. Meaner than anything he's ever hunted. If he's missin', it's because he wants to be. You know, that Marine Corps survival training and sniper training and shit. And you and me and Ellen," he tipped his head at the woman who had just put a fresh beer in front of him and raised the glass in salute before gesturing to the barroom with his other hand. "And anybody else who's ever met Dean knows that if it ever came to a choice between his daddy and Sammy, Sammy would win every time."
"True." Travis agreed. "Wonder what's gonna happen when them boys do catch up with John."
"It ain't gonna be pretty. On one hand, I'd like to be a fly on the wall." Jed shrugged. "On the other hand, I think ten miles away might be safe, but twenty'd probably be better."
Their conversation turned then, moved on to Rufus' latest paranoid ramblings and who Annie had banged on the last hunt.
Ellen dried the clean glasses and put them in the tray to set in the walk in cooler later. She wondered how long it would be before John showed up at the Roadhouse. He had a tendency to only come around when he needed something or was in trouble, and this time it sounded like it might be both.
It was probably time to call and check in with Bobby Singer. He and John might not be on speaking terms, but Bobby still kept an eye on Dean. Ellen would bet tonight's till that Bobby knew what brought Sam back into the life.
Notes:
In keeping with the show's theme that anyone that has ever called Sam Winchester "Sammy" other than Dean is dies bloody, this story used Jed who was killed during the Rising of the Witnesses and Travis who was killed by Jack the Rugaru.
Word Count: 900
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: (Gen) (Outsider POV) Ellen, Jed, Travis, mentions of Winchester
Warnings: none, other than show typical mentions of violence
Summary: Some nights, the books don't balance and the dishwasher breaks and Jo's new boyfriend drops a whole case of beer and some shellshocked hunter pulls a gun on someone's cell phone and Ellen wonders why she keeps this place open. But then she wouldn't know much about what's going on in the hunting world if she didn't.
Sometimes Ellen wondered why she kept this place going.
She and Bill had wanted a home and a source of legitimate income when Ellen found out she was pregnant with Jo. Opening a roadhouse just made sense, he said.
Hunters needed somewhere to go, he said. They needed someplace to go, to gather with kindred spirits, to shake off the dust of the last hunt, to share information. They needed a place where they didn't have to be on guard all the time. She agreed with most of it, although the last statement was bullshit. She had found that one out the last time Gordon Walker had passed through, the night she had to call rescue because Martin Creaser had come damn close to bleeding out in her floor.
But Bill, bless his glass half full heart, hadn't really thought through the realities of running a bar for hunters. First of all, it was running a bar, which meant balancing books and that the dishwasher broke on a Friday night right after the repairman's extra charge for after hours started and some young guy who wanted to impress Jo dropped a case of beer while trying to help.
Secondly, it was because they were hunters. Hunters who lived for any length of time had learned to live outside society. Using fake credit cards or hustling pool was such a habit for them that they had to be reminded those things didn't fly in Ellen's place. Most of them were alcoholics, which was good for business. Unfortunately most of them also had some degree of post traumatic stress disorder, which resulted in a weapon being brandished at least a couple nights a week.
They were also so used to sharing information that most of them gossiped like little old ladies. Usually it made Ellen roll her eyes. But tonight, while she was washing glasses behind the bar, her ears trained to listen for trouble caught a name that made her take notice.
"... got himself a new huntin' partner, and you'll never guess who it is." Jed grinned over his beer at the man sitting beside him.
"Dean Winchester ain't never hunted with anybody but his daddy and Bobby Singer, unless his daddy told him to." Travis scoffed.
"Yeah, but I'm tellin' ya, he is now." Jed insisted.
"Who, then?" Travis asked, taking a noisy slurp of his beer.
Oh yeah. That was one more thing about hunters. Maybe only one per cent of them had decent manners.
"His little brother Sam." Jed crowed.
"No way man." Travis shook his head. "Sammy got out. He was goin' to some top shelf university, magna summa lawdy and the whole bit. John was really proud of him."
"Yeah, but." Jed held up one finger in the exaggerated sort of way drunks make gestures. "I ran Sammy's name through the police data base. Turns out a couple months ago, his apartment went up in flames and his girlfriend was found inside with her gut slit open. I'm figurin', somethin' their daddy was huntin' come after Sam in revenge, and the girl got caught in the crossfire. Sam and Dean teamed up, and they're huntin' monsters together, but they're really huntin' their daddy. Dean's been callin' around for weeks, askin' if anybody's heard from John."
"You don't s'pose John's dead, do you?" Travis said. "Or missin', and the boys are lookin' for him? I mean this is Dean we're talking about. Sam and John ain't never seen eye to eye, but Dean still thinks his daddy hung the moon."
"Nah." Jed finished his beer and signalled for another one. "John Winchester is the one hunter I know who'll die of old age. He's the meanest son of a bitch out there. Meaner than anything he's ever hunted. If he's missin', it's because he wants to be. You know, that Marine Corps survival training and sniper training and shit. And you and me and Ellen," he tipped his head at the woman who had just put a fresh beer in front of him and raised the glass in salute before gesturing to the barroom with his other hand. "And anybody else who's ever met Dean knows that if it ever came to a choice between his daddy and Sammy, Sammy would win every time."
"True." Travis agreed. "Wonder what's gonna happen when them boys do catch up with John."
"It ain't gonna be pretty. On one hand, I'd like to be a fly on the wall." Jed shrugged. "On the other hand, I think ten miles away might be safe, but twenty'd probably be better."
Their conversation turned then, moved on to Rufus' latest paranoid ramblings and who Annie had banged on the last hunt.
Ellen dried the clean glasses and put them in the tray to set in the walk in cooler later. She wondered how long it would be before John showed up at the Roadhouse. He had a tendency to only come around when he needed something or was in trouble, and this time it sounded like it might be both.
It was probably time to call and check in with Bobby Singer. He and John might not be on speaking terms, but Bobby still kept an eye on Dean. Ellen would bet tonight's till that Bobby knew what brought Sam back into the life.
Notes:
In keeping with the show's theme that anyone that has ever called Sam Winchester "Sammy" other than Dean is dies bloody, this story used Jed who was killed during the Rising of the Witnesses and Travis who was killed by Jack the Rugaru.