Rest Stop

Chapter 3

Sam watched as the brunette walked to the back of the bar again. Actually, he must have been flat-out staring, since Dean elbowed him in the stomach none-too-subtly a couple seconds after she passed by. He felt his face redden as he realized how obvious he had been. He couldn’t help it; she was really hot. He hoped her friend hadn’t been watching. He continued gazing in the direction she had disappeared, trying to come up with some reason to follow her and strike up a conversation. It had been a long time since he had engaged in casual flirting and he wasn’t sure he remembered how. For all he knew, she was married or engaged or attached. But, he reminded himself, she had smiled at him as she had ordered their beers, and that had to count for something.

He was brought out of his musing by a grunt from Dean. Morgan, as he had overhead her friend call her, was no longer alone. She had been joined by the recently-defeated-at-darts trucker. Sam guessed Morgan wasn’t too happy about the addition to her table, since she was scooting her chair away from his, as discreetly as she could. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but from the expression on her face, it wasn’t the most appealing offer she had ever heard. He felt Dean tense up next to him, ready to intervene if necessary.

Sam really didn’t want to get involved in a bar fight, but he began accounting for the remaining people in the bar, just in case. He knew without a doubt that his brother could handle the trucker if necessary. He didn’t think the other people in the bar would be issue; they weren’t paying any attention to the activity at Morgan’s table. The variable in the situation would be the brunette. If she came back at the wrong time, that could cause a problem. Sam glanced over at Dean, who was looking back at him. Dean’s eyes flicked back to the bar, in the direction Morgan’s friend had walked. Years of living, training, and fighting with him had given Sam a sixth sense of what his brother wanted. If something happened, it was his job to head off the other girl.

Two minutes later, the ‘something’ happened. Bubba, as Sam had named him, put his hand on Morgan’s arm. When she tried to pull her arm away, Bubba kept hold of her. Although she didn’t look frightened, Sam could tell she wasn’t overjoyed either. A few seconds later, she proved this by stating quite clearly and loud enough for everyone to hear, “Get your hands off me!”

Sam and Dean hopped off their barstools in unison. Sam didn’t stick around to see what Dean’s next move after heading towards the girl was. He walked quickly to the back of the bar, hoping that the brunette would understand why he was basically going to hold her hostage temporarily. He heard his brother ask casually, “What seems to be the problem?” before he rounded the corner. And practically ran into his target.

She stared at him for a moment, before shaking her head, as if she were disappointed in someone, and then muttered an apology. Not wanting her to be shocked by the scene out front, he placed a hand on her arm, stopping her and blocking her view of the main room. She glanced up at him, her big blue eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern, then back down at his hand.

“Um, hi,” he said quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to them, “listen, I know you don’t know me from Adam, but I need you to stay back here for a minute or two.” Sam hoped that she didn’t freak out and tried to sound as reassuring as he could. He wasn’t sure he succeeded entirely, but at least she didn’t scream when she answered,

“Why, what’s going on?” Her response was low and lilting, with a definite Southern twang. Not as pronounced as her friend’s, but still noticeable. Sam laughed at himself inwardly; he had never noticed girls’ voices until Dean had waxed poetic on the joys of accents after a night of drinking. Now it was one of the first things he noticed. Damn his brother.

Sam summarized the situation out front as quickly and efficiently as he could. The brunette reacted as he had expected; she immediately wanted to help her friend. Her eyes had sparked with angry fire at the thought of the other girl being in danger, a look which Sam definitely appreciated. Actually, as he steered her into the empty pool room, there wasn’t much about her that he didn’t appreciate. He remembered that he hadn’t introduced himself, and held out his hand once they were hidden from sight. “Oh, I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Kelsey.” She accepted his hand and smiled. And then the room was plunged into darkness.

Sam reflexively looked around, checking to see if it was just where they were, or if the whole bar was affected. Of course this did no good, since it was so dark that he couldn’t see Kelsey standing in front of him. He was so surprised by the turn of events that he didn’t even notice he was still holding her hand, until he felt her take a step towards him.

“Um, Sam?” she asked nervously. “Were the lights going out part of ya‘ll keeping things under control?” Her shoulder brushed his arm as she moved closer to his side. Without thinking, he laced his fingers through hers and gave a gentle squeeze.

“No, that’s not us.” As he answered, another crack of thunder sounded outside, loud enough to shake the glass windows. “I have a feeling that’s the cause of the electric problems,” he finished with a slight laugh.

“Great,” she muttered. “Stuck in some dive in BFE Mississippi in the dark with a bunch of rednecks wanting to fight. Fan-freakin-tastic. This’ll teach me to need a bathroom break.”

Sam couldn’t help it; he chuckled at her little rant. If only this was the strangest situation he’d been in with a girl to which he was attracted. He was about to suggest that they try and find the pool table and have seat when his cell phone rang.

When he flipped it open, the phone gave off enough light that he could see Kelsey again. She was standing next to him, the hand he wasn’t holding running though her hair. She looked up at him as he answered and gave him a lopsided grin. His heart-rate kicked up a notch and he felt a distinct twinge of arousal begin. “Hey Dean,” he answered, “Did you notice the lights went out?”

“No, really?” came the sarcastic reply. “When did that happen?” Sam heard another voice, slightly muffled as well. “Hold on a minute,” Dean said. Sam frowned and waited. His brother came back on the line. “Morgan wants to know if Kelsey’s with you.”

He glanced at Kelsey, who was now leaning against the pool table. Even in the slightly eerie bluish glow of his phone, she was still beautiful. “Yeah, she’s right here,” he answered. “Where are you?”

“In the women’s restroom, I think. Don’t ask,” Dean stated quickly, heading off the inevitable question from Sam. “We’re going to stay here for a minute to make sure that Bubba is still down for the count and then we’re heading for the back door.”

“Assuming you can find the back door,” Sam said, propping himself up on the pool table next to Kelsey. “Sounds better than some plans you’ve had.”

“Shut up. See you in five.” Dean ended the phone call.

“I’m guessing Morgan is with your brother?” Kelsey asked when he moved the phone away from his ear. The light wasn’t quite as bright, but it was still better than nothing, so Sam didn’t return it to his pocket.

“Yeah, they’re hiding out for a minute. We’ll meet up with them outside in a few.” Sam finally realized he was still holding Kelsey’s hand. “Oh, sorry about that,” he apologized as he disentangled his hand from hers.

She shrugged and smiled. “That’s alright. You have nice hands.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t, I mean, oh never mind.” She ducked her head and Sam could hear her mumbling under her breath. He grinned; not only was she gorgeous, she had a personality to match.

“That’s not exactly an insult, so I think we’re okay.” He watched as she tucked her hair behind her ear and again his hand itched to do the same. “You have nice hands too,” he answered without thinking. He rolled his eyes, thankful Dean wasn’t around to hear such a lame compliment. Kelsey raised her gaze from the floor. To his surprise, she reached over and reclaimed his hand.

“Well then, that’s settled. We seem to enjoy holding hands.” They sat in silence for a moment before she continued. “Oh and thanks. For rescuing Morgan and everything. Not every guy would have helped out.”

Sam shook his head, embarrassed by her compliment. “It’s no big deal.”

“So Mr. No Big Deal, how are we going to kill time?” Kelsey’s question was innocent enough, but not-so-innocent ideas flooded Sam’s mind. Most of those included the pool table behind them and holding more than just hands. He bit back a groan. It was going to be a long five minutes.

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Dean had no idea what he was going to do next. He hadn’t really developed a plan, at least outside of stopping the trucker, who he had named Bubba in his mind, from bothering the hot red head. He had been sitting quietly, minding his own business, but keeping an eye on the situation, until Bubba had touched the girl. And the girl had made it clear she didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t see any other choice, other than intervening. So he had slid off his barstool and sent Sam to head off the other girl at the pass. But now that he had Bubba’s attention and likewise his hand off Morgan’s arm, he had to think on his feet. Good thing he was an excellent improviser.

“Listen pretty boy,” Bubba sneered, putting a lot of emphasis on the pretty part, “just ‘cause you beat me in darts doesn’t mean you’re gonna beat me with the ladies.” He gave the girl a lustful grin. “And I think this lady needs a real man.”

“I’m not really in the market, thanks,” she snarked back, obviously not scared speechless, as Dean had thought she might be. “And you’re really not my type.” She pushed her chair back even further from the table, putting as much space as possible between her and the larger man. Dean took this opportunity and stepped in front of Bubba.

“Look, man, I don’t want to tell you your business, but I don’t think she’s interested. Besides,” he said, throwing a look at Morgan over his shoulder. “Don’t you think she might be a little high maintenance for you?” Ignoring the outraged gasp from behind him, he continued. “Let me buy you a beer and we’ll call it good, alright?”

Dean waited for his response, a fake smile plastered on his face. He hoped that Bubba took the bait and this didn’t get out of hand. He had no doubt whatsoever that he could take this guy, but getting in a bar fight when he was worn out from their last job was not in his plans. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to make sure that Morgan was a safe distance away, just in case.

“I think I’ll take my chances with the girl,” Bubba finally answered and took a menacing step in Morgan’s direction. Dean followed his movement, staying between the big man and the girl. Everyone else in the bar had stopped whatever they were doing and were watching the action, like it was a television show. Dean sighed internally; this wasn’t going to end well. “Get out of my way, boy,” the trucker growled, giving Dean a shove as he tried to move around him.

“’Fraid I can’t do that,” Dean said, standing his ground.

Dean thanked his normally unlucky stars that Bubba wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. The man couldn’t have given away his next move more if he had announced it to the room. His big arm reared back, preparing to punch Dean in the face. Even Morgan saw it coming, if the loud intake of breath from behind him was any indication. He threw up his own arm and blocked the swing and landed a punch of his own in Bubba’s considerable gut. The man doubled over slightly at the attack, but not enough to suit Dean. Before he had a chance to recover, Dean’s fist connected with his jaw, knocking him to the floor.

As Bubba was still conscious, Dean knew he needed to get Sam, himself and the girls out of the bar as quickly as he could. Not knowing on which side of this fight the other occupants of the room would fall was a variable he couldn’t afford to risk. He wasn’t armed, his normal back-up was otherwise occupied, and he was slightly outnumbered if the guys drinking decided to help Bubba. He turned around and grabbed Morgan’s wrist, pulling her along with him as he moved in the direction Sam had gone.

“You actually hit him!” she squealed, surprise evident in her voice. “I can’t believe you did that!”

She wasn’t moving fast enough for Dean, so he gave another, more forceful tug to get her attention. “Yeah, I did, now come on.” Before she could offer a protest, they were half-way to the back of the bar.

“There’s a back entrance to the right,” the bartender called out as the pair left the room. Dean gave a quick wave as thanks, wanting to get out before Bubba got to his feet. He groaned to himself when he saw there were two doors to the right once they neared the back. He was in the middle of determining which led outside when the bar went dark. Not just a little dark where you can still make out shapes, but entirely and completely pitch black.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Dean muttered under his breath, feeling his way towards the two doors. At least, he was until he was stopped by the unmoving girl behind him.

“What are you doing?” she whispered furiously. “You can’t see, can you?”

“No, but I know that one of these doors leads outside and there’s a very large, very angry man behind us that knows this place a hell of a lot better than we do. Now c’mon,” he pulled her along as his hand connected with the door. It swung open and Dean stepped through it, leaving Morgan no choice but to follow.

“Fantastic choice,” Morgan said sarcastically, as it became evident he had not picked the correct door. “He’ll have no problem finding and beating the crap out of you now.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed as he fumbled around in his pocket for his lighter. Finding it and clicking in quickly, he held up the small flame. He could see Morgan, a frown on her pretty face, standing in the middle of what appeared to a bathroom. “Shit,” he repeated. He looked around, hoping there was at least a window someone could crawl out. After investigating the entire 10 by 10 room, he realized they were well and truly stuck. “And no one’s beating the crap out of me,” he finally responded to her last comment.

He stepped back over to the door, taking the small bit of light with him. He leaned against the door, listening for any clue as to what was going on in the main rooms. He couldn’t hear anything specific, so he guessed that Bubba was still out of commission. As a precaution, he reached up and turned the lock.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you helping me, I do, but I’d really like to find my friend and get out of here,” Morgan took a step towards him, evidently planning on leaving the bathroom.

“Join the club,” Dean answered. “But we’re not leaving yet.” He turned and leaned against the door, facing Morgan again. His lighter was still working, so he could see the frown was still present.

“Considering I don’t even know your name, I really don’t think you’re in the position to be bossing me around,” she said. “For all I know, you could be worse than Big Foot out there.” She crossed her arms in front of her.

Her simple action, which emphasized her already impressive assets, reminded Dean why he was in the position in the first place. If he hadn’t been paying as close of attention as he had been to the hot red head, this would have never happened. He and Sam would be back out on the road and he could have been fantasizing about ripping off Morgan’s t-shirt and jeans. Now he was stuck in a bar bathroom with her. And she didn’t appear to be in a clothes-ripping-off frame of mind. Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Did your friend come back here to get Kelsey?” She was maintaining her defensive posture, which made it hard for Dean to concentrate.

“Yeah, Sam came back here to make sure she didn’t come back into the middle of something.” He considered her question for a moment, surprised that she had figured out what had happened. His surprise must have shown on his face, because she replied dryly,

“Just because I look high-maintenance doesn’t mean I’m an idiot,” her frown deepened even more, so much that Dean would almost call it a pout. It was a good look for her, he decided.

“Okay, Morgan, right?” he said. When she nodded that this was correct, he continued. “I’m Dean. I’m going to call my brother Sam and make sure everything’s okay with him. Then we’re going to make sure that no one’s coming back here and we’ll head for the back door. That alright?” She nodded again, her expression softening a little.

After his quick phone call to Sam, he moved away from the still locked door and slid down the wall onto the floor. He stretched his legs out in front of him, trying to get semi-comfortable on the concrete slab. Morgan had visibly relaxed after hearing that Kelsey was safe with Sam and was leaning against the sink. The circle of light that his Zippo put out barely made it to her feet, so most of her face was in shadow. For a minute, they stood and sat in silence, until Morgan suddenly straightened and moved towards the paper towel dispenser. He watched as she tore off a couple of sheets of paper and then walked to one side of him. After placing the towels on the floor, she gracefully lowered herself to the floor and sat beside him. Her shoulder brushed his arm for a second as she situated herself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t thank you before for stepping in out there. That was really nice of you,” she said quietly.

“No problem,” he answered, giving her his pretty-girl grin. “I specialize in rescuing damsels in distress.”

She laughed at his response. “So I’m not only high maintenance, but I’m a damsel too?” Dean tilted his head slightly to meet her gaze and saw that the mischievous spark he had noticed earlier was back. “Sadly enough, I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever been called in a bar.”

“You’re obviously hanging around the wrong people,” he replied. His eyes raked over her quickly, obviously appraising her. “I could think of a lot nicer things to call you than that.”

She blushed attractively and averted her eyes for a moment. Then she brushed her hair off her shoulder and said, “Thanks, I think.” With her slight movement, Dean could smell her perfume. It was a lush, exotic mix of vanilla and some type of flower and it immediately sent Dean back to his clothes-ripping fantasy. Which caused a reaction that made him thankful for the dim lighting. If just smelling her was giving him a hard-on, it was going to be a long five minutes.