The sunlight reflects brightly off of the black car as it drives through the small town in Louisiana. It looks exactly like hundreds of other small towns the car has traveled through. Quiet, unassuming, with a church on every corner; the perfect picture of small town America with its white picket fences and gleaming windows. As the car drives down Main Street dotted with local business, everyone stares as the unfamiliar car with the out of state license plate rumbles by.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” The passenger of the vehicle looks out his window at the people walking by. He nods his head in polite greeting at the two women sitting on a bench openly staring at him. They ignore his greeting, instead turning their heads towards each other, carrying on their conversation in hushed tones though it is obvious they are discussing him. The passenger of the vehicle shakes his head and smirks. It’s not the first time people have talked about him, it won’t be the last.
The passenger of the vehicle turns to talk to the driver. “You’d think if this place was the home of some sort of Supernatural Mecca that the citizens in the town would be more freaked out. It all seems. . .normal.”
“Daytime, Sammy,” his brother Dean answers quickly as he turns the steering wheel of his beloved 1967 Chevy Impala. It’s amazing that the car still runs at all given everything it’s been through, but the car, like the Winchester brothers, can take a beating and still keep going. Not even death can stop the Winchester brothers, though it has tried more than a few times.
“Still…you’d think they’d be more cautious, more, I don’t know, scared” Sam replies in a baffled tone as he stares at a large rotund woman suck the bone of a chicken wing completely clean. Sam quickly turns his head away in disgust as he sees her reach for another chicken wing. No one needs to see that woman go down on a chicken bone as one would a lover.
“You know as well as I do, Sam, that most people can’t see what’s right in front of them. Hell, even with vampires coming out of the coffin a few years back, people still refuse to acknowledge the existence of the supernatural! If it hasn’t happened to them, then there’s no way it can possibly exist. Denial and ignorance are really the only things that keep the American people from flipping their shit. Well, that and alcohol,” Dean admits with a wry grin as he presses down on the accelerator causing the engine to roar as he speeds off the main road towards their destination.
“You can’t tell me that they are THAT blind to what’s going on! Vampires, maenads, Were attacks, and who knows what else! I mean, come on, Dean; they have to know something,” Sam insists.
“Sam, this is Louisiana, not Stanford. Something tells me these people aren’t exactly forward thinkers,” he responds with a raised eyebrow as they watch a pickup truck drive past. There are antlers on the grill, a Confederate flag flying from the antenna, and a gun rack in the back. “Hell, these people are lucky if their brother isn’t also their cousin or uncle or whatever inbred, backwoods mating rituals they have down here,” Dean admits with a shudder of revulsion.
“It can’t be that bad, Dean,” Sam answers with a laugh as they arrive at their destination. Dean turns off the car, and the brothers exit the vehicle.
“I don’t know, Sammy, but let’s see if Bon Temps is as good a time as the name implies. According to Cas, Merlotte’s is the place where we should begin our investigation. He said we’re on the lookout for a blonde waitress with a weird name.” Dean fidgets with the collar of his coat as they walk towards the door of the bar.
“Shouldn’t be too hard to find,” Sam mutters as they walk inside.
“Yeah, that’s what worries me,” Dean admits as he looks around the bar. Everyone inside stares at the intruders. “When have things ever been easy for us?”
The Winchester brothers walk calmly towards the bar, nodding their heads politely at the other patrons as they make their way across the wooden floor. The man behind the bar stares at the two men warily as they sit down on two of the vacant bar stools and order two beers. The bartender gives them their drinks, but doesn’t engage them in friendly conversation as he usually would, nor does he flirt with them like he would have in days past. The time for being polite to strangers is long over in this town. All Lafayette knows is that he should be leery of them and whatever they want.
Especially when after ordering food those strangers start asking questions about Sookie Stackhouse!
Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area Five in Louisiana, sits atop his throne at Fangtasia for the throngs of fangbangers that have once again returned to the establishment now that the threat from Russell Edgington has been dealt with. His posture has not changed for the last hour; he hasn’t even blinked. Every fangbanger inside the club wants to be the one to gain “the master’s” attention, to be the one to curry his favor. It’s been so long since Eric showed a preference for one of the patrons inside the bar. The competition among the women, and more than a few men, to be the one chosen by The Viking has become especially fierce. It used to amuse Eric to toy with the vermin; to see how far they would be willing to go to gain his attention. But now he doesn’t see them, he doesn’t see much of anything that happens inside his club anymore.
He’s lost in his memories, wrapped up in a world where he keeps reliving every moment spent with Sookie Stackhouse. With hindsight he can see every mistake he made with the blonde telepath. He has eternity to analyze every interaction, to recognize his failings when it came to the fairy hybrid. Sometimes when he looks back, Eric pretends as if he did all the right things; all the actions that would have kept Sookie safe and in his arms. He can see how it should have been between them; nights spent entwined in each other’s arms, fighting with and for each other, knowing that each had found their other half.
If only he could turn back time.
There is the tiniest movement on Eric’s face, a slight tick of the muscle along his cheek. The casual observer wouldn’t notice the muscle spasm, but Pam isn’t a casual observer. For months, she’s watched her maker fade away before her very eyes. She curses the day Sookie Stackhouse ever set foot in Fangtasia, wishing she had drained the blood bag before Eric had ever noticed her. For some reason, the gash in the sundress had gotten under her maker’s skin, though Pam doesn’t understand the reason why. Yes, Sookie smelled better than the average human, and Pam was certain her blood tasted better than the average human, though Pam had never had the opportunity to confirm that suspicion, much to her disappointment. Of course, her telepathy was somewhat useful, but none of those reasons are enough to justify this longing Eric has for the human from Bon Temps. Every night, Eric pines for the girl; he’s even gone so far as to buy her damn house when that dilapidated piece of shit had gone on the market. Pam had hoped that Eric would tear it down to the ground, a symbolic removal of Sookie Stackhouse from their existences. Instead, Eric wasted his money on restoring the place, making it look exactly the way it had before the Maenad had destroyed everything. Pam had been horrified when she’d been tasked with finding furnishings and wallpaper so tacky. She’d begged Eric to let her decorate, to give the place a more fashionable look. That had been one of the few times she’d seen Eric “alive” since Sookie Stackhouse disappeared. His rage had intimidated Pam, something that wasn’t easily done. They’d fought viciously that night, with Eric destroying his office yet again before he’d left Fangtasia. Pam did not see him for nearly a week, and Eric had closed his side of their bond so that she could not feel anything from him other than that he was alive. When Pam had finally approached him, she’d found him at the Stackhouse home, painstakingly working to repair a wooden piece of furniture. The table wasn’t even an antique, just a crude table made out of necessity and not for aesthetics. As a peace offering, Pam had brought the upholstery and wallpaper samples Eric had asked for, but he’d neither acknowledged her gesture nor said a word to her. He was lost in his thoughts of Sookie damn Stackhouse!
“Fucking blood bags,” Pam states emphatically so low that none of the humans around her can hear. Of course, the vampires in the bar all heard her, but none of them acknowledge it. The telephone rings shrilly once before Pam snaps it up.
“Fangtasia, the only bar that bites back,” she answers in a bored tone. The conversation is a short one, but the information passed along is interesting. Pam hangs up without saying a word, and quickly weaves her way through the bar crowd to her maker’s side.
“Hunters have been spotted in Area Five,” Pam states flatly in Swedish so that none of the other vampires can understand her. Pam doesn’t care if the hunters go missing from the area, but she doesn’t want there to be a rabid horde of vampires on the attack, especially so soon after the Russell Edgington incident.
“Let them hunt,” Eric replies in a bored tone, also in Swedish, without bothering to look at his progeny.
“They’re looking for Sookie Stackhouse.”
Eric’s eyes snap up to Pam’s face as his fangs snap down in anger. “Where?”
“Where else? Bon fucking Temps!”
Eric’s fangs snap down and a ferocious snarl erupts from his lips. His reaction causes the other vampires in the room to tense, waiting to see what has angered the Sheriff. The vampires of Area Five have become leery of their superior. Once upon a time, there had been a waiting list for vampires to be approved to move to the area, and it was because of the Viking’s reputation as a fair, yet firm leader. While vampires aren’t actively fleeing the area to avoid him, they aren’t chomping at the bit to move there either. The vermin, however, squeal in anticipation seeing their beloved vampire rising from his throne with their fangs on display. Their delight soon turns to dismay when they realize he’s vamped from the bar.
With an annoyed flick of her wrist, Pam moves the tendrils of hair that Eric’s abrupt departure had caused to move out of place. She settles regally on the vacant throne, her eyes scanning the crowd with displeasure. Now that Eric has left, many of the fangbangers take that as their cue to leave too.
Pam’s fingers grip the arms of the throne tightly as she watches the night’s profits walk out the door. Fuck Sookie Stackhouse, fuck Hunters, and fuck Bon Temps too!
“Well that was a complete and utter waste of our time,” Sam huffs in exasperation as the two brothers walk across the gravel parking lot to their car. They’d spent hours inside Merlotte’s, trying to get answers out of the patrons. Many of the townsfolk wouldn’t answer their questions; presenting a united front against the outsiders. One woman, however, had been overly eager to answer the Winchester brothers’ questions. Thanks to Maxine Fortenberry, the brothers now knew the name of the blonde waitress they were looking for: Sookie Stackhouse. It was also thanks to the overly rotund woman that they knew Sookie Stackhouse had been involved with vampires and had disappeared without a trace nearly a year ago. Maxine was only too happy to share her conspiracy theories on why Sookie Stackhouse disappeared, everything ranging from being drained by “Vampire Bill” to being locked up in a looney bin somewhere for having finally gone insane. She’d enjoyed telling them every detail as she consumed a plate of chicken wings and not one, but two slices of pecan pie. Watching the woman eat had turned both Winchesters’ stomachs. Dean had even gone so far as to vow to himself that he will never eat another slice of pecan pie for as long as he lives after watching that sow devour the sweet treat.
Images of her sucking on the fork and moaning as she chewed will haunt him for a long time. In fact, he might have to swear off of pie altogether!
Their torture at the hands of Maxine’s eating habits had only ended when the brazenly gay bartender Lafayette had started hog calling from the wooden bar, telling the woman it was time for the pigs to go back to their pens. Naturally, an argument broke out between Maxine and Lafayette, only ending when the owner of the bar, Sam Merlotte, came out from the back of his office telling Maxine to go home for the evening and for Lafayette to get back in the kitchen. None of the other patrons in the bar batted an eye at the theatrics going on, continuing to eat and drink as if it was an everyday occurrence. Sam and Dean could only stare incredulously at one another. The behavior of the people in Bon Temps was baffling to say the least.
The Winchesters moved back to the bar, hoping to question the owner as he poured them another round of drinks. However, they were met with hostility and were asked to leave the premises. If they didn’t, Merlotte was going to call the police.
Policemen are the last people that the Winchesters want to deal with!
“You think Merlotte and that other bartender know more than they are letting on?” Dean rests his arms on the roof of the Impala, staring at his brother across the distance.
Sam shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He looks back towards the bar. “All I know is that we aren’t going to get anymore answers out of the people in there.”
“You think we should track down this ‘Vampire Bill’? If the girl was involved with vampires, maybe they drained her. Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dean offers in a hardened voice.
Sam turns back to his brother, shaking his head. “If she was dead, Cas would know already. He sent us down here for a reason, Dean.”
It’s Dean’s turn to shake his head, a sign of his frustration with the situation. “Cas and his damn riddles! Is it too much to ask for the guy to give us all the details before he sends us half-cocked half way across the country? I don’t know about you, Sammy, but I’m getting sick and tired of having someone else pull the strings and expect me to act like a damn puppet!”
Dean gets in the car and slams the door behind him. Sam also enters the car as the engine roars to life. Gravel flies up as the Impala hurries out of the parking lot and heads for the highway leading back to the motel where the brothers are staying. Rock and roll music fills the silence as the car travels down the darkened highway. Sam stares out the passenger side window as Dean drives along the country road putting distance between them and Bon Temps. As the Impala comes around a curve, the two brothers see a figure standing in the middle of the road. Dean slams on the brakes to avoid a collision, the back end of the car fishtailing as it comes to a stop.
To be continued????