Crazy Little Thing Called Death

[Faye Davies/David Davies]

This is my new Supernatural Fan Fiction of two I have written. I'd really like some feedback such as comments, suggestions, etc... please only stuff of the friendly and helpful nature.... here is the first chapter: The Feeling......

“I can’t do it Bobby.” I sat on the road sprawled out in a state of darkness. Bobby stood by me looking at the rising sun. The Impala was a few steps away from us and was the temporary tomb for the only family I had.

“Sam, ya can’t just bury him knowing someone could stumble on him. It has to be done. It’s the way of honoring a warrior… and I’m not gonna sit and watch you go through the same thing he did. This crazy game of musical chairs with your souls you damn Winchesters keep playing is a vicious cycle.” I felt his stare turn on me but I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye.

“Ruby said there was a way to save him… that I could save him. All I had to do was let her train me for whatever Lilith was going come at me with. She has his contract and she got away. She ran away with the knowledge she— she couldn’t kill me.”

“Sam, you do realize that is a good thing, don’t ya? It gives us more time and Ruby is gone or most likely destroyed. You told me yourself that the girl both her and Lilith possessed was dead. Her neck had broken and probably by Lilith to prevent Ruby from helping ya. Sure she was handy when she wanted to be, but Sam what do you think would have happened if she trained ya in what she had planned. How do we know it wasn’t a trick?”

“That’s what he thought…”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Because I thought if I took down Lilith I could have just saved him. I thought taking Ruby’s knife and killing that bitch would have done it and when Ruby decided to help us… It seemed to be a solution.”

“Risky solution is more like it.” Bobby couched down beside me down. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to do anything. I can’t burn Dean’s body—not yet I can’t. I just have this feeling, Bobby. Honest to God I think I have a feeling.”

“What kind of feeling, Sam? The kind that’s gonna bring your brother back? Sam, I love you like a son and I loved Dean—“

“Then help me Bobby! Help me find the way! Please…” Finally I looked him in the eye. Tears swelling in eyes were sadness and anger… and they burned like hell.

Bobby saw it and read my face for a long time until he stood back up and started to walk away. I felt something inside sink as the sun was reaching its morning apex.

“Well, are ya coming or what ‘cause Louisiana is a couple day trip?”

I turned around to face him. “Wha-What?”

“I know a voodoo man who has a pretty good way of keeping a corpse fresh.”

“Thank you, Bobby.”

This is the link to my fan fic bio

www.fanfiction.net/~strixmaleficia

[Faye Davies/David Davies]

Chapter Two: The Sickle Moon Saloon

The couple days disappeared and we found ourselves leaving the old plantation home of the voodoo man Fortoon. Fortoon was an aged Haitian living in the home of his ancestors’ slave master with his daughter and wife; we saw neither of the women on our visit and I was not told the story of his acquiring the home. In fact I wasn’t allowed to ask any questions.

Fortoon was more than a practitioner of voodoo but of the other mystical arts of the supernatural. He was also very keen on the subject of death. I had the greatest apprehensions leaving that house. The distress I felt for abandoning the body of my brother drove my mind wild. Especially with a man fascinated with the dark knowledge of the afterlife.

“Can we trust him?” I tried not to look over at the man but I couldn’t help but glance back. His dark eyes seemed to burn into my mind all most as if he was reading my thoughts…

“Sam, I’ve been good friends with Fortoon for years and he pulled me out of more jams than I can count. Your father trusted him… and he was a pretty damn good judge of character.”

The aged practitioner grinned at my face as the sudden idea shadowed across it. “Don’t worry yourself, Samuel.” His voice was thick with a Haitian accent but he spoke impeccable English. “Your brother rests in my care. I wish to honor your family by helping you in this quest. Your father saved my daughter from the cold slumber… the least I can do is save his son in return.”

A slight wave of relief fell on me. I gave a weak smile and appreciative nod. He returned it and then retreated back into his home as we drove away in the Impala.

We drove farther from the swamps of Louisiana as best as one could on their way to the otherworldly city of New Orleans. Why we’re heading there? Bobby had yet to tell me exactly the why, but he did tell the where we headed to; The Sickle Moon Saloon.

It rested on the outer limits of the city along the bayou. It would have reminded me of the roadhouse except for the fact of the large electric blue sickle moon floating on its more appealing entrance. The neon moon glowed as bright as moonlight upon French inspired architecture. It was three stories and the second and third floors were decorated with intricate rod iron balconies and glass French doors. Red curtains could be seen blocking most of the light coming out few of the doors.

Cars, trucks, motorcycles, and other arrays of vehicles crowded outside the ground floor. As we pulled up, the sounds of the patrons and the entertainment inside flowed through the open doors of the bar into the night air. It was somewhat muffled by the nocturnal life living in the wet wilderness surrounding the area although the noises of the saloon grew stronger as one came closer to the source.

I pulled the Impala up into a vacant spot where I could almost peer directly into the saloon. From what I saw, this was definitely no roadhouse. The inside look good from out here, but when we walked in—it was amazing.

On the gleaming red wood floors were private booths scattered across the large room. By the left wall a live band was playing to the gathering thongs of dancing patrons while by the opposite wall was the ornate bar swarmed by many social drinkers (and I’m sure quite a few hard drinkers).

Bobby lead me over to the bar after shouting something to me which I had no clue as to what over noise of the atmosphere. We pushed our way to the bar where four bartenders worked gracefully at high speed to satisfy everyone with their requested drinks.

Bobby elbowed me and nodded over to one of the bartenders. The guy was probably as tall as me or at least close to it. His long dark hair was pulled back going along with the rest of his rocker look and his good looks and physique were able to the draw most if not all of the female attention in the room. But there was something more to this guy other than his Don Juan charm. His eyes shone silver every time the flashing lights overhead struck them. Bobby also noticed this too, and he looked almost confused by it.

Bobby gestured to me to lean down for him: “That guy—Fortoon said he would take us to our guy.” From the focus on “our” I understood he was referring to the one who could give us what we needed to know. The feeling of getting close to getting Dean back urged me on to call the rocker bar hand over.

“What can I get ya, guys?” His voice shouting over roar of the saloon activity seemed almost at normal volume, most likely from practice. Getting a better look at him, his eyes seemed almost old and weary on his young face, yet there a certain glint to them. I could also detect an Irish accent in his voice.

Bobby answered him: “We’re looking for someone?”

A veil of amusement fell over his face as he looked at both of us. “Sorry, gents, but we’re not that kind of saloon.” He laughed and asked us if we would want a drink instead.

“No, aha, that’s not exactly what I meant. Can you tell us where we might find a guy by the name of Davies?” Then a slightly different emotion appeared and he gave a cautious chuckle.

“Second floor—Pool is played… That’s where Davies usually is. Tall, blonde hustler with a c*cky attitude can’t miss h—” But his voice wasn’t so booming over the applause and cheers for the band.

“Thanks,” I finally spoke in. when it quieted as quiet as it could get.

“Don’t mention it.” He pointed over to the left to reach the second floor. We trudged over to a spiral stair well that could be seen in the left corner of the bar and as I followed up after Bobby, I noticed the bartender was still watching us.

The second floor had the same setup as the first except there were several pool tables where the band would have been if compared to the first floor. Clouds of smoke swirled over the tables and their players floating among the hanging green domed lights. The bar was not as active was it was downstairs nor as noisy. A juke box played some of its selections for the players down at the other half of the room where its music was probably garbled by the commotion going on at one of the tables.

We ventured closer where we could see a tall, blonde c*cky hustler jeer at the others as he lined up his shot. The spectators grew silent as the remaining pool balls clicked against one another. Not one ball went into the pockets except the striped “13” ball leaned over the edge of far right hand pocket. A hiss of anguish sounded from the hustler who recoiled. His buddies patted him on the back and some reassured him.

Suddenly from out of the dark corner came a mocking voice: “Damn that has got to be a bitch… but hey, thanks for lining up good’ old lucky ‘13’ for me.” Out of the shadows came another tall, blonde c*cky hustler only difference was a young woman stepped forward with a pool stick in hand.

She was the only woman in a sea of men and probably could be the most attractive woman like the most attractive man downstairs. There too was something different about her. Her face was almost not human from the expressions she made. Her blue-green eyes held a bit mischief in them and they too had a funny way of glowing silver in the fluorescent light.

Her bow lips curled into a grin as she prepared to take her shot. Thick, gold curls fell down around her face and rested on her bare shoulders and forearms. Her bare skin attracted more attention than her sinking the “13”. Finally reactions of groans were mixed with cheers when the men realized the “13” was gone followed by the “15”. Only one striped was left among two solids.

I knew I was staring a little too much at her, but so were the rest of males in the room even Bobby, who focused more intently then the rest of us. Yet his stare wasn’t of lust, but wonder.

Just then she laughed and rested on the edge of the table before taking her shot. Her eyes suddenly glanced up at me and she smiled at my startled reaction. Funnier than my reaction though to her was that she took the shot without looking and sinking it shocking the rest of the room. The moans at the win from the other player escaped him and his friends as they watched their friend flip some large bills on to the table with frustration.

Those for the woman congratulated her with their words rather than actions; for those who dared to shake her shoulder were shot a deadly look. It was obvious she did not like to be touched by anyone or by just men, I wasn’t sure. As the crowd broke and men either went to play their own games or enjoy themselves at the bar, I went forward towards the other player among his friends who spoke in a hushed whisper. They had retreated away from the tables to their booth drinking beers that were being placed on their table by a nervous-looking barmaid. Her nervousness could be explained by the way the men treated anything in a skirt. A wolf-whistle and a few groping hands made her work quick and walk hastily back behind the bar.

I stopped abruptly and turned to Bobby. “Do you think that’s the guy?”

Bobby sighed with annoyance toward the group at their treatment of the barmaid, shook his head, and said,” God, I hope not.”

I went over and was eyed right away. Some whispered among themselves and snickered when blonde leader realized company he shushed them and turned to face me.

“Got a problem fella?” He spat glaring.

“Well, I do except I need to know first if your name is Davies.” I retorted.

Then his buddies howled with laughter as he chuckled lightly and said, “Never heard that one before, ha.”

He rubbed his nose and looked me in the eye. “Sorry, but no, Davies is that little bitch over there that just robbed me of 500 bucks.”

“Oh, my mistake…” I ended it started walking over to Bobby when—

“Hey, forgetting something?” His snide voice stopped me in my tracks.

“I thought you had a problem you want to discuss with me.”

Bobby stared me in the eyes and mouthed the word “don’t” knowing pretty well what I would say. The anger I’ve been feeling for a while however was all for it.

“Yeah, I didn’t really enjoy watching you assholes harass that girl.” I stood back around to do some glaring of my own.

The leader and biggest asshole of them stood up and to his shock wasn’t as tall as he thought he was, but his mouth wasn’t shocked enough. “Is that so? So what are you gonna do about it? Are ya gonna punish us?”

His face was inches from mine and my hands clenched tight. A mechanical flick was heard and a sharp point rested on my stomach. He thought he had me cowering. Actually my anger did.

I grab the wrist attached to the hand holding the switchblade. I twisted it until he yelled in pain and dropped it. I swung my fist into his face and he fell back unto the table with a crash. His buddies sprang up ready to fight when they saw Bobby at my side ready too. Their pal pulled himself up, but was off his feet again. The real Davies gotten between us and them pushed him back on the table. She choked him by the collar of his shirt.

“godd*mn it, I’ve told you time and time again Kyle—I’m sick of the shit you pricks start. Last time I checked you were all told about harassing the girls and the customers for that matter. Now unless you want an ass-whipping from me or these two guys, I really suggest you drink your beers and get the hell out of my saloon.”

He still panted from blows he received but was able to shake his head in agreement. She released him and he moved away to his group. He fixed his shirt and ran a hand through his hair.

“We were leaving any way. C’mon boys.” He beckoned his dogs and they left down the stairwell.

“You’re just gonna trust them going out by themselves,” Bobby asked her.

“Not to worry, my boys will take care of them if they try anything,” she reassured him. She turned to face us with a blight smile. “I couldn’t help but over hear that you two are looking for me.”

“Yeah, you heard right.” I smiled myself at her ability to be friendly after berating unruly customers.

“Well, the name isn’t just Davies. It’s Faye Davies and it’s very nice to meet a Winchester."