SPN Fanfic: When the Fiddler Stops - Part 2 of 3 (RATED R)
Title: When the Fiddler Stops 2/3
Characters: Ash, Ellen, random Roadhouse OC's
Rating: GEN, R (Language!!! Violence!!! And a lot of death eventually!)
Warnings: Spoilers for Season 2 finale. Ash still has a notably filthy mouth. Impending violence, impending death, impending doom, et cetera. Might be a tiny bit of gore in this part. NOT HUMOR.
Word Count: About 9000 words in total - 3784 this part.
Disclaimer: Ash, Ellen, the Winchesters, the world, the bar, all Kripke's. OC's are based on background extras, mostly, so Kripke probably owns them too.
Summary:Not a typical night at the Roadhouse. An alternate missing scene for the Roadhouse in AHBL 1. Non-canon.
A/N: Assorted POV's, primarily Ash but nearly everyone's getting a shot at POV in this section. (More notes at the end.)
Special Thanks Again To: wynterwolf47 for stringent IQ testing of certain OC's, and making me beat about 100 words out of one section in particular.
Missed Part 1?
-
When the Fiddler Stops
Part 2
by CaffieneKitty
- - -
Ash sat at the poker table in the center of the busy bar room, feeling like he was on display, watching the two pair of watching eyes he'd noted earlier.
Terry sent a quick glance over to the same corner Ash was preoccupied with. "Friends of yours?" he purred as he dealt out the new hand.
"Who, them?" Ash said, drinking from his purloined beer and looking consciously nonchalant. "Nope. They're part of my fan club." Ash shook back his hair and sniffed. "What can I say, the lure of the mullet is irresistible."
Claudia giggled, holding a be-ringed hand in front of her lips, playing coy for god only knew who at the table. Ken glanced at her, then at Ash and growled, "Are we talking or playing?"
Ash picked up his cards, feeling the weight of dark eyes from across the room. For a guy with an IQ of 150, you are one dumb fuck, Ash. You don't play poker and you can't clue these fuckers in if they won't let you talk. How in hell is this supposed to work?
"Oh, a bright fellow like Ash can talk and play at the same time I'm sure," Terry said, peeking at his cards but leaving them face-down to stare again at Ash. "I'm rather fond of his chatter. He's like a drunken monkey."
Ash shot a look at Terry. When Terry was in the bar, he was usually one of the first to threaten to sew Ash's lips shut. Terry flicked the barest wink at him. Definite sign of a coming apocalypse.
"So tell us about this fan club of yours?" said Terry, leaning in, jaw set under the surface smirk.
"A real hell of a bunch." Ash said, nervously re-arranging the cards in his hands. "Persistent bastards. Hard to get away from them, especially as I am... unencumbered by vehicular entrapments, so to speak."
"What would you do with a car, Ash?" Claudia said, "I heard you don't have your license."
"Doesn't mean I can't drive," Ash sniffed, "just means the law don't like it when I drive." Along with everyone else on the road, but that wouldn't matter. Ellen could drive, because there was no way she was staying behind.
Ted blinked at his cards. Ken whispered something in Claudia's ear and she snickered and stared at Ash for a second then whispered back. Terry's attention was riveted on Ash which was almost fucking creepy if it weren't for a damn good reason.
Betting went around the table. When it came around to Ash, Terry spotted him a stack of bills for stake money, something else that would only happen at the end of the world.
Claudia watched the money change hands and narrowed her eyes. She looked from Terry to Ash, and then glanced around the room, leaned back languidly in her chair, cards face down on the table and snapped her gum. "So, why do you have this fan club, Ash? Surely not all on account of your magnificent mane?"
Ash attempted a rueful grin. "I'll admit it, they just want me for my mind."
Ken snorted, still scowling at his cards and apparently not picking up on the secondary conversation going on at the table. Ted looked mildly curious, but he usually looked like that, so no way of telling if he was paying attention or not.
"Got a lot of really interesting things in my mind," Ash continued. "So interesting these bastards are after my friends too. They've been harassing Ellen and Lucy." Ash nodded at the dark-haired server quickly going around to tables, taking orders, keeping more distance from some tables than others.
"Well," said Terry, all bluff, cheer, and clenched teeth. "Good thing we aren't your friends then."
Strained laughter limped around the table.
"So... how many people are in this fan club of yours, Ash?" asked Ted, pushing up his glasses. He was paying attention after all.
"Aw, there's shitloads of people in my fan club. Like those two guys in the back corner..." Ash didn't point or nod, "...the lady with the scar at the pool table, maybe the guy with the hat by the juke box, maybe them fuckers on the barstools, maybe others. Hell, even Ethan."
Terry shot a glance over his shoulder toward the bar, then glared back down at the deck of cards in his hand.
"Other people looking to join too," continued Ash, "All the time."
"Not me," Ted said, gaze roving around the room, then to the others at the table, "I'm not much of a joiner."
"Me either," said Terry, narrowing his eyes towards the bar again.
"They've got ways of making you join. Easy as catching Hepatitis."
Claudia frowned, "Only that handful though?"
"See, those are just the ones inside this bar. Outside?" Ash's mouth went dry and he finished his beer in a gulp, choking slightly as foam went down the wrong tube. "Thousands," he rasped quietly. "Tens of fucking thousands."
Terry paled, and Claudia swallowed her gum. Ted's eyebrows drew down, and Ken's eyebrows went up, then up again. Surreptitious glances were made around the room by all four.
Looks like the fucking clue-phone conference call has finally been picked up, thought Ash, with some relief.
Ken grunted. "You really need to get away from this... fan club, hunh?"
"Fate of the fucking world depends on it."
Terry cleared his throat. "Bets are in, time for the draw." When Ash's turn came, Terry riffled the cards significantly, "So, how many cards would you like, Ash?"
Ash looked at his hand, looked at Terry and said "Five?"
Terry grinned and dealt Ash a straight flush. "Clever monkey."
-
Ellen was watching Ethan out of the corner of her eye and flipping through the stack of invoices again when Lucy came back to the bar with her note pad and a tray of empties. "Three draft, one bourbon, two whiskeys, tequila rocks with a twist, boilermaker, brandy, plum if we've got it." she said, delivering the order rapid fire to Ethan, who began pulling out glassware and filling the order with a self-satisfied smirk.
Lucy drifted behind the bar to the dishwasher to unload her empties, adding, "...and eight water back," when she was closer to Ellen.
"I'll get the waters Ethan," Ellen said, turning back to Lucy. "Only eight?" she asked in a whisper, "That plus the poker bunch?"
"Including the poker table." Lucy swallowed, and clutched her tray to her chest. "There might be others who'd... like a water," she looked toward two hunters at a table next to the jukebox, who were in turn glaring at the guy in the cowboy hat who was starting up 'Achy Breaky Heart' for the fifth time that night. "...but the people around them..."
"Gotcha. That's... that's good," Ellen said flatly. Could be worse.
"I didn't take the orders of the two guys on the front porch," Lucy said, her quiet voice shaking, "but they looked like they were planning to be out there a while yet, and, uh, not the 'water back' type."
"Son of a bitch," Ellen breathed. She picked up the soda gun and thumbed the 'plain water' switch, filling water glasses on the tray, picking off the extra glasses and stuffing the spare coasters into the trash.
"Thought you said the soda guns weren't working, Ellen?" said Ethan, looming suddenly behind Lucy.
Lucy didn't so much as squeak or twitch, though her eyes went wide.
Ellen continued filling glasses without a pause. "CO2 doesn't matter to plain water, Ethan. It's just for bubbles. You know that."
"What's wrong with tap water?"
Ellen overshot a glass, making a puddle on the bar. She wiped it up irritably with a bar rag. "Ethan, you know damn well the tap on that sink has been kicking out rust flakes for a month. You said you were going to get parts to fix that too. Honestly, between that and the truck, it's a wonder I keep you here."
Ethan lowered his head slightly and smirked, spreading his hands out to the sides in a 'mea culpa' gesture.
Ellen slid the tray of eight water glasses up next to the tray of drinks. "Sure you can handle all that, sweetie?" She said to Lucy as the girl came around to the front of the bar.
"I'll be fine," Lucy said, balancing both trays and retracing her route through the bar patrons.
"I was certain you said we never use these coasters..." Ethan said, snagging one from the stack on the counter and examining it, printed top and blank off-white underside.
"Supplier's giving me grief about not using their marketing. They'll raise the rates on beer if I don't."
"Lot of orders for water tonight," Ethan oozed, dropping the coaster back on the stack.
"It's been hot out."
"People drinking water instead of beer? That's going to cut into your profits, isn't it?" Slick and snide and delving.
Ellen turned on her bartender, leaning on the bar rag and planting a hand on her hip. "So's you standing around telling me how to run my business, jawing with your buddies instead of working. Glassware needs polished, sugar needs filled, prep needs done, and the dishwasher needs loaded. And tomorrow after the CO2 is fixed you will get your ass straight out and get the parts to fix the sink and the damned truck, like you promised three weeks ago. I'm not paying you for your looks, sweetheart. Make yourself useful or do your socializing elsewhere."
Ethan raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Of course."
"Now, are you done giving me grief, or do we need to talk about this some more?" Just a pissed off boss. Not a woman facing down a demon. No plans in progress. Not suspecting tomorrow is going to be a hell of a lot different than today. Nothing to hide here. Buy it. Buy it, you foul thing.
Ethan's mouth twisted upward. "No, nothing left to talk about," he said.
Ellen tensed as Ethan started to move, but he simply turned to the back wall and picked up a bottle of rye on the way back to the drink prep end of the bar. Her jaw clenched. She went back to where she'd spilled the water, wiping the counter dry. Then bumped the water button, shooting more water and wiped it up again.
-
Phil Latimer looked up from a sheaf of papers when Lucy arrived at his table with her trays of full glasses. She set down one full tray and balanced the other on one hand.
"Your water," She said, plunking a coaster on the table and setting a water glass beside it.
Phil looked at the table and wondered what the purpose of putting a coaster down was if you weren't setting the drink on it. "I didn't ask for a wa-"
"Ellen asked me to remind you," Lucy interrupted unceremoniously, picking up the water tray, "last call is at six o'clock."
Phil frowned and checked his watch. "But it's-"
"I said," Lucy said, interrupting again, "Six o'clock." She widened her eyes and flicked a glance over Phil's shoulder. "Six o'clock, got it?"
He looked at her and nodded slowly. "Got it...?" What the hell was going on?
Lucy navigated her way to the table behind Phil, and he let his eyes follow her progress. She set the water tray down on an empty table and set a beer in front of each of the two people seated in the corner. The second beer she set down slopped a little, but neither of the men at the table said anything. In fact they didn't seem to notice her at all, staring at the poker game in the center of the room like it was the fourth quarter of the Superbowl.
Lucy wiped the spilled beer up without a word, gathered her trays again and continued on quickly.
Phil rotated back in his chair to face his glass of water and flipped the coaster over.
Be ready, was written on the back in Ellen's tidy scrawl.
Hunh. Alright, then, Phil thought. Sliding the sheaf of papers into his bag, he dug out three guns, a gun cleaning kit and a box of ammo.
So be it.
-
Yuanlao Quan inclined his greying head at the nervous girl putting a small glass of water and a beer coaster next to his brandy.
"Ah," he said sadly, looking at the coaster with the colorful logo. "A shame."
"Pardon?" Lucy asked, rattled.
Quan smiled. "And when is... closing time?"
Lucy blinked and licked her lips. "...Last call is at three o'clock."
He slid his eyes to his right and noted the two men at the corner table. The man at the table in front of them was disassembling one gun and loading two others.
"Just so," Quan said, bending to the side to pull a small flat case out of his bag, flipped it open and began pulling out ink, a calligraphy brush, and small sheets of parchment. "Thank you for your kind service. May I have the honor of your name?"
"Lucy Sanchez."
He met her eyes gravely. "Thank you, Lucy Sanchez. I will not forget you."
"Uh... Yeah. Okay." Lucy fled with her diminished trays.
Quan nodded again. He tipped the water onto his coaster without turning the disk over, watching the pressed cardboard slowly absorb the clear drops as he brushed thick black lines of swooping ink onto a strip of parchment.
-
Rachel had never seen the chick with the scar down the right half of her face before, but the woman hadn't been off the pool table for a couple hours solid. The clack of cues, the inept flirting of the guy the woman was playing pool with, and the ever-present bleeps and boings of the stupid video game were becoming very annoying. Usually Rachel could ignore them but tonight they were making it hard to concentrate.
Sitting at a table up in the games area, Rachel stared at the tarot cards spread out in front of her. Way more swords than she was comfortable seeing in a spread. Three of Swords, Five of Swords, Nine of Swords, Ten of Swords. Then to top it off, there was the Queen of Swords crossed by an inverted Devil. Not that that meant the actual Devil of course, but still, not good. The Tower in ruin, the Knight of Swords in the future, but not a near enough future have much effect...
She frowned at the cards. This was stupid. She was looking at them wrong or something. Or shuffling wrong. This wasn't going to scare her like some skittish twelve-year-old at a pajama party. These things were always subject to interpretation. But still... sorrow and loss in the past, a woman of strength crossed by evil, imminent chaos, destruction, disaster, defeat, failure, and aid arriving too late.
Someone, somewhere, was in the process of having a very bad day.
Lucy came up the steps to Rachel's table, juggling her trays around to get a free hand. She did a double take at the cards face up on the table before putting down a whiskey and a small water glass in front of Rachel. "Ellen wanted me to remind you, last call is at- oh crap."
A cardboard beer coaster fumbled out of the girl's fingers and rolled in diminishing circles on the floor, landing Pabst-Blue-Ribbon-logo-side up at the foot of the woman with the scar. Lucy paled, tray of drinks shaking.
"It's okay, I don't need a coaster. My deck is waterproof." Rachel said, still examining the layout of the cards.
"No, no, you need that coaster," whispered Lucy, hesitating on where to put her other tray down, shooting glances at the scarred woman. "Ellen wants you to have that coaster."
Rachel wondered if Ellen had a secret habit of beating her employees or something. "Okay, fine," she said, frustrated with the ongoing disruption, and turned to the scarred woman. "Hey, you mind kicking that over here?"
Lucy squeaked.
The woman with the scar turned slowly to look over at Rachel and Lucy, expression blank, then down at the colorful cardboard disk on the floor, then over to the bar. Rachel followed the woman's gaze and saw Ethan, looking up at them, nod his head once, slowly. That was... kind of odd.
The woman nudged the coaster into Rachel's reach with the toe of her boot.
"Thanks," Rachel said, picking up the coaster and putting it on a tarot-card free corner of the table. Lucy looked like she was about to faint. "You alright, kid? You look like hell."
"Yeah," Lucy squeaked, then cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. Busy night."
"You sure you're holding up okay?"
"Um, yeah." Lucy frowned. "Ellen wanted me to, uh, remind you, last call is at, uh..." She glanced back towards the scarred woman, who was moving around the back of the pool table to make a shot. "It's at about eight o'clock at the moment."
Rachel blinked in confusion. "What?"
"Maybe seven thirty?"
Rachel lowered her voice, certain now that she was missing something. "It's already nearly nine, I'm not sure what you-"
Lucy turned slightly, blocking the view of her hand and Rachel's table from the pool players. "Last call," she pointed at the picture of the Devil on the tarot card, "is at," she dragged her shaking fingertips down the right side of her face, "eight o'clock," she jerked a thumb back towards the pool table.
Rachel glanced at the woman playing pool, then back at the inverted Devil card in the middle of the tarot spread. Down at the bar, a very tense Ellen wiped the counter and watched her bartender and his friends out of the corner of her eye, jaw set with repressed emotion.
Rachel flipped the coaster over to expose the writing on the back, read it, then flipped it back logo-side up underneath the card depicting the Tower besieged.
Oh. Well, Rachel thought as Lucy gathered her second tray and fled back down the steps. That explains everything.
-
A half hour into the poker game, Dean and Bobby still hadn't arrived, four hands had come and gone, and Ash had a fuckload of cash and the keys to Ted's red Yugo in front of him.
"Beginner's luck," muttered Ken, sitting tensely on his chair like he had a poker up his ass. Claudia had somehow acquired the watch from Ken and was wearing it on her right wrist, face to the inside. She fiddled with her rings and glanced at the group at the bar contemplatively.
Ash's count was at five definites and three possibles. Some of the other semi-regulars, in neither group, and not in a position to be alerted by Lucy, were picking up the room's energy and had their respective hackles way the fuck up regardless. 'Achy Breaky Heart' started on the jukebox again, and the two guys at the table next to it looked about ready to take the head off the guy with the cowboy hat whether he was a demon or not.
Lucy came finally to their table, all drinks distributed, just five waters and coasters left on her tray.
"I don't suppose I need to remind you folks when last call is?" she asked, smiling tightly, setting down coasters and waters in front of the card players.
"No, I don't suppose you do," said Ash glancing around the table. Ken looked significantly at Spence McCall and his two buddies at the bar. Ted put his hand on a small black book he'd pulled from his coat pocket during the third hand when he'd dug out his car keys. Terry's lined eyes glittered grimly and Claudia grinned.
"Didn't think so."
"Hey, Lucy?" Claudia started.
"Yeah?"
"I just wanted to thank-"
"Don't," interrupted Lucy. "Don't thank me." Lucy whispered tightly, setting the small glass of water in front of Claudia. "If one more person asks me how I'm holding up or thanks me for anything tonight I swear I'm going to burst into tears and I really don't want to be the one to blow this whole thing early by sniveling."
Claudia nodded. "Fair enough." She smirked, winked and swatted Lucy on the butt instead.
Lucy blinked, then laughed in surprise and walked toward the bar.
"We got time for one more hand?" Ken asked, shifting in his chair.
"There's always time for one more hand," said Terry, dealing out cards.
Ash watched Lucy head for the bar, swinging wide around Spence and his friends. Not today there isn't.
-
At the bar, Ellen surveyed the room. Full house tonight. Amongst the grim unfamiliar faces were familiar ones. People she'd patched up, joked with, cursed out, watched get as blind drunk as they needed to get to forget things they'd seen. A handful of absolute assholes. One or two who'd watched her rage about Bill's death way back when, and helped her hold her life together in the aftermath. Friends, acquaintances, jerks and thieves. At the moment, she kind of loved them all, and what was about to come was breaking her heart.
As Lucy entered the bar area clutching her empty trays protectively to her chest, Ellen cleared her throat and addressed the bar room. "Gentlemen, Ladies, if I can have your attention?"
The guy playing pool with the scarred woman scratched, cue scraping along the felt, and glared obliviously towards the bar. Rachel swallowed, reaching for her water glass.
Quan curled a finger around the edge of his sodden coaster, other hand on the small stack of inked parchments and nodded to Phil who put aside the pieces of Glock he had disassembled, rested his hands on the two half-loaded .38's, and nodded back.
Terry turned slightly towards the jukebox. Ken and Claudia shifted towards the bar. Ted picked up his black book and nudged away from the table, breathing fast. Ash put the keys to Ted's red Yugo and a thick fold of bills from the stack on the table into his vest pocket, and hoped like fuck that they'd all survive.
Lucy put her trays down next to the second soda gun, glancing at Ellen from under her eyelashes, trembling as faces on all sides of the room turned Ellen's way.
In the corner of her eye, Ellen saw Ethan's expression slide from mild disdainful curiosity to the beginnings of unholy fury. The time was now.
With the hand furthest from Ethan she pulled the soda gun beside her up and held it like its namesake.
"People, it's time for last call!" she bellowed, turning and mashing down the entire top row of buttons which normally dispensed ginger ale, sprite and coke to spray Ethan square in the face.
The effect was spectacular, and grisly. Ethan's eyes flashed black and he shrieked as the skin on his face began to bubble and melt under the onslaught. The sugary soda syrup residue made it even worse; the holy water stuck and clung rather than steaming completely away. Ethan fell to his knees, clawing at his eyes and screaming.
"Try and take down my bar, hurt my friends, you got yourself a fight, you goddamned demonic son of a bitch!" Ellen shouted, spraying carbonated holy water.
- - -
(to be concluded... here!)
Endnotes for Part 2:
Everything I know about Tarot can be inscribed on a postage stamp with room left over for Queen Elizabeth, so if I screwed that part up, I wouldn't be surprised. I apologize to anyone who reads this who actually knows tarot, and hope it was maybe good for a laugh. :-)
More OC's! Phil Latimer is based on a guy who was cleaning a rifle at the Roadhouse in ELAC that no one anywhere has gotten a screencap of, and Yuanlao Quan (who was named Shen Lau until I read Nevermore) is based on an extra from that episode too, sort of. When I tried to find a screencap for reference, the guy who looked Asian on my TV wasn't, but oh well. So, no pictures for them. Here is the photo of the background extras again, in case anyone wanted a reference. Rachel and Pool Guy are both in there.
Also, I'd just like to say I totally had Ash not having his driver's license in May, long before that missing scene came out. *is pathetically smug*
One more part to go... will be up once it's tweaked, possibly before Monday.
Characters: Ash, Ellen, random Roadhouse OC's
Rating: GEN, R (Language!!! Violence!!! And a lot of death eventually!)
Warnings: Spoilers for Season 2 finale. Ash still has a notably filthy mouth. Impending violence, impending death, impending doom, et cetera. Might be a tiny bit of gore in this part. NOT HUMOR.
Word Count: About 9000 words in total - 3784 this part.
Disclaimer: Ash, Ellen, the Winchesters, the world, the bar, all Kripke's. OC's are based on background extras, mostly, so Kripke probably owns them too.
Summary:Not a typical night at the Roadhouse. An alternate missing scene for the Roadhouse in AHBL 1. Non-canon.
A/N: Assorted POV's, primarily Ash but nearly everyone's getting a shot at POV in this section. (More notes at the end.)
Special Thanks Again To: wynterwolf47 for stringent IQ testing of certain OC's, and making me beat about 100 words out of one section in particular.
Missed Part 1?
-
When the Fiddler Stops
Part 2
by CaffieneKitty
- - -
Ash sat at the poker table in the center of the busy bar room, feeling like he was on display, watching the two pair of watching eyes he'd noted earlier.
Terry sent a quick glance over to the same corner Ash was preoccupied with. "Friends of yours?" he purred as he dealt out the new hand.
"Who, them?" Ash said, drinking from his purloined beer and looking consciously nonchalant. "Nope. They're part of my fan club." Ash shook back his hair and sniffed. "What can I say, the lure of the mullet is irresistible."
Claudia giggled, holding a be-ringed hand in front of her lips, playing coy for god only knew who at the table. Ken glanced at her, then at Ash and growled, "Are we talking or playing?"
Ash picked up his cards, feeling the weight of dark eyes from across the room. For a guy with an IQ of 150, you are one dumb fuck, Ash. You don't play poker and you can't clue these fuckers in if they won't let you talk. How in hell is this supposed to work?
"Oh, a bright fellow like Ash can talk and play at the same time I'm sure," Terry said, peeking at his cards but leaving them face-down to stare again at Ash. "I'm rather fond of his chatter. He's like a drunken monkey."
Ash shot a look at Terry. When Terry was in the bar, he was usually one of the first to threaten to sew Ash's lips shut. Terry flicked the barest wink at him. Definite sign of a coming apocalypse.
"So tell us about this fan club of yours?" said Terry, leaning in, jaw set under the surface smirk.
"A real hell of a bunch." Ash said, nervously re-arranging the cards in his hands. "Persistent bastards. Hard to get away from them, especially as I am... unencumbered by vehicular entrapments, so to speak."
"What would you do with a car, Ash?" Claudia said, "I heard you don't have your license."
"Doesn't mean I can't drive," Ash sniffed, "just means the law don't like it when I drive." Along with everyone else on the road, but that wouldn't matter. Ellen could drive, because there was no way she was staying behind.
Ted blinked at his cards. Ken whispered something in Claudia's ear and she snickered and stared at Ash for a second then whispered back. Terry's attention was riveted on Ash which was almost fucking creepy if it weren't for a damn good reason.
Betting went around the table. When it came around to Ash, Terry spotted him a stack of bills for stake money, something else that would only happen at the end of the world.
Claudia watched the money change hands and narrowed her eyes. She looked from Terry to Ash, and then glanced around the room, leaned back languidly in her chair, cards face down on the table and snapped her gum. "So, why do you have this fan club, Ash? Surely not all on account of your magnificent mane?"
Ash attempted a rueful grin. "I'll admit it, they just want me for my mind."
Ken snorted, still scowling at his cards and apparently not picking up on the secondary conversation going on at the table. Ted looked mildly curious, but he usually looked like that, so no way of telling if he was paying attention or not.
"Got a lot of really interesting things in my mind," Ash continued. "So interesting these bastards are after my friends too. They've been harassing Ellen and Lucy." Ash nodded at the dark-haired server quickly going around to tables, taking orders, keeping more distance from some tables than others.
"Well," said Terry, all bluff, cheer, and clenched teeth. "Good thing we aren't your friends then."
Strained laughter limped around the table.
"So... how many people are in this fan club of yours, Ash?" asked Ted, pushing up his glasses. He was paying attention after all.
"Aw, there's shitloads of people in my fan club. Like those two guys in the back corner..." Ash didn't point or nod, "...the lady with the scar at the pool table, maybe the guy with the hat by the juke box, maybe them fuckers on the barstools, maybe others. Hell, even Ethan."
Terry shot a glance over his shoulder toward the bar, then glared back down at the deck of cards in his hand.
"Other people looking to join too," continued Ash, "All the time."
"Not me," Ted said, gaze roving around the room, then to the others at the table, "I'm not much of a joiner."
"Me either," said Terry, narrowing his eyes towards the bar again.
"They've got ways of making you join. Easy as catching Hepatitis."
Claudia frowned, "Only that handful though?"
"See, those are just the ones inside this bar. Outside?" Ash's mouth went dry and he finished his beer in a gulp, choking slightly as foam went down the wrong tube. "Thousands," he rasped quietly. "Tens of fucking thousands."
Terry paled, and Claudia swallowed her gum. Ted's eyebrows drew down, and Ken's eyebrows went up, then up again. Surreptitious glances were made around the room by all four.
Looks like the fucking clue-phone conference call has finally been picked up, thought Ash, with some relief.
Ken grunted. "You really need to get away from this... fan club, hunh?"
"Fate of the fucking world depends on it."
Terry cleared his throat. "Bets are in, time for the draw." When Ash's turn came, Terry riffled the cards significantly, "So, how many cards would you like, Ash?"
Ash looked at his hand, looked at Terry and said "Five?"
Terry grinned and dealt Ash a straight flush. "Clever monkey."
-
Ellen was watching Ethan out of the corner of her eye and flipping through the stack of invoices again when Lucy came back to the bar with her note pad and a tray of empties. "Three draft, one bourbon, two whiskeys, tequila rocks with a twist, boilermaker, brandy, plum if we've got it." she said, delivering the order rapid fire to Ethan, who began pulling out glassware and filling the order with a self-satisfied smirk.
Lucy drifted behind the bar to the dishwasher to unload her empties, adding, "...and eight water back," when she was closer to Ellen.
"I'll get the waters Ethan," Ellen said, turning back to Lucy. "Only eight?" she asked in a whisper, "That plus the poker bunch?"
"Including the poker table." Lucy swallowed, and clutched her tray to her chest. "There might be others who'd... like a water," she looked toward two hunters at a table next to the jukebox, who were in turn glaring at the guy in the cowboy hat who was starting up 'Achy Breaky Heart' for the fifth time that night. "...but the people around them..."
"Gotcha. That's... that's good," Ellen said flatly. Could be worse.
"I didn't take the orders of the two guys on the front porch," Lucy said, her quiet voice shaking, "but they looked like they were planning to be out there a while yet, and, uh, not the 'water back' type."
"Son of a bitch," Ellen breathed. She picked up the soda gun and thumbed the 'plain water' switch, filling water glasses on the tray, picking off the extra glasses and stuffing the spare coasters into the trash.
"Thought you said the soda guns weren't working, Ellen?" said Ethan, looming suddenly behind Lucy.
Lucy didn't so much as squeak or twitch, though her eyes went wide.
Ellen continued filling glasses without a pause. "CO2 doesn't matter to plain water, Ethan. It's just for bubbles. You know that."
"What's wrong with tap water?"
Ellen overshot a glass, making a puddle on the bar. She wiped it up irritably with a bar rag. "Ethan, you know damn well the tap on that sink has been kicking out rust flakes for a month. You said you were going to get parts to fix that too. Honestly, between that and the truck, it's a wonder I keep you here."
Ethan lowered his head slightly and smirked, spreading his hands out to the sides in a 'mea culpa' gesture.
Ellen slid the tray of eight water glasses up next to the tray of drinks. "Sure you can handle all that, sweetie?" She said to Lucy as the girl came around to the front of the bar.
"I'll be fine," Lucy said, balancing both trays and retracing her route through the bar patrons.
"I was certain you said we never use these coasters..." Ethan said, snagging one from the stack on the counter and examining it, printed top and blank off-white underside.
"Supplier's giving me grief about not using their marketing. They'll raise the rates on beer if I don't."
"Lot of orders for water tonight," Ethan oozed, dropping the coaster back on the stack.
"It's been hot out."
"People drinking water instead of beer? That's going to cut into your profits, isn't it?" Slick and snide and delving.
Ellen turned on her bartender, leaning on the bar rag and planting a hand on her hip. "So's you standing around telling me how to run my business, jawing with your buddies instead of working. Glassware needs polished, sugar needs filled, prep needs done, and the dishwasher needs loaded. And tomorrow after the CO2 is fixed you will get your ass straight out and get the parts to fix the sink and the damned truck, like you promised three weeks ago. I'm not paying you for your looks, sweetheart. Make yourself useful or do your socializing elsewhere."
Ethan raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Of course."
"Now, are you done giving me grief, or do we need to talk about this some more?" Just a pissed off boss. Not a woman facing down a demon. No plans in progress. Not suspecting tomorrow is going to be a hell of a lot different than today. Nothing to hide here. Buy it. Buy it, you foul thing.
Ethan's mouth twisted upward. "No, nothing left to talk about," he said.
Ellen tensed as Ethan started to move, but he simply turned to the back wall and picked up a bottle of rye on the way back to the drink prep end of the bar. Her jaw clenched. She went back to where she'd spilled the water, wiping the counter dry. Then bumped the water button, shooting more water and wiped it up again.
-
Phil Latimer looked up from a sheaf of papers when Lucy arrived at his table with her trays of full glasses. She set down one full tray and balanced the other on one hand.
"Your water," She said, plunking a coaster on the table and setting a water glass beside it.
Phil looked at the table and wondered what the purpose of putting a coaster down was if you weren't setting the drink on it. "I didn't ask for a wa-"
"Ellen asked me to remind you," Lucy interrupted unceremoniously, picking up the water tray, "last call is at six o'clock."
Phil frowned and checked his watch. "But it's-"
"I said," Lucy said, interrupting again, "Six o'clock." She widened her eyes and flicked a glance over Phil's shoulder. "Six o'clock, got it?"
He looked at her and nodded slowly. "Got it...?" What the hell was going on?
Lucy navigated her way to the table behind Phil, and he let his eyes follow her progress. She set the water tray down on an empty table and set a beer in front of each of the two people seated in the corner. The second beer she set down slopped a little, but neither of the men at the table said anything. In fact they didn't seem to notice her at all, staring at the poker game in the center of the room like it was the fourth quarter of the Superbowl.
Lucy wiped the spilled beer up without a word, gathered her trays again and continued on quickly.
Phil rotated back in his chair to face his glass of water and flipped the coaster over.
Be ready, was written on the back in Ellen's tidy scrawl.
Hunh. Alright, then, Phil thought. Sliding the sheaf of papers into his bag, he dug out three guns, a gun cleaning kit and a box of ammo.
So be it.
-
Yuanlao Quan inclined his greying head at the nervous girl putting a small glass of water and a beer coaster next to his brandy.
"Ah," he said sadly, looking at the coaster with the colorful logo. "A shame."
"Pardon?" Lucy asked, rattled.
Quan smiled. "And when is... closing time?"
Lucy blinked and licked her lips. "...Last call is at three o'clock."
He slid his eyes to his right and noted the two men at the corner table. The man at the table in front of them was disassembling one gun and loading two others.
"Just so," Quan said, bending to the side to pull a small flat case out of his bag, flipped it open and began pulling out ink, a calligraphy brush, and small sheets of parchment. "Thank you for your kind service. May I have the honor of your name?"
"Lucy Sanchez."
He met her eyes gravely. "Thank you, Lucy Sanchez. I will not forget you."
"Uh... Yeah. Okay." Lucy fled with her diminished trays.
Quan nodded again. He tipped the water onto his coaster without turning the disk over, watching the pressed cardboard slowly absorb the clear drops as he brushed thick black lines of swooping ink onto a strip of parchment.
-
Rachel had never seen the chick with the scar down the right half of her face before, but the woman hadn't been off the pool table for a couple hours solid. The clack of cues, the inept flirting of the guy the woman was playing pool with, and the ever-present bleeps and boings of the stupid video game were becoming very annoying. Usually Rachel could ignore them but tonight they were making it hard to concentrate.
Sitting at a table up in the games area, Rachel stared at the tarot cards spread out in front of her. Way more swords than she was comfortable seeing in a spread. Three of Swords, Five of Swords, Nine of Swords, Ten of Swords. Then to top it off, there was the Queen of Swords crossed by an inverted Devil. Not that that meant the actual Devil of course, but still, not good. The Tower in ruin, the Knight of Swords in the future, but not a near enough future have much effect...
She frowned at the cards. This was stupid. She was looking at them wrong or something. Or shuffling wrong. This wasn't going to scare her like some skittish twelve-year-old at a pajama party. These things were always subject to interpretation. But still... sorrow and loss in the past, a woman of strength crossed by evil, imminent chaos, destruction, disaster, defeat, failure, and aid arriving too late.
Someone, somewhere, was in the process of having a very bad day.
Lucy came up the steps to Rachel's table, juggling her trays around to get a free hand. She did a double take at the cards face up on the table before putting down a whiskey and a small water glass in front of Rachel. "Ellen wanted me to remind you, last call is at- oh crap."
A cardboard beer coaster fumbled out of the girl's fingers and rolled in diminishing circles on the floor, landing Pabst-Blue-Ribbon-logo-side up at the foot of the woman with the scar. Lucy paled, tray of drinks shaking.
"It's okay, I don't need a coaster. My deck is waterproof." Rachel said, still examining the layout of the cards.
"No, no, you need that coaster," whispered Lucy, hesitating on where to put her other tray down, shooting glances at the scarred woman. "Ellen wants you to have that coaster."
Rachel wondered if Ellen had a secret habit of beating her employees or something. "Okay, fine," she said, frustrated with the ongoing disruption, and turned to the scarred woman. "Hey, you mind kicking that over here?"
Lucy squeaked.
The woman with the scar turned slowly to look over at Rachel and Lucy, expression blank, then down at the colorful cardboard disk on the floor, then over to the bar. Rachel followed the woman's gaze and saw Ethan, looking up at them, nod his head once, slowly. That was... kind of odd.
The woman nudged the coaster into Rachel's reach with the toe of her boot.
"Thanks," Rachel said, picking up the coaster and putting it on a tarot-card free corner of the table. Lucy looked like she was about to faint. "You alright, kid? You look like hell."
"Yeah," Lucy squeaked, then cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. Busy night."
"You sure you're holding up okay?"
"Um, yeah." Lucy frowned. "Ellen wanted me to, uh, remind you, last call is at, uh..." She glanced back towards the scarred woman, who was moving around the back of the pool table to make a shot. "It's at about eight o'clock at the moment."
Rachel blinked in confusion. "What?"
"Maybe seven thirty?"
Rachel lowered her voice, certain now that she was missing something. "It's already nearly nine, I'm not sure what you-"
Lucy turned slightly, blocking the view of her hand and Rachel's table from the pool players. "Last call," she pointed at the picture of the Devil on the tarot card, "is at," she dragged her shaking fingertips down the right side of her face, "eight o'clock," she jerked a thumb back towards the pool table.
Rachel glanced at the woman playing pool, then back at the inverted Devil card in the middle of the tarot spread. Down at the bar, a very tense Ellen wiped the counter and watched her bartender and his friends out of the corner of her eye, jaw set with repressed emotion.
Rachel flipped the coaster over to expose the writing on the back, read it, then flipped it back logo-side up underneath the card depicting the Tower besieged.
Oh. Well, Rachel thought as Lucy gathered her second tray and fled back down the steps. That explains everything.
-
A half hour into the poker game, Dean and Bobby still hadn't arrived, four hands had come and gone, and Ash had a fuckload of cash and the keys to Ted's red Yugo in front of him.
"Beginner's luck," muttered Ken, sitting tensely on his chair like he had a poker up his ass. Claudia had somehow acquired the watch from Ken and was wearing it on her right wrist, face to the inside. She fiddled with her rings and glanced at the group at the bar contemplatively.
Ash's count was at five definites and three possibles. Some of the other semi-regulars, in neither group, and not in a position to be alerted by Lucy, were picking up the room's energy and had their respective hackles way the fuck up regardless. 'Achy Breaky Heart' started on the jukebox again, and the two guys at the table next to it looked about ready to take the head off the guy with the cowboy hat whether he was a demon or not.
Lucy came finally to their table, all drinks distributed, just five waters and coasters left on her tray.
"I don't suppose I need to remind you folks when last call is?" she asked, smiling tightly, setting down coasters and waters in front of the card players.
"No, I don't suppose you do," said Ash glancing around the table. Ken looked significantly at Spence McCall and his two buddies at the bar. Ted put his hand on a small black book he'd pulled from his coat pocket during the third hand when he'd dug out his car keys. Terry's lined eyes glittered grimly and Claudia grinned.
"Didn't think so."
"Hey, Lucy?" Claudia started.
"Yeah?"
"I just wanted to thank-"
"Don't," interrupted Lucy. "Don't thank me." Lucy whispered tightly, setting the small glass of water in front of Claudia. "If one more person asks me how I'm holding up or thanks me for anything tonight I swear I'm going to burst into tears and I really don't want to be the one to blow this whole thing early by sniveling."
Claudia nodded. "Fair enough." She smirked, winked and swatted Lucy on the butt instead.
Lucy blinked, then laughed in surprise and walked toward the bar.
"We got time for one more hand?" Ken asked, shifting in his chair.
"There's always time for one more hand," said Terry, dealing out cards.
Ash watched Lucy head for the bar, swinging wide around Spence and his friends. Not today there isn't.
-
At the bar, Ellen surveyed the room. Full house tonight. Amongst the grim unfamiliar faces were familiar ones. People she'd patched up, joked with, cursed out, watched get as blind drunk as they needed to get to forget things they'd seen. A handful of absolute assholes. One or two who'd watched her rage about Bill's death way back when, and helped her hold her life together in the aftermath. Friends, acquaintances, jerks and thieves. At the moment, she kind of loved them all, and what was about to come was breaking her heart.
As Lucy entered the bar area clutching her empty trays protectively to her chest, Ellen cleared her throat and addressed the bar room. "Gentlemen, Ladies, if I can have your attention?"
The guy playing pool with the scarred woman scratched, cue scraping along the felt, and glared obliviously towards the bar. Rachel swallowed, reaching for her water glass.
Quan curled a finger around the edge of his sodden coaster, other hand on the small stack of inked parchments and nodded to Phil who put aside the pieces of Glock he had disassembled, rested his hands on the two half-loaded .38's, and nodded back.
Terry turned slightly towards the jukebox. Ken and Claudia shifted towards the bar. Ted picked up his black book and nudged away from the table, breathing fast. Ash put the keys to Ted's red Yugo and a thick fold of bills from the stack on the table into his vest pocket, and hoped like fuck that they'd all survive.
Lucy put her trays down next to the second soda gun, glancing at Ellen from under her eyelashes, trembling as faces on all sides of the room turned Ellen's way.
In the corner of her eye, Ellen saw Ethan's expression slide from mild disdainful curiosity to the beginnings of unholy fury. The time was now.
With the hand furthest from Ethan she pulled the soda gun beside her up and held it like its namesake.
"People, it's time for last call!" she bellowed, turning and mashing down the entire top row of buttons which normally dispensed ginger ale, sprite and coke to spray Ethan square in the face.
The effect was spectacular, and grisly. Ethan's eyes flashed black and he shrieked as the skin on his face began to bubble and melt under the onslaught. The sugary soda syrup residue made it even worse; the holy water stuck and clung rather than steaming completely away. Ethan fell to his knees, clawing at his eyes and screaming.
"Try and take down my bar, hurt my friends, you got yourself a fight, you goddamned demonic son of a bitch!" Ellen shouted, spraying carbonated holy water.
- - -
(to be concluded... here!)
Endnotes for Part 2:
Everything I know about Tarot can be inscribed on a postage stamp with room left over for Queen Elizabeth, so if I screwed that part up, I wouldn't be surprised. I apologize to anyone who reads this who actually knows tarot, and hope it was maybe good for a laugh. :-)
More OC's! Phil Latimer is based on a guy who was cleaning a rifle at the Roadhouse in ELAC that no one anywhere has gotten a screencap of, and Yuanlao Quan (who was named Shen Lau until I read Nevermore) is based on an extra from that episode too, sort of. When I tried to find a screencap for reference, the guy who looked Asian on my TV wasn't, but oh well. So, no pictures for them. Here is the photo of the background extras again, in case anyone wanted a reference. Rachel and Pool Guy are both in there.
Also, I'd just like to say I totally had Ash not having his driver's license in May, long before that missing scene came out. *is pathetically smug*
One more part to go... will be up once it's tweaked, possibly before Monday.