SPN AU: Havdalah

[dormouseketeer]

It was the Saturday evening service when the men in the black suits showed up, too nicely dressed for Havdalah services at the tiny Reform synagogue in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago. Which was perhaps the best time--only a few congregants attended, and it was after Shabbos, so the rabbi could do work. Like, apparently, translate the leather-

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[dixietech]

She was a classy, tough lady and Tuck wouldn't have their relationship any other way.

He turned back to the girl fiddling with his tablet. "Come on, darlin, Rhys here's a giant pussycat, and he makes the best cup of coffee you're gonna get for at least the next thirty miles. I'm gonna head in here with my friend, get something to drink, maybe a bite to eat. You're more than welcome to join us and get a little rest before you pass out where you're standing."

The offer was extended. Tuck knew well enough that with some people, that was all you could do. Extend the invite and see what happened. He also had a feeling that was all he needed to do with her. Let her know it was there and come to the decision on her own.

Clapping Rhys on the shoulder, he turned towards the bar.

The Roadhouse was an older bar, and at first glance, didn't seem any different than any other bar. Warm polished wood, chrome and brass beer taps. Sure, the salt supply was a lot higher than average, and a sharp eye might catch the protection sigils worked into the wood along the doorway, the bar and the crossbeams above them. Because above all, the Roadhouse was always a safe haven for anyone who needed it.

Whether they knew it or not.

[dormouseketeer]

Davida was all self-consciousness and hesitation, but in the end, hunger and exhaustion won out. She followed Tuck, her eyes lingering on Rhys. Pussycat or no, she was oddly certain he had claws. "Coffee does sound good. Maybe...a sandwich or something small? I know you're not usually open this early, so."

Tuck's tablet was offered back as she shambled behind him, because she realized she was squinting at the screen and not really seeing anything anymore. Blurry, heavy. She was going to break down, no matter how hard she tried, and these men were either going to help her or not. All she could do was pray that she was in a safe place.

"Um...thanks for opening, though."

[sleight_of_fate]

"No problem. I get people wandering through at all kinds of odd hours, so I keep the fridge stocked," Rhys says amiably, assuring her that sandwiches are absolutely not a problem. There's actually plenty of nights when he crashes at the roadhouse himself, it's just tonight wasn't one of them. There's no patients or boarders in the bar at the moment, and the previous night, he was able to kick everyone out in a timely manner, so he's been able to lock up and go home.

Once inside, he bolts the door again, since they're not officially open yet, lets Tuck and Davida make themselves comfortable and heads to put a pot of coffee on. Only half the lights are on, and the bar has a peaceful hush to it, a burned-out stick of incense still sitting on the bar from the previous night. Rhys clears it away on his way by, wiping any stray ashes away with a clean rag, and puts a couple of bottles of cold water in its place, then goes to start getting lunch together from the kitchen, giving the two of them a little time to talk and get situated without having him underfoot.

[dixietech]

The poor kid was dragging, and every instinct was telling him that she needed more than just a cup of coffee and a sandwich before she was on her way. All he could do was hope that after she satisfied herself that he and Rhys were there to help, she'd let them.

The leather satchel he'd been carrying was left on the bar with a brief, but meaningful look at Rhys as he picks up the water. He'll leave him to putter around behind the bar and deal with the delivered IDs while he brought something over to the table where she was all but slumped in a chair already.

"Here you go. Little water to get you started. Coffee is easily the best in the state, too. Not sure if Ellen was the one that cooked up that blend or Rhys had a hand in it, but it's outstanding stuff."

His voice softened a bit. "My name's Bill Tucker. Most folks call me Tuck. Now if you don't mind my sayin so, you look about a hair away from passing out at the table. Is everythin all right? I know you don't know me or my friend from Adam, but maybe we can help."

[dormouseketeer]

She opened the bottle, guzzling almost half the water in a few slow gulps. Dehydrated? Oh, she certainly was, and it helped with the exhaustion as well. Once that was handled, she reacted to the words as well as she really could.

"No, everything's not all right. But I don't know that you can help, and I'd rather not get you involved in case it turns out you can't. And I'm sorry, you seem like a nice guy looking to score some karma points, but this isn't some little thing. Okay?"

Desperation colored her words, and there wasn't a hint of anything insincere behind them.

[dixietech]

Tuck sat back and let her speak her peace, although the karma points comment did earn a faint grin in response.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. I'm pretty good with things that aren't little in nature. I'll make you a deal. You tell me what's going on and if my friend and I can't help? We'll find someone who can." His smile warmed and he took a swallow of water. "We may not look like much, but we're pretty damned resourceful when we need to be."

[dormouseketeer]

Her eyes lingered on Tuck uncertainly, before she finally pulled the book out of her jacket, setting it--still closed--on the table. "My father felt that this was important enough to die over." She paused there, blinking and straining to hold back tears. "He gave it to me, and died so that I could get out, away from the...those who wanted it. That was Saturday night, and I don't know what I'm doing next, except...running. Because I trust my father to be right about things like what's important enough to die over."

[dixietech]

Tuck doesn't look at the book just yet. He lets her talk and his expression melted into something truly sympathetic when she mentioned her father being killed. Reaching across the table, he squeezed her hand. "Hell, I'm sorry sweetheart. I'm sorry he was killed like that."

And if it was a book worth dying over, it was also worth asking permission before he examined it any closer. "You mind if I take a look at it?"

[dormouseketeer]

She hesitated, the hand that he wasn't squeezing staying on top of the book. "Kinda a little, yeah. How do I know I can trust you with it? For all I know, you're with the guys who killed him--I really have nothing but your name." But her resolve, her suspicion, everything that kept her from letting Tuck help was beginning to weaken. His hand was warm and gentle, and that itself almost brought tears to her eyes.

[dixietech]

"Fair enough. You don't want me to look, I won't look." He hoped that the show of restraint would ease her nerves a bit. He wanted to help, but he wasn't going to go digging where it wasn't invited.

"I'd like to help if I can, but you tell me what you're comfortable with and we can go from there. What I can tell you is that you probably picked one of the safest places in the entire state to pull into. Rhys and Ellen? They're good people. The kind of good you put a capital "G" in front of. I can't speak for them, but I imagine if you need some time to think things over and figure out your next move, you couldn't have picked a better place to hole up in while you did."

It's a safe bet that whatever she's running from is dangerous as hell. Not many people killed over books, especially books that kept pinging a presence in the back of his mind. But he'll sit back and let her come to that decision on her own. She didn't trust him enough to give him her name, so he might be waiting a bit, but that was all right.

[dormouseketeer]

She took a deep breath and started as well as she could think to. "My dad's...was...a bit of an expert in medieval occult texts and Kabbalah. A little over a week ago, two guys came to give him this to translate. They came back Saturday night, and when he refused to hand this book over, they...one of them tore his heart out. With his bare hands."

Was that vague enough? Was he going to laugh at her? She licked her lips, pulling the book closer to herself to rest her chin on it, the gesture vaguely catlike.

"I...I'm nowhere near the kind of expert my dad is, but I know enough to know this book's a dangerous thing, and it does need to be protected. What I can read is scary, and what I can't--I don't even know what language it's in."

[dixietech]

To his credit, Tuck didn't even bat an eye at the information. He nodded slowly as she pulled the book close, folding herself in on it. Medieval occult texts. Hands pulling out hearts. Yep. She came to the right place after all.

"Then you're in the right place, darlin. Rhys is a bit of an expert in medieval texts. You wouldn't know it to look at him but he speaks a few arcane languages on his own, and what he doesn't speak, I've been building translation programs for him to puzzle out. If you'd like, we could take a look, at least let you know what you were dealing with."

He's not going to mention Gabriel yet. That tended to draw surprised looks even from the experienced hunters.

"But it's your call. C'mere, you see those marks up there on the crossbeams near the bar? Protection sigils. There's another one under the doorframe to keep demons out. Trust me, you think this is werid - we're kind of used to weird."

[dormouseketeer]

"Demons." The word caught her attention in the way that word tends to, bothering her deeply. She watched Tuck for any indication that he was lying, but found none. And it made sense, with everything that had happened--or maybe she was just too tired to process information. Her eyes closed for a long moment.

"I always thought they were metaphors, in his stories, for the evil in people. You know?"

[dixietech]

"So did I. Least until one showed up on my back porch and tapped the back of my head against a brick wall." Not a pleasant memory, but at least Sam and Rhys had been there to deal with things while he was out cold. "They're real, and if you don't mind me sayin, it sounds like a demon might have brought that book to your Dad. They've got a lot of power, but we've got the know-how to keep them out."

"Whatever you decide darlin, you're safe here. Demons, witches, even angels - they're all real, they just tend to stick below the radar of the general public."

[sleight_of_fate]

The leather satchel quietly disappears behind the bar as Rhys comes by to quickly consult on any specific lunch requests. Those IDs will be a big help, protecting people who need to disappear with new identities and helping get their hunters into investigations where they can get information on threats faster: Tuck does good, solid work and has been invaluable to their operations since they stumbled on each other. Then Rhys vanishes back into the kitchen as the scent of brewing coffee starts to fill the bar. That's all Ellen's and he had nothing to do with that one: he's not much of a snob and just drinks Folgers most of the time at home.

Rhys works quietly in the kitchen, occasionally glancing over as the tone of their conversation becomes more somber, more guarded, but trusting that Tuck will call him over when he's needed- the girl's shaken and he rather doubts a heavily tattooed bartender hanging over her will do much to soothe her spirits right now. It is only a few minutes before the fresh sandwiches, a couple of bags of potato chips, and apples appear on the bar, though, ready for Tuck to retrieve when he's ready. Then Rhys returns to lingering in the background, doing minor bar busywork and keeping a careful eye on things while they have their talk. And, yes, listening just enough to catch a bit here and there, though he stays quiet and out of the way- he's a polite eavesdropper, thank you very much.

[dormouseketeer]

She inhaled through her teeth, thinking a bit before straightening in her seat. Both hands lifted off the book, but she didn't make the offer to let him look any more explicit than that. Meanwhile, she was glancing at the sigils he had indicated, trying to see if any of them were simple enough for her to understand.

"I guess I'm not general public anymore." That was something that had been playing around her surface thoughts, not really sinking in. Her life had changed, completely, and she would need to figure herself out a plan. With the help of these guys, perhaps.