Shadows of the Night - 12/15 - AU - SPN fic
Title: Shadows of the Night
Author: starpixie16
Chapters: 12/15
Rating: NC-17 [mild language, explicit sexual content (chapter 9)]
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean/OFC
Warning/Spoilers: AU, sexual situations; vague allusions to events from season one.
Summary: In September 1932, Sam and Dean Winchester receive a telegram leading them to California. On their last night there, Sam suddenly has a nightmare of a man's death at the hands of a mysterious woman. The brothers investigate, and in the process, Sam learns a few secrets about Dean's past.
Author's Notes: Many huge thanks to elanurel for being my beta. This story also serves as my response to challenge #8 at spn_het_love: Then She Appeared.
<< Previous Chapter
Shadows of the Night
______________________________
Chapter Twelve
In the morning light, the tenement concealing Matt's speakeasy looked even dingier than it had the night before. Sam noticed for the first time that the surrounding buildings were just as dismal, and there was a crack at the far end of the sidewalk that could have swallowed a cat. It was clear to see why Matt's gangster friends didn't have many concerns about trying to take him over. This part of town wasn't worth the effort, and Matt was smart enough to know it.
Loud, urgent knocks made an echo in the silent hall as Dean banged his fist against the wooden door. He paused to listen for footsteps on the other side, his left hand buried deeply within the pocket of his jacket. After several moments, he rapped again.
The peephole in the door slid open and shut with a snap; a movement so swift that neither Dean nor Sam had been able to identify the person who had done it.
"I don't think we're welcome," Sam remarked quietly. A minute had ticked by without the door opening to allow them entrance.
"Of course we are, Sammy," Dean returned without a trace of concern. "Don't worry."
All of a sudden, the door swung open brusquely, revealing Virginia's slender frame on the other side. She was clad in a light pink kimono-style robe with a shawl collar and three-quarter inch sleeves. The robe had no closure of any kind, so Virginia was clasping it together with her hand in a mildly modest attempt to hide her lingerie from public display. Her blonde hair stuck up wildly, mussed from sleeping. She frowned at Dean with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
"What's the big idea? You know what time it is?" There was a touch of irritation in her voice.
Dean smirked, taking a peek at the watch on his wrist. "It's 8:30, sweetheart."
Virginia reached up with both hands, briskly smoothing her unruly locks with her palms. Her robe fell open, revealing the buttercup-yellow teddy she wore underneath. It stopped at mid-thigh, a few inches before her robe. She jutted out her chin with a slow smile. "Well, it's not as if I sleep nights, you know."
"I've heard. I certainly hope you won't catch cold in that getup," Dean remarked, looking her up and down with sincere restraint.
Ginny laughed. "It's more than I usually wear. But then you'd know that, wouldn't you, sugar?"
Dean displayed a grin while Sam awkwardly cleared his throat. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he removed his hat.
"So, what can I do for you, chums?" Virginia cut to the chase at Sam's exhibit of unease. She stepped back, allowing them to enter the room. "I thought you were gonna blow. You back for a drink?"
Dean flicked on the lights, unsatisfied with the dim sunlight filtering through the windows. "It's a little early for that, no. Turns out we need some help."
Virginia arched an eyebrow in curiosity. "Yeah? Well, Matt ain't here. He's out. Off to see a man about a dog, I suppose."
"That's dandy," Dean remarked. "To be perfectly honest, you're the one we need help from."
Ginny pressed a hand to her chest. "Me? What for?"
"Sam, show her the marks," Dean commanded, fishing a cigarette from his jacket pocket and searching for the lighter.
Sam tilted his head to one side, exposing a clearer view of the bruises coloring his neck. Virginia gasped.
"What the devil happened to you?" she cried. Her aquamarine-hued eyes shifted to Dean, revealing traces of terror.
Drawing on his cigarette, Dean responded, "We think this thing we're hunting tried to strangle him."
"There's this creature -- it's called a mara -- she attacked me while I was sleeping," Sam clarified.
"Oh, is that all?" Virginia let out a soft laugh at how peculiar the explanation sounded to her ears.
"Not exactly, but it's all you need to know." Dean stared at her deadpan. "You got anything that can cover bruises like that?"
"I've got foundation cream and powder," she answered. Stepping closer to Sam, she reached up to touch him cautiously. He leaned down to allow her to have a better look at the bruises. "These are lulus, kid. This thing must want you dead, huh?"
"I don't believe so," Sam responded. "At least not yet."
"We need to go to the Peacock tonight," Dean spoke up, exhaling a puff of smoke. "If folks see those bruises, they're gonna ask too many questions and we'll give ourselves away before we find the bitch responsible."
"I see," Virginia shook her head. "But these are dark. Even foundation might not cover them entirely."
"Give it a shot, will you?" Dean suggested. His features softened to the point where he looked as if he were close to pleading. With that, it became evident that his urgency to cover the marks was about more than being inconspicuous. It was far likelier that Dean was probably eager for anything that could hide the reminder that his brother was on this monster's hit list.
"Sure, just let me get dressed and I'll get my makeup." Virginia started toward her bedroom. Gesturing toward the bar, she added, "Have a seat till I get back, okay?"
When Ginny returned, she was wearing a crisp white blouse with a brown flaired skirt. Her hair was neater than before with soft curls at the ends of each strand, and her lips were painted a rosy pink. She held two tins of makeup in her hands, having opted for a shade that she referred to as "peaches and cream". This information set Dean into a bout of laughter while Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation; yet another item for his older brother to tease him about in the coming future. He wouldn't be surprised if an obnoxious nickname would come out of it as well. "Peaches" sounded just about right.
Ginny set about applying foundation and powder to Sam's bruises, successfully managing to cover them so that barely a shadow of purple shone through the makeup. Then, learning that the brothers were yet to have breakfast, she invited them into the kitchen. Thirty minutes later, the three of them sat down to bacon and eggs with coffee. The coffee was a bit strong, but Dean practically preferred it that way. Sam managed by adding cream and two cubes of sugar.
As they finished eating, Virginia rose up from her seat and headed over to the Victrola set up at the far end of the room. She flipped through several 78s before making a selection and carefully placing it on the turntable. An upbeat jazz tune filled the room.
Virginia grinned, stopping next to the table. "Doesn't it make you want to dance?"
Dean snorted, producing a cigarette from his decreasing supply. "Yeah, that'd be the day." He wasn't the kind of fellow who danced, and Virginia clearly knew it. Her remark had held the very inflection of affectionate teasing.
Virginia smiled, wiggling her hips a little before sitting back down. "I'd like to see you Lindy Hop."
"Well, I'd like to see you do a fan dance," Dean retorted, arching an eyebrow suggestively.
"Butt me and I'll think about it," she said, extending a palm.
Dean heaved a soft sigh, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. He laid it in her hand.
"No light?" she prompted.
Dean took the smoke from between his lips, holding it out so that Virginia could light her cigarette from its end.
Sam suddenly remembered the sketch of the matchbook he had tucked into his pocket before coming to the speak that morning. Pulling it out, he unfolded it and held it out for Virginia to see. "Would you happen to recognize this? I, uh, had a dream this morning and I saw it." There was no point in lying about the visions. It was a safe assumption that they could trust Virginia with their secrets.
"You saw it in a dream?" Virginia inquired in surprise. "Don't tell me you're some kind of ..." She trailed off when she saw the way Dean and Sam were staring at her. "Okay, well, I guess that wouldn't be the daffiest thing to happen to fellas like you then, would it?" She took a drag from her cigarette as she turned her attention back to the drawing, studying it. "Sure, I've seen that."
"Where's it from?" Dean pressed, resting his elbows on the table.
Virginia looked up, replying, "That emblem belongs to the Golden Peacock."
Sam exchanged a concerned glance with his brother. "What do you suppose that means?"
"Don't know." Dean shrugged. "But it makes it that more important that we get there tonight."
"What's all the buzz about that nightclub?" Virginia questioned. "Who you looking for?"
"A dancer. She calls herself Helena, but she's actually a mara -- a creature that creates and feeds from the nightmares of her victims." Dean turned his cigarette end over end between his fingers. "She's killing people, and she's after Sam too. We're gonna put an end to her."
Virginia nodded, considering the story she'd just been told. "Well, I hope you get her." She moved her coffee cup, gazing at the film of black coffee skimming over the bottom. Lifting it to her lips, she swallowed it down, leaving traces of her lipstick along the rim of the mug. Rising up, she disappeared briefly, returning with a slip of paper. "Say, this has been lying around for a while. Maybe you'd like to have it."
"What is it?" Dean looked at her curiously as he took the paper from her hand.
"Somebody telephoned for your dad and Matt took this message for 'em. I guess they needed him for something. Just hope it's not too late to help them with whatever they're wanting." Virginia's lips pursed in concern.
Dean studied the scribbled note, passing it over so that Sam could see it as well. "Why're they asking for Dad here?"
"He gives this number to people who need to get in touch. Used to call here himself every once in a while, but no one's heard from him for about a year." Noticing Dean's frown, she tilted her head slightly. "What, Matt didn't tell you?"
Sam shook his head. "No, he didn't." His hazel eyes had filled with suspicion.
"Oh," Virginia glanced down. Tapping cigarette ash onto the edge of her empty plate, she returned her gaze to the brothers. "Well, he should have."
"Should have what?" Matt's voice inquired suddenly.
Dean turned around to see Matt removing the derby he always wore when he went out, placing it on the peg next to Dean's battered felt. He was reaching into his vest pocket for a smoke when Dean stood to face him.
"What's the idea of saying you hadn't talked to our dad when Sam asked you yesterday?" Dean demanded, eyes burning intensely. "Ginny says he's called you up more than once."
Matt chuckled. "Easy, kid. Your brother asked if I'd heard anything recent, and I haven't. John hasn't called here in nearly a year."
"You're a bit of a sneak, you know that?" Dean stared at Matt warily.
Matt lit his cigarette, taking a puff. "You can't expect a fella like me to be completely on the level. But, hey, I'm straight with you boys. Your dad seems to trust me 'cause I know how to keep mum. I wouldn't even think about trying to double-cross him." He gave Dean a knowing look. "You Winchesters, you know, you scare me more than any hood I ever had the pleasure to meet."
Dean grinned. "Why thanks." He held up the piece of paper Virginia had given him. "What do you know about this?"
"That's for your old man," Matt explained. Reaching into his vest, he produced an envelope. "I was saving it for the next time he phoned, but it never came. Then I stopped by the post office today and found this." He extended the envelope to Dean.
Sam and Virginia came over to get a closer look at the letter Dean was unfolding. It read in John Winchester's familiar scrawl:
Matt,
If anybody phones for me, take a message like you always do. If it's an emergency, pass it on to my son, Dean. He should be heading your way soon. I'm sure he'll stop in.
John
The tears stinging Sam's eyes were a mixture of anger and relief. He and Dean exchanged a brotherly look.
"He must've sent this the same time we got his telegram," Dean supplied, voice flat.
"It's probably been in my box for a couple days. Lucky I found it when I did." Matt paused. "I should head over to the post office more than twice a week, I guess." He shook his head, putting up a hand as Dean moved to return the letter. "Nah, you hold onto it. I don't need it."
"So, I guess the message is yours after all," Virginia piped up evenly, her hand squeezing Dean's arm.
Neither brother spoke, eyes still transfixed on the letter in Dean's hands.
"Say, you're welcome to use this place the way your dad has," Matt offered. "You know, you're welcome to give this number to anyone who might need to reach you. You'd just have to check in every once in a while. And if you ever find yourself in a jam, there's always a room if you need a place to hide out."
Dean raised his gaze toward Matt, his face bearing a look of guarded suspicion. "Yeah, we'll see."
"You're not sore, are ya, kid?" Matt inquired with a smile. "Hell, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about John checking in over the telephone every once in a while. Ginny's right, I should have."
"Everything's swell," Dean assured him. "I'm not sore."
"If we should be sore with anyone, it should be Dad," Sam muttered dourly. "He's the one who should've told us he was using this place for people to reach him. We could have left a message ourselves."
"You still can," Virginia insisted. She looked to Matt. "If the old man calls, you tell him his boys are looking for him and he needs to let 'em know he's okay. If you won't, I'll tell him myself."
Matt nodded with a smirk. "Yes, ma'am."
Virginia's lips tilted into a lopsided grin. "Good boy."
Dean snuck a glance at Sam as he walked over to retrieve their hats, like he was checking to see if Virginia's promise had lifted away the cloud over his head. "Let's go, Sam."
Virginia watched as Dean put his fedora on top of his head, silently following him and Sam to the door. "G'bye, boys. You're always welcome to stop in again any day."
"Maybe we will," Dean said, giving her a smile. He leaned down to place a fleeting kiss on her lips. "See you, Ginny."
Sam managed a small smile. "Good-bye, Virginia. Thanks for all the help."
"Don't mention it, kid." Virginia stood on tiptoe to give him a friendly peck on the cheek. "Take care of yourself."
They turned away, heading through the door while Virginia lingered in the hall, watching as they made their way down the stairs. Leaning against the doorframe, she stared behind them long after the hallway was empty.
___________________________
FOOTNOTES:
During Prohibition, the phrase "to see a man about a dog" often meant to go meet one's bootlegger (as it does here in Matt's case).
A 12-inch 78 rpm record could hold four to five minutes of music per side, and was made of a brittle shellac that caused it to break easily. The 78 was the most common record format until the 1950s.
The "Lindy hop" was an African-American dance that evolved in New York City in 1927. It was a fusion of many dances that preceded it, including the Charleston. It disappeared from popular culture in the 1950s as rock and roll music replaced jazz.
The fan dance was an erotic performance where a woman, usually nude or appearing as such, would dance while moving two large fans made of ostrich feathers. It was popularized by exotic dancer/actress Sally Rand in the 1930s.
Last December, I wrote a ficlet relating to this scene from Virginia's POV. For those that are interested, it resides here.
Next Chapter >>
Author: starpixie16
Chapters: 12/15
Rating: NC-17 [mild language, explicit sexual content (chapter 9)]
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean/OFC
Warning/Spoilers: AU, sexual situations; vague allusions to events from season one.
Summary: In September 1932, Sam and Dean Winchester receive a telegram leading them to California. On their last night there, Sam suddenly has a nightmare of a man's death at the hands of a mysterious woman. The brothers investigate, and in the process, Sam learns a few secrets about Dean's past.
Author's Notes: Many huge thanks to elanurel for being my beta. This story also serves as my response to challenge #8 at spn_het_love: Then She Appeared.
<< Previous Chapter
Shadows of the Night
______________________________
Chapter Twelve
In the morning light, the tenement concealing Matt's speakeasy looked even dingier than it had the night before. Sam noticed for the first time that the surrounding buildings were just as dismal, and there was a crack at the far end of the sidewalk that could have swallowed a cat. It was clear to see why Matt's gangster friends didn't have many concerns about trying to take him over. This part of town wasn't worth the effort, and Matt was smart enough to know it.
Loud, urgent knocks made an echo in the silent hall as Dean banged his fist against the wooden door. He paused to listen for footsteps on the other side, his left hand buried deeply within the pocket of his jacket. After several moments, he rapped again.
The peephole in the door slid open and shut with a snap; a movement so swift that neither Dean nor Sam had been able to identify the person who had done it.
"I don't think we're welcome," Sam remarked quietly. A minute had ticked by without the door opening to allow them entrance.
"Of course we are, Sammy," Dean returned without a trace of concern. "Don't worry."
All of a sudden, the door swung open brusquely, revealing Virginia's slender frame on the other side. She was clad in a light pink kimono-style robe with a shawl collar and three-quarter inch sleeves. The robe had no closure of any kind, so Virginia was clasping it together with her hand in a mildly modest attempt to hide her lingerie from public display. Her blonde hair stuck up wildly, mussed from sleeping. She frowned at Dean with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
"What's the big idea? You know what time it is?" There was a touch of irritation in her voice.
Dean smirked, taking a peek at the watch on his wrist. "It's 8:30, sweetheart."
Virginia reached up with both hands, briskly smoothing her unruly locks with her palms. Her robe fell open, revealing the buttercup-yellow teddy she wore underneath. It stopped at mid-thigh, a few inches before her robe. She jutted out her chin with a slow smile. "Well, it's not as if I sleep nights, you know."
"I've heard. I certainly hope you won't catch cold in that getup," Dean remarked, looking her up and down with sincere restraint.
Ginny laughed. "It's more than I usually wear. But then you'd know that, wouldn't you, sugar?"
Dean displayed a grin while Sam awkwardly cleared his throat. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he removed his hat.
"So, what can I do for you, chums?" Virginia cut to the chase at Sam's exhibit of unease. She stepped back, allowing them to enter the room. "I thought you were gonna blow. You back for a drink?"
Dean flicked on the lights, unsatisfied with the dim sunlight filtering through the windows. "It's a little early for that, no. Turns out we need some help."
Virginia arched an eyebrow in curiosity. "Yeah? Well, Matt ain't here. He's out. Off to see a man about a dog, I suppose."
"That's dandy," Dean remarked. "To be perfectly honest, you're the one we need help from."
Ginny pressed a hand to her chest. "Me? What for?"
"Sam, show her the marks," Dean commanded, fishing a cigarette from his jacket pocket and searching for the lighter.
Sam tilted his head to one side, exposing a clearer view of the bruises coloring his neck. Virginia gasped.
"What the devil happened to you?" she cried. Her aquamarine-hued eyes shifted to Dean, revealing traces of terror.
Drawing on his cigarette, Dean responded, "We think this thing we're hunting tried to strangle him."
"There's this creature -- it's called a mara -- she attacked me while I was sleeping," Sam clarified.
"Oh, is that all?" Virginia let out a soft laugh at how peculiar the explanation sounded to her ears.
"Not exactly, but it's all you need to know." Dean stared at her deadpan. "You got anything that can cover bruises like that?"
"I've got foundation cream and powder," she answered. Stepping closer to Sam, she reached up to touch him cautiously. He leaned down to allow her to have a better look at the bruises. "These are lulus, kid. This thing must want you dead, huh?"
"I don't believe so," Sam responded. "At least not yet."
"We need to go to the Peacock tonight," Dean spoke up, exhaling a puff of smoke. "If folks see those bruises, they're gonna ask too many questions and we'll give ourselves away before we find the bitch responsible."
"I see," Virginia shook her head. "But these are dark. Even foundation might not cover them entirely."
"Give it a shot, will you?" Dean suggested. His features softened to the point where he looked as if he were close to pleading. With that, it became evident that his urgency to cover the marks was about more than being inconspicuous. It was far likelier that Dean was probably eager for anything that could hide the reminder that his brother was on this monster's hit list.
"Sure, just let me get dressed and I'll get my makeup." Virginia started toward her bedroom. Gesturing toward the bar, she added, "Have a seat till I get back, okay?"
When Ginny returned, she was wearing a crisp white blouse with a brown flaired skirt. Her hair was neater than before with soft curls at the ends of each strand, and her lips were painted a rosy pink. She held two tins of makeup in her hands, having opted for a shade that she referred to as "peaches and cream". This information set Dean into a bout of laughter while Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation; yet another item for his older brother to tease him about in the coming future. He wouldn't be surprised if an obnoxious nickname would come out of it as well. "Peaches" sounded just about right.
Ginny set about applying foundation and powder to Sam's bruises, successfully managing to cover them so that barely a shadow of purple shone through the makeup. Then, learning that the brothers were yet to have breakfast, she invited them into the kitchen. Thirty minutes later, the three of them sat down to bacon and eggs with coffee. The coffee was a bit strong, but Dean practically preferred it that way. Sam managed by adding cream and two cubes of sugar.
As they finished eating, Virginia rose up from her seat and headed over to the Victrola set up at the far end of the room. She flipped through several 78s before making a selection and carefully placing it on the turntable. An upbeat jazz tune filled the room.
Virginia grinned, stopping next to the table. "Doesn't it make you want to dance?"
Dean snorted, producing a cigarette from his decreasing supply. "Yeah, that'd be the day." He wasn't the kind of fellow who danced, and Virginia clearly knew it. Her remark had held the very inflection of affectionate teasing.
Virginia smiled, wiggling her hips a little before sitting back down. "I'd like to see you Lindy Hop."
"Well, I'd like to see you do a fan dance," Dean retorted, arching an eyebrow suggestively.
"Butt me and I'll think about it," she said, extending a palm.
Dean heaved a soft sigh, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. He laid it in her hand.
"No light?" she prompted.
Dean took the smoke from between his lips, holding it out so that Virginia could light her cigarette from its end.
Sam suddenly remembered the sketch of the matchbook he had tucked into his pocket before coming to the speak that morning. Pulling it out, he unfolded it and held it out for Virginia to see. "Would you happen to recognize this? I, uh, had a dream this morning and I saw it." There was no point in lying about the visions. It was a safe assumption that they could trust Virginia with their secrets.
"You saw it in a dream?" Virginia inquired in surprise. "Don't tell me you're some kind of ..." She trailed off when she saw the way Dean and Sam were staring at her. "Okay, well, I guess that wouldn't be the daffiest thing to happen to fellas like you then, would it?" She took a drag from her cigarette as she turned her attention back to the drawing, studying it. "Sure, I've seen that."
"Where's it from?" Dean pressed, resting his elbows on the table.
Virginia looked up, replying, "That emblem belongs to the Golden Peacock."
Sam exchanged a concerned glance with his brother. "What do you suppose that means?"
"Don't know." Dean shrugged. "But it makes it that more important that we get there tonight."
"What's all the buzz about that nightclub?" Virginia questioned. "Who you looking for?"
"A dancer. She calls herself Helena, but she's actually a mara -- a creature that creates and feeds from the nightmares of her victims." Dean turned his cigarette end over end between his fingers. "She's killing people, and she's after Sam too. We're gonna put an end to her."
Virginia nodded, considering the story she'd just been told. "Well, I hope you get her." She moved her coffee cup, gazing at the film of black coffee skimming over the bottom. Lifting it to her lips, she swallowed it down, leaving traces of her lipstick along the rim of the mug. Rising up, she disappeared briefly, returning with a slip of paper. "Say, this has been lying around for a while. Maybe you'd like to have it."
"What is it?" Dean looked at her curiously as he took the paper from her hand.
"Somebody telephoned for your dad and Matt took this message for 'em. I guess they needed him for something. Just hope it's not too late to help them with whatever they're wanting." Virginia's lips pursed in concern.
Dean studied the scribbled note, passing it over so that Sam could see it as well. "Why're they asking for Dad here?"
"He gives this number to people who need to get in touch. Used to call here himself every once in a while, but no one's heard from him for about a year." Noticing Dean's frown, she tilted her head slightly. "What, Matt didn't tell you?"
Sam shook his head. "No, he didn't." His hazel eyes had filled with suspicion.
"Oh," Virginia glanced down. Tapping cigarette ash onto the edge of her empty plate, she returned her gaze to the brothers. "Well, he should have."
"Should have what?" Matt's voice inquired suddenly.
Dean turned around to see Matt removing the derby he always wore when he went out, placing it on the peg next to Dean's battered felt. He was reaching into his vest pocket for a smoke when Dean stood to face him.
"What's the idea of saying you hadn't talked to our dad when Sam asked you yesterday?" Dean demanded, eyes burning intensely. "Ginny says he's called you up more than once."
Matt chuckled. "Easy, kid. Your brother asked if I'd heard anything recent, and I haven't. John hasn't called here in nearly a year."
"You're a bit of a sneak, you know that?" Dean stared at Matt warily.
Matt lit his cigarette, taking a puff. "You can't expect a fella like me to be completely on the level. But, hey, I'm straight with you boys. Your dad seems to trust me 'cause I know how to keep mum. I wouldn't even think about trying to double-cross him." He gave Dean a knowing look. "You Winchesters, you know, you scare me more than any hood I ever had the pleasure to meet."
Dean grinned. "Why thanks." He held up the piece of paper Virginia had given him. "What do you know about this?"
"That's for your old man," Matt explained. Reaching into his vest, he produced an envelope. "I was saving it for the next time he phoned, but it never came. Then I stopped by the post office today and found this." He extended the envelope to Dean.
Sam and Virginia came over to get a closer look at the letter Dean was unfolding. It read in John Winchester's familiar scrawl:
Matt,
If anybody phones for me, take a message like you always do. If it's an emergency, pass it on to my son, Dean. He should be heading your way soon. I'm sure he'll stop in.
John
The tears stinging Sam's eyes were a mixture of anger and relief. He and Dean exchanged a brotherly look.
"He must've sent this the same time we got his telegram," Dean supplied, voice flat.
"It's probably been in my box for a couple days. Lucky I found it when I did." Matt paused. "I should head over to the post office more than twice a week, I guess." He shook his head, putting up a hand as Dean moved to return the letter. "Nah, you hold onto it. I don't need it."
"So, I guess the message is yours after all," Virginia piped up evenly, her hand squeezing Dean's arm.
Neither brother spoke, eyes still transfixed on the letter in Dean's hands.
"Say, you're welcome to use this place the way your dad has," Matt offered. "You know, you're welcome to give this number to anyone who might need to reach you. You'd just have to check in every once in a while. And if you ever find yourself in a jam, there's always a room if you need a place to hide out."
Dean raised his gaze toward Matt, his face bearing a look of guarded suspicion. "Yeah, we'll see."
"You're not sore, are ya, kid?" Matt inquired with a smile. "Hell, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about John checking in over the telephone every once in a while. Ginny's right, I should have."
"Everything's swell," Dean assured him. "I'm not sore."
"If we should be sore with anyone, it should be Dad," Sam muttered dourly. "He's the one who should've told us he was using this place for people to reach him. We could have left a message ourselves."
"You still can," Virginia insisted. She looked to Matt. "If the old man calls, you tell him his boys are looking for him and he needs to let 'em know he's okay. If you won't, I'll tell him myself."
Matt nodded with a smirk. "Yes, ma'am."
Virginia's lips tilted into a lopsided grin. "Good boy."
Dean snuck a glance at Sam as he walked over to retrieve their hats, like he was checking to see if Virginia's promise had lifted away the cloud over his head. "Let's go, Sam."
Virginia watched as Dean put his fedora on top of his head, silently following him and Sam to the door. "G'bye, boys. You're always welcome to stop in again any day."
"Maybe we will," Dean said, giving her a smile. He leaned down to place a fleeting kiss on her lips. "See you, Ginny."
Sam managed a small smile. "Good-bye, Virginia. Thanks for all the help."
"Don't mention it, kid." Virginia stood on tiptoe to give him a friendly peck on the cheek. "Take care of yourself."
They turned away, heading through the door while Virginia lingered in the hall, watching as they made their way down the stairs. Leaning against the doorframe, she stared behind them long after the hallway was empty.
___________________________
FOOTNOTES:
During Prohibition, the phrase "to see a man about a dog" often meant to go meet one's bootlegger (as it does here in Matt's case).
A 12-inch 78 rpm record could hold four to five minutes of music per side, and was made of a brittle shellac that caused it to break easily. The 78 was the most common record format until the 1950s.
The "Lindy hop" was an African-American dance that evolved in New York City in 1927. It was a fusion of many dances that preceded it, including the Charleston. It disappeared from popular culture in the 1950s as rock and roll music replaced jazz.
The fan dance was an erotic performance where a woman, usually nude or appearing as such, would dance while moving two large fans made of ostrich feathers. It was popularized by exotic dancer/actress Sally Rand in the 1930s.
Last December, I wrote a ficlet relating to this scene from Virginia's POV. For those that are interested, it resides here.
Next Chapter >>