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| Dean Winchester. Older brother. Hunter of bad and evil things. A force to be reckoned with. Likes to physically kick some ass, but is brilliant in his own way. |
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| Sam Winchester. Younger brother. Also a hunter. More cerebral of the pair. Computer whiz, research expert. As a team, the Winchesters are considered two of the best in the biz. (I forgot - am I a Dean-girl or a Sam-girl again?) |
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| The Impala. 1967 black Chevrolet of awesomeness. Home away from home and the main source of transportation. |
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| Bobby Singer. Father figure to the Winchesters. Hunter and home base resource center/touch stone while dealing with the supernatural. |
A hunter is a person who hunts evil things and destroys them. Ghosts, vampires, demons, all your monsters of the week that go bump in the night.
There are angels, but they are not necessarily the good guys. Quite frankly, they can be jerks and are not exactly team Free Will. Except for Castiel. Castiel is on Team Winchester and this has caused all sorts of trouble for him.
Demons. Demons are always bad news. Crowley is the current King of Hell. He is charming and smooth, the inventor of red tape and all sorts of diabolical madness. Never trust a demon.
One more thing about Supernatural. If you die, you do not necessarily stay dead. The Winchesters have died several times. Dean was pulled from hell by the angel Castiel. Sam too, but with consequences.
So here we go:
Supernatural Fan Fic: Ronnie
Ronnie sat down wearily on the stool in the barn, keeping the shotgun close at hand. She was bone tired, dirty, and pretty much ready to call it a day, except she had one hell of a clean up ahead of her.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. It went to voice mail.
"Hey, Bobby. It’s Ronnie. I need to call in a favor. I’m knee deep in stuff over here, and if you know of anyone in the area, I could use a little help. Thanks." She disconnected.
She let out a heavy sigh, pulling herself to her feet. And wondered how in the world she was going to get rid of fifteen demon carcasses on a Friday night.
Sam and Dean Winchester motored down yet another highway crisscrossing the Midwest in Dean’s black 1967 Impala. Dean glanced over at this brother as Sam picked up the call, putting it on speaker.
"What’s going on, Bobby?"
"I need you two to check in on someone," the crotchety voice growled over the line. "Ronnie Churchill. Daughter of a hunter. Her dad is an old friend of mine, but he’s gone off the grid. She called last night, and she’s asking for help."
"What, we’re doing babysitting service now?" Dean asked.
"Hardly," Bobby snorted. "She’s as sharp as I’ve seen them. She’s not a hunter, but she was raised in the life. If she says she needs help, something’s going on.
"You’re about four hours away. I’ll be there in eight."
Dean stared at the phone. "Wait. You’re coming off the reservation?"
"She called in a favor. Now I’m asking one of you."
The brothers traded looks. Bobby only asked favors if it was a big deal.
"You got it, Bobby," Sam replied. "Give us an address." He scribbled the address on his note pad while Dean urged the car a bit faster down the highway.
"Where is this place? We’ve been driving around for hours," Dean grumbled. "I’m half expecting the children of the corn to start walking down Main Street."
Sam held up his cell phone, moving it side to side in front of him. "No GPS signal out here either. Let’s try the hardware store."
"Civies or Feds?"
Sam grinned. "Well, we haven’t had Agents Tyler and Perry out for a while."
After a quick change of clothing into the dark suits they used to impersonate federal agents, they walked into the hardware store, founding it typical for a small town. A little bit of everything. Lumber, household supplies, auto parts, even the kitchen sink. Dean paused beside an enormous display of rock salt.
Sam shrugged. "Hard water, maybe?"
"Be right there," came a muffled voice.
A few moments later a figure emerged from the back. She was clad in baggy coveralls, smudged with everything from paint to motor oil. Her long brown hair was tucked up under a ball cap and pony-tailed down the back. Her name tag read P. Benatar.
"What can I do for you today, fellas?"
Dean turned on the charm and smiled. "I’m Agent Tyler, and this is Agent Perry. FBI." They flashed their badges. "We are looking for and address and are having a little trouble with our GPS. Can you tell us where we can find 205 Linden Drive?"
Her gazed narrowed curiously at the two of them and she leaned back against the back counter. "That’s Ronnie’s place."
Dean pulled out a note pad from his pocket. "Yes, ma’am. One Ronnie Churchill. Can you tell us where she is?"
She appeared unimpressed. "Hmm. Sounds serious. What do the feds want with Ronnie?"
Dean tried a more stern approach. "That is confidential, miss. Do you know where we can find her?"
She gave them both an appraising look, then shrugged. "The Churchill residence is just off County Line road. Just take Main Street here and take a left. I believe she’s working right now, but she will be home around seven."
"Where does she work?" Sam asked.
"Oh here and there. Sometimes she takes odd jobs. Works here time to time. You just never know with Ronnie."
"Thanks." Sam and Dean turned to leave.
"Oh, and Agents?"
They stopped and turned to look back at her.
"If you have time to kill, you might want to try the diner. They have great pie."
Fifteen minutes later, they found the house, a nondescript old white farmhouse on the edge of town. Two minutes later they were back in the Impala after confronting an enormous dog in the drive. Seeing as there were no cars in sight, and well, the dog, they decided it best to return to town. And a piece of pie.
Dean pointed his fork at Sam. "That was no dog. That was a woolly horse."
"So what do you think? Big dog, big problems?" Sam asked, glancing away from his laptop screen.
"A girl living alone in the middle of nowhere." Dean shrugged. "Hard telling. Either she has nothing to hide, or everything. I do know one thing though. This is some kind of pie. Auntie Mae’s pie, or something."
"Mm. Dean? You know the hardware store? According to public records, one Veronica Churchill purchased the business a year ago. Could be our girl."
Dean stared into space. "Veroncia. Totally made the Archie comics for me."
The bell on the door of the hardware store chimed.
"Be right out," Ronnie called out. She took a deep breath and tucked the six inch hunting blade into the sheath hidden under the sleeve. Then she grabbed the Glock for good measure, tucking it in the side holster hidden by the coveralls.
The security monitor showed three men in the store. Unfortunately, she knew them well, enough to know they were up to no good. The fact that they were blatantly ignoring the no-contact order was proof of that.
Hence the reinforcements.
She came out from the back room, careful to keep the counter between her and the three men.
"What do you want, Sheldon?"
Wyatt Sheldon tsked, flanked on either side by his mute flunkies. "That’s some customer service you got there, Ronnie. Kinda makes a man feel unwanted."
She gave him a thin smile. "I would have thought the court order would have been your first clue. You’re not supposed to be here. One hundred feet and all that."
Sheldon gave her an appraising look that made her skin crawl. "This is the only hardware store in town, babe. You and I have unfinished business."
"Sheriff O’Conner says differently."
"O’Conner is taking his afternoon siesta and won’t be back for at least an hour."
"Last warning, boys. Take a walk or-"
"Or what?" he sneered.
She pulled out the shotgun from below the counter and cocked it. "Your move, ace." The heck with subtle. Sometimes matters called for bigger props.
The front door chimed once again. "There a problem here?"
Ronnie looked up to see the two agents from that morning. Great. Maybe the odds just went in her favor, or her luck just fell in the toilet. It had been that kind of week.
"None of your business," Sheldon sneered. "I suggest you move along."
Sam ignored him. "Everything OK, miss?"
"Agents Tyler and Perry, right? Perhaps you can explain to these yahoos what a no-contact order means."
Dean gave them his full attention. "Usually means it’s time to leave. Why don’t you fellas run along now?"
Sheldon leaned in over the counter. "Careful, Ronnie. The Feds. Maybe they got wind of what you’ve been doing up there at the farm."
Ronnie leaned in too, leading with the muzzle of the shotgun. "They don’t worry me. I am, however, going to have to explain why you have buckshot in your hide if you don’t turn around and get out of my store. Final warning, boys."
Sheldon blew her a kiss. "Later." He turned and headed back out the door, his two cronies trailing behind him.
"Not if I can help it." She uncocked the shotgun and engaged the safety.
"Pretty gutsy move," Sam said. "Aiming a gun while in the presence of federal officers."
"Not as gutsy as lying to federal officers though," Dean interjected. "Right, Ronnie? Or is it Ms. Benetar? Sometimes I get confused."
She clicked the safety back off, and recocked the shotgun. "What about impersonating federal officers? Really, thanks for the help guys, but if you’re feds, I’ll eat my hat. No way feds drive your ride instead of the usual POS. Tyler and Perry? Maybe you know our employees of the month, Hagar and Van Halen."
"Just take it easy-" Dean began, slowly advancing towards her..
She aimed the shotgun right at his chest, bringing him to an abrupt halt. It was a fluid movement and told him this girl knew her way around the shot gun. The look in her eyes told him she would use it if necessary too.
"All I want is to be left alone. Now who sent you?"
"Ronnie!"
She shot a quick look at the figure in the doorway, giving way to the urge to double take. "Bobby?"
"Yep. These two nincompoops are with me."
She lowered the shotgun. "Well, hell, Bobby. Couldn’t you have just called first?"
She uncocked the gun once again, dropped the gun onto the counter, and all but ran around to the front, throwing herself into his arms.
"You look good, girl. All grown up."
She snorted, extracting herself from a bear hug. "God, I hope so. The last time I saw you I was still shaking my pompoms at the high school football game."
Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.
Bobby nodded towards the brothers. "And these two-"
"-Are Sam and Dean Winchester. I know. I just didn’t realize they were with you."
She gave warm smile to Sam. "Hi, Sam." She then turned to Dean. "Dean."
The way she spat out his name, Dean was pretty sure she was thinking of another four letter name beginning with the letter D. It was as if a cold front just blew through. Which usually meant one thing. They had met before, and she was none too happy to see him again. Crap.
She was all sunshine and smiles as she turned back to Bobby. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."
"So tell me why we’re here."
Her smile lost some of its brilliance. "Not here. They think I’m nutty enough in town. There’s plenty of room at Dad’s place to put you guys up for the night."
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