Title: Long Tongued Liar
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and no profit is being made from the use of them.
Spoilers: All of SPN and the entire Movie “The Prophecy.”Synopsis: Harvelle’s Roadhouse has had some interesting and deadly things grace its small corner of the Earth but it and its owner had never encountered anything as interesting or as deadly as him.
Long Tongued Liar…
The chair scratched across the scarred floorboards, echoing in the silence of an AM hour in her bar. She straightened, flannel shirt gapping as Ellen reached for another to be taken from the small tabletop, twisted in midair before setting it to the ground and repeating the same horrible noise. The manual labor, the simple motions were contained and almost graceful as she repeated the process for each of the eight tables set sporadically out across the Roadhouse.
Her eyes scanned the shuttered room and watched, as bits of dust floated down, looking oddly beautiful as they caught what little light had leeched its way inside. Her brows lowered, face pulling down into a frown as the door opened flooding the room with sunlight and ruining the illusion. She shoved the last chair under the table and smoothed her hands over the worn back before calling out.
“We don’t open ‘til noon.”
“The door was unlocked.”
Her hands stilled, stomach dropping as her fingers dug into the wood of the chair in retaliation of the smooth voice. Frowning, she glanced to the bar, debating on reaching for the bottle of bleach she had been using to sanitize the bar top. Bleach blinded just about anything that took human form.
“I wouldn’t be so rude to a customer Mrs. Harvelle.”
Her back straightened and she turned her head slowly to look at the creature filling her door way. His head cocked, slicked back hair catching the sunlight as blue eyes narrowed, lips quirking. Tan hands rose, a flash of metallic black coated his fingernails as he smoothed the lines of his jacket, pulled it tight across a compact frame. He stepped over the threshold, skimming the edge of the devils trap inked into the floorboards years ago by a worried Bobby and directly up to the bar. He kept his back to her, still and patient.
Ellen released the chair and stepped back, eyes trained on the figure as she fought the rolling in her stomach, the voice whispering she had no weapon and she contemplated bolting for the now free exit. The base of her spine itched with the urge to do just that and her worn boots lifted, legs preparing for the flight as his smooth voice filled her bar once more.
“I would lay you flat and fill your mouth with William’s excrements before you reached the outside, Ellen.” Humiliation and fear chased their way up from her stomach to fight like hellcats at the back of her throat. He turned, giving her his profile. “A drink, a few words and I’ll go but if you anger me, Ellen.”
His lips pulled back baring sharp white teeth as his voice left the threat unsaid but his smile, the flash of joy in the darkness of his gaze spoke it better than any words. He welcomed the thought of her fighting him, giving him a reason. She swallowed her pride, her fear and moved behind the bar.
“What’ll it be?” Her voice was softer than usual but it held steady and her tone clearly told him to fuck off.
She nodded and turned, grabbing the bottle of rye whiskey and a lowball glass. She placed both on the counter and slid the open the door of the cooler to her right. Welcomed the goosebumps that chased their way up her arm as her fingers wrapped around the chilled plastic scooper.
Her fingers clenched at the sound of his voice but she nodded and rose, pouring him a straight glass and slid it across the two feet of wood separating them. His left hand rose tracing his index finger along the edge before dipping it in the amber liquid. He caught her gaze and pulled it free to lick the sharpened tip of his nail clean.
He smiled. “You are a beautiful woman.”
Her lips thinned and she stepped closer to the bar. Closer to the shotgun she kept strapped beneath it. “There a reason you showed up on my door step?”
“You’re daughter is a beautiful woman.”
Her arms rose, fingers splaying across the bar’s edge and hands directly above the weapon. “You’re reason for being here?”
His hands darted forward covering hers and pushing them into the scarred wood. He stood, pressing her hands into the bar top until she felt the bones shift. Her teeth ground together and she swallowed the pained sound trying to escape.
“Ellen, please.” He leaned forward pushed his face into hers and a cold sweat slid down her spine.
“Speak your piece and then get the hell out of my bar.”
He smiled, a barring of teeth outlined by black tinted lips. He leaned forward, pushed her hands tighter against the bar. “Careful.” His face aligned with hers, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered. “Arrogance will make you mine and false bravado will get you eviscerated.”
Her shoulders tightened into knots and her head jerked at the sound of a hissing cat. Her eyes widened at the sight of the creature perched along the far end of the bar. Tattered robes hung off the emaciated frame, white flesh pulled tight across high cheek bones and across its eyes black barbwire encircle its head in a perverse halo. Its colorless lips peeled back as another hiss slid past curved yellow teeth.
The one holding her in place turned his head, released a shriek that rivaled a lion and the creature shank back. Painful whimpers and clicking nails filled the void left behind after his cry as it hurried into the shadows and left them alone. Ellen’s breath eased out as goosebumps worked their way up her spine and she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
Terror filled her throat as she ground out. “What do you want?”
“What am I?”
She jerked her head back from him, “What?”
“Why do you talking monkeys always answer a question with a question when you’re confused?” He released her hands, picked up his drink and absently sipped it. His eyes stayed on Ellen, daring her to reach for the shotgun. “What am I dear, Ellen?”
She stepped back from the bar eyes sweeping her bar with a calculated gaze. They landed on the creature settled atop the jukebox. Sightless face turned toward her and she ignored it, ignored the useless weapon strapped beneath her bar and focused on the threat in front of her.
Her brows lowered, lips thinning. “Then I don’t know.”
The curved nail of his index finger tapped the side of his glass. “What is evil but not a demon?”
She paused with the riddle, faint memories of Bobby’s warnings melting together into gibberish inside her head. She crossed her arms, fingers digging into her forearms to ground herself, steady her voice. “Man.”
His gaze caught hers and Ellen was struck by the beauty of his features and she blinked, shook herself as he chuckled. “I have never known the taste of a soul that was my own.”
Realization dawned; she took a step back, eyes going wide. “You’re one of the fallen.”
He shook his head, finished his drink and threw it at the wall behind her. She felt the scrape of glass as it passed her temple and the lowball tumbler shattered. She flinched at the sound and watched him smile. “I am not one of. I am thee.”
She swallowed the bile burning the back of her throat. “That’s not possible…”
“What?” His voice lashed out, overriding hers. “I should be in hell? Icy chains holding me in eternity?” His lips quirked, “You wish.” He arched a brow, cocked his head. “On second thought, make a wish. Let me make it come true sweet, beautiful Ellen. You know I can.”
“For a price.”
“Nothing is free. Not even love.”
Ellen’s eyes narrowed, “What do you know of love?”
His hand lashed out, fingers like steel encircled her chin and drew Ellen forward against her will. She felt the tremor of rage slither up his arm and he dug the sharpened tip of his nail into her jaw. “I loved HIM. Like HE loves all you talking monkeys.”
She inhaled slowly through her nose, making and keeping eye contact as she answered slowly, “My mistake.”
He released her quickly and suddenly. “Let it be your last.”
She nodded, took a step back from the bar, from him. Ignored the warmth trickling down her throat and the hungry way his gaze tracked the line of crimson. “You wanted to words with me. So lets hear’em.”
“So brave.” He smiled. “I am currently in possession of a soul that does not belong with me and I wish to trade.” As her eyes widened, he arched a brow and shook his head at her quick assumption. “It’s not your William.”
Her brows dropped, “Then whose is…” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed as a name leapt to the forefront of her thoughts. “John.” She took another step away from the bar violently shaking her head, “I won’t help you get his boys.”
“I don’t want his boys. I just want to speak with them.”
“What’s stopping you?”
The easy smile slid from his face. “They're not tainted enough. I need them to summon me.” He cocked his head, caught Ellen’s gaze and trapped it. “Which is the only reason you’re still breathing.”
“I won’t help you.”
“Yes, you will or I’ll my next visit will be to sweet little Jo.” He licked his lips, “Her tempers quicker than yours isn’t Ellen?”
“Leave her be.”
“Deliver the message and I have no need of her.”
Ellen felt her insides twist with revulsion and her eyes fill with tears as she dropped her chin in agreement. His lips spread and he inclined his head in thanks as the screen door was shoved open and the tears fell silently at the sight of Sam and Dean. They paused in the entryway; gazes locked on the creature in front of her as he pushed himself away from the bar and began to stroll casually past them. She flicked her gaze to the jukebox to see the space above it lay empty his frightening companion had vanished just as silently as it had appeared.
Sam and Dean stepped inside and away from the door allowing him to pass and he paused, turned back to woman standing helpless behind the bar and called her name.
“Ellen.” She turned away from the empty shadows, caught sight of the mirroring darkness within his gaze as he smiled. “Keep the light on for me.”
The screen door slammed with a resolute bang and Ellen wiped her face with the back of her hand before reading two Millers. She’d give them John’s boys the message. She had too. She just wasn’t sure when.