Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners. I do not own any of them.
"Supernatural" characters created by Eric Kripke
Title: What the Night Brings
Summary: Darla/John Winchester FFA What the Night Brings
The shot gun blast was loud and it kicked like a mule. John Winchester quickly reloaded the weapon and moved forward where the body lay motionless on the ground.
“Damn scum,” he cursed wiping the sweat from his brow.
The creature’s claw twitched and it took in a great breath. Without a moments hesitation John swung the shotgun at the beasts head and pulled the trigger. Its head exploded into a million pieces, sending a cascade of bone fragments and gray matter everywhere. He blinked and then with a callous hand wiped the gore from his face.
“Well at least that’s over,” he muttered.
With a sigh he unloaded the gun and tossed it into the back of the old Ford he was driving. ‘Old like me,’
he thought. ‘Getting tired and a little worn out.’
Shifting the car into gear he pointed it in the direction of his motel. Her memory was starting to burn again, like it always did after a hunt. He needed to get cleaned up and then find a local dive as soon as possible. He needed to make the pain stop.
The bar was dimly lit and clouds of smoke drifted among the tables. It was packed for a Tuesday. That is to say that there were all of ten people filling the place, far from capacity. In the corner the jukebox was spitting out old Leonard Skynard tunes and at the bar people were watching a Reds game.
He noticed the blonde the second she walked through the door. She seemed uncomfortable and out of place. Not the kind of lady you would expect to meet in a place like this. She was dressed casually in jeans and a silky blue button down, looking for all the world like his Mary. He took a swig of his beer as he watched her walk across the room and take a seat at the bar.
John finished off his drink and headed to the bar for another.
“Another beer?” the bartender asked.
“Yup,” John said.
“What kind you want?”
“Cold and in a bottle,” John said.
The bartender reached under the bar and pulled up a bottle of Blue Ribbon and handed it to the customer as he took his money.
“Not much of a talker, are ya?” the blonde asked.
“Nope,” John took a swig of his beer.
“What would it take to get you to buy me a drink?” she asked.
“Just you asking,” John smiled. “Bartender get the lady a drink.”
“Wine please,” she said. “Red.”
“Name’s John,” he extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you John,” she said shaking his hand. “Call me Darla.”
“Darla,” he said. “Care to join me at my table?”
“Delighted,” she purred.
They got their drinks and went back to John’s table to get to know each other. John told her some stories about his travels and she shared her dreams of writing children’s books. “They’re just so tender at that age,” she said. “So sweet that I could eat them up.”
“I know what you mean,” he said.
“I doubt it,” she said.
“What was that,” he slurred.
“Nothing. Go on,” she leaned forward, her eyes wide and gleaming.
“It’s just that Dean was so curious at that age,” he said. “So innocent. I wish that they could be that way again.”
“Everyone has to grow up sometime,” Darla took his hand in hers.
“I know,” he sighed. “I just wish that it had happened differently. I mean a kid needs his mother. Not some old drunk like me.”
“You’re not old,” Darla whispered into his ear. “Drunk yes, but not old.”
“Not old,” he repeated.
“No,” she ran her hand along his thigh. “Not old.”
The bartender pointed at a sign and then at the door. “I think that’s the signal to leave,” she giggled.
“Yup,” John said as he pulled himself up and out of the chair. “Well it was good that I met you.”
“Same here,” she said. “If you want to talk some more, we could maybe go back to your place.”
“I don’t know,” he hesitated. “It’s been awhile.”
“For me too,” she pressed herself up against him not wanting to let him go.
He took her in his arms and gently kissed her lips. They tasted nice if a little cold. “You sure?” he asked.
She responded by kissing him again, this time longer and deeper.
“Whoa,” he said slipping his arm around her waist. “Okay.”
It was a clear night. The moon was full and stars littered the sky. Traffic could be heard off in the distance. It’s sound filtering though the trees and rock that lined the interstate.
They decided to walk the three blocks to the motel where John was staying; partially to sober up and partially to get to know each other better. By the time they reached his room they were walking hand in hand, afraid of breaking the tenuous bond they shared.
“Mary,” John whispered as she kissed him.
“Yes John,” Darla murmured. “Believe. It’s me. Mary. I’ve missed you for so long.”
He pulled her close and wrapped his burly arms around her small frame. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever had faith in,” he choked. “Then you died. I thought you were gone forever. I’ve raised Dean and Sam the best I could.”
“Hush now,” she whispered stroking his hair. “I’m here now. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here.”
He let her lead him to the bed and fell into her welcoming arms. The love they made was hard and fast. She made demands on his body that took him close to the edge but refused him release.
“Mary,” he muttered as they lay fading off to sleep.
“Yes John?” she asked, running her hand through the hair on his chest.
“I love you,” he said. “I always will.”
Darla waited until he was asleep then she slipped from beneath the sheets and quickly dressed. She rifled through his wallet taking what cash she could find and two of the seven credit cards. An American Express and a VISA gold card, not bad for a nights haul. She was slightly surprised that there was a different name on each card, but as long as they still worked she did not really care.
“What kind of man are you John Winchester?” she wondered aloud as she watched him sleep.
“A good man,” said a voice from behind her.
She morphed into full game face and spun quickly around trying to locate the source of the voice.
“A strong man,” the voice continued. “One that raised two boys on the road after their mother was murdered, raised them into strong young men.”
“Where are you,” Darla hissed. “Who are you? I like to know the names of the people I kill.”
The disembodied head of a woman appeared followed by her body. “Mary Winchester,” she said stiffly. “And you are?”
Darla laughed as her face morphed back into its human semblance. “The little wife’s jealous is she? My, I wonder what she’s going to do.”
“I won’t allow you to hurt him, vampire,” she said.
“Wasn’t going to,” Darla said. “Now I don’t know.”
She leapt toward the bed just as John turned in his sleep. A flare of white light sprang up from his wedding band knocking her back into a wall and forming a barrier between them.
“What the hell!” she exclaimed. “What the hell was that?”
“Faith,” Mary said. “Simple faith.”
Darla jumped to her feet and looked wildly around for a way out. “I’m not sure what’s going on,” she said. “But I’m not hanging around to find out.”
Mary watched the vampire ran out the door and down the street just as the sun began to rise. After a moment she drifted over to the bed and looked down on the sleeping form of her husband. A deep sadness welled up within her and phantom tears sprang to her eyes.
“I love you John,” she said running her hand along his face. “I always will.”
She faded away as the first rays of the morning sun fell through the window. Crossover: