st. louis brewery

“Johnston’s Branch Adjoining Saloon, St. Louis, Missouri, 5/1910″

From the series: National Child Labor Committee Photographs taken by Lewis Hine, ca. 1912 - ca. 1912

Taken by investigative photographer Lewis Hine 105 years ago this month, this photograph is one of a series of black-and-white prints given to the Children’s Bureau by the National Child Labor Committee.  

See this photograph on display and learn more about the U.S. Government’s changing approach towards alcohol at the newest exhibit at the National Archives Museum in Washington, DC: Spirited Republic: Alcohol in American History

Eleven Weeks - Part 3

A/N: Here’s a new one I’ve had in my mind for a bit.  Hope you like it!!

Reader x ????  - The reader is called in on a case at the most trying of times.  When she runs into the Winchester’s.  

Words: 1298

Warnings: Cursing, vampire killings, mentions of sexual acts

Tagging: @satan-squared @ravenalcutter @1967-wayward @kittenofcastiels@sincerelysaraahh @supernaturalimagine @supernaturalfreewill @spn–fics@thedepthsoffandomminds @winchester-writes

Part One  Part Two

“The Winchester’s?”  I questioned, disbelief evident in each syllable.  The shorter of the two who I now knew to be Dean, plastered a large and comical smile across his face.  Made up entirely of ego and bad jokes.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked himself onto his heels.  

  Sam grimaced at his brother, shaking his head as he reached his hand out to me.  “I’m Sam,” he said. “This is my brother, Dean.”  He jerked his thumb back towards the smiling dolt as I placed my hand firmly in his, taking care to squeeze just firm enough to be impressive.

  “I’m Y/N.”  I paused.  My eyes locked onto his electrifying hazel eyes and I felt my lungs stutter.  Yanking my hand out of his, I took a breath and darted my eyes back to Dean.  “Sorry about the mix up back there.  I had it handled though.  Sorry for any trouble it caused you.”

  “No trouble at all, sweetheart.  I like a woman who can handle her equipment.”  Dean’s eyebrows jutted upwards in that smarmy way men who think they’re clever always seem to.  I rolled my eyes in response, shaking my head as I closed the trunk and pulled the keys out of my back pocket.  

  “Right. Well I should probably hit the road.”

   Sam reached out towards me, his hand grazing my shoulder and my heart forgot to beat.  Instinctively, I pulled my arm from his grasp, gasping as I did so.  “Always another big bad just down the road,” I chuckled sadly.

  “You sure?”  Sam asked, his eyebrows squishing together as his eyes reeled mine in like they were caught in a tractor beam.  “We’ve got a hotel room not too far away.  Take it.  You could use some rest after that.”  His lips curled into a sincere smile, but his eyes were still full of concern.

  “Yeah,” Dean said sauntering up to me again.  “I’m a sharer. But I get the side of the bed closest to the door.”  He threw in a little wink as he held his hands up in a half-shrug.

   I bit my lip and gave him a shy smile. “Okay,” I said, gently pressing my arm against his chest.  “But I’m a screamer, and I like to cuddle.”  Dean’s eyes looked as if they were straining to stay in their sockets as his smile widened.  “Oh it’s on,” he whispered towards Sam.  

  Splaying my fingers out across Dean’s chest, I shoved him back hard enough that he lost his footing and ended up on the ground, his hands and ass kicking up dirt from the side of the road.  “Have any of those cheesy ass one-liners ever actually worked on a woman?” My words were accusatory and loud.

  “Every time!” Dean yelled, getting back up to his feet. I glared at him, arms crossing my chest and my eyebrows raised, awaiting an honest answer. “A few times,” he modified as he began dusting himself off.

  “And those women need some serious therapy and a strong dose of self-esteem.”  

  Sam was roaring with laughter, patting his brother’s shoulder forcefully.  “Dude!”  

  “Thanks for the offer, Sam. But I really can’t stay.  I was heading to another job when Garth so thoughtfully tagged my GPS and asked me to take care of this one, so…”  

   “What’s the job?”  Sam asked.

   “A haunting.  Down in St. Louis.  An old brewery.”  

   “Really?”  Sam asked.

   “Yeah.  Nothing huge, but it’s getting a lot of attention. Figured I’d-”

   “Are you talking about the old Lemp Brewery?” Dean interrupted.  I nodded in response.

   “Dude, that place is nothing.  We checked it out years ago. It’s just a tourist trap.  Sorry, kid.  No dice.”  

    “Yeah?” I asked defensively.  “Tell that to the two other hunters that ended up in the looney bin last week after going in.” I walked to my driver’s side door and slid the key into the lock, unlatching the handle and pulling it open.

    Sam and Dean looked at each other, both puzzled. “It was clean back then,” Sam said, still focused on Dean.  “Well, not anymore.”  

   “Alright,” Dean announced after a moment, clapping his hands together in front of him.  “Let’s do it.”

   “Woah,” I uttered, slamming the door closed again.  “What?”

   “We’re on board.  We’ll head out now, all drive together.” Dean declared.

   “Uh uh, no way.  I don’t do this ‘we’ bullshit.”  My words were assertive and absolutely final.  

   “Y/N, come on.  We can just meet you down there.  It’s no big deal.  In and out.  It’s probably just a gimmick anyway.  Some employee rigging the joint with old wiring or something.” Sam elaborated.

   “There’s no 'we’, Sam.  I work alone.”  I could almost feel my eyes glassing over and welling. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed again as he tilted his head ever so slightly and squinted. We stared at each other, neither willing to back down until Dean walked up, resting one hand on each of our shoulders.

  “Fine,” he placated.  “How about a drink then?  One drink….Then we’re out of your hair.”

  “One drink?” I verified.

  “Yeah.  Go down to the bar, have a drink together, then all you’ll see of us will be taillights.  What do ya say?”  I dipped my head in silent agreement.

  “Alright.”  Sam stepped in front of me, grasping the door handle to the driver’s side door and opening it up, gesturing for me to take a seat.  Slowly, I did.  “Same place as last night?”  He asked, closing the door. I nodded.

   Before another word or plan could be uttered, I turned the ignition and threw the car into gear, tearing ass down the road and back towards the bar.  I hadn’t worked as a team in years and for good reason.  Sam and Dean, they seemed to always stay stuck to each other like magnets.  And from what I’d heard, it’d gotten them into quite a lot of trouble.  The bloody kind.  But here I was.  Driving towards a bar to have drinks with the Winchester’s.  I must have been losing it.  

  Within a few minutes, I was pulling back into the parking lot of the Winner’s Circle and pulling up a stool at the bar.  The bartender tonight was new.  Jade and James must have had the night off.  

  “What can I get you?”  A tall, bulky man with a full beard down to his chest came up to me, as he rang his hands around a rag, a bandana tied around his head.  

  “Whiskey. Straight.” I said, taking a seat.

  “Make it three,” Dean said, pulling the stool next to me under him as Sam took his place on my other side.  “And keep 'em coming.” He tossed a hundred dollar bill across the bar and towards the bartender.

  “That doesn’t sound like just one drink to me,” I observed, taking a swig of my freshly poured drink.

  “What’s your story?” Dean asked bluntly, wrapping his fingers around his own glass. “Dean!” Sam chastised from the other side of me.  My only answer to Dean’s question was silence.  

  “Here’s my thinking.” He took a gulp from his glass.  “You used to hunt as a duo.  Big guy.  Handsome.  Like me.  Only he didn’t know what he was doing.”  Another swig from his glass.  “Got careless, got ghosted.  And now here you are. Am I close?”  

  I downed the rest of my drink, made eye contact with the bartender and pointed down to it, signaling a refill.  “What, so you know a woman for half an hour and decide you’re supposed to get her life story?  Not happening, slugger.”  My glass was filled and emptied again within the span of minutes.  “Thanks for the drink.”  I turned on my stool and stood up quickly, making a break for the car.