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It's not Mary Sue if I'm the villain, right?
Besides, it's not like the siren (Oops! Spoiler!) has to sound like me, it's just that I came up with the song in the context of the story and who the frell else was I supposed to get to sing it?
"Another One Bites the Dust" blares from the speakers in Dean's car as they speed down an unspecified highway. Sam grimaces as Dean starts to sing along in that quiet, slightly off-key way that had been annoying Sam since they were kids watching Sesame Street. Of course, Dad had put a stop to that right quick once he finally got around to noticing that monsters were the good guys on that show.
"Aaaaand another one gone and another one gone and another one bites the dust."
"How about this one?" Sam picks a random story off the webpage he's looking at in the hopes of getting his brother to shut the hell up already. "Three mysterious disappearances, all occurring during the most recent full moon."
Dean grunts.
"Could be our kind of problem?"
"Sure," Dean says, "how about the full moon before last?"
Sam checks. "Nothing," he sighs. Sam is already checking back as far as the online archive goes when Dean asks, "And the one before that?"
"Nothing similar for the past 5 years. Could be a new one?"
"Werewolves are old, not new," Dean points out a bit too smugly, "Try again, Sammy."
"It's Sam." Sam mutters, wondering why he'd expect Dean to be anything other than smug.
Dean is blessedly silent as Sam searches the local newspapers on his laptop.
"Here's something-- five fishermen drowned in the ocean."
"So their boat sunk."
Sam rolls his eyes. "They weren't in boats, and they didn't all drown at the same time. It's been happening over the past few years."
"This isn't gonna be like that dead kid in the lake is it?"
"I thought you liked kids."
"Yeah, when they're alive."
"I see, so you're prejudiced against dead people."
"Hell, yes."
"Well the dead fishermen would like you to know that they all visited the same bar the night that they died and that the same woman was performing there, each time."
"And this woman… is she hot?"
Sam ignores him. "And people in the area reported hearing 'eerie music' on the nights that each of the men died."
"Is this in a bunch of articles?"
"Just the one. The reporter is compiling all the commonalities between the cases after the latest, Marvin Jelevsky drowned about a week ago."
"The biggest commonality being that they're all fishermen who can, presumably, swim?"
"Yup."
"Alright, at the very least we'll get to interview the singing chick, who I'm thinking… is gonna be hot."
"I so called it." Dean says as they enter the bar, creatively named "Joe's". The woman is at the rear of the smoky, dimly lit room on a stage that would be more accurately described as a platform. The mic and stand appear to be mostly for show because when she sings no noise comes out of the small speakers by the door. Not that she needs amplification, because the sound of her voice travels across the room with no trouble at all.
Darlin' you're stealin' my eyes away,
And darlin' you're takin' my skys away,
And darlin', don't you know I'm yours?
A trip to the local newspaper that afternoon had yielded many a rave review for the tall, slender redhead who had arrived on the scene just two months before the first suspicious drowning. Agatha Lopé performed at Joe's every Saturday night like clockwork, but the majority of Saturday nights were free of drownings.
"Well, suppose you're a siren who wants to lure men to their deaths," Sam had said, "if you take one every week, people are going to notice."
"And what? Run you out of town with pitchforks? In the Greek legend, they lured sailors to their deaths. Maybe she only kills the guys who work on boats."
Saw you dancin' with the devil,
Under a hunter's moon,
Heard you singin' with Satan,
'Bout how the end couldn't come too soon.
"She's looking right at us," Sam murmurs.
Dean smirks, "Well, she's looking right at me, I think you just happen to be standing close by."
"Dude, if she's a siren…"
"Then she's not interested in us because we know jack about boats."
Darlin' I know what you'd do to me,
And darlin' ain't I what you've come to see,
And darlin' don't you know I'm yours?
And in that moment Dean meets her eyes and sees a bird? With a woman's head? And breasts? Her lips curl into a vicious smile.
"That song was for Dean and Sam," she coos to the appreciative audience, "Do you boys want to hear another?"
Dean wordlessly takes the proffered earplugs from Sam's hand.
ETA: Defunct GeoCities is defunct, so you have to download (and probably crank up the volume) if you want to hear the song, sorry.
"Another One Bites the Dust" blares from the speakers in Dean's car as they speed down an unspecified highway. Sam grimaces as Dean starts to sing along in that quiet, slightly off-key way that had been annoying Sam since they were kids watching Sesame Street. Of course, Dad had put a stop to that right quick once he finally got around to noticing that monsters were the good guys on that show.
"Aaaaand another one gone and another one gone and another one bites the dust."
"How about this one?" Sam picks a random story off the webpage he's looking at in the hopes of getting his brother to shut the hell up already. "Three mysterious disappearances, all occurring during the most recent full moon."
Dean grunts.
"Could be our kind of problem?"
"Sure," Dean says, "how about the full moon before last?"
Sam checks. "Nothing," he sighs. Sam is already checking back as far as the online archive goes when Dean asks, "And the one before that?"
"Nothing similar for the past 5 years. Could be a new one?"
"Werewolves are old, not new," Dean points out a bit too smugly, "Try again, Sammy."
"It's Sam." Sam mutters, wondering why he'd expect Dean to be anything other than smug.
Dean is blessedly silent as Sam searches the local newspapers on his laptop.
"Here's something-- five fishermen drowned in the ocean."
"So their boat sunk."
Sam rolls his eyes. "They weren't in boats, and they didn't all drown at the same time. It's been happening over the past few years."
"This isn't gonna be like that dead kid in the lake is it?"
"I thought you liked kids."
"Yeah, when they're alive."
"I see, so you're prejudiced against dead people."
"Hell, yes."
"Well the dead fishermen would like you to know that they all visited the same bar the night that they died and that the same woman was performing there, each time."
"And this woman… is she hot?"
Sam ignores him. "And people in the area reported hearing 'eerie music' on the nights that each of the men died."
"Is this in a bunch of articles?"
"Just the one. The reporter is compiling all the commonalities between the cases after the latest, Marvin Jelevsky drowned about a week ago."
"The biggest commonality being that they're all fishermen who can, presumably, swim?"
"Yup."
"Alright, at the very least we'll get to interview the singing chick, who I'm thinking… is gonna be hot."
* * *
"I so called it." Dean says as they enter the bar, creatively named "Joe's". The woman is at the rear of the smoky, dimly lit room on a stage that would be more accurately described as a platform. The mic and stand appear to be mostly for show because when she sings no noise comes out of the small speakers by the door. Not that she needs amplification, because the sound of her voice travels across the room with no trouble at all.
Darlin' you're stealin' my eyes away,
And darlin' you're takin' my skys away,
And darlin', don't you know I'm yours?
A trip to the local newspaper that afternoon had yielded many a rave review for the tall, slender redhead who had arrived on the scene just two months before the first suspicious drowning. Agatha Lopé performed at Joe's every Saturday night like clockwork, but the majority of Saturday nights were free of drownings.
"Well, suppose you're a siren who wants to lure men to their deaths," Sam had said, "if you take one every week, people are going to notice."
"And what? Run you out of town with pitchforks? In the Greek legend, they lured sailors to their deaths. Maybe she only kills the guys who work on boats."
Saw you dancin' with the devil,
Under a hunter's moon,
Heard you singin' with Satan,
'Bout how the end couldn't come too soon.
"She's looking right at us," Sam murmurs.
Dean smirks, "Well, she's looking right at me, I think you just happen to be standing close by."
"Dude, if she's a siren…"
"Then she's not interested in us because we know jack about boats."
Darlin' I know what you'd do to me,
And darlin' ain't I what you've come to see,
And darlin' don't you know I'm yours?
And in that moment Dean meets her eyes and sees a bird? With a woman's head? And breasts? Her lips curl into a vicious smile.
"That song was for Dean and Sam," she coos to the appreciative audience, "Do you boys want to hear another?"
Dean wordlessly takes the proffered earplugs from Sam's hand.
ETA: Defunct GeoCities is defunct, so you have to download (and probably crank up the volume) if you want to hear the song, sorry.