Sam Winchester stared straight ahead. He concentrated on the dartboard in the far corner of the room, trying to add up what the possibility of scoring a bullseye was. He was tired… Really tired. Still he waited patiently for his brother to give up on the night. As he slumped down into his seat further he glanced into his half-empty beer bottle, the second of the night.

'Not nearly enough,' he thought to himself before taking a long swig, leaving only the backwash in the glass container.

He chanced a look over to the bar and saw what he had expected; Dean on his sixth bottle, brushing his hand through the blonde hair of what looked like a teenage girl. Sam sighed and smirked, this girl was new, the third one tonight and most definitely not the last.

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It took another hour before Dean remembered his brother was still in the room. He staggered drunkenly through the ever-thinning crowd to the small table where Sam sat alone.

Sam knew his brother was coming when he heard someone behind him burp loudly before bursting into the giggles, he couldn't help but laugh as well.

"M-man, you gotta see this chick!" Dean slurred and glanced back to the bar. "I think her name's Britney or something."

Sam couldn't help but look back at the bar also to see the woman. It wasn't the teenage blonde from before, but a mature-looking red head that sat with her hands in her pockets and her feet crossed. She looked sensible enough, what she saw in Dean was anyone's guess.

"Dude, you stink," was Sam's response. "How many have you had?"

"Girls?"

"No, Dean, beers."

"Uh, I dunno. Um… Like a few," Dean thought out loud. He lifted his hand up into the air and bringing down one finger at a time, miming numbers. There must have been more beers than fingers because he scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you ready to go?" Sam asked.

"You know, Sam, there's a really good chance that I won't be going home with you. You're not my type."

With that Dean laughed and stumbled back to the girl waiting for him on the bar. Sam rolled his eyes but stayed seated. After the things he'd been through in the last year all he wanted to do was stay near his brother. It had been thirteen months since Dean had made the deal to save Sam's life, a month since he was supposed to have been taken to hell. That is if Sam hadn't intervened, if he hadn't worked tirelessly to get his sibling off the hook, if he hadn't refused to give up without a fight. He had found a loophole and he had saved Dean for a change. It felt good. The crossroad demon was dead, of course she wasn't the only demon of that breed, but she was the one that wanted Dean's soul and right now that was the only one that mattered. Sam had since made as much effort as he could to appreciate his big brother, although it was hard to respect him when he was stumbling all over himself drunk. It was entertaining though.

Sam had made a game for himself; he tried to guess which one of the many bar girls Dean would go home with. Tonight he had known the blonde wouldn't last, but the redhead maybe.

He looked back up to the dartboard but noticed that he could no longer see it. A girl stood in between him and the wall. He watched her move her hips to the music, a slow beat that complemented her dancing ability. She noticed him staring at her and smiled sweetly directly at him. The first thing Sam noticed about her when he could get over her overwhelming dance ability was her height, she had to be at least 5'9. She had shoulder-length, dyed black hair that swept across her forehead, covering her left eye. The visible eye was the colour of an ocean, not green, but not quite blue with dark eye make-up underlining it. Her skin was pale but seemed lighter due to the fact that she wore all dark colours. A navy blue 'Ramones' T-shirt covered some sort of green long-sleeved shirt, black skinny jeans and a black, studded belt was her entire ensemble. She wasn't thin, but she wasn't adipose either, she was solid, curvy.

She picked up her bottle of water and started toward his table.

'No, don't come here. I wasn't undressing you with my eyes, I promise.' He silently pleaded with her; trying to rationalise the fact that he was attracted to her physically, and he was, in fact, undressing her with his eyes. It had been a long time since he had really undressed a woman, and that had ended exceptionally badly.

"Hi," the woman chirped at him. "Is someone sitting here?"

She pointed at the empty seat on the other side of his table.

"Uh, no."

"Good," she breathed, sitting down next him and putting her full bottle next to his empty one. "I'm exhausted, I've been dancing for ages."

"Yeah, I noticed," he replied in a suave voice. "You looked really good… I mean not that I was watching you, I wasn't. You might not have been dancing well at all… but you were. Oh God, I'm sorry."

She smiled at him, it wasn't a flirtatious smile, but a sympathetic one. She raised her hand for him to shake.

"Don't even worry about it. I'm Imogen, I was watching you first."

Sam took her hand and shook slowly, thankful that she had saved him from a potentially embarrassing situation. He smiled at her kindly.

"I'm Sam."

"Nice to meet you Sam," Imogen replied.

"You have a really unusual accent," he pointed out. "Where are you from?"

"I was raised in Melbourne, at the bottom end of Australia. I moved here a few years ago."

"I've always wanted to visit Australia," he confided. "I just never got around to it. I wanted to see Sydney."

"Australia's beautiful," she leaned closer to his ear. "But just between us, Sydney's a dump."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So, Sam," she started to change the subject. "Why are you sitting here all alone? You don't look like socialising kind. No offence."

"None taken," he smiled at her. "My brother dragged me here, he's decided to see how much he can drink before he vomits on his female friend. How come are you here, dancing all by yourself?"

"My friend decided that I needed some down time, although I think she's getting more action than she bargained for."

Imogen leaned towards Sam and pointed to the bar. She pointed to the red-head, who now had her hand on Dean's knee.

"That's my friend, Adelaide," her smile widened. "She hasn't been in a relationship in a while."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. Her name wasn't even close to Britney; it started with an entirely different letter.

"What?" Imogen asked as if she was being kept out of a huge secret.

"That's my brother she's with."

"No way!" She exclaimed. "That's so weird."

It was then that Sam noticed the ring on Imogen's left hand. On her ring finger no less. It was white gold and had a moderately sized diamond in it. He wasn't sure whether to ask about it or not, but it made him feel a little strange about flirting with her. It wasn't really the kind of thing you ask someone you just met, but the last thing Sam wanted was her outraged fiancée jumping him in the car park. Somehow this situation didn't lessen his attraction to her but he decided it was best to ask about it.

"Are you engaged?" Sam asked bluntly.

Suddenly her smile faded, the first time since she had swayed into his company and he instantly regretted asking her.

"Sorry," he exclaimed. "I didn't mean to…"

"No," she cut him off. "It's okay, um, it's hard to explain. I'd rather not talk about it though, if that's okay?"

"Of course," he said. "It's none of my business."

She forced a smile and leaned her head sideways.

"I can't believe that's your brother."

Her attempt to lighten the mood worked slightly. The two talked long into the night, without delving too deeply into each other's personal lives.