Author's Note:

Greetings and salutations to you all! This happens to be my very first fanfiction on here and I'm terribly excited to see what you think! This is actually a combined effort between me and my esteemed partner in crime, the very talented Auryonette. I'm posting the first snippet to get a feel of what you all think of it. We've gotten a good bit more already written but we were really curious to see what others thought of the premise. So please read and review and we will be eternally grateful! Thanks so much!!

Disclaimer:

Between Auryonette and I we probably own $5, two old cars, a bunch of books, and a few fat animals. You won't find Dean or Sam in our closets because we don't own them or anything in the Supernatural world. That would all belong to the glorious mind of Eric Kripke and his team. So yes, we don't own a thing. Simply borrowing for the time being. But they may not want them back once we're through with them. One can only hope.

Winnfield, LA

"Another one?" the bartender asked as he took up the two empty bottles.

"Oh yeah," Sam Winchester sighed as he gave the man a small smile.

"In fact," his brother, Dean Winchester, murmured as his face was pressed into the bar itself, "just keep 'em coming."

"Rough night boys?" Two fresh bottles clanked against one another as the bartender opened them up to set before his customers.

"Try rough life," Dean said as he finally lifted his head enough to down half the beer. "Yeah…" he groaned as his face contacted with the bar again, "I'm gonna need something a little bit stronger. Two shots," he held up two fingers, "I don't care what they are as long as it will burn like hell going down."

The bartender raised an eyebrow at Sam before turning to the bottles of liquor lined up behind him.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized, "my brother's just a little cranky today."

"Yeah well you can't tell me you aren't pissed as hell too," Dean mumbled.

"Well no, I'm not happy about it but you know we didn't have any other choice Dean," Sam sighed again as he placed his face in his hands.

There was a slight thud as two shots of brown liquor were plopped down in front of each brother.

"But I didn't…" Sam began.

"These are on the house son," the bartender interrupted him, smiling. "Anything that could cause that kind of look in your eyes certainly demands strong liquor."

At this point, Dean resurfaced to slam back one of the shots in front of him. "And just what kind of look would that be," he demanded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The bartender paused before answering, taking a moment to look each of the boys in the eye. "Well, you look like you just had a part of yourself ripped away." The Winchesters looked at one another and then stared back at the bartender with raised eyebrows. "What I mean is, I see a lot of folks come in here that have problems. Money, work, well pretty much everything. I only see the kind of pain you two are in when someone's lost something dear to their heart. You fellas hadn't been to a funeral have you?"

"No sir, no one died," Sam replied.

"Did your lady friends leave ya?" the bartender asked as he wiped off a mug.

"No, not exactly," Sam answered, shaking his head. He took a deep breath and downed one of his shots. "We kinda left them."

"Well if you're so broken up about it then get off your asses and onto your knees!" the bartender laughed. "You two look a couple of lady killers. I'm sure you could sweet talk your way back into their good graces! Hell, I can't count the number of times I've had to get down and beg to be let back in my house. My wife can be mean as a snake but she always opens the door….eventually."

Sam looked over at his brother who was staring at the contents of his second shot. "Yeah well, that's the problem. We can't go back. It was a conflict with our job you see…"

"Ah hell, you can make money anywhere. It's hard to find a good woman. Were they good to ya?" the bartender asked, leaning forward on his forearms.

"Of course!" Sam exclaimed.

"Pretty?" the bartender winked as he said this.

"Beautiful," Sam sighed.

"Did you love 'em?"

There was a loud clunk as Dean slammed the now empty second shot glass down. "Hell! Of course we did! You think we'd be sitting here like this if we didn't? And damn it!! We shouldn't have. God damn it…" he said as he pushed away from the bar and moved to sit at a dimly lit table in a corner of the room.

"I-I'm sorry son. I didn't know it was such a sensitive subject," the bartender stammered.

"Have you ever had to do something you would give most anything to not have to do?" Sam murmured as he stared at the bottle he was now holding.

"No…I don't think I have."

"Well, I hope you never have to," Sam said as he tossed a few bills on the bar. The bartender watched as he picked up both his and his brother's beers, and moved across the bar to sit across from the young man who was determinedly staring holes in his clenched fists.

"Dean?" Sam asked as he slid into the booth.

"Yeah Sammy, I'm okay. Well no…I'm not, but I'll live I guess," Dean forced a laugh as he looked at his younger brother.

"Why us Dean? Why are we always losing? Losing the things that we need…" his voice trailed off as he lowered his eyes to the table.

Dean took the bottle that Sam handed him, finishing it off in one long swallow. "I don't know Sammy. I just don't know. But I gotta say I'm damn tired of it. Damn tired."

The bartender watched the brothers sporadically as he served other customers, and as the last patron left he flipped the sign from open to closed and walked over to their table in the corner. "Why don't you boys tell me what happened, and maybe we can figure out a way to fix this grave you seem to have dug yourselves into."

Dean covered his face with his hands and muttered, "Yeah. Sure. Good idea…tell the civi what's going on."

The bartender only raised an eyebrow at that and said, "Boy…I might not know you. But I ain't no civi. I heard about some stuff that happened a few states over a month or so ago…couldn't get out there to take care of it myself but I take it you boys got the job done?"

Both Sam and Dean gave him a startled look and they both sputtered, "Are you trying to tell us that you're a hunter?"

"Don't look so surprised boys. You'd be amazed at the jobs you pick up just listening to people yakking away while they're drinking. The other customers think they're just crazy stories, but that's not always the case now is it?" The bartender replied with a grin as he went to the bar and got a fresh bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses. He poured three shots out as he sat down saying, "Consider any drinks we have the rest of the night to be just a few buddies having shots and trading stories. So why don't you two relax and just tell me what happened?"

Sam and Dean traded a look and threw back their shots. Sam said, "It's a bit of a long story, and more than slightly complicated…you sure you wanna hear all this?"

Dean said, "You heard the man! Just tell him what happened and let him laugh at how stupid we are…how we completely and utterly acted like jackasses!" as he banged his hand on the table for emphasis.

The bartender chuckled and said, "Well…I've got all night. So let's have it. Start at the beginning. I'm sure this is going to be a doozy."

The brothers muttered, "You got that right." Sam heaved a sigh and started, "Well I guess it all started about two months ago…we got wind of some strange stuff happening in Savannah, Georgia."