Usually things have their way of coming back to normal sooner or later. Sometimes it happens immediately, sometimes it takes a little bit longer but it does. And although after what happened to the Harvelle's Roadhouse many hunters were trying not to be seen in larger groups, let alone having a permanent place to come back to, it was a natural course of things.

It was Miles' idea. After all, there aren't many career options for retired hunters. Or retired hunters. But he got out, left the job to the next generation and opened a bar.

They started coming in twos and threes, always careful and never staying long, just to have a beer and exchange information, maybe find a new gig. And very slowly Miles', or Milo's, as everyone called him because he could get you pretty much anything if you asked nicely, became the next Roadhouse. Hunters only. In a small town like that rumors spread quickly and soon everyone knew that those people were no good, although nobody really knew why.

There were a few kids who tried to find out, but they were greeted by silence and unfriendly faces and a request not to come back. There were parents who didn't want their children near a place like that, so once they tried to force Miles to close the place. A group of very angry fathers left the bar very quickly, with their tails between their legs, refusing to tell anyone what happened and the matter was never discussed again.

And so there was again a place all the weary hunters could go to. About fifteen people were in the dark room, three watching a TV hanging above the bar and sipping their drinks, some playing pool, some just enjoying the calm moments between jobs.

The three Normans (it was the name of only one, but they looked so alike that everyone just called them Normans and nobody even questioned it anymore) sat in the darkest corner of the place, talking quietly and looking around nervously, trying to make sure no one was listening. The rest of the guests ignored them, because everyone knew they were almost as paranoid as the Winchesters, the main difference being that the Normans' secrets weren't nearly as exciting and dangerous as those of Sam and Dean. And they weren't nearly as good at their job.

But nobody said anything about that. No one said anything about those damn Winchesters if they could avoid it. Not since Roy and Walt apparently decided they hater their lives and went after Sam Winchester and they were never heard from again. Nobody went after Sam, not if they wanted to end up like Gordon Walker. Even being close to those two meant bad luck ,for both their friends and enemies, and threatening to kill Dean Winchester's younger brother was basically committing a very painful suicide.

Every time a new hunter showed up at Milo's for the first time they warned them. Whatever you think you know, whatever rumors you hear, stay away from the Winchesters. And even though the fact that Sam and Dean had an angel on their side proved, to Miles' satisfaction, that there weren't actually devil's spawn (although people who remembered John Winchester disagreed), nobody wanted to meddle in their affairs. Bobby Singer did and it didn't work out all that well for him.

It wasn't like every other hunter in the country stayed barricaded inside when whatever Sam and Dean were doing at the moment blew up in their faces. They still killed every monster they could find, but as soon as that black Impala showed up, all hunters who knew what was good for them hauled ass.

The shortest Norman looked up and threw a glare at someone at the pool table, probably because he felt spied on. The hunter playing pool didn't even notice.

'Come on Norm, calm down. Nobody cares,' laughed a dark haired woman sitting at the bar.

The door creaked and a young blond man came in. He was one of the new guys at Milo's but some hunters nodded in greeting as he sat next to the woman and accepted a beer from Miles.

'Hey there, Jake. How'd the spirit thing go?' she asked, passing him a bowl of pretzels.

'Fine. Looks like I'm gonna have a calm night after all. And nobody cares about what?'

'It's nothing, the Terrible Triplets are just scheming again. You'll get used to it.'

'It's called planning, Emma,' the shortest Norman answered while the middle one rolled his eyes, 'You know, when people think about stuff before they do something?'

'Is that why it takes all three of you?' said Emma, making some hunters laugh and pay attention to the banter, 'So that you don't overheat and blow up?'

The tallest Norm threw a pretzel at her head and she dodged quickly, only to be hit with a washing cloth by Miles.

'Don't make a mess young lady or—'

'Guys?' one of the men playing pool interrupted Milo and pointed at the TV, 'Turn the sound up, this looks important.'

'—this is just one of the many videos recorded tonight. The footage of the shocking meteor rain keeps coming from all over the world,' came a woman's voice as the TV showed something that looked like explosions in the sky, followed by a rain of falling stars. Some hunters ran to the windows and stared in disbelief, 'and there is still no statement from the authorities. Until there is an explanation as to what causes the explosions near the crash sites, everyone is advised to stay as far as possible from the craters. I repeat, do not come close to the craters.'

Jake started to get up from his seat but Emma grabbed his shirt and pulled him down. The mood in the bar shifted from playful to somber almost instantly. The hunters were glancing to the sky through the windows in silence for a moment and then downed their drinks and came to the bar for another round. A man patted Jake on the shoulder.

'Stay down, kid.'

'But… doesn't it look like our kind of thing?'

'It looks like that alright. But you don't wanna be out there, trust me. This is bigger than any of us.'

'What do you mean?'

Milo looked worried and Emma grimly shook her head and said the thing they have all been thinking.

'Those damn Winchesters.'