I do not own anything in the world of Supernatural. This is all just for fun.
If you want blood….you got it
Sometime, years ago.
Dean Winchester sat up at the bar. One hand wrapped around maybe the fifth beer of the evening. His head was bent low towards the counter giving him a close up view of spilt beer and peanut bits.
AC/DC played on the jukebox. Generally speaking it was a particular favourite song of his, but not today. Today he couldn't seem to drown out the lyrics although he desperately tried.
'Jesus!' just how many times did the damn song mention the word 'blood' anyway.
He screwed his eyes shut as every line of the song forced the image of the young kid he and Sam hadn't managed to save. That lifeless body, those unseeing eyes…
Thump!
He pounded his fist on the counter forcing his mind away from the imagery. The bartender jumped at his sudden outburst and took a step towards Dean to reprimand his actions but stopped when Dean lifted his head to reveal glassy, apologetic eyes.
Sammy was off somewhere else, doing who knows what. Maybe back at the motel searching for the next case on the internet. It always surprised Dean just how different he and his brother were at dealing with all the stuff that happened to them.
Sam was no doubt coping with the loss of this kid by concentrating on the eight other kids they had managed to save from the particularly gruesome spirit. Which was exactly what Dean was trying his best to remember. But the fact was, Dean wanted to save 'everybody' and couldn't handle it when he fell short.
Starting on his sixth beer he gave a little chuckle as AC/DC finally ended on the jukebox and was replaced by Kate Bush. He had never been so happy to hear the haunting tones of the British songstress.
He managed to lift his head long enough to cast an eye over the surroundings. Dark ,dingy bar, full of dark dingy folk. Pool table, neon beer signs, half-dozen booths that hadn't been re-upholstered since way before the smoking ban. It was exactly the place he liked. Dive bars were like fast food chains to him. He looked for one in every town they visited.
His eyes stopped on one of the booths. Two women sat on opposite sides of a table but Dean could only see the girl facing towards him. He'd seen them the moment he had entered the bar. The most noticeable thing about them was the lack of conversation. You either came to a bar to drink alone or you came to socialise. They weren't doing either of those things. The girl seemed to stare absently at the table or maybe she was staring at the glass of bourbon sitting on top of it. Dean knew that stare, it was the same stare he'd been sporting for the last two hours and it looked clear that she wasn't drinking the hard liquor to appear cool. It was a stiff drink. One you ordered because you damn well needed it. He could only guess what event the two girls had just lived through in order to give this girl such a pale complexion.
Chocolate-brown hair fell across her face as she lifted the glass with a shaky hand taking a long gulp of the dark amber liquid. She looked so fragile lifting the glass to her lips.
Dean considered walking over to check the two girls were ok but was beaten to the post by a stocky looking dude with a trucker cap and a denim jacket. He was too far away to hear what the guy was saying but quickly gauged from the girls reactions that it was unsolicited advice.
The blank stare the girl previously held quickly changed as Dean watched on. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion at the trucker-cap guy. Placing her glass carefully back on the table she slowly started to stand up. Dean guessed it was a confrontational move. He could almost see a storm swirling around her as she came level with the guy then kept on rising until her full height brought her towering over the denim dude.
Dean sucked in a breath as he looked on at the tall brunette in a bright pink vest top and tight jeans. Damn she looked anything but fragile now. She looked more like a smoking hot femme fatale.
Measured words came out of her mouth to the man she looked down on, Dean managed to lip read a few. 'Bad day', 'snap like a twig', and a good dozen F words were all in there. Whatever the full message, It seem to have had the desired effect. Trucker-cap reluctantly walked away with his tail between his legs.
The brunette had seemed to sense Dean spying on her all the while and she lifted her head to lock eyes with him. Her chin jutted forward slightly, daring him to attempt what the other guy had done.
Dean's stare lingered while he considered his options. He looked her up and down for a moment taking in the sight of the 'tall drink of water'. On a better day he would have taken up the challenge. Charmed his way over there but not tonight. He was too tired, too gloomy and too drunk. Thinking better of it he turned away from her stare and swallowed down the last of the beer.
Seeing his submission the girl seemed to relax and sat back down. He risked another quick glance to see the dark circles under her eyes as she quietly conversed with her friend. The tall brunette looked how he felt and Dean sincerely hoped they could get over what ever had made them that way.
How long had he been sat in that bar now? Too long. He pushed the empty bottle away and stood up feeling the hit of the alcohol for the first time. He'd done enough self-pitying for one night. Tomorrow it would all start again and he would need to have his head in the game.
With a heavy head Dean paid his tab and moved away from the bar. But he couldn't leave without chancing one more look over at the troubled brunette. His eyes lifted slightly and found that hers were staring straight back at him. He managed to offer a knowing nod. It was a gesture that suggested shit happens, but tomorrows a new day.
The girl offered back the saddest of smiles that made Dean's heart hurt a little. Then he turned his back on her and walked out of the joint, straight back to another in a long line of sleazy motel beds.