"God help the girl… she needs all the help she can get." –Catherine Ireton

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It was definitely a "Thirsty Thursday" type of night for Devon. Drinks, karaoke, and potential one-night stands were on her mind as the clock slowly ticked by. She had heard her coworkers talk about their weekly escapades in front of her, most of the girls were five years younger than her and a lot more open with their lives and their bodies. She had been asked, once again, to join the girls in a night of debauchery and drinking. They were always so kind to ask her, even as she turned them down each week. She told herself it was because she was their supervisor, but in reality Devon was just not the drinking and fun type anymore.

Working as an accountant was never her dream job growing up, but being a nurse just didn't hold that same appeal after seeing all the blood and needles that came with it. She didn't have to worry about figures and spreadsheets making her nauseous. Only her impending birthday, the ugly three-oh, was the cause of the bad feeling in her stomach now. Thirty was here, tomorrow to be exact, and yet Devon had no family to celebrate with, not even a cat was waiting in her little studio apartment. The four woman and two men she supervised had discovered this fact and were insistent on buying her a round of birthday drinks. It was in Devon's nature to be the matronly one in the office, but the thought of herself going out to some run-down trashy bar and hooking up with a random guy did start to spark a flame of excitement. Perhaps with thirty on the way, her nature was changing.

Of course, she would never act on the intrigue that thought presented. There was a reason she was alone and it wasn't because of her appearance. She was average in the looks department, her natural blonde hair was covered in years of dye jobs and changed her into a brunette, her eyes were blue but not a special type of blue. Her skin was pale, nicely referred to as fair but in reality she was so pale she described herself as 'transparent'. A bit on the curvier side, especially compared to the sticks she worked with, but not unhealthy. Average. Nothing special. Nothing to notice.

There had been a boyfriend and there had been friends and there had been a life, but after her mother had been arrested that went away. Three years, a new job, a new city and a new life. She had moved to be close to where her mother would stay for the duration of her sentence. 'Life in prison'. Sometimes she wondered who really was serving that sentence. At least the jury had accepted her mother's insanity plea. A state security hospital was better than the alternative, she supposed.

"You're thinkin' about it aren't ya?" Devon looked away from the clock, startled by the voice of her coworker, Katie. The youngest at twenty-three, Katie was the newest employee at the accounting firm. Fresh out of college and full of life, Devon couldn't help but think of herself as being the same way at that age. It made her smile at Katie, despite her sour mood. Katie took that as a sign to continue, her insistence to get Devon out for just one night was admittedly admirable. "C'mon, Dev! You don't even have to pay for it! Let your hair down and whatnot."

"If I let my hair down it would be a frizzy disaster." Devon caught the glare that Katie gave her but ignored it. Dry humor usually turned people away, made them realize she was no fun to be around. Unfortunately her coworkers had become immune to it. "I don't just mean my hair. I would be a disaster. I'm a lightweight. Haven't had a drink in forever."

"Then you'll be a cheap date!"

"I'll just get a buzz from smelling the liquor."

"Then you'll be a fun date!"

Watching her mom slowly tumble into alcoholism had tuned her away from drinking. The fact that insanity had followed the alcoholism had kept Devon away from it. Looking into the younger girl's hopeful eyes, the innocence of youth still shining through, Devon felt her control slip. Before she could stop herself, she sighed her agreement. She could always just stick to soda or water. Play it safe. It had worked the last three years, but surely one night of socializing wouldn't ruin her life.

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It had been over two weeks and the demons they had encountered had finally been able to give them a better idea of how to find Lucifer's Scion. They had narrowed the list down to only a few hundred men, but not all of those men were in the United States. The criteria was simple. Male, thirty, birthmark near his eye that looked like a tear drop. Castiel had called it the Mark of something or other, but Dean had been more focused on the idea that they could actually be closing in on finding the Scion. Finding the way to stop The Darkness without Sammy going near The Cage. It would have to be Sam that stopped Amara, as Dean had already failed in doing so.

Their search had brought them to some small town in Minnesota, the air crisp with fall just about to start. Hacking into birth records had been easy, looking through hours of 'distinguishing' marks had been unending. The thought that Charlie could have created a program to do it for them had crossed Dean's mind. The pang in his heart at the thought of Charlie had him storming from the hotel room, Sam close behind.

"What is it?" Sam's voice was questioning and his brow was pulled tight in confusion and worry. His brother had been fine moments before, but something must have set him off. Dean still hadn't completely shaken the edge off since their last meeting with Amara. She had gotten under his brother's skin, somehow.

"This is pointless, Sam. What good are we doing? We are just wasting our time here while The Darkness is out there doing God knows what." Dean remained calm as he spoke, but he knew that Sam heard the tremble in his words. His frustration over the search was getting to him, his grief over Charlie was still there, his need for a drunken night away was growing. He knew that Sam could see right through him.

"I know it looks like that, but, again, what other choice do we have." Sam let out a huff of air, the sound coming across as a humorless laugh. "We could stop all this," Sam gestured back towards the motel room, "if you'd just agree that The Cage-"

"Damn it, Sam. I'm not having this conversation again. You go to the cage and you'll be used as a meat-suit for Lucifer." Dean stomped his way to the impala, his hand hovering over the handle. Sam did not follow him, but instead tuned back to walk into their motel room. "And if Lucifer gets you… no one will be able to stop Amara." The words were whispered, more to himself then to Sam. If his brother had heard him, he made no acknowledgment to Dean. Getting into the impala, he gripped the wheel tightly as he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. In a flash, his eyes opened and he was pulling out of the driveway in the direction of the bar they had passed. He convinced himself that a little break was all he needed. A drink, or a few, to cool his head and then he'd be back to it.

He could see the bar was full as he made his way inside. A sign by the door had caught his eye, the words 'LADIES DRINK FREE' brining a smile to his face. Booze and ladies. The self-prescribed medication that Dean had used for years to get him though life. It had worked so far, and who was he to ruin a good thing? The sounds of bad karaoke could be heard and Dean had the briefest of flashbacks to his time with Crowley. His hand automatically went to the place where the Mark of Cain had been, as if he still could feel it's power even as it no longer marred his skin. Signally to the bartender for a shot of whatever, Dean pushed away his thoughts of Crowley and Cain and Amara. Looking around at the sea of ladies, he refused to let himself ruin his self-proclaimed 'night off'.

It was a short time later when Dean saw her. It was hard to miss the woman in a thick gray cardigan sweater. She stuck out to him amongst the mass of scantily clad woman throughout the bar. Her dark hair was down but she still looked like a librarian, and not the hot kind. She was smiling politely at something one of the girl's next to her had said, but shook her head in the negative. Dean has always trusted his intuition, and something seemed off about this woman. Like she had purposely tried to distinguish herself from the others. Like she didn't belong. From years of experience, Dean knew that if things didn't look like they belonged then they didn't and shouldn't be ignored.

She looked up, as if she could tell he was staring at her, and seemed shocked to find she was right. Pulling her sweater a bit tighter around herself, Dean couldn't help himself and winked. Instead of blushing or flirting back, she sent him an icy glare. Dean put his hands up as if to say 'I get the hint' and gave her a shrug. He wasn't looking for a girl like that anyways, not when the bar was full of woman who would be a bit more adventurous. A lot more adventurous.

Devon watched him turn back away from her, glaring until he was fully faced away from her. She felt a bit of guilt at her rudeness, winking and looking and flirting was acceptable behavior in a bar. Something about the man at the bar, his face, his eyes, his entire presence, had unnerved her. She figured it was the same feeling that deer had when they heard a predator close to them. Paranoid. The word flashed through her brain, her mother's voice ringing in her ears. She could hear it as clear as if her mother sat beside her 'They will come for you. One day, just like they took your father they will take you.' Devon knew her mother had been insane at that point. Never once did her mother speak of her father while Devon was growing up. Only after the trial and her mom was in a constant state of sedation did the warnings and talk of her father start.

Unable to shake the unease, Devon finished her soda and tried to find an excuse to leave. It wasn't so much that she was antisocial, but thinking of her mother had killed the shred of a jovial mood she had. The girls had all been friendly, but she knew that it was awkward to be out at a bar with your boss. Not wanting to ruin the evening for her coworkers, Devon politely excused herself. A chorus of good-byes had followed, with Katie offering to escort her to the door.

"No, that's ok. But thank you. And thanks for inviting me. I'll see you all in the morning." She turned to walk away, but on impulse she tuned back. She saw the laughter and fun being had around her, felt the tension of the bodies swaying together on the dance floor, heard the liquor being sloshed into cups. She felt like a woman possessed as she started to unbutton her sweater and shrugged it off. She looked at the clock above the bar. It was only moments after midnight, she was officially thirty years old. She shed the sweater from her body as if she was shedding the pain and heart ache and fear that seemed to plague her life. Throwing the sweater down, and clad in just her jeans and a plain red tank top, Devon addressed her coworkers. "Actually, maybe I should have that drink."

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