Chapter 1. set around the second or third episode of Supernatural season 2 i think, not certain.


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I watched, Joe, as she went around the bar, filing glasses, making crude remarks to Ash, and all in all seeming to have a pretty good time. I watched her as she and her mother Ellen talked and joked around, and felt a pang deep, deep down in my heart.

I hadn't known my mom well, hell I hadn't known either of my parents very well, but least of all my mother. My dad John… well I knew him well enough to have some idea of how things would go, if mom had lived, if Yellow eyes had never killed my mother, and our family had gone on with life, in a relatively normal fashion.

But mother, well… I had only vague memories, and recollections of her, only like the vaguest possible idea, of how things would have been between us.

Would we have been, like Joe and Ellen were now, joking and laughing, telling each other stories of what happened in our lives, while we were separated, and confiding in each other things that we wouldn't ever tell anyone else? and all in all being pretty damn happy together….

Or would, we have been like those mothers and sons, who just couldn't stand each other, didn't know what or how either of us thought, and were about 2 baby steps away from throttling each other?

I'd like to think, that me and mom would be the former, but… I just didn't know, I didn't have either the imagination, or an actual degree in… well anything, to calculate the odds of any of the possible paths, good or bad, that could have come to pass if she had lived… I felt more pain inside me, than any human being really deserved to have, and finished off the absinthe, in my glass, with a sigh.

Joe, Immediately noticed my empty glass, and walked over a small swagger to her foot steps, that did interesting things to the muscles, I glimpsed rippling beneath her thin blue jeans, in her long shapely legs, and a small slightly flirtatious smile on her face… damn what a great face that was too.

I moved, the glass over a bit, and she filled it up almost to the brim, before taking a step back, and giving me a small curious slightly concerned frown, I took a long sip of the Absinthe, before asking, "What?"

She shrugged, "Nothing its just, you seem pretty down lately, and well, I was wondering if maybe you might want to talk about it."

I looked at her considering, before shaking my head "Nah, you don't want to hear about my problems, and besides I'm sure your mom needs your help with something."

She glanced, back at the bar, where Ellen was currently chatting amiably with Sam about something, and looked back at me, "I got nothing better to do, and besides, Mom's fine, she's been doing this for over 25 years, I've just been helping out the last 4, I'm sure she can manage just fine on her own."

She removed her apron, and stuffed it on the corner of her booth, and poured herself some of the absinthe, I shrugged, "Suit yourself, but I warn you, a lot of this conversation will likely have me staring at an area a little south of your face, its October, nearing sundown, your shirt is slightly worn, and you aren't wearing a bra." I grinned lasciviously at her, and she blushed slightly, before boldly taking in a deep breath, that caused her breasts, small though they were to rise, which just made her nipples just that little bit more visible against the fabric of her black t-shirt.

"I don't mind, I've gotten stares like that, since I was 14 years old, though they were more focused on my ass, rather than on my breasts, which as you may haven noticed, aren't up to Pamela Anderson's impressive league." she returned my dare devil smile, with a cocky one of her own, as well as a raised eyebrow.

I smirked, to myself, this might actually be some fun, I thought idly to myself, as I took yet another sip of the bittersweet substance, "Small they may be, but even if I say so myself and I do, they are really quite perfect in shape, though your ass certainly is a sight more captivating, also contrary to what millions of years of evolution might say, not every man is attracted to large breasted blonds, some like slim pale blonds with small perky breasts, some like slim pale brunettes with small breasts."

That eyebrow, went up just a bit, and she leaned forward just a bit, a small devilish gleam in her wonderful green eyes the color of freshly polished emeralds, "Hmmm really, and tell me, what kind a guy are you? The kind that likes: Large tanned blonds, slim pale small breasted blonds, or some other type a guy?" she asked interestedly, before hastily adding "Hypothetically of course."

I too leaned forward, my drink and previous parent issues, all but forgotten, "Well hypothetically of course, I suppose at least right now I'd be the kind interested in slim, curvaceous pale blonds, with perfect little rose petal lips, a deliciously girlish figure, and a feisty wildcat personality." we looked deep into each other's green gazes, I saw a hunger there in her dark emerald orbs, along with lust, need, and several other emotions, that I couldn't quite decipher, but I knew of and felt quite regularly myself, and felt now as well, only about ten times stronger than any of those previous times.

I heard Ellen's voice, as she said to someone, "If that boy, get's bold enough to even try and makeout with my girl-" and then her voice was lost, when several hunters at a nearby table, burst out in raucous laughter, and then, as quickly as the moment had come, it went, when I realized how just how close we were, and likewise realized that there was a woman not 6 yards away, with a fully loaded shotgun, a knowledge of the land that would help her find the perfect little hiding hole, to place my corpse, that no one else would ever find ever. The thought brought me back, to my earlier ponderings of what life with a mother, would have been like, to my mind.

I looked down, into the honey colored depths, of my drink, and took a long sip of it, as an excuse, for my looking away. I caught a glimpse of Joe's dark emerald eyes, when I set the glass back down, on the table, and saw disappointment, and a little pain in them. And suddenly the bitterness of the Absinthe was magnified ten fold.

"Sorry, its just…" I shrugged helplessly, "Wrong place, wrong time." she supplied helpfully. I shook my head, and then reluctantly nodded, "Yeahhh, its… well you know that stuff I was brooding about earlier? Well that's part of it, I'm just…. Well it combined with my dad dying so recently, it just… its got me messed up, has my emotions all in a tangled mess, that sorta thing you know."

I was amazed at myself, for saying so much, about my inner turmoil, and I looked down into the dark depths of the Absinthe, I knew that there was chemical in the Absinthe that could cause hallucinations, was it also a kind of tongue loosener, or was that just the alcohol at work, or was it something else. I looked back up into, Joe's sympathetic, amazingly green eyes, and decided it was probably a mix of the booze and that something else.

"So, what is it, that has you so dark and broody, if I may ask?" she asked, refilling my glass again, and taking a long sip of her own.

I shrugged, and before I even knew what I was doing, found myself telling her, about how I had been thinking a lot about my own mother, about how I wondered how thing s would be different if she was still around, about how great life could be, if both my parents were still alive and kicking, and if neither me or Sam had been raised the way we had been.

She listened, with rapt attention, commenting on this or that, stroking my hand gently all the while… I don't know, why I told her all this, but every time I even thought of cutting the story off short, and changing the subject, I would sip at my drink, or rub at my eyes, or some other thing, that ended up with me looking into her earnest sympathetic green eyes, and those floodgates would open up anew, and I would continue on with the tale, unable to deny those perfectly shaded green eyes, with that rare innocent gleam in them.

When I was done, I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I felt… free, as if me and my brother weren't being constantly threatened by demons, and monsters, and the law everywhere we went, as if I was just… well me, not a hunter, not an outlaw, not a thief, not a trickster, but just an ordinary, guy talking to a pretty woman, who could actually sympathize with what he was going through… I put it down to the psychedelic chemical in the absinthe finally working its dark magic on my mind.

"You know, I used to feel the same way about my father," she said giving me a small shy looking smile, "I mean, well okay I still do every once in a while, I like to think of how things might have gone, if certain things, certain events never happened, if he hadn't died on that hunt all those years ago… if, well if me and ma and him, we just together, you know like you were saying, a normal happy family, that goes to church every Sunday, and stuff you know."

I swallowed, slightly, and smiled back at her, "Yeah, I sure do know." I took another sip of my absinthe, more than a little drunk off the spirits by now, I felt her hand squeeze mine gently, and found myself once again staring into her wonderful dark green orbs, and all those feelings of lust, need, and desperation, came rushing back once more, with a fiery vengeance.

Neither of us moved, afraid to break the electric moment between us, so we just sat there, and stared, and then Sam, Sammy, Sammy Sam, Samuel, Sam the emo, Sam the harbinger of sexual droughts, Samuel the bringer of bad news, Sammy the fun murdering bastard that he was, called out, "Dean! Come look at this, I need your input." I tore my gaze away, from Joe's, cursing slightly in the privacy of my own head, I glanced back at her, and she sighed softly, and withdrew her hand, obviously reluctant as well, she gestured at me, to go to him, and so reluctantly I did.

Later, when me and Samuel the Killjoy, were getting ready to leave, on our next job; Joe walked up to me, and hugged me tightly, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, I hugged her back just as tightly, and kissed her cheek as well, feeling a warmth build up inside of me, that later when I was less drunk slash stoned, and not so hungover I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face, would swear up and down, was all down to the Absinthe… whatever it was, I would be eternally grateful for the two advils Joe slipped into my pocket for the coming hangover.

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So what do you think, should i continue it? ahh hell i'm gonna continue it anyway but it would nice, if you guys would review to let me know what you think, you know.