Hey Supernatural fans and fellow Hunters. Thank you guys for the reviews. Thanks goes to my lovely followers and readers.

I want to take this story a bit slow. And if you have not seen S14 just to let all of ya know there are spoilers just so you're warned

Sam: so happy you like it so far. And no, just the prologue. :-)

Carry on wayward Supernatural fans.

As any one ever looked back and thought 'did I do that?' Or 'did that happen that way?' And 'what in holy hell was I thinking?' Yea, her thoughts exactly when she thought back on the day she decided to buy a bar. What in the holy hell fire was she thinking? Clearly her brain when on vacation that day.

This was not what Blake Pierce had imagined her life would be, she had other plans. But apparently the universe had it's plans as well because she decided that she would wake up one day and buy a bar, silly her she thought that she was in control of her life not the universe. But hey, she has been wrong before. And don't get her started on the name she stupidly chose. The Red Door didn't exactly scream that the owner of the bar was in the right state of mind. She wasn't of course, but that's beside the point. Boredom can make a person go insane.

The Red Door was busy most of the time, but it got pretty tiresome when every drunk man, and woman, that got too drunk decided to flirt with the owner and bartender. Blake would let it roll off her shoulders, it came with the job of owning and running a bar, that includes dealing with stupid drunk people as well. Blake had always done things on her own, she knew that she was perfectly capable of standing on her own two feet. She didn't need - or want a man in shining white armor riding on a black stallion to come and rescue her, then ride her off into the sunset and then they live happily ever after, she can take care of herself on her own just fine, she needed no one.

The howling wind outside made it clear that a nasty storm was on the horizon. Lightning flashed across the sky, thunder rumbled in the distance. Perhaps that was the cue to close up and head home before the storm hit full force. She just had to get rid of the last customer of the night. The middle aged man was at the Red Door every single night. Getting plastered off his ass. She's surprised that he hasn't opened up his own bar, if he did he wouldn't get any customers because he would be drinking all of his product.

The man passed out an hour ago on the bar, and was always her last customer before closing every night.

Blake went to him and gently shook his shoulder. "Mr Rogers" she thought the name was funny and a little ironic. "There's a storm on the way, think you should head home"

The very drunk man that probably couldn't even remember his name mumbled something that wasn't audible.

"Dude, come on" she whined "don't make me get the hose again"

Still the man made no knowledgement nor movement. perhaps he finally drunk himself to death. She grimaced. She might not like this life of owning a bar, but she did not want someone to die in her bar. Yet, she can't ever bring herself to sell the Red Door. Kind of dumb in her opinion.

She focused on the problem at hand. Of trying to get this very drunk person out of her bar so she could clean close up then go home. She thought about just leaving him there until the next morning, she had a feeling that she wouldn't have any alcohol left if she did that. So she went to the bathroom with a paper cup, filled it with cold water, then returned and then dumped it on the man's neck.

Mr Rogers acted like she touched him with a cattle rod. It would have been a hilarious moment if she hasn't done this a thousand times every night since she opened the damn bar.

"Wha' you do tha' for'" he slurred as he glared at her.

She pointed at the door, that she decided to paint red, and mustard a dirty glare of her own "Go home, I'm closing up for the night"

The man muttered her to hell as he left the bar.

"Good."

She went to the Jukebox chose the song that she listened to every night while she was cleaning and before closing and heading home. As Bad Moon on the Rise began to play the door flew open.

"Mr Rogers I swear I will send you to Tartarus myself if-" she stopped as she turned and took in the scene before her.

Three men ran in slamming the door shut. The taller of the two turned to her, worry and concern on his face.

"Hey, we're not gonna hurt you." said the tall man as the one in the trenchcoat went to the window and looked out. But Blake's attention went immediately to the one who was clutching his bleeding arm. Who looked like a freaking male model. Not that the other two wasn't good looking. But damn. She's pretty confident that the man could melt ice.

"What happened?" She asked crossing the room to the strange three men without a thought. "Your - um - come with me."

The man that was hotter than the sun smiled at her "Not as bad as it looks"

" 'Not as bad as it looks' yea, my ass!"

He looked at her surprised "Sorry?"

"Your bleeding on my floor"

He looked down, then he looked at her and smirked. "Right, sorry about that."

"If you were you would let me stop the bleeding."

"No, I'm good."

"Dean, let her take a look." said the taller man with the long hair.

Dean, looked at him, then back to her. He thought a moment. "I'm good"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it looks like it."

"Dean-" the other man tried again.

"I'm good!"

"No, your not!"

"Damn it! Fine!"

"Good boy." she said then smiled when Dean shot her a dirty glare.

She looked at the other man "Is he house trained?"

"Um -" the taller man smiled a bit "Used to be."

Laughing she went to the bar "Alright. Let me get my first aid kit."

"You have a first aid kit?" Asked Dean incredulous.

"I own a bar. Think that pretty much explains why I have a first aid kit."

oOo

It was safe to say that Dean Sam and Cas had been busy since Chuck had decided to be a major dick. Since then the brothers in their little angel on their shoulder had been going around ganking all those that they already had throughout the years. Dean was starting to miss the old days. Him Sam Cas and other Hunters had been extremely busy. They only get a couple hours of sleep at night and then off they go. They had no time to research how to find Chuck, and gank him. Though, if they do kill him then That would brain unbalance to the force. So nothing mattered then. They were just toys for God to play with, always had been always will.

Dean was pissed with the whole situation. About Chuck using him to kill Jack, about Jack dying. Jack dying was on him. It was their responsibility to look out for the kid and they failed him, Dean failed him.

Jack had no soul, Dean knew that, he knew Jack didn't mean to hurt mom, he was Just angry that he had lost her again. Dean knew he had no soul the moment he looked him in the eyes. But his soul wasn't all gone, it may have been a flicker, sliver even, but Jack's soul wasn't completely gone. That's why he put down the gun.

Dean Sam and Cas managed to fight their way through the zombies somehow. So as for right now there was not much they could do.

The brothers and the Angel were on a hunt for a werewolf in Chicago. It was Sam who wanted to take this case, Sam thought they needed A break from looking for god, and Dean needed something to hunt. It should have been a milk run, but just like Winchester luck The Hunt went sideways, Dean's right arm got injured in the process. Turns out it wasn't just one werewolf but a whole pack of them. They ran into the first place that they came across, which so happened to be the bar that they found themselves currently in at this moment.

Dean looked at the bartender and apparently the owner of the bar. She was pretty, long red hair the same color as red wine and bright violet eyes. She had some freckles across her nose, a little bit shorter then him but petite. Any other time he would turn on the old charm, but not when a pissed off wolf could come in anytime and kill them all. But there was so about her.

"You know, I don't think I caught your name." he said trying to lift the unbearable silence that fell.

"Does it have anything to do with that I didn't give you my name?"

"Well," he looked at his brother for help, but Sam just smirked and returned to looking out the window.

He looked back at the woman, who was cleaning his arm, her brow pinched with concentration. He's surprised that she hasn't asked any questions yet. Could it be she was a Hunter and that's why she's not surprised and hasn't asked any questions? It's a possibility.

"And you haven't told me any of your name so why should I tell you mine?" She asked.

Okay she might have a point there. He didn't see why it would hurt to tell her of their names, it's not like they're going to see her after they leave here anyways.

"I'm Dean. That freakishly tall guy, is Sam, my brother. The guy in the trench coat is Cas - he's - like a brother."

Sam and Cas waved as he introduced them.

Dean smiled. "There, you know our name's"

"Blake." she said. "The name's Blake."

"Blake," said Sam. "Thank you."

She looked at him "For what?"

"For helping my brother."

Blake waved him off as she returned bandageing his arm. "It was the right thing to do." she said quietly. "So, what happened to your arm?"

"Hurt it in a hunt." Dean replied quickly.

"Right."

"You don't believe me?" He asked.

She met his eyes. "No, not one bit."

Dean had a sneaky suspicion this woman was going to be trouble.