"Last night on Earth," she heard Dean begin to her daughter. No. She'd be damned if Dean Winchester pulled something like this. Not tonight.
Ellen was relieved to hear Jo softly turn Dean away, followed by the sound of him scoffing good-naturedly and getting a beer as she wove her way back to her seat at the table.
Castiel, the angel, was sitting across from them, staring at the bottle of whiskey and the shot glasses lined neatly in front of him. "Come on, Cas," Jo said as she slid into the seat next to her mother. "Let's see what you can do." Leaning forward, Jo set all of the glasses right-side up and filled every one of them.
"Do angels even drink, Cas?" Jo asked brightly, shoving the glasses towards him.
"Well, we are capable of consuming vast quantities of alcohol when desired, but the reasoning behind doing so is hardly logica–"
"Cas, honey, stop talking," Ellen smiled, unknowingly employing a motherly tone with Cas – she'd considered him part of the family as soon as she'd seen how he was with Sam and Dean. "Bottoms up," she added, and he began tossing the shots into his mouth like they were nothing stronger than water.
Jo was laughing, Ellen noticed, for the first time in a long time. She stared at Cas like she'd never seen anything quite like him, and, Ellen supposed, she hadn't. It was good to see this happiness on her face. Ellen knew that it was mostly because of the imminent death of tomorrow, but for a second, it was as if they'd jumped back several years to a time when things were so much better.
Sam was standing and coming over to watch the spectacle, Dean was hovering around the kitchen – she could almost hear the grin on his face as he muttered, "Son of a bitch, Cas."
Castiel finished his drinks and set them all down on the table, taking a slightly panicked breath, looking up and saying, "I think I'm starting to feel something."
"Really," Ellen said, nodding and laughing. Cas looked more confused than ever, but they all looked around as Bobby called them into the other room.
He had a dated camera, leaning slightly on its dilapidated tripod, set up facing the corner with the window and the couch. Complaining loudly, but still complying, everyone arranged themselves in a joke of a family photo. Ellen surprised even herself when she felt an overwhelming sense of safety from the three boys standing behind her, her daughter on the end of them (just this once, Dean's arm draped chastely over her shoulders), Jo's hand resting on Bobby's shoulders.
So they were small. And broken. And lost in a world that was too big for so few of them to take on. But still, it could be worse. They had each other. And, Ellen thought, for the last night on Earth, spending it with a family like this one was fine by her.