Kicking and Swinging

I've watched him for weeks doing this. He drank that whiskey like he lost something huge, like his reason for living didn't exist anymore. This was a man who lost his purpose.

He wasn't the usual type to come into my bar. I dealt with wife-beaters and the usual lewd rude attitudes to know better. He wasn't the quiet type, judging from the way he fidgeted when he sat at my bar for an entire week. He just ordered the bottle, left a generous tip, and was on his way.

It was like this for two months. I remembered, because the world really started to go to hell. Two of my employees went missing, the town over was blown to hell, and earthquakes were frequent in Texas now. Through all the chaos he sat, letting all the disturbed drunks and their families pass him by. He was truly cut off from the world, except for the occasional ringing of his phone that stopped about a month into his depression. He minded his business..and I minded mine.

I was closing shop, letting him finish drinking like I always did. I planned on making him get a cab home, like I usually did. He tried resisting, but I put my foot down. I'd be damned if he dies on my watch, much less wrecking an Impala on top of it, I explained. Good bartenders don't let drinkers drive drunk. It's bad for business. He grunted and let me call the cab, and ever since, if I asked him to do something, he did it. Granted, it wasn't much- if I didn't know you, I didn't speak unless it was absolutely necessary.

Closing shop is routine. Clean the glasses, store the inventory- it was relatively easy but it took up time. I must've forgotten that night to lock up before I started because not even an hour after I start, I hear the bell to the door jingle. I didn't even look up; the quiet guy was cleaning his shot glass and was on his way out.

"We're closed," I said bored looking up into his dark eyes. "It's 4 am, we close at 3."

"I don't want a drink," the guy smirked. I rolled my eyes.

"We don't sell anything else. Feel free to get."

Now, I get my share of druggies wandering in for a fix. Other than liquor, I don't sell any mood substance. However, I have never seen a drug or a drink that can turn someone's eyes black. Bloody nose, dilated pupils, maybe even a black eye from the drunken fight, sure. Not this.

I reacted how any southern girl would after realizing the only guy who could help leaves and she's stuck with a psycho would do. I grabbed my knife and waited for him to come closer. No sooner than when he reached over to grab at me did I swipe for his arm. Well, I ended up hitting the back of the bar, crashing into the glass shelves.

"Ah!" I screamed gripping my knife. "You son of a bitch!"

His eyes glared at me smiling. "Where's the other one?"

See, if I had known what he was talking about, I would have told him to go to hell. Seeing as I didn't, I told him to look up Yellow Pages, since they have everything. I jumped over the bar, annoyed that I have to replace my shelf and pick glass out of my back later. Great.

"The other brother, you whore," he yelled, swinging a fist towards me clumsily. I growled, snapping my leg over his neck before going outside. I'd be damned if this messes up my bar. I'll definitely need the alcohol later.

The deranged idiot kept going at it, so I'll give him points for determination. He quickly knocked my knife in the snow, twisting my wrist. I slammed my head into his, making me disoriented and him staggered. I ignored the ringing feeling before cartwheeling towards the snow-covered knife. I grabbed it and flipped over in time to stab him in the heart.

"You-" I heard behind me. Frowning, I turned around. The man was scrambling out of his car, just coming back. I guess he didn't ditch me, he was getting a way out. "You-"

"You're not the only one with secrets to run away from, Dean Winchester," I shrugged. His mouth was still open, staring at me in a new light. I get that a lot from hunters. "Goodnight."

It wasn't a surprise when he didn't show up the next day. I must have really rocked his world. I was in the middle of nowhere, something that appealed to him since he was running. Hunters are in the middle of the action, and I was just around it. Of course I knew his name though. After it came out his brother was the intended vessel of Lucifer, it didn't take long for Dean to snap. I couldn't blame him.

Yet he came that Tuesday morning. I opened the door for him, letting him come inside. "You know I'm not serving you right?" I raised my eyebrow. He nodded, sitting down on his usual stool, watching me work.

I was in the mood for cleaning, sweeping along the bar whistling "Welcome to the Jungle". Dean chuckled, making me glare at him.

"Got a problem with Guns n Roses? Get out."

Shaking his head, Dean exhaled as his grin faded. Here we go. The serious talk. It was like an awkward run in with a one night stand.

"I won't be here for very long," he started. I shrugged.

"Come and go when you need to. I'm not your nag."

He frowned. "No speech on how I'm being a coward?"

"You know what you're doing, Dean. It's your life and your family." Snapping the broom over the bar, I stopped him from reaching for the drink. "That's it isn't it? You don't want to face Sam. Well, guess what. You're cut off." I grabbed the bottle, putting it back on the new shelf.

"I'm a paying customer!"

"You're also supposed to help the world, but hey, you're not a superhero either. You're so desperate for the bottle, while every thing's going to hell and beyond. So what you two brought hell on earth?! Put it back, claim responsibility! Don't kill your liver by staying here, do us all a favor and get out there and kick some ass!"

Yeah, so I guess it turned into a speech. But he was another word for desperate. Running around, Dean was incomplete without Sam. He fell into the devil's snare and he lost a lot of time, but I thought he would snap out of it. No more leaving things to chance. The demons will come. They'll tear into the two of them alone.

"Look," I continued, ignoring his glare. "If you want to sit here like a little bitch and let them get you, be my guest. Just don't do it in my bar. Now, I'm gonna close it down anyway. They need me out there. I only came back as a favor to my uncle, watching over your idgit self."

His eyes widened, watching me leave angrily. I hope that he jumped into the Impala and went to find his brother, but when it came to Dean Winchester, I knew not to expect his actions. He was more unexpected than a miracle.

I was about to lose hope- after all, I left seven months ago. I haven't heard anything and hunters gossip more than girls. I was bugging my uncle, making him do physical therapy amidst his grumblings that God should put his leg back together when I saw the Impala pull up.

I didn't say anything when we saw each other. Nodding to both him and Sam, I let him in, knowing there was plenty of work to do.