Jamie pours another shot of whiskey for the guy at the end of the bar, it was his fifth and he didn't seem like he was going to slow down any time soon. The last drop of amber liquid falls from the stopper when his hand flies out and wraps tightly around her wrist. "Leave it." His voice is thick and heavy but she senses sadness as well.

The always alert body guard catches the small commotion and starts to leave his post; Jamie shakes her head. "It's gonna cost you pal." A hiss escapes as his fingers dig further into her skin.

He fishes a bill from his pocket and slaps it on the bar with his free hand. His eyes meet hers, full of fire and rage and agony and so much more that it rocks her down to her core. "This should cover it, don't you think?"

She sets the bottle down and flexes her wrist once he releases it from his vice-like grip. She gives a quick nod and pockets the crisp $100 bill. One of the servers meets Jamie at the other end of the bar, out of earshot. "He giving you a problem?"

His fingers had left a deep red impression in her soft skin and she rubbed at it with her fingertips. "No more than any other guy that's had too much to drink."

"You want me to take him out back and teach him a lesson?" Green eyes sparkle under long black lashes and a wicked grin takes control of the young server's lips.

Jamie can't stop from smiling. "I think I can handle it, Stace, thanks."

Stacey shoots a wink at her boss. "I'm sure you can." A whistle from the corner gets her attention and she spins on her heel, swaying her hips as she walks. Jamie rolls her eyes, Stacey had been working at the pub for almost a month and she was eager for tips. She reaches into her back pocket for the red bandana she used to wipe her hands off from over-filling glasses, and ties it around her wrist, hiding the red and swollen skin. It turned out to be a slow night, besides the usual customers that littered the booths against the wall, the whiskey drinker at the bar was the only one there. Hours melt together as drinks are poured and food is served, slowly the patrons start to trickle out, giving shouts of future visits to come.

Jamie rests a hand on the bar, her fingertips brush the bottle of whiskey. "Can I get anything else for you?"

She watches as his jaw works and it sends a shiver down to her toes. "No."

"You sure? We got a kitchen in the back."

He throws his head back as he drains the glass tumbler. "No."

"Come on, Mama makes a mean bacon cheeseburger." Normally, she could care less what the patrons eat or don't eat but there was something about this one, the way he looked like he had just lost everything, that got to her.

Dark green eyes meet hers. "Not tonight." He pours himself another glass, takes the shot and stands on shaky legs.

On instinct, Jamie reaches out her hands as his hands slap against the sturdiness of the bar. "You ok there?"

He jerks his hands back and starts backing away as she makes her way around the bar. "I'm fine!" His eyes unwillingly travel up her lean frame.

Feeling the heat of his gaze, Jamie stops dead in her tracks. "We can call you cab."

"I said I'm fine!"

Jamie watches with wide eyes as he stumbles out the door. The bodyguard throws a thumb over his shoulder. "You want me to follow him?"

She sucks a bottom lip between her teeth. "You ok with that, Mike? Your shift is over."

Mike gives a wave of his hand as he fishes car keys out of his pocket. "I got this. You ok closing up by yourself?"

"It's not my first time. See you tomorrow." Jamie watches as the 6'7" line backer she went to high school with, walk out after the whiskey drinker. She didn't even get his name, not that she expected to see him again.

Jamie works hard at cleaning up, after a slow night, there's not much to do except load the dirty glasses in the dishwasher, wipe down the bar, give the floor a once over with the broom and mop and close out the till. With the money in the overnight deposit bag, she shuts down the O'Doyle Pub sign and locks the door behind her. Her car, a 1967 Chevelle waits for her in the lot. She drives to the bank and back to her apartment less than a mile away.

30 minutes and a hot shower later, she wraps herself in the warmth of her down comforter. Sleep evades her as green eyes haunt her mind. Green eyes that look like they've seen more than their fare share of death and trauma. She briefly remembers what his long fingers felt like against her skin and she has to stop her mind from wandering even further. With a shake of her head, she flops around like a fish out of water, beating the pillow with her fist until she finally drifts off to sleep.


Dean knew there was someone following him back to the motel, but he was too drunk to care; he had drained the bottle of whiskey dry. Once he shifts the car into park outside his room, he locks the car door and gives a mocking wave to the body guard from the bar. He fumbles with the motel key before the door finally opens. The room is musty and hasn't been used in a while, but it had a shower and a bed; that's all that mattered right now.

He kicks off his shoes and starts stripping out of his clothes as he walks towards the bed; he would shower in the morning. He was so tired that his bones ached, they had been through so much over the past 5 years and now he was all alone. Sam had stopped the Apocalypse, he had said yes to Lucifer and tossed him in the pit. Dean watched, helpless on the sidelines, as his brothers, both possessed, fell into the depths of Hell. Never had he felt so alone before and now, the weight of it crushed him like a bug.

After Cas had healed his wounds and brought Bobby back from the dead, Dean got in the car and drove, dead set on getting out of Lawrence and putting it in his rearview mirror. O'Doyle Pub all but screamed at him as he drove past. Horns blared at him as he whipped a u-turn and almost collided into a mini-van just to get into the parking lot. The whiskey started to numb the pain, it didn't go away by any means but it was a start.

The hot bartender got him thinking about something other than his family. Naturally curly fire red hair was pulled back into a high knot and cobalt blue eyes bore into him like a heat seeking missile, ivory skin practically glowed in the dim bar light and the skin he did touch was like silk; he wanted to feel it all over him. He stirred in the thin sheets as his body reacted to the thought. He wipes a hand over his face at the thought of her above him, riding him with his hands on her hips, below him as he thrusts himself deep into her, burying his face in her neck and tasting her skin with his tongue. He rolls to his side, pushing the NC-17 thoughts away and finally falls into a drunken sleep full of his brother, Angels and demons.


Jamie finds herself looking for the stranger each night and he doesn't disappoint. Mike gives her a questioning look each time he pulls up a stool and Jamie just nods. Each night he slides a $100 bill at her in exchange for a full bottle of whiskey and every night he drains it dry. He's always the last one to leave and Mike is the one to follow him to his motel.

On the fifth night, he arrives like clockwork and presses another bill against the bar. "How about a bite first?"

Green eyes full of shock meet her gaze. "Excuse me?"

She can't stop a throaty chuckle as it slides out. "Food, you want some food?"

"Why are you always trying to feed me?"

Jamie shrugs, she didn't really have an answer prepared. "Call it a hunch, I have a feeling you love a good burger."

He inclines his head and for the first time, smiles. "If I say yes, will you leave stop asking me to eat?"

She shoots him her best 1,000 watt smile as the usual bottle is placed in front of him, glass tumbler on the side. "Until dessert. Hey Mama, I need a number 3."

"You got it darlin'."

Jamie can't stop from shooting a wink at him as she works her way to the other end of the bar, a couple had just walked in. She's not sure why this is making her so happy, he's just traveling through town or something. Other customers trickle in but her attention never really leaves him as he drinks and finally when he eats. There's a look of almost euphoria as he all but devours the food on the plate and she stifles a laugh when he practically licks the plate clean. "I told you."

That night, he didn't empty the bottle, he didn't even drink half of it and Mike didn't have to follow him home. As he handed the bottle back, she slid a bill across the bar. He covers her hand in his. "Keep it."

She shakes her head, a tendril of hair falls into her face. "No, I've been overcharging you. Besides, you didn't finish it."

"Hold it for tomorrow night."

She arches a red eyebrow. "You sure?"

"I'll see you tomorrow night..."

"Name's Jamie."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Dean." He holds a hand out and she slides hers into his firm grip, sucking in a breath as their skin meets again.

"Goodnight Dean." A playful wink is tossed her way before he walks out, giving Mike a slap on the shoulder.

Stacey slides beside Jamie and bumps her boss with her hip. "You two going out or what?"

Jamie swallows at the lump in her throat. "What? No. Why would you ask that?"

"That, is sex on a stick, just look at him walk." Jamie watches him walk indeed, his bow legs scream at her to touch them as they move and she can practically feel the muscles under his skin as she drags her fingers up to his hips. Stacey gives a throaty chuckle when she sees Jamie's reaction.

It takes a few moments before Jamie registers Stacey has left her side. Her heart jack-hammers against her chest as images of how he would feel and taste run rampant through her mind. "Sex on a stick, that's a good description."

Jamie and Stacey close up together and get walked out by Mike. It wasn't a dangerous part of town but Mike was like their big brother and he felt protective of them. They all say goodnight and get in their cars, giving a final wave as they pull off in different directions. Jamie spots a black Impala as it rumbles into the motel parking lot, Dean climbs out with a six pack and cracks open a can, maybe it wasn't such a good night for him after all. Maybe she would ask him about it tomorrow night. Butterflies erupt in her stomach as the thought of him walking back into her bar.