Morgan's Landing was usually quiet. Usually. Not tonight, though. Despite her best efforts to put them off, Nim's friends had descended on the hunter's refuge en masse, gleefully insisting that she get dressed up and come out with them no matter what she actually wanted to do. No matter who she'd rather spend her evening with. And it was the who that had caught these four young women's attention.

As Kara, self-proclaimed posh totty, dragged Nim upstairs with every intention of getting her dolled up and ready for a night on the town, Daisy, Twist, and May settled themselves in to playfully torment the occupants of the bar while they waited. Brian was pretty much immune to the flirting and giggling by now, simply rolling his eyes as May took over his jukebox and went straight for the songs he wished weren't there. "Like a vir-ir-ir-irgin ..." Daisy, on the other hand, insinuated herself next to Bobby, full of very harmless flirtation with a man twice her age just to see him squirm, and with Brian laughing at his friend's predicament, there was no escape.

Which meant that it was Twist who cornered Dean, flicking her black hair and putting on the full come-hither routine. After all, this was their friend. They had to make sure the man she tried to blow them off for was worth it, didn't they' Leaning over on the bar until she was all but spilling out of her dress, Twist fixed Dean with a laughingly stern look. "So you're the reason Nim tried to cancel, huh' You gotta be razor fine for that, dude, or we're not bringing her back." What a threat to be delivered from a woman who'd been having difficulty staying on her heels since she'd walked in. Jack Daniels was definitely this girly group's friend.

Dean was just sitting at the bar, minding his own business, nursing his third glass of JD straight up, the bottle conveniently sitting on the counter nearby, compliments of the bar's owner, to which Dean owed a debt of gratitude. He'd spent most of the day talking to Bobby and Brian and going through the contents of the Impala. He'd showered and shaved and felt half human again, clad in his usual non-descript black t-shirt and faded, worn blue jeans - this particular pair had holes in the knees. He had debated back and forth about whether or not to reclaim the amulet Sam had given him, but had decided to leave it hanging in the Impala for now, in memorial to his brother.

Three glasses of JD, and he had turned sullen, though still as sober as a priest. It would take a lot more than three glasses of JD to kill the pain of his brother's death. The last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment was a gaggle of giggling girls, though he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the Asian chick's rather obvious assets, as if his eyes had a mind of their own. "Madonna, seriously?" he grumbled into his glass. "Think I'm gonna shoot the jukebox. Put us all out of our misery."

He was doing his best to ignore the girl who seemed to insist on invading his personal space beside him.

"Grumpy sex god, aren't you?" Twist drawled, too high on JD and the anticipation of a good night out to realize that she might be pushing all the wrong buttons here.

A peanut hit her in the back of the head as Daisy laughed at her. "Put them away, Twist! God, anyone would think you were horny or something!"

Over by the jukebox, May broke into louder laughter, lining up song after song that were guaranteed to get on everyone's nerves. Still, the hunters only had to endure it until Nim reappeared, after which all the very giggly girly hormones would leave the Landing.

Twist grinned, tucking herself away now she'd been caught, and settled more comfortably as she looked Dean over. "So ....handsome. Check. Employed?" Yes, she was going to vet him, and if he didn't co-operate, things could get embarrassing.

They really only had to endure it until Dean either shot the jukebox or yanked the plug, which he was very close to doing. If they weren't Nim's friends, he'd have already done it by now. All one had to do was ask him to dance, and that would be that. Normally, Dean might be amused by this situation, but it reminded him of an episode of Girls Gone Wild, and it was just grating on his already frazzled nerves.

Dean glanced at the glass of amber liquid in the girl's hand and frowned. "Shouldn't you be drinking a girly drink, like, oh, I don't know, a Cosmopolitan or something?" He took another swallow of his own drink as he endured her presence and her line of questions. He wasn't stupid, by any means, and he had an inkling where this line of questioning was going and where it was coming from. "No, but I've got a b*tchin' car, so it doesn't matter." He actually smirked at his own reply as he turned away to refill his glass.

Whatever she'd been expecting, it hadn't been that. As the jukebox switched over to Sex Bomb, Twist downed the contents of her glass, smirking back at Dean. "Evasive, not so good," she informed him, pushing her luck with fingers that reached to ruffle his hair. "Important question next ....single?" There was a loud cackle of laughter from further down the bar as Daisy started pushing her own luck with Bobby, no doubt earning herself something caustic and unrepentant threatened toward her continued existence.

He ducked his head, narrowing his eyes at her in warning as she definitely invaded his personal space. If it wasn't for Nim, he might indulge himself in flirting, but he really wasn't in the mood, especially after what had happened between himself and Nimue the previous night. Dean turned a somewhat puzzled expression toward the girl who was harrassing Bobby. "You realize he's old enough to be her grampa. Better tell her to back off before he shoots her." He took another swallow of his J.D., eyes turning back to his glass. "See a ring on my finger?" he answered, in reply to Twist's question.

"Brian wouldn't let him shoot her," Twist declared confidently, and indeed, Brian appeared to have somehow turned his eyes and ears off. He was still going over the accounts where he sat behind the bar, as though nothing untoward was happening in his bar at all. "You don't need a ring to be taken, sexy," the Asian girl purred, but her gesture toward better intimacy was utterly destroyed by the rest of their group asserting itself in the bar.

Later ...

The girls' night out proved to last a good four or five hours, long enough for Morgan's Landing to empty of its customers either to their hired rooms or their own homes out in the city. As midnight came and went, Brian set about closing up, locking the doors but leaving the bolts undrawn over the front for when his wayward barmaid and friend came tottering back in. He left two lights on - over the pool table and over the bar - guiding signals for Nim if she'd gotten too drunk to see straight, which admittedly never happened. Before one o'clock ticked by, Brian had retired to his own room for the night, knowing exactly what was coming when Nim got back in and leaving someone else to deal with it for once.

Shortly after Brian retired, Bobby had retired, as well, telling Dean he should do the same. Nim was a grown woman who could take care of herself and blah blah blah, but Dean knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep until she was safely back at Morgan's Landing. The minutes ticked by, turning into hours, and he finally decided to kill a little time playing a game of pool, though no one was there to play with him. The bottle of JD had been drained hours ago, and he'd switched to coffee so he could keep himself awake long enough to fulfill her request, though he had half a mind to say screw it and turn in.

He racked the balls up and broke the rack, sinking three balls right off the bat. Moving around the table to set up another shot, sinking another ball. If he wasn't a hunter, he might have been able to make a fair living as a professional billiards player, but fate had dealt him a different hand.

Around half an hour later, a key jangled in the lock, and Nim pushed her way in through the door, giggling to herself at something incoherent a male voice out on the street was calling to her. The fresh elegance she'd presented when she'd been newly dolled up was gone, her skin touched with a light sheen of sweat, her hair fallen free of the twist it had been caught in to frame her face.

She was also, obviously, a little drunk, concentrating overmuch on bolting and locking the door behind her before she turned back to the bar, belatedly realizing that Dean was there. "You waited up!" Her smile beamed across to him through the gloom as she set off in the direction of the pool table. The unaccustomed heels made all sorts of interesting things happen under that dress as she walked.

He leaned over the table to set up another shot, the cue ball skittering across the table as he let the shot go, this time missing its target as he was distracted by the voices outside, recognizing one to be male, and Nim's arrival home. He was only playing to pass the time and get a little practice in, so it didn't really matter if he missed or not.

Straightening, he rested the cue stick on the floor in front of him and looked over at her, noticing her disheveled appearance. Well, what did he expect her to look like after being out 'til all hours of the night' "Where have you been?" he asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

She paused, her smile turning a little bemused at the tumbled demand that blurted from him. "Out with my friends," she told him superfluously, flicking her hair out of the way as she reached up to take the dangling pentacles from her ears. Her only slightly inebriated gaze travelled over him with uninhibited possessive desire as she set earrings and bracelet down on the nearest table. "Missed me, Deano?" she asked, stepping closer to cover his hands on the cue stick with her own.

He held his ground as she made her way toward him, stopping in front of him and covering his hands with hers. He could smell the sweat and the alcohol coming off her, mingled with her perfume and that scent that belonged to her and her alone, that marked her as Jo, no matter what she might call herself. He temporarily ignored her question, letting her think what she wanted, as he slipped away from her and leaned over the pool table to set up his next shot, trying to appear as non-chalant as possible.

"Just couldn't sleep." It wasn't a complete lie; he did have trouble sleeping most nights, even though the nightmares were no longer a nightly routine. "Who drove you home?" he asked, sliding his fingers along the cue stick, drawing it back before tapping the little white ball with the tip of the stick, sending another ball skittering into a pocket. It would be interesting to see what she said, since he had heard a distinctly male voice coming from outside the bar. Would she dare lie to him"

Nim ran a hand through her hair as he stepped away, leaning one hip against the edge of the pool table to watch him line up the shot. She'd drunk enough that she couldn't school her expression very quickly, and a flash of disappointment at his answer showed itself clearly before she made an effort to hide it away. Just couldn't sleep. Nothing to do with her asking him to wait up, then.

Her hand drifted down to catch the cue ball after he completed his shot, lifting it to rest against her cheek as she eyed him with honest solemnity. "His name's Gary," she told Dean, never once even considering a lie when she had nothing to hide anyway. "Kara's boyfriend; she didn't want to walk home, so she called him." A faint snicker escaped her lips then. "And fell asleep on him as soon as she got in the car!"

Of course, it had everything to do with her asking him to wait up, but he wasn't going to admit that just yet. He straightened again as she caught the cue ball and plucked it off the table, effectively ending his attempt to ignore her and act casual. His expression changed from impassive to remorseful, realizing he was acting like an immature and jealous child.

"Oh," he said in reply, feeling like an idiot for not trusting her. "You could have called me for a ride," he continued, realizing his cell phone didn't work here, but knowing she must have a way to contact Brian.

For some reason, she felt unaccountably hurt, though she had not realized just where his thoughts had gone when he heard the male voice wishing her goodnight. "I guess I ....I didn't wanna assume that you'd be awake," she shrugged with one shoulder, her smile faded in the face of his strange mood. She lowered the ball to the table once again, straightening. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything." Taking a step back, avoiding his eyes like a child being scolded without knowing why, she turned toward the jukebox.

He watched her move away from him toward the jukebox and let out a soft sigh, frowning, angry at himself for hurting her feelings with his callous remarks and flare of unjustified jealousy. He reached for the cue ball, placing it back where it had been before she'd plucked it from the table. "You....you looked pretty tonight." Oh my God, Dean, you sound like an idiot. She's going to think you're an overgrown teenager with a little boy crush.

She looked back over her shoulder as she leaned against the jukebox, her smile muted but still the smile that he should be very familiar with by now. It was his smile, after all. He was very easy to forgive. "Thanks," was her murmured response, her eyes turning back to the machine as her fingers selected a song. "Keeping playin', I really didn't mean to interrupt you."

As the record changed over and began to spin, the familiar rough guitar and heavy drum beat of AC/DC started to flow from the speakers. She swayed to the beat, unconscious of the sensuality in her undulation as her eyes closed to enjoy the music.

"How about you stop talking sh*it and start saying what you mean and what you feel?" Nim snapped, feeling a pain that was almost physical as he walked away from her. "Jesus Christ, Dean, didn't you hear a word I said yesterday?" A drip of water hit her chest, and she realized she was truly crying, tears dripping from her nose and chin. Her hand rose to scrub the worst of the water away as she struggled to catch her breath, trying to get control of herself again.

"I stood there with no memory of anything you remember, and still said that I love you, and you didn't hear it at all." Her eyes flickered to his search along the bar, anger turning her next words sharper than she would have liked. "You're not going to find your answers in the bottom of a bottle."

Distressed by her own anger, by how easily he could rouse her to such passionate responses for good or ill, she stalked toward the bar herself, fully intending to get past him as quickly as she could before he really got to see her humiliate herself.

"Me"!" he exclaimed, jumping in before she was through, shouting over her. "Me talking sh*t' Why don't you just spit it out"! Just say it. Just tell me how you really..." He broke off as she continued, saying exactly what it was he suspected she was feeling but was too afraid to say.

Those three stupid little words that he hadn't heard from anyone since his mother had died. Oh, sure, Sam had said it once, under the influence of drugs that made him so high he wasn't even aware he'd said it. He was struck completely dumb when the words tumbled out of Nim's mouth, hitting him like a blow, a dagger in his chest.

He set the glass down, all the blood draining from his face, watching her in silence, the tears that were streaming down her face. All the fight went out of him, and he sank onto a bar stool, shoulders slumped in defeat. Or was it triumph' She loved him' He said nothing, no response, just staring at the glass in front of him as he tried to sort out the conflicting feelings waging war inside his heart.

She didn't wait to see or hear his response, flinching away from the way he had exploded at her as she poured her heart out, running away from facing what she had confessed in that moment of unthinking passion. Her footsteps were hard against the stairs as she made her escape, only to be caught at the top of the flight by Brian, who had been shaken out of a deep sleep by the shouting.

"Get out of the way, Brian," she sniffed, brushing the moisture from her face all over again.

He took one look at her face and scowled, pointing down the stairs. "You get your ass back down there, missy-girl, and face up to what you just said," he told her in a stern voice.

Nim shook her head, sagging back against the wall. "I can't ....I ..."

Brian's scowl deepened as he pointed harder. "Don't make me take you down there myself, Nim, you know I will."

Caught between the rock - Brian - and the hard place - Dean - Nim didn't really have a choice. Dragging in a shuddering breath, she turned to descend the stairs once again, fearful reluctance making her feet leaden as she ventured back into the bar, steadfastly staring at the cellar hatch in the floor.

She was crying because of him and that hurt more than anything else, the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders again. Did he make a leap of faith and tell her how he felt' He'd tried and look what had happened" Dean only stared at that glass, empty, the bottle of JD sitting untouched on the counter as if to mock his pain. He was vaguely aware of the sound of her stomping up the stairs, familiar voices at the top of the stairs, before she'd returned, silently standing there, waiting for him to say something, anything.

The moment seemed to hang there forever as she awaited his response. He had an elbow propped against the counter and was resting his head against his fist, struggling to find the right words. "I know you don't remember what happened....The day I watched you die. Looking back on it now....it's like....it's like that was the defining moment, you know" It was like I died with you that day. Nothing seemed to matter after that." He wasn't sure if she was listening, but he kept talking anyway, his eyes never leaving that glass. He'd promised her no more tears, but it had been a lie.

"I kept going because I had to. Made a promise to Dad when I was four to watch out for Sammy, to protect him, but....None of that seems to matter now." He drew a slow painful breath, his throat tightening. "I promised Sam I'd live a normal life, after....after....But it didn't work. I'm never gonna have a normal life. I'm not even sure I want one."

Oh, she was listening, all right. And for once, she was actually listening, actually hearing what it was he was saying. There was a moment of temper, as she kicked her shoes halfway across the space behind the bar, moving barefoot to stand just across the counter from him. Slowly her eyes lifted to meet his, still wet, but no longer weeping. "I need to know, Dean," she said, her voice tiny, trembling in the quiet of the bar. "I can't take being pushed away all the time, just because you're afraid I'm going to die. There's nothing you can do about that; everyone is going to die. It's what you do with life that matters."

She drew in a sharp breath, the heel of her hand leaving a harsh red mark against her cheek as she ruthlessly dried her face. "I'm not offering you normal. I don't want normal. I'm a hunter, just like you. White picket fences and 2.4 children ....that's not The Life. But I really don't care." She ducked her head, looking down at her hands clasped together against the grain of the bar top. "I want you," she said very softly. "I love you."

He dug his fingers into his short-cropped hair, feeling a headache coming on, either from the booze or the overload of emotions from the last few days. He lifted his head, tears glittering in eyes that were too clear and too bright. "Do you know how many times I've died" How many times I've wished I'd just stay dead" How many people I've..." He broke off, not wanting to let her think he was feeling sorry for himself. It wasn't that so much. "Don't you get it' I watched you die once, and I can't do it again."

And there it was. Fear. Plain and simple, fear. His voice broke and he averted his gaze to glance at her hands, clasped on the counter in front of him, his fingers itching to reach for her hand and tangle with hers, but remaining where they were. He listened as she continued, wondering if she really understood what it was she was asking for, what it meant to be with him.