Drinking to forget {open}

[ZZZ - Dean - RETIRED]

There were many reasons why Dean Winchester drank these days. Occasionally it was in celebration over a hunt gone well, lives saved and no-one getting hurt in the process. A cold beer at the end of the day was the only reward a hunter ever really got in a job that paid only in kind. Most often though, Dean drank to forget. To forget Hell. To forget his job, his life. His family, because damn it if the heartache of losing everyone wasn't just too much to bear sometimes. Even Sam felt lost to him lately. Not quite the same Sammy he'd left behind when he died. It was the little stuff that hurt most, the deception and the lack of trust. Unexplained disappearing acts that Dean pretended not to notice when he woke in the middle of the night after yet another horrific nightmare. Sometimes he was thankful that Sam wasn't around to see the state his subconscious got himself in. So that was mostly why he drank these days.

It never really worked though, it seemed excessive alcoholism desensitised you to its effects over time. He might wake up with a massive hangover but he'd always remember. Still the whole ritual of going to the local bar at whatever pit stop he and Sam had made that night just felt like the right thing to do right now, whether he'd get wasted or not. Tonight he was alone, though he hadn't barred Sam from coming with him. Instead he'd just timed it right when he left, knew that his brother would be wrapped up in something on his computer for the forseable future and until he was done with whatever it was, Dean would have a little time to himself.

McGillicutty's Tavern was the nearest bar to the ramshackle motel they'd picked, reminding Dean of some old alias his father had once picked for health insurance purposes. He took it as a sign and wandered inside, pushing the worn wooden door open and stepping into the atmospheric interior. Now and then, in small town drinking dens, an outsider would draw immediate attention when he walked in the door but here, instead of the unwelcoming gazes of defensive locals, he got the indifferent obliviousness of hardened drinkers. No-one paid him any attention at all and that was exactly what he was looking for.

Two shots of Jack at the bar and Dean decided that the bartender might as well just leave the bottle with him. He laid enough money on the counter to cover it, picked up his glass and dragged the bottle down to the far end of the bar so that he'd be left in peace. There were no giggling girls in here, no busty blondes or curvacious brunettes and for once he was thankful for that. He was in no mood for flirting. Just tired and at the boundaries of tolerance for everything that rested on his weary shoulders.

The bar stool furthest from the door had cracks in the red leather that covered it but Dean perched on it anyway and leant his elbows on the bar, one hand resting lazily on the rim of his glass, the fingers of the other rubbing a slow line down the side of his temple while his gaze drifted off into nowhere. He was thinking about all the things he'd done that day and how none of it would really make a dent in the grand scheme of things. It didn't matter how many lives he saved, or sacrifices he made, it'd never be enough to atone for what he'd done in Hell. Sure, Sam could say that it wasn't his fault, that anyone else wouldn't have lasted as long as he had but Sam wasn't there. He couldn't truly know what he'd suffered through, or how easy it had been to break and give in to stop it. Or how much he'd enjoyed the feeling of taking out all the pain on someone else.

The guilt began to swamp him again, overwhelming like a tidal wave that there was no running from. The only hope was to pour another shot and will it to hold back the tide when he knocked it back.

[goddess1girl]

It had been a while for Veronique to drink without a care in the world. Of coarse alcohol didn’t have the same affect on her like it did on mere mortals, but still it can take a lot out of you. It had been five days since the last full moon and this time it had left her tired then usual. Exhausted all the day, not really in the mood to even move, so she crashed in some small town in the middle of know where. The pervious night all Vicky did was crash on the side of the rode, hiding her motorcycle behind a tree and sleep in her fur. It was a lot easier then finding a hotel and it relaxed her inner beast a bit.

She pushed open the creaky wooden door of a bar and slipped off her leather gloves and shoved them into her jeans. McGillicutty's Tavern was its name and drinking was its game. Veronique’s boots made s soft sound on the floor as she slowly made her way over to the counter. Vodka would be a southing drink to ease her past displeasure as she took a seat next to someone.

Amber eyes screened the room which was mostly full of men. It was a small town and it seemed to be that she and the guy beside her were newcomers. They gave slightly uneasy glances to the pair of them, but who wouldn’t want to be careful now a day, but then again these humans didn’t know a thing about what goes bump in the night. A soft chuckle escaped her through at the though and before long a drink was placed before her.

[ZZZ - Dean - RETIRED]

Just over an hour or so later and Dean had slowly worked his way through half the contents of the bottle of whiskey sat in front of him. He wasn't rushing drinking, his mind occupied by thoughts and worries, distracting him from refilling until he would lick his lips and realise they'd gone dry. As he was pouring his sixth (or was that seventh?) shot, movement near the door caught his eye and he turned his head a little to see who it was. Expecting to see the broad shouldered man mountain that was Sam loping into view, he was disappointed when it turned out to be some random woman. With a sigh he went back to pouring his whiskey, settling the bottle down again before picking up his glass.

The end of the bar where Dean was sitting was rounded and he'd chosen the spot right on the corner so he could still see the door without really having to turn too far. So it was easy to watch the newcomer slink in and take her own seat a couple down from him without really making it obvious he was watching her. The usual thoughts ran through his mind - was she a threat? Did she look like she was carrying a weapon? Were her breasts real or fake...the usual.

In the midst of his curiousity, it occured to him that he was getting a little warm and he knew it probably had a lot to do with how much whiskey was in his stomach, not that knowing that was going to make him stop drinking, but it was nice to know he was still alert enough to figure things out like that. He downed the shot in his hand, replaced the glass on the counter and shrugged out of his jacket to drape it haphazardly over the stool next to him, frowning when the sound of something hitting the floor caught his attention. He leaned over to see what it was, catching hold of the edge of the bar when the alcohol buzz in his head made things a little less stable. It turned out to be his phone that had fallen out of his pocket so he slid off his stool bent down to retreive it, wisely leaving one hand on the bar throughout the process.

When he stood up, he subtly shook the headrush away and then gave the woman who'd just entered a brief, awkward smile as he waved the cellphone a couple of times, proud that he'd reaquired it without fuss. The very fact he'd done that alerted him to the likelihood that he was more than a little drunk now, which then prompted him to get back on his own seat and ignore the rest of the room again. He didn't want to draw attention, not tonight.

He gave his phone a once-over, to check it hadn't cracked or broken in the fall, then flipped it open and made sure that everything else was in working order too. He was about to snap it closed again when the word 'contacts' caught his eye on the display. Should he call Sam? Ask him where he was, or if he was even coming down to the bar that night? Or would that just seem a little too obvious? After all, he'd originally intended to find a little alone time, did he want to alert Sam to the fact that he didn't do well on his own? Perhaps his brother already knew that he felt lonely sometimes but what could he really do when Dean pretended that he was fine all the time?

Tempted anyway, he pressed on the button with his thumb and brought up his list of contacts, intending to scroll through rather than just press speed-dial so he would have more time to talk himself out of it. But when he'd read the first name in the list, thoughts of someone else crept into his mind and before he knew it, his thumb had dialed her number.

Calling...Annali MacPherson....

[The Preceptor]

It had been nearly six weeks since Annali had parted ways with Sam and Dean. She had spent the first two eagerly awaiting a phone call from Dean, thinking that they had shared a connection that went far beyond a deadly curse. But when his name never showed up on her display, that anticipation started to turn toward resentment. What kind of asshole invaded a woman's life... a woman's heart... the way he had done and then never looked back? During their time together, they had shared so much with each other... intimate moments and meaningful talks... and when they had parted ways, it had been hell for Annali. It was the first time she had fallen in love since Greg had moved away all those years ago.

So she spent those first couple of weeks mending her broken heart, but by the time the hopeful phase had turned into the disappointment phase, she was ready to do more than just sit by the phone. Meeting Dean had been more than a romantic encounter. It had opened her eyes to a whole new world... a world full of mysteries and horrors that most people didn't dare to imagine. It was a world that, now that she knew about it, she couldn't bring herself to go on pretending like it didn't exist without trying to help. It hadn't been easy to convince Greg to start training her. Oh, she had been well aware that she was probably never going to become a full-fledged 'hunter', as they tended to call themselves, but Annali wasn't a woman who was willing to sit idly by while the people she loved risked their lives day in and day out to keep people like her safe.

On this particular night, she and Greg were holed up in yet another musty old motel room. It wasn't easy, but she was starting to get used to the less-than-desirable living arrangements. Greg had gotten an inkling for a late night snack and had tried to convince her to come along, mostly because he was worried about leaving her alone, but she had convinced him that it was only for a short time, and that she would be fine. Still, he had refused to go until after certain precautions were made... as in salt lines and devil's traps.

After he had finally gone, she laid back on her bed and had flipped through the channels on the old tv to the one station that actually came in semi-clearly... and by semi-clearly I mean there were distinguishable shapes, though it wasn't easy to tell just what those shapes were supposed to be. When her phone rang, she sighed, thinking it was probably Greg, who had been gone a grand total of three minutes, calling to check on her. She thought it was terribly sweet but hated that her presence seemed to stress the man out so much. But when she reached over to the bedside table for her phone and saw Dean's name on the display, she nearly dropped the thing.

For a moment she considered ignoring the call... letting it go to voice mail. Or maybe she would answer and give him a piece of her mind. But then it occurred to her that, if he had waited this long to call, it was highly likely that he was calling about something important. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm her nerves, and then answered, holding the phone to her ear. "Hello...?"

[ZZZ - Dean - RETIRED]

For the longest time, Dean just stared at his phone's display, reading and re-reading the name of the person his thumb has so wisely decided that the rest of him needed to talk to.

What am I doing?

You're calling Annali, you moron. Y'know, the woman who got your heart all tied up in knots and who you were ninety nine percent sure was 'the' one back when you got yourself cursed, remember?

Yeah, of course I know who Annali is, the whole fact that she might be 'the' one was the very reason why I cut myself out of her life. She didn't need me dragging her into my crappy world anymore than I already had and it was much better to just make a clean break and let her get on with the rest of her life without me around.

And look how well that's turned out for you. Moping around like someone kicked your puppy. You don't even flirt anymore, man it's pathetic. By the way....are you going to actually talk to her? Because she's picked up....

In his mental rambling, Dean had almost forgotten that the phone in his hand was actually calling someone and that when they picked up and said 'hello', it was generally good manners to answer back, rather than ignoring them completely for half a minute.

"Hi." He finally said, jerking the cellphone to his ear and clearing his throat in the same motion so that when he did speak, it was muffled by a throaty cough. Unsure whether or not to repeat it, in case she hadn't heard, he paused for a moment, then added a slightly awkward, "It's Dean." just in case she'd erased him from her memory.

Smooth...real smooth.

[ZZZ - Dean - RETIRED]

((This phone conversation was rp'd in an IM between myself and Annali, cause we're awesome like that ))

There was a long pause on the other end of the line as Annali took a moment to try to figure out just what she wanted to say. He didn't sound panicked, at least... In fact, to her he almost sounded nervous and unsure. Was he second guessing calling her? Was he afraid of her reaction? Could he already sense how upset she was with him? "Hi Dean. Everything ok?"

"Li." Dean swallowed and took a breath, pleased she hadn't just told him his was a jerk and hung up on him. Then again, that wasn't her style. "Yeah, everything's okay. Just thought I'd call, see how you were doing."

Annali's stomach was all tangled up in knots. She felt a tightening in her chest that only served to remind her of how strong her feelings were for him. It had taken a few weeks to push them aside and she had finally gotten to the point where she felt she could at least move on... she had accepted that he was gone from her life forever. "It's been over a month..."

"I know." He breathed out, sighing at the fact he'd left it so long to get back in touch with her. She sounded as though this was the last thing she had been expecting today and he wondered if he shouldn't have just hung up himself before she'd had chance to answer. It was good to hear her voice though. "We've been a little busy." Yeah, that's right. Bring out the old excuses...

"I see." There were tears forming in the corners of her eyes and, though she tried to will them not to fall, she couldn't keep the from escaping and sliding down her cheeks. The truth was that she was crazy about Dean. Though part of her wanted to rip him a new asshole for not staying in touch, deep down she knew that the best thing was for her to not put up a front. The last thing she wanted was for Dean to hang up from this phone call thinking that she didn't care. "It's really good to hear your voice."

Dean leaned his elbows on the bar and found himself smiling a little hearing that. He glanced across at the woman sat a couple of seats away from him then gazed forward again, feeling a tinge of giddiness that she was glad to hear his voice. "It's good to hear yours too. So....you back into the old routine again? I bet your kids missed you while you were gone."

A pair of headlightls flashed briefly into the motel room window and Annali quickly brushed her hand over the back of her eyes and moved off the bed to look out through the curtain. "Hold on," she said into the phone, and after a moment she added, "Ok never mind. I thought Greg was back. What were you saying?"

The smile that had crept onto Dean's face quickly fell away again. "Greg?" He repeated, tone vaguely suspicious. "He in town on a hunt or something?"

That change in tone didn't go unnoticed by Annali. "No... I'm um... I'm not at home Dean. I mean I'm close but..." There was a bit of a pause. "...yeah he's on a hunt..."

Maybe the whiskey was starting to get to him, because that didn't make much sense to Dean. If Greg was on a hunt, why would Li be expecting him to return? Unless.... "I don't...are you staying with Greg or something?"

"We're at a motel."

Dean nearly knocked his glass over, catching it at the last second but unable to stop some of the liquor from spilling over the rim. "With Greg?" Sure, it could have been totally innocent but then again, they were ex's and Dean had a very vivid imagination. Suddenly he felt a flare of the old green eyed monster run through him. "Why are you at a motel with Greg?"

Annali could hear a bit of rustling on the line but wasn't sure what was going on. She did, however, notice the mildly accusing tone of his voice. "It's not what you think...."

He reeled his jealousy back in, reminding himself that he had no claim over Annali because he'd chosen to distance himself from her. It would have been unfair to expect her not to move on. It was just...with Greg? That was kinda like a kick when you were down. "I'm not thinking anything." He said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

She couldn't help feeling disappointed when he suddenly sounded so calm. It was nice to think that he might be jealous of her being with someone else, but apparently she had gotten it wrong. "He's been teaching me some things."

Oh, I bet he has... Dean gripped the shot glass and tipped the contents into his mouth, swallowing it back and relishing that the burn stole his breath, giving him a moment to think before he answered. "That's...nice. Teaching you what exactly?"

Annali rolled onto her side on the dusty motel bed, grabbing the spare pillow and clutching it against her while she talked. "You know... stuff. Self defense..." She didn't want to come right out and tell him that Greg was training her on how to deal with the supernatural. If she knew Dean at all, she knew that his reaction would not be a good one.

Dean already had a horrible feeling he knew what Greg might be teaching her and her claim that it was self defense did nothing to appease his worry."You're on a hunt with him aren't you." He said, statement of fact rather than a question. Without realising it, he held his breath waiting for a reply.

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes and trying to imagine what sort of expression Dean might have had on his face. Disappointment? Anger? Fear? "Yes."

He moved the phone away from his ear and let out a long exhale. That was exactly what he didn't want to hear. Of course he supposed it was better than her saying she was just sleeping with Greg. Bringing the phone back to his mouth again he began massaging the bridge of his nose as he talked. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"