The Rise of Dawn - Dean Winchester

Chapter 3. Finally, I Can Be the Comedian I've Always Dreamed to Be

The two friends were sitting for several long minutes in silence in a bar where a hundred of conversations were trying to compete with the rock music dominating the atmosphere. Niamh stared at the muted colors of the bottles on the ceiling high shelf as she tapped her own with her fingernails to the rhythm of a a rock classic. If she could've melted into the air she would've moved easily as the smoke, she would've soaked all the laughter and the smiles and moved to each octave of the song. But instead, she sat there, dwelling in her own unhappiness and misery she felt. 

Her friend waited next to her, bouncing his leg on the high bar stool, and clutching his own bottle until his knuckled turned white in order not to reach out and physically comfort the girl. He called for two more drinks and completely ignored the fiery stares from the drunk, half-naked bar guests, whom he could've seduced at any other time, but not tonight.

"Remember our first hunt together?" Dean broke the overlong silence between them and took a sip of his pale ale.

"I do." Niamh mimicked his behavior, putting her lips around the cold glass bottle. The taste of the new fresh alcohol slid down her throat. "I saved your soul from being eaten."

"It wasn't like that, c'mon," Dean whined.

"Boy, that Shtriga almost drank you like a slushie." Niamh's lips curled into a sad smile. Distracting herself from the pain lifted her mood slightly.

"Okay," Dean chanted repeatedly while waving his hand to brush the embarrassment off. "What about our last case?"

"The last time we saw each other was when you almost became Glythur's bitch."

"First of all, I wasn't going to become his bitch. I'm no one's bitch," Dean argued with one of his fingers in the air, trying to make a point.

"It was an enormous octopus ready to devour you from inside and steal your face, of course it would've made you its bitch," Niamh pushed more, remembering the scene she saw entering the bunker that night; Dean dodging Glythur's tentacles emerging from the ceiling

"It was god of another reality, not an octopus."

"It had tentacles."

"Yeah, it was an octopus," Dean gave in after a short second of thinking, rubbing his palms over his face to hide the redness his cheeks were exposing.

They continued to laugh and talk about the countless times they could have died in the stupidest way possible and how they helped each other, remembering the various memories they made along the way. It opened a path in Niamh, between her heart and her brain, and she realized that her life did not suck as much as she thought it did. She was glad that her family was safe and alive, and that she had two friends who she would always be of service to when they needed help, because she knew they would return the favor.

"You saved my ass more times than I can count. And what I want to say with this is..." Dean was about to explain the point of the conversation they'd been having all along, but he was having a hard time finding the right words.

"You are not capable of living without me."

"No," he drawled sarcastically, "I wanted to say that you helped me, like, a lot. Let me help you now." He reached for her hand resting on the bar, squeezing it ever so tightly in reassuring matter.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sense of his warm skin and all she could do was stare at his fingers around hers. Niamh thought that if she was quiet long enough, Dean would forget what he said and move on to another topic of conversation. But he  had no plans in letting anything go. 

"What happened with your family?"

Before answering his question, Niamh took a big swig from her beer, drinking it all up. In a matter of seconds there was another bottle in front of her. She took a big breath to calm her heartbeat, a thing she did so often it became a habit.