Drinks on Me

2

Aimey sighed as she slipped her bag over her shoulder. Heading down the narrow stairs from her apartment, she was hit with a chilly breeze. As she walked around the front of the building, Aimey spotted a thing lying on the bench in front of the pub. Upon closer inspection, she realized the thing was a man.

"Mr. Winchester?" she asked, startled. When he did not respond, Aimey leaned down to put a hand on his forehead. He was freezing. A moment of panic washed over the girl with the prospect discovering a dead body, but a few seconds later, Dean's eyes opened. He coughed and sat up, his coat making a painful cracking noise as the layers of frost wrinkled and broke off.

"Dean," she said, helping him to his feet, "come with me. We need to get you warmed up. Have you been out here all night?"

He responded with a yawn, allowing himself to be led down the alley and up the stairs. Once inside, Aimey sat him down on the couch, hurrying into her room to find a suitable shirt or bottoms to change into. Sifting through years of retired trends, she found a flannel, a needle amidst the haystack of feathered hats and petticoats. As she walked in the door, she noticed Dean on the floor, attempting to get the radiator to work. He brushed past her outstretched arms, back into her bedroom. Aimey stared, bewildered as he rummaged through to the back of her closet, pushing her belongings aside. He popped open a small panel in the wall, and glanced back at her. A few moments later, he re emerged from the sweaters and smiled as a low hum rumbled through the walls. The room began to feel warmer as each moment passed.

Finally having the chance to get him the clothes, Aimey sent Dean into the washroom to change. Her shirt was decidedly too small for him, but he gave her a grateful smile anyways. He yawned again, and Aimey decided it would be a good time for tea. She sat down in a loveseat, opposite the couch. However, the man simply stared at the frames on the brick wall, showing memories of Aimey growing up. When he eventually did sit down, it was with a mug of hot tea in his hands.

"I need to go open up and see if Lucy is coming in today. You can stay here and warm up if you'd like, I will be back up in a bit," stated Aimey. As she turned to head out the door, she heard a cough.

"Thank you," Dean said quietly. Aimey paused, smiling to herself, before closing the door behind her.

After a few rather lonely hours, with few patrons, Aimey decided to close up early. Although it wasn't her establishment, Aimey could choose the hours. As long as she was bringing in pay, the owner didn't care. He had rented her the apartment above for free, as log as she reached her monthly quota. As she locked the doors, the girl took a glance through the window. The light filtered dimly through the stained glass, casting a rainbow of shadows on the tables. Shaking her head, Aimey headed upstairs to check on her guest. She opened the door slowly, as to not disturb the calm silence settled over the little place. As she passed through the living room, she spotted the man. He was asleep with her cat, Roger, curled up on his stomach. She smiled, noting how peaceful he looked. The edge to his face, the darkness around his eyes, had slowly faded as he slept. Now he just looked empty. Avoiding staring, Aimey decided to make supper, A full three hours passed until Dean finally awoke. Sitting up, he appeared startled until he recognized his surrounding.

"Do you feel better now?" Aimey asked, sitting down across from him. True to himself, Dean said nothing, but nodded. He attempted a smile, but his eyes betrayed him. Appreciating his effort, Aimey smiled in return.

"I'm opening up for the night, but I'd be happy to walk you downstairs and call you a cab?" Aimey suggested. Although she wouldn't have minded the company, she knew better than to have a stranger in her apartment. Dean nodded, and stood to head out the door. He paused, looking down at the clothes.

"Oh right! Just a minute." Aimey said, dashing down the hall. After a heavy wash and dry, the clothes seemed almost new again. She hung them over her arm, and walked back down the hall. She handed them to Dean, who walked down the hall to the washroom to change again. Heading back to her room to grab a coat, Aimey stopped in front of the door. Inside, Dean stood. A scar ran down from the middle of his back, twisting to the side at the last moment. As he moved, a pair of tiny angel wings inked against his shoulder, caught Aimey's eye. She crept quietly down the hallway, grabbing her coat from her room, and returned to the living room as normal. Dean emerged from the bathroom, and stuck a hand out with the clothes.

"Why don't you just keep them? They're too big on me anyways," Aimey said, and without another word turned and headed out the door.