Tomorrow Never Comes by greensheep8
Summary: All signs point to a night out, but under close look, the truth begins to unravel and a Winchester has their days numbered. But who??
The bar was smoky and the atmosphere happy. People were dancing, talking or just drinking. The lights flashed blue, green, and red over again as the music played. The place was packed, and a young man just sat at the bar; holding his beer bottle at the neck with his thumb and forefinger. He was a good looking if slightly scruffy man, mid twenties with short dark hair and the beginnings of a beard. His clothes were well worn, the holes in his jeans there from use rather than the usual holes carefully placed by designers. He kept his soft leather jacket on despite the warmth of the room. People would smile, nod as they walked past and occasionally this young man would respond. He wasn’t in a good mood, it showed in the tight line of his mouth and the tension in his jaw. Obviously, just before he came out he had had an argument with someone and it hadn’t end well.
He just always has to say something and never let it be.
The man signalled to the bartender to get him another bottle. As the bartender was reaching for it, the man’s phone started to vibrate. He ignored the caller ID and turned it off. The bartender noticed that the customer wasn’t in a party mood, and thought it was odd seeing as it was a launch party for the new club.
‘Hey, mate are you ‘kay?’
The man was startled to find he was being spoken too, it took some time for him to realise what was going on. ‘Oh, yeah, just not in the party mood right now. Some things have gotten out of hand and I needed the fresh air.’
‘So you have come here?’
He looked around and noticed the irony, then smirked. ‘I guess I didn’t think that one through. How much will this be?’
The bartender shook his head. ‘Nah, it’s on the house.’ He smiled and went to serve someone else, having a sign behind the bar proclaiming beer was free for that night only.
The song changed and a group of girls started squealing and jumped up to dance. One of them was a blonde, slim built with the strangest brown eyes. She noticed the lonely man and winked, beckoning him to join her on the dance floor. He looked at her but just waved his hand slightly.
No, you look like you have just started puberty.
That’s when she noticed. Her blonde hair fell in curls down her shoulders. Her brown eyes made more noticeable by the amount of make up she was wearing. Her top had little gems on it, and sparkled in the disco lights. Her jeans were tight and made her seem curvier. Her boots, hidden by her jeans, would have made a noise if the music was turned off and the place empty. She kept her eyes on the lonely man at the bar and gave notice to the bartender that he was the one.
The young woman turned leaving the dance floor to go to the toilets. No-one was in them and she crossed to the mirror. Out of her pocket she took her phone and double checked the picture. It was the right guy. She looked in the mirror and put on some lip gloss. That’s when she smiled to herself her eyes turning jet black. Demon.
Weaving her way through the packed room she walked up to the lonely man. ‘Hi, I’m Imogen.’ She smiled, her top not fully covering her stomach.
He just smiled, taken aback by her stunning figure and smile. He put down his beer bottle and outstretched his hand.
‘I’m Dean, Dean Winchester.’