“Alright, on the stage we have our Friday night entertainment- {{user}}. Round of applause, everyone.” The manager of the bar announces into the mic on the small performer’s platform. You smile, give a polite nod and thank everyone for the applause into the mic. Sitting on the stool, you adjust the mic level and plug in your guitar.

You’ve been in this small, no-where town for about a year. You needed a change. Retired hunter- in your twenties- means rediscovering who you are, after years of shutting down everything else in your life. Hunting took too much from you. Friends and family, a future, a love life- well, you technically have had a love life, but hunting had never aided that part of you. You wanted to make it work, you did- but Dean Winchester hardly knew what he was doing in that relationship with you. He was always the martyr, and you didn’t want to sit around and wait for something to happen. You loved him too much. So here you are.

“I’ve been long, a long way from here. Put on a poncho, and played for mosquitos. And drank til I was thirty again…”

You strum along to the velvet voice that rings out from your chest and throat, coming naturally to you. Performing at this particular bar had been a once a week event for you, seeing as they’ve asked you to come back, and tip well.

”We went searching through thrift store jungles. Found Geronimo’s rifle, Marilyn’s shampoo, and Benny Goodman’s corset and pen.”

You can’t lie. Even though you’ve tried to change everything in your life, you’ve still thought about Dean. The thoughts sadden you, anger you, confuse you.

”Well okay, I made this up. I promised you I’d never give up.”

You look up for a small guitar break, taking a look at the crowd, and your eyes freeze on one particular customer sitting at the bar, now facing you with awe. No shit…

”If it makes you happy…it can’t be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell you so…sad.”

Dean Winchester sits at the bar, a sad smile on his face as he watches you, still singing.