[h2] Dean Winchester [/h2]

He narrowed his eyes at her vague answer to his question, but let it go as he continued to stare at her.  He understood that she had her own baggage, but at the same time, bad things seemed to follow he and Sam.  The damned apocalypse was looming over their heads, while they dealt with one half’s kid.  He scoffed at the thought, “Have you met me?  You think I’m not used to baggage and broken people?  I practically live off it.”

He laughed, making sure that he didn’t ruin the mood as he took a drink from his glass, and looked away from her, to focus on the wall behind the bar.  He finished off his drink, and sat it on the bar, without asking for another.

“Do you want to dance?”, he asked her suddenly, the whiskey making him feel a bit spontaneous.  He slipped off his stool, offering a hand to her as a slow song began to play on the jukebox, “C’mon.  I’ll do my best not to step on your feet.”

He gave a bright and reassuring smile.