#Gareth just trying to live: Do not do this weird flirting thing right now

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, trying to give his fans an update on the band: So, unfortunately due to scheduling errors, we-

Steve, to himself: Ed-weird

Eddie:

Eddie:

Steve, still just to himself: Ed-weird Munson. Ed-weirdo Munson.

Steve: I wish I would have thought of that in high school.

[boldlyvoid]

Heartbreak Princess

Summary: After breaking up with her on the phone and ignoring her, Y/N and her band, decide to play a special gig at the hideout... right before Eddie's set to go on and play.

Warnings: childhood friends to lovers to ex's. Angst with a happy ending. background Jancy breakup, mentions of Ronance, the drummer is Gareth's little sister, (hastily proofread)

SET LIST

Word Count: 2.5k

Ah, childhood romance, one of the most precious things you can have… Flirting on the playground, getting married with 25-cent machine rings in the 5th grade, kissing for the first time at a Sadie Hawkins dance, losing their virginity to each other in the middle of the summer between freshman and sophomore year… in their Senior year, they won prom king and queen even though they weren’t on track to graduate at all. In their 5th year together they just had fun, they really stopped trying to pass at that point, but Y/N did anyway. She graduated in Steve Harrington’s year, it was weird accepting her diploma without Eddie, but she did it. 

She graduated, she got into hairdressing school, she took out some loans she got an apartment and she was living in Indianapolis with the preconceived notion that Eddie would try this year and move in with her once he was free of Hawkins High…

And now she’s sitting in her room, alone, without a best friend or a boyfriend because he’s an idiot. Something happened over his march break, something that he wouldn’t tell her about, something that caused him to be on an FBI watchlist. And then something in him said they should break up because he was holding her back… from what? She had no fucking idea?? He just dumped her. Like it was easy like he had no problem doing it, on the phone in 27 seconds and then he was gone. 

It’s not like she had huge life goals and they both knew success in high school didn’t translate after… just look at Steve Harrington at scoops ahoy? And now the video store? He was on track to be the most successful just because he was the most popular at school, where was Y/N on that list? She didn’t know, but it was probably closer to the bottom. 

She calls him again, not getting him, only Wayne. “Dude, I’m in hairdressing school it’s not like I’m going to be the fucking president? What does he mean holding me back?” 

“I don’t know,” Wayne sighs. “I can’t keep telling ya his secrets, you’re gonna have to talk to him about it.” 

“He won’t talk to me?!” 

“He’ll have to if you just showed up here?” 

He was right. She knew it. “okay.. I’ll see what I can do.” And she left him alone after that. 

She couldn’t get back to Hawkins for a while, she knew he wouldn’t be in Indianapolis for the unforeseeable future, so she just had to sit and stew in her feelings. Something she wasn’t really good at doing. She didn’t like to keep them in and she no longer had him there to tell everything to. She hated it. 

She wanted to get the feelings out so she picked up a pencil and started scribbling out her feelings, noticing how some of it fit and rhymed and made sense more as a song. A breakup song, mildly angry, mostly confused… but a song nonetheless. 

She was tapping on her desk, humming, “call me, say it’s over… I was your best friend we were the perfect shade… out of every colour, how did our love turn, how did our love turn grey?” She sings to herself. 

With some of his stuff already at her apartment, the place he was supposed to move into next month, she finds his first ever electric guitar and his old amp, the ones that mean the most to him (much like how she felt) and plugged them in. She couldn’t stop herself from finding a riff, bounding her leg along, imagining hard drums, the kind of music she and the boys used to pretend to make in Gareth’s garage.. and it makes sense. 

And it’s good. 

So the plan changes, she makes a few phone calls, and then she has a band and then they’re coming over for practice and then it becomes a real song. She knew a few girls from the school band that had their hearts broken, she knew they’d be able to bring the energy that she wanted to this song and they sure fuckin did. 

Gareth’s little sister, Gretchen, was her drummer, she was just as pissed off at Eddie for breaking up with Y/N as she was, and even angrier that the whole mess resulted in Jason breaking her brother's hand. Buckley could read notes, so transferring from trumpet to Key’s was easy for her and she really enjoyed it. She even added some extra sounds, synth, sandbags, and a cowbell? It brought another level to the song she didn’t know they needed, and the finishing touch was someone she never even knew had any musical talent, but Robin vogued for her. Nancy Wheeler could play guitar and she was fucking awesome at it. And also incredibly pissed at her ex, Jonathan. So it helped. It helped a lot. 

The 4 of them were all angry and talented, and so the song reflected it. 

So, on a stormy Tuesday, with all their stuff piled into the back of Nancy’s station wagon, they drove from practice in Indianapolis all the way to the Hideout in Hawkins. She knew they had a gig, or Eddie did, they weren’t a full band with Gareth’s hand still in a cast, so the boys just sat in the audience, turning his crowd from 3 to 6. 

When Y/N called the hideout and booked their spot she gave them direct orders to not advertise who else was playing before Eddie’s spot. They didn’t care, it was a weird request but they kept their word. Eddie had no idea when he walked in that his ex-girlfriend would be coming out in a few minutes with his old guitar in his old clothes, singing a song about how he fucking hurt her for no reason. 

He gets a drink to calm his pre-show nerves like always, sitting at the bar and watching the roadies set up the stage. It’s not unusual for him to not know who was playing, it was however for no one working there to give him a hint or a name, or anything really about who it was. For some reason he thought it was someone famous, he thought maybe the town being on the news brought someone new in, and the growing crowd fed his suspicion. 

And then people he knew started coming in. 

Steve and Dustin, who had a blue wristband on to let the bartender know not to serve him. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, Robin's playing tonight,” Steve shrugs it off. 

“She joined a band?” 

He laughs, not knowing that Eddie didn’t know yet. “Yeah, with Nancy and Y/N?” 

“What?” He barely has time to get a response out of Steve when the lights dim and the curtain closes. 

Steve places a hand on his back, “get ready, man.” 

“Fuck…” his heart drops to his stomach, he feels absolutely sick about having to see her… but he also wants to cry because he’s missed her so fucking much. Hating himself for the choice he made from the second he hung up the phone, he hasn’t been able to face her in the wake of everything. 

He just couldn’t ruin her life being associated with him that closely. 

When the curtain opens again the lights turn red and blue, making her glow a beautiful purple as she stands there with his guitar swung around her shoulders. He makes his way through the crowd to the front, watching her with big eyes as she introduces everyone. 

“Hi,” she smiles, unable to see past the blinding lights, she had no idea he was this close to the stage. “I’m Y/N, and we’re Heartbreak Princess… and we’re really excited to share our first song with you guys.” 

She turns around singling to Gretchen to start the song, it was really happening now. With light drums, she turns back to the mic, eyes closed, she takes a deep breath, “Everything was simple, I was your best friend. We were the perfect shade. Out of every colour… How did our love turn, how did our love turn grey?” 

She steps away from the mic, biting her lip as she prepares for the reaction, “Fuck yeah!” Robin shouts as the beat drops and the song kicks in. 

Stepping back in, playing along, she sings: “I’ve never known the glitter and gold or why I feel numb at 20 years old? Oh, why do I always do this again, again?

Tried to fill a boy who was empty inside. Traced around the edges, started crossing the line. Don’t just tell me it’s all in it’s all in my head.” 

“It’s all in my head!” The girls sing backup.

“Call me, say it’s over. I was your best friend. We were the perfect shade. Out of every colour, how did our love turn, how did our love turn grey?"

Gretchen fucking kills the drums, angry as possible, really making it hit. 

Letting Nancy take over as she mimes along… “Here we go, we’re at it again, I need a little time, could you pencil me in. I’ll make you hate me just to see if you can,” she puts in the dramatics.

“Let’s see if you can!” The girls sing back.

“Out of every colour,” Robin sings, first, followed by Y/N, “You were my favourite.” “We were the perfect shade,” they sing together into the silence. 

And then the base drops and she jumps, singing loud enough still that the mic picks up her cry, “Oooh! Oh!” 

Gretchen goes off! Nancy shreds so hard a press on nail pops off onto the stage, and the whole room erupts into chaos! It’s incredible. 

“How could you say it’s over? When I was your best friend and we were a perfect shade. Out of every colour, why did our love turn, why did our love turn grey?”

She steps away, joining Nancy in the most epic guitar solo known to man, the two of them facing each other, letting Robin sing the rest of the song as they played together. 

“Why did our love turn grey?”

She plays out the last few notes, turning back to the microphone as the band stops but the room doesn’t go quiet. “Thank you.” 

He’s absolutely dumbfounded. 

Standing in the front, bombarded by people rushing to the front in the heat of the moment, just absolutely blown away by how amazing she is. 

He had no idea she had that in her, and by god was he proud of her for doing it. He claps and cheers, whistling so loud she locks eyes with him and knows he’s there close to the stage. And it pisses her off a bit. 

“That was for my dickhead ex, this one is for me,” she announces before they start another song, a cover this time, Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks to be exact. 

She has a whole set to finish before he’s allowed to talk to her before he can say sorry, so he backs up into the crowd and gives the front to someone who wants it, letting Y/N have her moment. 

And he’s gotta give it to the girls, Gretchen is kicking ass almost better than her brother… and he’s spent a lot of time playing in front of Gareth to know. Nancy is fucking awesome, he didn’t even know she knew how to play and he bet she could play better than him with those delicate fingers. And Robin can sing. Like really sing! Singing most of Edge of seventeen, hitting every high note of the background music, it was fucking amazing. 

And with the song fading to quiet, Robin shows off again with her piano work as an all too familiar favourite of Eddie’s comes on. Head Over Heels, by Tears For Fears… it’s like she’s singing right into his soul. 

He was wasting time. He took her heart, he broke her heart and he threw it away and she didn’t want any of it. 

Like she’s singing right into his soul, he can’t believe he’s hurt her like this all for his own peace of mind. She didn’t give a fuck if he actually killed those people, she’d still come to knock on the glass and hold that prison phone each week to talk to him. She loved him more than anything. 

He knew that now. 

And in their last song, bringing them to the end of their 20-minute set, Nancy switches place with Y/N to sing Separate Ways by Journey. Which is when Eddie sees Jonathan head towards the door and right out of the bar. 

All the girls up there were going through something. Eddie knew more than most people in the crowd, that confusion that Nancy was singing about was her newfound interest in Robin and her betrayal from Jonathan, changing the plans they had. And she lets out every feeling on that stage because of it, Nancy Wheeler is a rockstar.

There’s a 25-minute interval after gigs, a random playlist is played to fill the silence as everyone mingles back to the bar to refuel and Eddie heads backstage, waiting for her to come out and talk to him like she’s been dying to. 

“I’m sorry,” are the first words to leave his mouth when he sees her.

She takes off her, well, his guitar and places it in its case before she pays him any mind. He can’t take it so he walks over to her, crowding her space but not touching her, “I’m so sorry.” 

“You better be,” she crosses her arms and looks up at him. “That was so fucked up, you know? Not everyone in the world hates you, and so fucking what? I don’t! Let me love you, you fucking idiot.” 

“Okay,” he doesn’t fight her. “I am an idiot, I really thought you wouldn’t want to go through life associated with me…” 

“I don’t care what people say, and you shouldn’t either, we both know it’s not the truth,” she reminds him, stepping closer to him and placing her hands on his chest as she looks up into his eyes. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” he cups her cheek in his one hand, caressing her with his thumb. “It’s been so hard ignoring you I’m literally so fucking stupid, I can’t believe I—

“It’s okay now,” she takes a deep breath and gives him a smile. “But I’m still going to perform that song all the time.” 

He laughs, “as you should it’s fucking amazing. You’re amazing.” 

He leans in for a kiss, pressing their smiling lips together as their noses bump. He breathes her in, the kiss softens and his hands both wander to her back to pull her in flush with him. She holds him back just as tight, very content with him back in her life. 

Of course, all it took was a song for him to get that they were meant to be together forever. But at least he got it now.  

Taglist:

@fightingdragonswithwho @mrs-dr-reid @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @stevesmunsons @blairscott @sweetyyhippyy @wroteclassicaly @reidsbookclub

[chiliscale]

Roadhouse Nights

For @wincestwritingchallenge

Prompt: The High Priestress ( feminine influences, insightfulness, intuition, reason should take second place to instinct)

My partner: @sweet-sammy-kisses

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Other Tags: Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle. Ash, Roadhouse, Outside POV

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 2704

Summary: Ellen has been watching them for months now. She´s seen the pining, the hidden touches, the secret looks… and she´s about done with it. If those damned Winchester´s are too stubborn to pull their heads out of their asses themselves, then she´s just the right woman to do it for them.

Link: AO3

There´s a shout and a crash, the sound of splintering wood, loud laughter echoing through the bar, heads turning to see what all the ruckus is about. Crude jokes fly through the air, followed by good-natured mocking, and Ellen lifts her head from the counter to check if any intervention on her part is needed.

Her staff is already on the move though, Perry and Dunham deftly pulling Elkins off the floor and escorting him outside, Tina abandoning her tray of empty glasses in favor of grabbing a mop and a trashcan to clean up the mess of spilled beer and broken chair pieces. It´s over in the span of a few minutes, and most people are already turning their attention back to their own conversations. Business as usual, then.

Ellen sighs and pours cheap whiskey into glasses, collects some of the empty beer bottles littering the bar and adds the broken chair to Elkins´ tap - there´s no way that bastard´s not going to pay for the damage he´s caused.

It´s just another normal Saturday night: hunters crowding her bar, the smell of male sweat and alcohol thick in the air, everyone trying to one-up their drinking partners with stories of glory, blood, and monster guts.

At the table to her left, a smaller group of hunters starts singing their own horrid rendition of some semi-famous country song Ellen can´t remember the name of, and it really shouldn´t surprise her that it´s Ash´s voice that stands out the loudest. Genius he may be, but that kid can´t carry a tune for the life of him…

Jo joins her behind the bar and starts piling fresh beer bottles onto her tray, grimacing in pain when Ash hits another high note. Resigning, Ellen rolls her eyes and empties the vodka bottle into the half-filled beer glass in front of her – once Ash´s reached this particular state of drunkenness, there´s only one way to shut him up: get him pass-out drunk and let him sleep it off; and judging by his antics, it is definitely time to speed things up a little... She hands the vodka spiked beer to Tina and then turns her attention back to her regular patrons, pouring drinks and collecting money with well-practiced movements.

Another bout of laughter floats over, warm and genuine this time, and Jo pauses and looks up, gaze fixed at something over at the pool tables.

Well, Ellen amends, or rather at a someone, if the wistful look in her daughter´s eyes is anything to go by…

It´s not like Ellen can blame her: Dean Winchester is every girl´s wet dream, every parent´s worst nightmare. From those broad shoulders to that cocky smile, green eyes sparkling in the dim bar light, leather jacket straining over his biceps – that boy´s sex on legs, dangerous and mysterious, confident and charming enough to flirt his way into most women´s beds. He´s a damn good hunter too, way more intelligent than he´s letting on, and Ellen´s known him and Sam long enough to realize that they´re both hiding a heart of gold underneath that rough big-bad-hunter exterior.

But Dean´s also too much like his father, too focused on his mission to care for much else, too entangled with the hunting life, with his brother, to offer her daughter more than heartbreak and sorrow. The Winchester´s path is a bloody one, and as much as she´s learned to love those boys, she´s not about to lose another member of her family to hunting. Not without fighting it with everything she has.

Determined to break the moment, Ellen slams down the tequila bottle, and Jo jumps and shakes out of her daydreams with a high-pitched sound of surprise. Her daughter gives her a sheepish smile, well aware that she´s been caught, and hurriedly scurries away to exchange empty beer bottles with full ones.

Ellen shakes her head in exasperation and then stacks dirty glasses into the dishwasher, grabbing a towel to dry off the newly washed ones.

Her gaze drifts a bit as she works, lingers on the poker game that´s taking place a few feet away, and slides further up to where Gareth and McMartins are trying to convince Addams to join in on their werewolf hunt five towns over.

It´s not so much by accident than a rule of physics that her eyes finally get stuck on Sam Winchester´s broad back. The kid´s easily towering over everyone else in the bar (excluding Ash, who´s currently dancing on a damn table) and even his hunched shoulders and bend neck do nothing to make him less visible.

Ellen frowns – that posture can´t be good for the boy, and she´s tried talking it out of him a few times already. At this point, the whole things is probably instinctual rather than a conscious choice though, a bad habit that is hard to get rid of. She´s seen the kid fully upright once or twice only, and it has always been in response to a threat – Sam´s going to have some serious back problems once he´s older.

If he lives to see thirty, that is…

She ruthlessly shoves that thought away and grabs a new glass to dry, silently watches as Dean lines up another shot, shamelessly showing off for the little fan club that has gathered around the table in the hopes of catching his attention. He succeeds in sinking a few balls, but messes up the next shot, grudgingly stepping aside to let Sam take over. The older Winchester watches from the sightlines as Sam works his own magic at the pool table, gaze firmly fixed on his brother even as he jokes with the three girls surrounding him.

Some new patrons draw Ellen´s attention away, and when she looks over next, Dean has slung an arm around his brother´s shoulders, triumphant grin broadcasting his victory. It´s strangely endearing to see how well they fit together, bodies leaning into each other without a conscious thought, their sides pressed together comfortably, as if that´s right where they belong, not an inch of space between them.

For a second, Sam looks almost small in Dean´s arms, almost fragile despite his bigger frame, but the little-brother moment is gone before Ellen can fully pinpoint it, and then Sam shoves Dean off with a smile and excuses himself, apparently done with his brother´s flirting and determined to leave him to his hook-ups.

Dean watches him go, shoulders slumping slightly before he catches himself and turns his million-watt smile back onto his would-be conquests.

Ellen loses sight of Sam as another wave of costumers demands her attention and for a while, she´s too busy handling the bar to pay any mind to the Winchesters.  It´s nearly fifteen minutes later when she finds another quiet moment.

By then, Dean´s back to playing some newbie hunter who´s obviously not yet had the pleasure of being defeated by a Winchester, and this time it´s Sam watching from the distance, large frame nearly disappearing into the shadows of his chosen bar corner.  

Dean´s not even paying his opponent full attention, too busy flirting with his fan club to focus entirely on the game. Ellen does not miss the looks he´s throwing Sam, though, doesn´t miss how Dean´s constantly angling his body to allow him to keep his brother in his line of sight, doesn´t miss the silent communication that passes between those two.

She also doesn´t miss the hurt on Sam´s face when one of the girls curls a hand around Dean´s biceps, she sees the sad little smile when Dean leans closer in response, sees how Sam´s grip on his beer bottle tightens, how his shoulders tense and how he curls into himself even more as he withdraws deeper into the shadows.

The look in Sam´s eyes is one she´s seen a million times before on other people´s faces – there´s so much longing, so much love, so much hopelessness… It´s not a look you´re supposed to direct towards a sibling.

It had been hard to detect at first, the brother´s unusual closeness covering most of their weird relationship dynamics, Dean´s constant flirting doing the rest to distract from anything out of the ordinary. But Ellen´s always been good at reading people and it hasn’t taken her long to pick up on the looks, the touches. Sam´s quiet longing, Dean´s louder self- depreciation. She doesn’t need Ash´s level of genius to read the signals right…

Ellen knows this should probably disgust her, and disgust had been her knee-jerk reaction at first, common sense and the rules of society telling her how wrong this is. But a hunter´s life is complicated and she´s learned a long time ago that unusual doesn’t necessarily mean bad. She´s been in love herself, has loved without reason or rhyme, knows how impossible it is to fight this – who is she to condemn someone else´s feelings?

The boys are adults. Old enough, mature enough.

Still, she can´t help but feel grateful that John isn´t around to witness this… can´t help but wonder if he knew…

Dean laughs, draws the brunette closer to whisper in her ear, and Sam cringes and drains his beer, gathers his plaid shirts and jacket, determined to flee the scene.

Oh hell, no.

Ellen huffs and throws her towel down – she´s watched this fiasco long enough, has tried to direct those boys with subtle hints and quiet encouragement, but has obviously misjudged the legendary Winchester stubbornness. God save her from men and their emotional stupidity - time for some female intervention.

“Jo, you´re in charge.”

She grabs two beers and is on her way before her daughter finds the voice to protest. Sam looks up in surprise when she slides one of her beers over and grabs his arm to keep him in place, silently ordering him to stay put. He obeys reluctantly, sits back down and smiles (well, grimaces) at her.

“Hey, Ellen.”

“You´re leaving already? Tired of watching Dean flirt his way through the whole bar?”

Sam shrugs solemnly, fingers finding the label of his beer bottle and starting to peel it off.

“We´ve had a busy few weeks. Not much time for fun or distraction… I can tell him to lay off, if you want me to, though, he´ll understand.”

Ellen only snorts.

“I can handle your brother if I need to, Winchester. No need for you to intervene on my behalf.”

They just sit for a while, quietly enjoying their drinks, Ellen watching Sam watching Dean, silently cataloguing the emotions that play over his face. The longing´s even more obvious from up close, and she wonders how she could´ve spend so many weeks in the dark, how anyone can spend more than ten minutes with those two in one room without realizing the truth.

Then again, those boys are head over heels for each other, and none of them has even the slightest idea that their feelings are returned, either.

“You should tell him, you know.”

Sam blinks at her, confusion clouding his face, but she only quirks an eyebrow meaningfully, and shifts her eyes to where Dean´s ass is high up in the air as he bends over the pool table to get a better shot.

It´s painful to watch the horror descend over Sam´s face, to see the panic in his eyes before he manages to rein himself in. His shoulders tense and he opens his mouth, closes it again, has to try several times before he manages to force out some words.

Ellen´s never wanted to hug someone this badly.

“I – Ellen. Tell him what? I don´t… What do you…”

She settles for the direct approach, lets her hand rest on Sam´s right forearm and squeezes gently.

“You love him. And not only in the way a brother should… There´s more. Took me a while to see it, but it´s unmistakable now.”

Sam´s still struggling for words, denial clear on his face, but they both know that he´s been caught.

“Please, Ellen.” There´s something shaky in his voice, something broken and defeated, something she never wants to her in his voice ever again. “You can´t tell him. You can´t. Dean wouldn’t – he doesn’t...”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Sam.”

She cradles his huge hand in hers, gently tries to loosen the death grip his fingers have on his beer bottle.

“I´ve seen the way you look at him, all the love, all the adoration in your eyes… Dean looks at you the same way – like you´re the single most important thing in all of creation, like he´d give up everything for you in a heartbeat.”

Sam´s shaking his head wordlessly, still unable to meet her eyes.

“It´s okay, Sam. We´re okay.”

Ellen knows that Dean has noticed that something´s wrong by now, can feel his eyes boring into her back, knows that he´s fidgeting, trying to decide if he´s supposed to come over and save Sam from her clutches or if that would only earn him a tongue-lashing too.

“What you and Dean share… It´s special. Precious. Most people don´t ever make the kind of connection that you two have, and with the life us hunters lead… I can´t believe that I´m actually saying this, but stop thinking with your head, Sam. Stop trying to find reasons why this is wrong. Listen to your instincts. You´ve been struggling with this for years, haven´t you? Maybe your heart isn´t as wrong as you believe it to be.”

Sam´s face is still stoic and disbelieving, but there´s also tentative hope, small and fragile, but there… Maybe that´s all those boys ever needed – acceptance, someone giving them permission.

“Talk to him, Winchester.”

Ellen drains her beer and gets up again, buries her understanding-counselor persona deep under her usual gruff attitude, and searches Sam´s eye one last time.

“And Sam? Knock some sense into that brother of yours. That boy is even more caught up in his head than you are, he´s going to need some convincing… Don´t let him bullshit you, he wants this just as much as you do.”

With that she turns and heads back to the bar, grinning when she watches from the corner of her eyes as Dean beelines to his brother´s side immediately, shooting an angry glance in her direction when he sees the state Sam´s in.

She´s not sure if her little stunt has done any good or just made everything worse - those boys are too damn bullheaded! But well, if push comes to shove, there´s always the good old get-everyone-drunk-and-shove-them-into-a-supply-closet approach; a move she has perfected over the years – hunter´s are a stubborn folk, and as brilliant as some of them are when it comes to hunting, feelings are a whole different matter.

Ellen ignores Jo and her curious glances and goes back to serving beer again, wipes down the counter and collects the keys from some of her drunk-off-their-asses’ regulars.

In the far corner, Dean is quietly whispering with Sam, foreheads nearly touching as he tries to get his brother to talk. Ellen catches Sam´s eyes and winks, smirks as he blushes, and then turns towards her daughter, who is still looking between the three of them quizzically, and shoos her back to work.

Some idiot at the poker table has been caught cheating and it takes her some time to settle the ensuing dispute, her loaded shotgun making another one of it´s infamous appearances and reminding everyone of the Roadhouse´s no-fistfights-in-the-bar policy.

Ash has finally reached his limits, and he only gives another loud snore when Ellen none-too-gently pokes his side, flopping onto his stomach without waking, blissfully unaware of the warding symbols people have drawn all over his face.

Jo is once again back at the pool tables, pouring tequila shots and distributing beers among the hunters gathered there, her eyes roaming the crowd and narrowing in confusion when she doesn’t find what she´s looking for.

A quick check-up reveals that Sam´s table in the far corner is empty now, no sign of plaid anywhere to be found, and Ellen mentally high-fives herself and turns to the next patron with a smug smile on her face.

Those Winchester boys really do owe her a big one after this.