The bar smelled like smoke and whiskey, the girls were pretty, and the music was loud.

A man sat at the bar drowning his sorrows in whiskey. Another man at the bar sat with a cigarette in his mouth, unlit, but hanging from his teeth.

The pretty bartender poured a beer down the table, earning a mischievous smirk from a man at a table with a glint in his eye.

Maybe he would hook up with her. Maybe he wouldn't. That was up to how they were feeling later.

"Evening," said the younger of the two men at the far corner of the bar.

The one with the cigarette looked up at him and nodded curtly.

"Evening,"

The man with the cigarette sat in what looked like what used to be nice clothes. His white shirt was open, the top two buttons undone, his tie loose and crooked, and his suit jacket rumpled.

He looked no better than the younger, in a leather jacket, sporting a bruise on the chin and several stains of various colors on his black leather jacket and flannel shirt.

"Long day, isn't it?"

The cigarette moved as the other laughed and rolled his eyes.

"You have no idea,"

"I bet," he said, turning fully to look at him. "Can I get another whiskey, please?" He called to the lady at the bar.

"I'll have what he has," he flicked the cigarette between his fingers although it was unlit.

"Are you celebrating or mourning?" At the look he received from his older companion, the younger shook his head. "No one orders what I order unless they're mourning or celebrating. What's eating you?"

The man pounded the center of his chest and gave a raspy cough.

"Cancer," he answered, "Lung cancer. Diagnosed today."

"Sorry to hear that. Drink's on me, then,"

The older nodded, "You have a light?"

"That's smart,"

"Gonna die either way, and I know where I'm going," the man with cancer shrugged.

"You do?" The younger raised an eyebrow.

"It comes with the job," he downed the whiskey without a second glance.

"And what is it you do? Humor me," he said at the look he received.

"It's a mystery. No fun in just telling. You need to get me a bit more drunk than that,"

"Can you tell me your name, then, wayfaring stranger?" The younger chuckled.

"Constantine," the other obliged, reaching for a handshake, "John Constantine."

"John Winchester,"

And they shook on it.

"I'll buy you a drink if you can give me a light,"

"Deal, but only if you can tell me the 'big mystery' of what you do for a living,"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you,"

"Try me,"

Constantine leaned forward like it was a secret, and Winchester followed suit.

"I hunt effin' demons for a living," Constantine whispered, then sat up straight and laughed, knowing Winchester would never believe him.

...Yet Winchester chuckled and drank his alcohol with a smile playing on his mouth.

"Thought you said I wouldn't believe you. That's what I do, man. That's what I do."

"You're kidding," Constantine scoffed in disbelief.

"Wish I was," Winchester sighed, leaning over with a lighter, sending a spark onto Constantine's cigarette.

Constantine drew a long, deep drag and blew the smoke into clouds around them.

"Prove it,"

"What would you like me to prove?"

Constantine swirled his glass of alcohol and thought about it.

"I'unno, man, whatever," he said, his thoughts becoming foggy as he ordered himself another drink.

John Winchester mulled it over and shrugged, whispering in Latin, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii--"

"Okay okay, I get it. You know your crap. Impressive. I still think you're pullin' my leg though. But for today, you get the benefit of the doubt,"

"Man, I wish I was just pulling your leg. Once you go down the hunter's path, you never go back,"

"Yeah, man. I wish it too. Wish I didn't have to see those monsters all the time. The demons..."

Out in a bar somewhere sat two men who people always overlook, but truly, they've saved more lives than people could have the capability to count.

They spoke longer than they should have, told each other more things than they would have if they were sober, and finally felt like they weren't going crazy on their own.

Out in a bar somewhere in Los Angeles, two men understood that they could save the world.

And no one would ever believe them.