Sure, anyone can just grab alcohol from their closet, but Charlie had motives. Ulterior ones that involved trying to find a Winchester or even a Harvelle to hang with.
Just in case, you know. It would make her feel safer, despite evidence disputing any kind of safety when in the vicinity of a Winchester. What could she say, she was willing to ignore history and stick to them like glue in situations that involved a crazed killer on the loose.
The bar was dead silent when she entered, which was odd enough, but she figured hey - she'll grab some whiskey and a glass. Make her drinking more authentic like.
It was the barest of sounds that caught her attention - the scuff of a shoe against the floor. Charlie spun around, shocked and then relieved when she recognized who was approaching her.
"Hey, pal. Kinda thought you'd already be here, you know. Prime spot for hiding out." She offered a grin as she held up the bottle of whiskey, shaking it. "Crazy stuff, right? With the hearts and all. Reminds me of this super creepy 80's movie - a Valentine's day serial killer kind of thing. I always thought, hey, someone should give the guy some chocolates! He's probably just lonely."
Honestly, the movie had freaked her out, but it was easy enough to joke about it when she was already on edge. However, he didn't answer her, instead moving silently in her direction. That was when she noticed it - the intent in his eyes, the steel in his movements. She lowered the bottle to the counter, her expression growing confused as he advanced.
She managed to choke out "..Dean...?" before the attack began.
There have been times where she'd been terrified right down to the soles of her shoes. While that terror usually paralyzed her, this time it gave her fuel to fight. She was like a woman possessed, unwilling to die at the hands of someone she knew (thought she knew). Sadly, it just wasn't enough to keep her alive.
When the dust settled, there was broken glass littering the floor. Charlie's body was displayed on the counter, her jaw not just broken but missing completely, giving her quite a gruesome appearance - and that wasn't even factoring in her chest, which was cracked wide open for all to see what she was missing.
Her heart was gone.
The top shelf behind the bar, the one with all the best booze, had been cleared unceremoniously and there was a simple, if messy, heart that was finger painted on the wall. In her blood.
Charlie's last clear memory of this will be the face of someone she considers family, stalking toward her with murder in his eyes and insanity etching the lines of his face.
12/13/2014 :: Death of a Queen(ish)
Just in case, you know. It would make her feel safer, despite evidence disputing any kind of safety when in the vicinity of a Winchester. What could she say, she was willing to ignore history and stick to them like glue in situations that involved a crazed killer on the loose.
The bar was dead silent when she entered, which was odd enough, but she figured hey - she'll grab some whiskey and a glass. Make her drinking more authentic like.
It was the barest of sounds that caught her attention - the scuff of a shoe against the floor. Charlie spun around, shocked and then relieved when she recognized who was approaching her.
"Hey, pal. Kinda thought you'd already be here, you know. Prime spot for hiding out." She offered a grin as she held up the bottle of whiskey, shaking it. "Crazy stuff, right? With the hearts and all. Reminds me of this super creepy 80's movie - a Valentine's day serial killer kind of thing. I always thought, hey, someone should give the guy some chocolates! He's probably just lonely."
Honestly, the movie had freaked her out, but it was easy enough to joke about it when she was already on edge. However, he didn't answer her, instead moving silently in her direction. That was when she noticed it - the intent in his eyes, the steel in his movements. She lowered the bottle to the counter, her expression growing confused as he advanced.
She managed to choke out "..Dean...?" before the attack began.
There have been times where she'd been terrified right down to the soles of her shoes. While that terror usually paralyzed her, this time it gave her fuel to fight. She was like a woman possessed, unwilling to die at the hands of someone she knew (thought she knew). Sadly, it just wasn't enough to keep her alive.
When the dust settled, there was broken glass littering the floor. Charlie's body was displayed on the counter, her jaw not just broken but missing completely, giving her quite a gruesome appearance - and that wasn't even factoring in her chest, which was cracked wide open for all to see what she was missing.
Her heart was gone.
The top shelf behind the bar, the one with all the best booze, had been cleared unceremoniously and there was a simple, if messy, heart that was finger painted on the wall. In her blood.
Charlie's last clear memory of this will be the face of someone she considers family, stalking toward her with murder in his eyes and insanity etching the lines of his face.