After spreading the dark blue blanket over the soft, white cotton sheets on the table, you grabbed your clip board and headed down the hall. Perusing the details to see what kind of service you would be providing, you chuckled lightly at the name. “Really? John Bonham?” you thought to yourself. As you stepped into the lounge and called out your client’s name, you finally looked up to meet the gaze of the man who stood in response. Your breath caught in your chest.
It had been eight months since you left Dean Winchester in a motel room after a using him to rebound from a particularly gruesome vampire nest cleanout. Your massage therapy license had remained valid while you were out avenging the death of your family and you’d been able to get the required continuing certification hours complete to renew once you got back home. A national chain of massage therapy clinics was just opening up and you were hired almost immediately. Serendipity.