It was another typical Saturday night at the bar. You had just finished one of your nastier hunts and needed a shot of liquor (or twenty) to distract you from the painful sting of a most-likely cracked rib. The cold water dripped down your face as you struggled to scrub the dirt off. You looked at your reflection in the grimy glass. That's as good as it's gonna get. You thought to yourself. You stepped out into the bar and sat yourself on a chair right next to the counter.

You grinned to yourself that came out as more of a grimace as your rib shifted painfully once more. You spun around once in the chair much like a small child would. The man sitting two seats away from you looked at you curiously. He scooted nonchalantly into the seat next to you. "Hi, my name's-"

"Don't even try," you cut him off, "I'm out of your league anyway." You smirked as you turned to face the burly man with emerald green eyes next to you. "I was just gonna say my name's Dean." he said defensively, but he was smiling. He held out his hand, "Now's the part where you tell me yours." You took his hand firmly, "[Y/N], my name's [Y/N]."

"Nice to meet you [Y/N]." Dean said smoothly. You smiled. Dean spoke once more, "Two beers please!" There was a long pause before the bartender brought over two bottles of second-hand beer. Dean and you popped the tops with ease and took long, slow drinks before setting the beers down for long sighs. "Not to be rude or anything," Dean said cautiously, "but you look pretty banged up there."

"Oh, you're a charmer." you said with a laugh, "Yeah, just got out of a pretty bad situation, that's all." Dean looked curious, "What kind?" he asked. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." you said with a chuckle. Dean smiled and stood up. "It was nice meeting you [Y/N], see you around." He sauntered out of the bar leaving you at the counter alone. "You weren't so bad yourself hotshot." you whispered to yourself. After consuming a few more mediocre beers you stepped out of the bar and made your way back to your crummy motel room.

You made your way through the halls wearily. You just couldn't wait to lie down on one of the hundreds of rock hard mattresses in motels. It honestly was all you had, but you didn't mind. First class to you was when they included breakfast. You reminded yourself you were running low on cash and needed to start another scam soon. You arrived at room 64. The rickety door opened up to reveal the paper thin walls covered in papers with multicolored strings and tacks connecting them. Varying amounts of random objects were strewn about the floor. You hopped into the bed almost certain you could see a cloud of dust rise as you did so.

Your thoughts wandered to the stranger you had met that night. You smirked to yourself. He probably hits on every girl he sees. You thought to yourself. No matter what, sleep seemed to evade your tired [E/C] eyes. Why not go for a walk? You got up out of the bed (if you could call it a bed) and carefully avoided the rubbish all around. You made it to the door unscathed. You opened it and began down the hall. Your t-shirt and flannel, soaked with sweat from running for your life, was sticking to your figure. You looked down and noticed that you had a large gash with blood flowing rapidly from it in your side. Great. Your denim blue jeans were still surprisingly comfortable. You were used to your combat boots making your feet ache and now felt little pain.

Then again that wasn't the only reason you felt little pain, but we'll get to that later. As you turned the corner to the next hall you ran into the last person you'd expect: Dean. He saw you first. He stopped abruptly to avoid running straight into you. "Hey!" he shouted in surprise. You jumped about a mile into the air. Dammit, you think you'd be used to things jumping out and scaring you. "Hey." you said wearily, "I thought you lived around here or something." you continued. He laughed, "Really? I'm always on the go."

"Here here!" you grumbled. He laughed once more. "You still aren't looking so great, ya know that?"

"Why thank you." you said mockingly, "Hey! Do you have some dental floss, whisky, and a needle?" You should probably go to the hospital.. You thought to yourself. He looked surprised. "What for."

"I want to sew a plushie while I'm drunk." you said sarcastically, "Does it matter?" He shrugged and motioned for you to follow him. You walked down another hallway until you reached room 103. Dean turned around suddenly. "Wait here." he whispered. He slipped into the room without letting you catch even a glimpse of what lay beyond. After a few moments he came back out with the items in hand. "Thanks Dean," you said, and turned to walk away, "See you around." You smiled to yourself. What you said wasn't just something you said at the end of a conversation, it was a promise.

You see, you knew who he was. Dean Winchester, your brother.

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