Title: One More for the Road
Author: Girlygirl (or conneryisbond)
Rating: Very light N-17
Pairing: Slight Dean/Rowan (OFC) and depending how you look at it, Sam/Rowan as well.
Summary: A year is a tricky thing. Sometimes it can feel like forever and other times it flies by. No one knows this better then Dean.
Author's Notes: First off I need to send a huge thank you to my wonderful beta Dstined4gr8ness without whom everything I write would be unreadable. This fic is based on a Livejournal community challenge and was written for tvaddictgurl. I never find challenges easy- ever- and this one was no exception. Following other people's guidelines is a pain in the ass but I did the best I could. I choose with prompt spoke to me and I came away with this. In all honesty I wanted to end it differently but the person I was writing for was against Death!fics so this is option B. Anyway everything up to and including the second season finally is fair game. I own nothing expect Rowan (OFC). I hope you enjoy and be easy on me this is only my second SPN fic. Remember to comment please.

One More for the Road

Dean didn't care for the messy wave of her hair or the plainness of her dark eyes.

But despite both those things- her hair and her eyes- the upturn of her nose was pleasant enough and she had great breasts. Dean knew great breasts. So he shot her a smile- if for no other reason then to counter the glare Ellen was giving him- and was pleased when she made her way over.

"Ellen warned me you were the 'cut-off' sort of guy." Her tone was blunt and had he been standing the rudeness of her mannerisms would have sent him stumbling back. It wasn't what he was expecting, Dean had been anticipating flirtation. Because as flirtatious as her sentence could have been it crumpled under the hardness of her eyes; pity really.

"Another beer," Dean knew that had John Winchester still been alive he would have cuffed him one for the harshness of his responding tone- she was a lady after all. But John Winchester had been dead for over a year now and Dean had quickly decided against charming the hard barkeep in front of him.

She didn't seem the type to be enchanted by him and he didn't feel like wasting his precious time on such a cold fish- he glanced around the bar- particularly when there were so many other fish in the sea.

She banged his beer in front of him and biting back a snarl as he blinked up at her. She paid him no mind as she grabbed his empty bottle in exchange and it was nothing more then instinctual when he drawled out a "Thanks, darlin'."

Apparently some things- some charm and charisma- were completely Dean Winchester and there was nothing he could do to turn it off. Rowan rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Bitch," he muttered under his breath. He almost spit out his drink when he turned and came face to face with Ellen. She'd been standing directly behind him; Mama Bear was pissed.

Dean thanked God he'd never made any advancement towards Jo because if Ellen could be this mad about a girl who wasn't hers, he didn't want to think about what she'd do when it involved a girl that was. Dean ducked his head and hopped off the stool. Without so much as a 'goodnight' to either woman he brushed past Ellen and headed towards the bedroom she was letting him crash in.

Dean hated the shuffle of her feet. It was such a sharp contrast to the way she always seemed to want to blend into the background. He hated the shy downcast of her eyes and the somewhat unsure stutter in her tone sometimes. Sure, he found the shy girl thing a complete turn on in every porno he'd ever seen, but in real life? Not so much. It was slightly unnerving from the girl who was supposed to be saving his life.

But he'd seen her riled up. Seen how blunt and rude she could be and it won her points in his book; at least she wasn't all sugar and fake gusto like Jo. Dean was more then certain that if given half the chance she'd be wild in bed- and he was more then willing to give her that chance despite the fact that he wanted to kick her in the head most of the time. In all honesty she felt the same- about the kicking him, not the sex.

"Are you done analyzing me Winchester, or should I stand still?" he hated the bite in her voice and that it always seemed directed at him.

He knew he should have brought Sam- everybody took an instant liking to him- he was the equivalent of bring a puppy to the park. And then he remembered that he'd left Sam a few states back; he'd needed some time to breathe.

"Don't flatter yourself sweetheart, I don't care enough about you one way or another to spend anytime pondering you." He marked the page he'd been re-reading in his father's journal before taking the last sip of his beer and pushing the empty bottle in her direction, "So long as you keep bringing me beers, I'm good."

He smirked at her and she ground her teeth to keep from smacking him one. Rowan brought him another beer and promptly told Ellen that she wasn't feeling good before disappearing into her room. Dean at least had the decency to look ashamed.

For everything he hated about her, every little quirk and vice, Dean was man enough to admit that the girl could cook. So after almost two weeks of camping out in the spare bedroom of the newly built Roadhouse, for the first time Dean was awakened by an absolutely amazing smell.

The kind of smell that begs to be followed; Dean complied.

Usually he wouldn't care. Usually he'd have been up and grabbing breakfast from some random gas station on his way out of town by now, but he didn't have a hunt to get to- hadn't in quite a while. He'd ditched Sam a while back, and in all honesty Dean was kind of disappointed at how long it was taking his little brother to find him.

"Morning," he stepped into the kitchen wearing his usual jeans and a t-shirt but was uncharacteristically barefoot; Rowan ignored him. Dean moved around her, filling a mug with coffee before glancing up at her. "Hello?" he used his free hand to waved and snaps his fingers in her face as he whistled.

"Screw off Dean," she batted his hand away but stubbornly refused to look at him.

Instead she kept her eyes trained on the pancakes in front of her the way he always kept his eyes trained on a demon. Or a ghost, or a werewolf, or even another hunter if need be.

Dean hated the stony resolve of her character. He dipped his finger into the pancake batter by her arm and went back to bed. An hour later there came a knock at his door and when he pulled it open he expected anyone else but her.

"Here, I can't have you starving to death before your time be my fault." She told him matter of factly as she shoved a plate of pancakes at him and turned to go.

"See you met me at an interesting time. I've only got less then a year to live you know, so starving is the least of my problems." Dean looked at the pancakes in his hand uncertainly as he sank into the doorway to watch her.

"Yeah well, a lot can happen in less then a year," she carelessly shrugged her shoulders and slid her hand into the pockets of her jeans. For the first time Dean actually found himself liking the set of her jaw and the color of her eyes- at least a little bit.

Sam found him less then a week later but Dean had warmed up to Rowan considerably and he left her his cell phone number incase. He'd seen the girl at work- her research skills could rival Sam's -and for some reason she wanted to help him find a loophole in his crossroad demon deal.

Dean didn't question it but he suspected that Rowan's reason had something to do with repaying Ellen a favor. However neither woman mentioned anything about it and Dean was smart enough not to bring it up.

He and Sam left the next morning before the sun came up and it sort of felt like old times. And then they stumbled onto a hunt. When they finally kill the damn thing both brothers were covered in their own (and each other's) blood and it really felt like old times. But the clincher came went Dean managed to drag Sam to an old rundown bar just hours after their hunt was finished. Sam disappeared into a corner booth while furiously tapping away at his laptop and Dean flirted his way into the waitresses 'good graces'.

Exactly like old times.

And of course it was when things were completely back to normal that she called; Dean nearly choked on his drink when her name appeared on his caller ID. He turned away from the smoking hot waitress, whose nametag read Charity, and flipped his phone open.

"Hey, can you meet me?" She wasn't asking and surprise, surprise; Dean found it grating on his nerves. Still he concluded that for her to want to see him it must be important.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he slipped his phone back into his pocket and took a minute to figure how much time he'd lose by screwing the waitress before he took off. He glanced at Charity. She was leaning over so that her tits were all but slipping out of her low cut shirt and he decided that he could make the time up.

He fucked her against the wall in the men's room and she gave out loud moans that let every guy coming in know exactly what they're doing. Dean figured she'd probably fucked more then a couple guys in here before anyway so it wasn't much of a big deal.

When he finally pulled out of her she slid down onto her knees on the filthy floor and took his cock into her mouth to clean him off. Dean took hold of her head and started thrusting roughly into her mouth. When they were done he left her in the bathroom and made his way over to his brother.

"I've got to take care of something. I'll be back tomorrow night- you okay to get back to the motel?" Sam gave him a questioning look before nodding- seriously he wasn't five anymore. Dean was out of door in a flash.

He was half an hour later meeting her then he intended. He was pretty sure she'd guessed why when he strolled into the almost empty Roadhouse to find her tapping her finger against the wood of the bar.

"Hell no," he hated her plan- I mean seriously if he'd wanted to put Sam's life on the line again he would have just stuck with his original problem. He scowled at her over his beer bottle. A couple other people in the bar turned to look at him but Dean didn't notice; Rowan blushed.

"Keep it down; do you want every hunter in this place to know your business? Maybe they can help!" she crossed her arms over her chest and challenged him to answer back. Dean hated that he backed down from the blazing eyes in front of him.

"I'm sorry but Ellen gave me the impression that you knew what you were doing, but anything that puts Sam in any type of danger isn't an option." He hissed as he leaned into her before looking down at his beer and pushing it away, "I need something stronger."

He watched her fists ball up and almost welcomed the idea of her taking a swing at him. Usually he would never hit a woman, but he had this strong feeling that he'd make an exception for her. He almost felt John Winchester smack him upside the head for that thought and brought his hand to the back of his head to rub it. She gave him an odd look and rose from the stool without a word to do as he asked.

"Here," She all but growled out. She slammed his drink on the bar in front of him before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Dean hated the way she always counted to ten so as not to blow up at him. Especially when she just ended up blowing up at him anyway.

"Okay so next plan?" he downed his drink in one shot before using that back of his hand to wipe his mouth. What? He wasn't out to impress her.

"There is no 'next plan' Dean, but feel free to get off your ass and start researching something yourself if you'd like."

"Don't you think I've done that already?" he fought to keep his voice down so as not to attract anymore unwanted attention, because as much as he hated to admit it she'd been right. Broadcasting his life ending problem probably wasn't the best idea.

"Then what do you need me for? You know as well as I do- as well as Sam does- that there is no way out of your deal that doesn't involve the risk of Sam dropping dead. Again."

She wasn't soft or understanding, and her voice held no remorse but she was right. "Listen to me, you are allowed to be selfish every once in a while you know that right?" And it was the pity in her voice that made him long for the rudeness she so often directed at him.

"No I'm not," and he pushed the empty glass away from himself and slid off the stool. The spare room wasn't even an option for him. She knew that just as she'd known what had made him late getting there.

Dean sat behind the wheel of the Impala all night hating that she was right.

Dean refused to step foot back in the Roadhouse for close to three months after that, and he wasn't dumb enough to believe for one second that Sam didn't know why. His brother was more then smart and he kept his mouth shut. Also without a word Sam took up more of the research, and he took less sleep. Dean noticed but he said nothing as well.

He had less then two months to go, and though neither brother spoke about it directly, his impending doom hung in that air around them all the time. Then one night Sam tossed the keys to the Impala at him. He didn't give Dean much of an option as he tossed their bags in the back and camped himself in the passenger seat. But Dean was thisclose to desperate and he didn't put up a fight as he slid into the driver's seat.

"If she even mentions anything that ends with 'Sam dying' I'm out of there."

"No problem, I'm pretty sure there is a funeral home just down the street anyway- we can waste the rest of your time picking out your headstone. How does that sound?" Sam was bitter and angry. Dean could hear it in his little brother's voice and it was clear as day in Sam's mannerisms. He wondered for a moment if Rowan had possessed his little brother.

It wouldn't be the first time some chick found the prospect of playing with Sam's body fun.

"Bite me Sammy,"

But he understood what Sam was trying to say and instead of commenting he slid in his Metallica tape. Save Sam flipping the pages in yet another book, neither made any noise the rest of the way.

The sun was setting when they reached Nebraska, but the lack of cars outside the Roadhouse was a tad unnerving.

"Well, well, well, boy I was wondering when I'd see you again," Ellen grinned at Dean from behind the counter, her eyes tired and worry worn and Dean knew- as did Sam- that he was the cause of both. He ducked his head in shame. "Hi Sam,' Sam nodded in response and sat himself down on one of the many stools around the bar.

"Are you haunting me then?"

Dean looked towards the back. He hated the way her hip jetted out as she leaned herself against the doorway and continued to dry the glass in her hand.

"Sorry to disappoint you but I'm not actually dead yet," he took the stool beside Sam and it was then that she noticed his brother sitting there as well. Her face lit up. What was it about his little brother?

"Hey," she draped the dish towel over her shoulder and got his brother a beer.

"Thanks," Sam gave her one of his half smiles as he thumbed through the old book. He'd been reading it in the car until it started to hurt his eyes. When she turned back to him there wasn't any trace of the smile that had lit up her otherwise plain face.

"Are you ready to listen to reason?" But before he could say anything- tell her exactly what he told Sam in the car- Sam beat him to it.

"We sure are," She gave his brother the same game plan she gave him but instead of dismissing it as Dean had Sam nodded his head. Ellen pretended she wasn't listening at the other end of the bar, but Dean knew she was and truthfully it kind of made him feel better.

"Worth a shot I guess," Sam shrugged, and Dean wished there were some way he could give the crossroads demon Rowan and her cocky intelligence in his place. He was surprised when he actually hoped John Winchester would rise from the dead and smack him across the head for that thought. Dean refused to allow himself to think about why that was.

"Why are you in should a rush to play the hero Sammy?"

"Because I'm sick of watching you play it Dean-" his voice was hard again but underneath he could hear the pain. Rowan had the decency to turn away- he liked her a little more for that- and it was then that he knew that her plan was the only chance they had.

He woke up in the hospital bed bruised and broken- but two days after his expiration date and instinctively squeezed the hand that's nestled in his own. He half expected it to be his brother's but when he turned his head he was shocked and panicked to find Rowan's dark hair spread across his chest.

He felt like crying for the first time in his life because he knew that if he's lying alive then that means Sam wasn't. But he held strong- ever the solider- and she stirred from the abrupt change in his heartbeat.

He dropped her hand and steeled his face. He wants nothing more then to be able to put her at the top of his 'to do' list but when she pushed messy hair out of her face and threw her arms around his neck he could think of nothing but the excruciating pain shooting through his body.

"Cristo woman," she hung on tighter. He almost forgot that it was because of her fucked up plan that his brother was dead- again- and he was all alone- again. He shoved her away and hated that she smelled faintly of lilies and coffee. He hated that he liked it.

"Get out."

Rowan looked confused and Dean noted the dried tear streaks on her face but she took her cue from him and steeled her eyes.

"Sam's over in the next room- I'll get him for you." Blunt and rude like the first time he met her. Her words sunk in fast but before he could stop her she was gone. Sam appeared in her place.

"I take it back- I'm all for you playing the hero- I'm good with a sidekick." In a rare moment of emotion Sam leaned in and hugged his brother, careful not to move him too much. Dean couldn't describe the relief he felt in seeing Sam alive. He hugged him back.

A week later the hospital discharged him and Bobby was there to pick the two of them up.

"Where's my car?" horrified at the old beat-up mini van that he'd hoped to never see again.

"Had to give the demon your soul Dean, it was part of the deal." Sam clapped him on the back before calling out 'shotgun' and Dean came to a halt in the parking lot.

"What?" but Sam turned back to him with a smile and Dean knew he was joking. He punched his brother in the arm for good measure. Hard.

"Bitch,"

"Jerk,"

Bobby stepped in then, "Break it up boys and get in. The Impala is at the scrap yard again Dean." They pulled open their respective doors of the mini van.

It was as Dean was clipping in his seat belt- because, lets face it, one day the thing was going to get them killed- that Sam turned in his seat and caught him off guard, "Couldn't you just have been happy that we were both alive instead of worrying about the Impala?"

It was a joke, he could ear it in Sam's voice, even if humor is a tone Sam hasn't used in a while. But it was also the quickest question Dean had ever been able to answer, because not even the Impala was more important then Sam.

Out of the two- Sam and his car- it was only Sam that Dean couldn't have lived without.

When he went to apologize to Rowan a week later he found her room at the Roadhouse cleaned out and a 'help wanted' sign in the window.

He had the decency to look ashamed when Ellen told him that the gypsy girl she picked up close to a year ago just up and took off without so much as a goodbye.

Dean knew that she learned that trait from him and it was a pity really because despite the rudeness of her mannerisms, despite the messy wave of her hair, Rowan had had great breasts and she was tough when you riled her up. Dean knew just by looking at her that she would have been wild in bed.

-End