This started out as the brothers' story, but took on a life of it's own, and became the women's story. Which I'm happy about. Supernatural needs more women around.

This is not a romantic story, so don't let the description fool you.

The timeline of this is between Swap Meat and The Song Remains The Same, so there are spoilers for everything up until then.

Please feel free to review. I appreciate them, I really do.

Alas, the Winchesters are not mine. But don't we all wish they were our own? And I borrowed the title from an amazing song.

Rating is T, for some language and violence, but there is nothing here that you wouldn't see in the series.

Enjoy! (Please.)

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It was a dark and stormy night. At least, that's how all good horror stories start out. This night wasn't much darker or stormier than most, but it took place in a dark part of human kinds history, which makes it important.

A sleek black SUV pulled into the parking lot of the neighborhood bar. It didn't fit in with the pickup trucks, and beat up sedans parked there, but then, neither did the 1967 Chevy Impala. The driver and passenger sat staring out at the crowded lot, watching the rain fall down the windshield.

"You know this will only work if we beat them here," the driver turns to her passenger, huffing slightly.

The woman in the passenger's seat, a tall, stunning blond, just shrugs, staring out the window.

The driver turns the key in the ignition, puts the SUV in drive, and eases it out onto the street. "We don't find them, we don't get paid. And if we don't get paid, we can't afford your shopping habits."

"Alex, please do not lecture me," Darcey said, her slight French accent becoming more pronounced in her irritation. "It has been a rough day. We will catch them tomorrow. Or the next. You know they have been careless lately."

"I'm sorry, Darcey. I just get anxious, you know? We're so close."

**********

"Dean, let's get out of here. It's getting worse out, and you're hammered." Sam Winchester tries to pry the beer from his brother's hand. The drinking had gotten much worse, especially since Carthage, MO. He missed Ellen and Jo, too, but Dean was taking it harder than either he or Bobby would have believed.

"Leave me 'lone," Dean mumbles into the beer. He'd lost count somewhere around the twelfth, but he could still think. And the things he thought were not the thoughts he wanted to have. Every time he closed his eyes, even for a moment, he would see the explosion. What a metaphor for their life. Everything, just all up in flames. He raises the glass, and finishes the beer.

"Dean, come on. I'm tired. We've been driving for days. I just want to sleep."

Dean raises his hand to catch the bartender's eye, but instead lowers it, seeing something in Sam's face. He rises to his feet, gripping the table. Sam watches Dean's knuckles go white as he braces himself, then tosses Sam the keys, and walk out the bar door. Sam thinks to himself, he didn't know his brother better, he'd almost believe he was OK.

Another day, another motel room. Darcey Laroque watches her best friend in the mirror, while she brushes out her long hair. Alex was a ball of nervous energy, pacing back and forth across the room. She always got like this, right before they approached their target, so Darcey knew they really were close. As she moves to finish applying her makeup, she studies Alex a little closer. Alex wasn't beautiful, like Darcey knew she was; she'd been told that since she was little, so much so that she sometimes was tired of hearing it. "You're hair is like gold. You're eyes are like sapphires..." All the same old fairy tale crap. But if she would take just a minute or two, and take care of herself, she would be pretty, in the classic sense of the word. "Is that really what you are wearing?" she asks, standing up and shaking out the dark blue dress, and fluffing out her hair.

Alexandra Miller turns her focused gaze on Darcey. She spent most of what they made on clothes, and other accessories, but she had to admit, it worked. Her dress was the perfect shade to match her eyes; the dark blue of the sky at twilight, after a heavy rain. Alex looked down at her faded jeans and vintage t-shirt. "It'll work. Let's go."

"No way. Not before you let me at least apply a little make up. You have such beautiful eyes, Alex. Use them."

Alex shakes her head, tossing her dark brown hair, pulled back in a pony tail. "You're the beauty. I'm the brains. That's why this operation works. Now let's get out of here. We want to beat them to the bar tonight."

"How do you know that's where they'll go?"

"A little birdie told me."

***********

"We should go back to Bobby's, regroup."

Dean Winchester shakes his head at his brother. Sam was right; they had been driving for days, with no real end in sight. But ever since they had learned the colt wouldn't kill Lucifer, that wasn't much they could do, he couldn't think straight. And the trip to help their dad's friend Martin? What a disaster that had been. But if they were going to make it back to Bobby's, they had to get gas. And to get gas, they needed money, which Dean had drunk away two nights ago. And that was why they were going into yet another bar.

"Do you want to play the drunk, or should I?" Dean asks his brother.

"Depends on the crowd" Sam says, as they walk through the front doors. Both brothers scan the bar room, taking in the clientele, the lay out, the exits. Sam notices the lack of patrons; Dean notices the two girls sitting in a corner. The brunette looked like she belonged here, but the blond was way out place. He punches his brother in the side, nodding in the girl's direction.

"You have no chance." Sam says, raising his eyebrow and shaking his head.

"What's the matter Sammy? Think I'm off my game?" Dean smirks at his brother, saying loudly "Bartender, a round for the ladies."

"And how do you plan to pay for that round?" Sam whispers.

"Like we always do."

"Then maybe you failed to notice the lack of pool players?"

"Dude, don't worry about it."

"No, thank you." Both brothers are startled by the crisp French accent that carries across the mostly empty bar, turning together to stare at Darcey and Alex.

"Excuse me?" Dean asks, in disbelief.

"Pardon, was that in French? Sometimes I forget myself. I said 'No, thank you'". Darcey waves the bartender back, turning to continue her conversation with Alex.

"I understood you the first time, sweetheart. What I don't understand is why you said 'no'".

Alex sighs, blinking the most amazing pair of brown eyes Dean had ever seen. On second thought, she didn't belong here, either. "She said 'no' because we aren't interested in your round. Now if you'll excuse us?"

"Oh, I see. You aren't interested in me. I get it. So, you two are a couple? Because I can get into that." Dean smirks.

Bringing herself up to her full 5 feet and 5 inches, Alex gets into Dean's face. "We are not a couple, not that there is anything wrong with that. What we are is not interested in you. Now, please leave us alone. We are waiting for someone."

"You're loss. Come on Sammy." Dean walks out the front door, and climbs into the Impala. Sam turns to the women, shrugging. Embarrassment is written across his face.

"I'm really sorry. He gets like that."

As they watch Sam Winchester walk out the front door, Alex sits back down, with a small satisfied smile on her face. "That went rather well, don't you think?"

"Poor Winchesters. They do not know what is coming, do they?" Darcey returns the smile.