"He's a pretty one, that one." The man spoke, staring somewhat to the left.
John turned to look and saw his son grinning with a few men as he tried to win a game of darts.
"He is." He offered in return. The man grinned. "Bet you'd know all about it."
John smirked. "Oh, I do."
"Say," The man sat down next to the older hunter. "He wouldn't be for sale, now would he?"
John raised a brow. "For sale?"
The other man nodded and gestured to the bartender for two shots of whiskey, one for himself and the other for John. "Yeah, just for a round of fun." He finished his own drink and stared as John took his. "I get that it won't be cheap."
John nodded. "It won't be. I charge quite a price for my boy."
A cold grin shot his way. "Yeah. But I'm sure it's worth it? Right? For both of us?"
John stared coldly back, a deadly smirk playing on his face. "I do get a hell of amusement out of it."
"So how much?"
John looked both ways and sighed. "Not here, let's go out back so no one hears us."
The man hesitated for a bit but looked at Dean one more time, his smirk back on his face. "Yeah. You'll call him out front?"
"Yep. He always follows my commands."
"You got him that trained?" He whistled but John didn't answer.
Later, when he called Dean to help get rid of the man's body, his son noted the bloody lump. "What kind of a monster was he, Sir?"
John Winchester looked at his fifteen year old. Dean sure was a pretty thing.
"One of the worst kind."