Disclaimer: All materials belong to their respectful owners. Any and all of the following written is completely, one-hundred percent, fan-written and I claim no profit for it what so ever.
Summary: A simple hunt in a club gets complicated, and the night turns out to be much more than Dean anticipated... Rated M for Mature Content
Pairings: Dean/OC
Author's Note: So this idea came to me a little while ago when I thought how interesting it would be to write some of Supernatural's male characters into female bodies (kind of like Win!sister fics, but not quite). Not to worry though, I won't be changing Deano's sex—no, he's going to stay his natural gender haha. Sammy too, for that matter! The OC is actually going to be the flip flopped one, a character we're all familiar with but for all intensive purpose I've left them blank and faceless for right now.
Guess you'll just have to read on to figure out who they are, mwhahahaha! For future reference though, anything in italics will be a flashback. Without anything further, please enjoy!
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Bar, Booze, Then Bed
Dean Winchester had never been much of a scholar—in his time spent within various high schools, his main priority had always been checking out the sophomore girls rather than regarding anything the teacher had written on the blackboard. Still as he now trailed through this sullen club, the heavy bass of an electric beat sloshing the contents of his stomach, Dean truly wished he would've be more intent upon learning about Greek mythology. Not that he believed the gods would smite him for his lack of faith or some crap like that, but it certainly would've been a valuable asset for hunting sirens.
Dean and Sam had dealt with one before, back in Bedford, when the damn thing tried to turn them against each other. Lucky for them though Bobby had come to the rescue just in time, killing it off and ultimately freeing them from the spell cast. Even so, the two brothers had been in Charlotte investigating demonic omens, when another series of mysterious siren killings had caught their attention. Sam had chosen to keep an eye on the dance floor downstairs, guarding the front entrance, while Dean headed towards the upper loft and bar area.
The hunter eyed the exit door leading to the fire escape with caution as he moved around the clusters of people littering the floor. Flashing red lights towered overhead, distorting the images of who could ultimately be friend or foe. And then, out of his peripheral vision, Dean caught sight of a likely suspect—a lone woman, dressed in a gothic lacey attire, sipping from a straw which dangled out of a dark liquid. Dean swallowed hard as the drink faintly reminded him of blood, a raw metallic taste forming towards the back of his mouth. From his position he could see that this woman was obviously aware of him too, watching him with careful precision. The hunter took a few stealthy steps towards her, prepared to engage in some kind of conversation, when he was suddenly halted by a new person of interest.
"Hi there," a frisky brunette enticed, swaggering her eyebrows a bit. Dean blinked vigorously, as if coming out of a trance, eyeing the lady from head to toe. She had a lovely figure—curvy waist, delicate legs, and a large bust to match. Dean's ideal hook-up.
"Hey," he smirked in response, not even bothering to disguise the lust which crept up eagerly in his tone, "What can I do for you?"
"Oh, I'm sure there's a lot of things you could do for me, baby," the brunette snickered seductively, taking a step closer into Dean's personal boundaries.
Dean could feel his hormones rising as he caught scent of a simply delightful perfume which tickled at his nose. He continued, "Is that so?"
"That's so," the woman assured him, "What's your name, sugar?"
Dean thought for a moment, his common sense actually breaking the barrier of this intense moment—he still had a job to do, and giving out his real name could obviously put the case in danger. "Craig," he cleared his throat, "My name's Craig."
"Well Craig, what'aya say we get outta here hmm?" the woman murmured into Dean's ear, as if guarding a most precious secret.
"Why not?" Dean shrugged, not even hesitating as he followed his hostess towards the back room of the club. The hunter still kept his awareness though, as he could see the gothic woman still watching him as he trekked along behind the brunette. She didn't make direct eye contact with him, but was still observant none the less.
The brunette opened a door, which led to a more secluded place most likely used to for quickies and drug scandals. She then turned to him, lips puckered eyes on fire. "Kiss me," she commanded, her shimmering pink lips begging for a hungry response.
Dean paused, eyeing her suspiciously. "You still haven't told me your name," he pointed out, with a light chuckle.
The woman seemed to falter for a moment, before a glistening smile regained its position on her face. "You can call me Georgina," she informed him, a slight hint of sarcasm to her tone.
"Georgina, huh? And um, what kind of things can you do?" Dean suggested, slowly beginning to circle her like a beast hunting their prey.
"You'll find out soon enough," Georgina retorted quickly, "Kiss me."
Dean found it odd how she wanted to be kissed so badly, remembering his last encounter with a siren. Saliva—that was their way of capturing the ones they seeked. Still Dean approached her, directing her chin lightly with his fingertips in which to look into her eyes. Then, in the distance, Dean caught sight of a mirror which hung from a nail on the wall. He could see the ugly, hideous gray and wrinkled skin of this monster's true form. He kept his cool though, licking his lips as he prepared for a deadly close encounter.
Suddenly, he jerked his head away, now leading her towards one of the nearby sofas. "So Georgina, where'd you say you were from?" Dean asked casually.
"I didn't," the siren huffed in impatience, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
"Well then," Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward on his seat a bit, "Why don't you tell me?" With that, he tapped the seat beside him as an indication for her to join him.
Georgina rolled her eyes, "You know, if I wanted to chat I would've just stayed out there."
Dean looked slightly taken aback at her words. "Well jeeze, you're a demanding little thing aren't you?" the hunter teased in which to lure her towards him.
She giggled, "Always." Her heels made a persistent tapping noise against the floor as he strutted towards him, taking a surprising seat upon his lap.
Dean swallowed hard as he could feel himself becoming aroused, struggling to keep his mind focused on killing this false beauty. The siren slid her hands up his chest, running her fingers through his hair delicately. Dean let out a light murmur of enjoyment, receiving a pleased smile from her. Tilting her head, the siren leant in wishing to connect Dean's lips with her own, suddenly grabbing a hold of the hunter's hand which possessed a bronze dagger he intended to kill her with.
"It's not that easy, Dean," she growled somewhat, twisting his arm back to an unimaginable angle.
Dean gasped out, quickly regaining focus as he arose and spun around, knife still in hand, and prepared to plunge it into the siren's chest. She was faster though, dodging his attempted blow before bashing him to the stomach with her knee. The air quickly exited the hunter's lungs, leaving him vulnerable as the siren knocked the knife out of his hand prior to head butting him fiercely. Dean stumbled back, crashing onto the floor where he lay dazed for a moment. The siren took this opportunity to straddle over him, yanking him by the jaw and forcing him to look her in the eye. "Play time's over," she chuckled, "Time to meet your doom."
"I don't think so," another voice suddenly echoed from behind them. The siren turned, only to see the face of Sam Winchester striding at her viciously with his own knife in hand. Speedily, she arose from her place upon Dean, charging at Sam before landing a punch to his face. Sam grunted somewhat, hardly fazed by the now thumping pain his nose.
Swiftly Sam charged at her again, nicking her lightly in the arm in which he received in a pained scream. The siren then grabbed at his hands in attempts to remove the blade from his grasp. As the two of them struggled, neither noticed Dean creeping up behind the siren. The elder hunter then plunged his knife into the back of the siren's neck, removing it in which to repeat the process several times.
The creature cried out in agony as the life faded from them with every blow, until finally its soulless corpse pummeled to the floor below. Dean and Sam both looked at each other, panting from the struggle each had just faced. "Thanks," Dean nodded breathlessly towards Sam.
Sam said nothing in return, glancing about as to make sure no one had caught either of them in the slaying act. Thankfully the room had been so empty, the lights disfiguring any surveillance footage that would've been captured. Just to be certain though, Dean pulled his pistol from the inner part of his jacket taking aim before plastering a bullet into the nearby camera.
"We need to ditch the body," Sam muttered, praying no one had heard the gun shot.
"Yeah," Dean cleared his throat in agreement, wiping a thin layer of sweat from atop his brow. Both he and Sam knelt down, one taking hold of the ankles the other the wrists, the two of the beginning to cart the now dead siren towards the exit and away from the club.
Once out the back door, they didn't make it very far as the carcass was fairly heavy. Catching sight of a large dumpster, Dean and Sam tossed the dead body inside before salting and burning it. Wouldn't be very good if the cops had discovered the corpse with both of their fingerprints littering it. As Sam packed the salt and lighter fluid back into his bag, he glanced up at his brother who stood nearby. "Ready to go?" he asked.
Dean frowned ever slightly, debating silently to himself for a moment. "You know, I actually saw something interesting inside so I'll catch up with you later," Dean cleared his throat. Sam smiled, shaking his head as he slung the bag back over his shoulder. "What?"
"Nothing," Sam let out a faint sigh, "Just you and chicks."
"Shut up," Dean threw a playful punch at his brother's shoulder.
"Can't blame a guy for telling the truth," Sam chuckled as he began to make his way down the alley.
"See that attitude right there?" Dean called, "That is exactly why you never get laid."
Sam said nothing further, turning a corner and making it back onto the main street. Dean sighed wistfully, shaking his head as he made for the front entrance yet again.
Once within the premise of the club again, Dean allowed his tension to fade away as he melted into the now low drumming beat which surrounded him. The hunter climbed the stairs with ease, eyes scanning over the bar stools until finally he found her—miss goth, who still happened to be sitting at that same corner seat as before. She, in turn, spotted him almost instantly eyes locking in a sensual embrace. Dean took a deep breath as he walked leisurely towards her, determined this time not to let any freak monster chicks get in his way.
"Hey," he said in a gruff voice as he approached the seat beside her.
"Hello," she replied, the flick of a French accent highlighted in her voice.
Dean cleared his throat, glancing around the nearby area, "Anyone sitting here?"
"Now there is," the woman challenged, arching an eyebrow almost seductively at him as he sat down.
Dean said nothing for a moment, now gaining the opportunity to properly look her over—she was beautiful, he had to admit. With luscious locks of flowing auburn hair, which spiraled down towards her waist, and ripe cherry-tainted lips she was truly a marvel to look at. Not to mention the ring of black eyeliner which emphasized upon the stunning green of her eyes. Dean had seen those eyes before, he was nearly sure of it.
"What happened to your little friend?" she asked suddenly, drawing the hunter back to reality.
"Huh?" Dean asked like a fool, unsure of whom she was talking about exactly.
The woman chuckled coyly under her breath, "The frisky brunette who was entertaining you. Where is she?"
"Well, obviously not here," Dean licked his lips informatively, resting one arm atop the counter.
"So you tossed her aside, is that it?"the woman continued curiously.
"It wasn't that hard really," Dean shrugged, "Just told her I had a thing for a mysterious lady in the corner—she seemed to back off pretty quick."
"You flatter me," the woman nearly snickered, "But you don't quite impress me."
"Really?" Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, it wasn't everyday a women openly rejected him right off the bat, "Well then uh, why don't you let me try? What'aya drinking?"
The woman sipped from her drink demurely, licking her lips clean before continuing onward. "A strawberry plum daiquiri, thanks," she nodded courteously at him.
Dean's smug grin fell to a disgusted frown almost instantly. He grimaced, "Well if that does just doesn't sound, pleasant."
She chuckled softly at his reaction. "What do you call yourself, my boy?" she asked.
"Dean," he replied without a moment's hesitation.
"Dean, that's certainly a name you don't hear often," the woman speculated, "Well Dean, tell me, you look like a simple beer drinking man. Yes?"
Dean snickered somewhat, running a hand through his hair, "Oh God, yes. How'd you know?"
"Intuition I suppose," she replied, taking yet another sip of her daiquiri.
Within a moments, a bar tender appeared before them placing a nicely chilled bottle before Dean on a napkin. The hunter nodded his thanks, before turning back to his most enchanting lady of the evening. "What about you?" Dean asked, "What d'you go by?"
The woman smirked deviously, folding her arms contently in her lap, "Call me Ali."
"Ali huh?" Dean pondered, "Cheers."
"To what?" Ali frowned questioningly.
"To you, to me. Hell, to everything," Dean laughed somewhat, "Just the fact that it's another day, and that's one more we've lived through."
Ali said nothing as she clanked glasses with Dean, watching the hunter suspiciously as he sipped from his beer. "You surprise me, Dean. I wouldn't have thought you such a righteous man," she nearly whispered.
The words seemed to throw Dean for a moment—righteous man. A phrase he'd definitely heard one too many times for his liking. Clearing his throat, the hunter forced himself to appear unaffected by her statement, shrugging naively, "Yeah, well, people change I guess."
"It would seem so," she said, setting her glass atop the counter once more, "So where it is you're staying?"
"Oh, it's uh this motel just down the street," Dean mumbled somewhat awkwardly.
Ali arched an eyebrow seductively at him, "Are you ready to go then?"
Dean faltered on his words, perplexed by her suggestion. Licking his lips, which had suddenly become very dry, he stammered, "Well, um—"
"That was your ulterior motive here, yes?" Ali interrupted him swiftly, "Tell you what, why don't I let you test out the merchandise before you make the final purchase, hmm?"
On that note, Ali leaned in towards him, painfully slow, taunting his lips as she half-kissed him several times. Dean could feel his stomach wrenching in anticipation, longing to feel her silky smooth lips pressed against his own. Ali traced her fingertips gently over his jaw line, at last locking the two of them in a most passionate embrace. The instant they touched, Dean felt like his entire face had been set ablaze—fiery ash coursed through his veins, his heart hammering within the confinements of his chest. And as Ali ran her fingers through the short spikes of his hair, Dean felt some kind of marvelous euphoria wash over him which he hadn't experienced since his early days of romance as a youth.
Once Ali had pulled away from him, Dean missed her touch instantly eager to devour her lips once more. "So what'aya say, Dean?" she murmured devilishly.
"Hell yeah," Dean exclaimed breathlessly.
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The walk back to the motel had certainly been an interesting one, to say the least. The two of them striding down the sidewalk, hand in hand, Ali turning to Dean every now and again in which to whisper sweet arousals into his ear. The hunter could hardly wait for what was in store once they hit the bedroom...
Rushing into the room, the fight to get their clothes off was a heated blur as the hunter now found both he and Ali stripped down to merely their underwear. He was straddled atop her, simply gazing into her eyes which still perplexed him deeply. In the back of his mind, he hadn't stopped thinking about them this evening—not once. There was just something so familiar and warm about them, Dean could get lost in that sea of green.
Lifting a hand, Ali grasped his forearm firmly. Dean inhaled deeply as he leant in to plaster a moist kiss to her lips, moaning deeply as Ali's tongue tickled against his mouth. Allowing her entrance, Dean fought with Ali's tongue for some unspoken dominance, at last surrendering in which to allow her exploration. Unexpectedly, Ali suddenly flipped Dean over onto his back snickering deviously as she now was straddling him. Dean made no complaints though as she leant in towards his chest, nipping and biting at his muscles as she slid down his torso. Dean clenched his lower lip in between his teeth, arching his back ever slightly as he could feel his growing erection now straining with anticipation.
"I have been waiting for this," Ali panted breathlessly, coming dangerously close to Dean's ear, "For a very long time."
Dean smiled lopsidedly as he thought she was referring to her first time. Sliding her bra straps down her shoulders, the hunter kissed the velvety flesh before removing the remainder of their clothing articles with ease. Then, with one certain look into each other's eyes, Dean grasped Ali firmly by the hips before thrusting himself inside her. She gasped out with a cry which combined pain and pleasure into one dangerously high octave, and Dean shuddered at the concentrated expression upon her face. Ever cautiously Dean kept his steady slow rhythm, hesitant until he felt Ali's hips began to roll in sync with his own. Licking her lips with sweet seduction, Ali threw her head back with a long drawn moan which was nearly enough to send Dean tripping over the edge right there and then. If the hunter hadn't so much precision, it all would've faded much too soon but Dean was persistent to lengthen this moment for as long as possible.
Grasping the sweaty skin of her upper thigh, Dean grunted and panted deeply with each and every pump. Ali curved down towards him, resting her hands upon his shoulders, her hair draping on either side of her face like an elegant curtain. Dean watched, mesmerized, as the lengthy strands bobbed and swayed with their thrusts. Coming just slightly closer, Ali stroked his chin caressingly before locking their lips yet again. This time Dean could not hold off on all the ecstatic emotions which threatened to consume him, and the hunter let out a hoarse cry as his orgasm rippled through his body. Ali gasped out in pleasure as well, as she could feel Dean's thick strands cumming inside her.
Collapsing beside him, both Ali and Dean heaved for air which was sure to bring relief to their aching lungs. In unison, both turned their heads in which to look upon each other, Dean outstretching an arm towards Ali as he curved her in towards his chest. He then planted a light kiss atop the crown of her forehead before allowing his own head to rest against the pillow just beneath him. Ali, meanwhile, placed a flaming hot hand upon his chest nestling her head oh so close to the nape of Dean's neck.
As Dean's heart rate and breath began to normalize once more, the hunter could feel the darkness of sleep flooding into the corners of his eyes. "You were terrific, Dean," Ali murmured the praise into his ear, which gained a faint smile from Dean's lips. Sleep overtook him, however, just in time to block out the, "As always."
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Dean's vision came into focus, bringing each and every detail of his surroundings into absolute clarity. He wanted to move, but he couldn't—he was restrained. Tied down to some kind of freakish rack, cold metal against his enflamed skin. Arms wide apart, legs spread out, Dean panted as hot ash exploded just out of sight. The presence of evil here was just so overwhelming, it was nearly surreal.
A sudden eerie laugh caused Dean to jerk his head up in surprise. As if things weren't bad enough being alone, now he needed company. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice strong and commanding despite the circumstances.
"I told you this would happen," a deep voice snickered.
Dean frowned—he knew this creature. Though he couldn't see them hiding amidst the shadows, he recognized their voice. A voice he knew too well, in fact. "What are you talking about?" he continued on, still playing the naïve role.
The defaced figure slowly trailed into the faint firelight, revealing Dean's demonic self from his nightmare all those months ago on earth. "I told you that you would die," he said smugly, "Now it's all a matter of time before you become, well, what we all know you're going to."
Dean swallowed hard, feeling his lips beginning to quiver in frustration. "That's never gonna happen," he declared sharply, his voice jagged.
This apparent demonic Dean stepped forth, so close that he was mere inches from the hunter's face. Flashing his eyes back to a typical human state, he grasped Dean firmly by the chin. "No Dean? What a shame, I thought we could go about this the easy way," he scolded in mockery.
Dean's pupils trembled as he gazed upon this apparition of himself. "Wh- What are you?" he muttered, his voice just barely grazing a whisper.
The creature grinned smugly, its current body melting away into a horrific scaly form that Dean would've never imagined in his wildest dreams. The eyes still remained though—Dean's eyes, which slowly shifted into a milky white state. The hunter felt the utmost fear ripple through him. "Call me Alistair."
Dean gasped for air as he suddenly flew up from the mattress in which he'd been sleeping up. That girl he'd met at the club—Ali. As an overwhelming wave of fear washed over the hunter, he now realized why her eyes had appeared so familiar to him. They were his eyes. The same eyes Alistair had greeted him with upon his arrival in Hell.
"Hello Dean," that sweet feminine voice echoed from across the room.
Dean swiftly turned his head to see Ali perched on the nearby loveseat, wearing only her lacey undergarments. Her hair draped lusciously down her arms, as she had them wrapped tightly around her knees which had been brought close to her chest. Her eyes were closed lightly, as if waiting for some apparent reason to open them. Dean could feel his jaw tightening as his own eyes scanned over the demon, swallowing hard. "Alistair," he murmured.
A devilish smile curved upon Alistair's lips as she now opened those pallid eyes, batting her thick eyelashes at Dean almost seductively. "I could've told you this would happen," she whispered nonchalantly, arching an eyebrow almost in suggestion.
– FIN –
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A/N: So I really hoped that you enjoyed this—I certainly had a fun time writing it. It's not my typical style, I know, but I just couldn't resist the idea once it came to me ^_^
For those of you who may be confused, the part about the demonic form of Dean from his nightmares was taken from 3x10 (Dream A Little Dream Of Me), towards the end when Dean is alone in that room with his evil self. Hope that clarifies!
Anyhow, thanks so much for reading. Feedback is greatly appreciated!