It was a rare night for the Winchesters. It was a night off.
Dean Winchester couldn't picture a better place to celebrate the conclusion to their last case than a bar filled with pretty ladies playing the greatest music known to man. With a cold drink in his hand, the oldest Winchester had pretty much spent the entire night watching the woman playing pool. He watched the way she turn away every guy who tried to buy her a drink and beat anyone who was lucky enough to be invited to the pool game; just the type of girl Dean Winchester liked. She tossed her long, dark brown curls over her shoulder, sneaking another glance at him with her icy blue eyes.
"So are you going to talk to her or just stare at her like an idiot?" Sam wondered, looking up from his laptop.
"I'm waiting for the perfect moment to make my move, which is more than you're doing Sammy," Dean announced, taking another sip from his beer. Sam rolled his eyes and continued to type away. Turning back to the pool table, Dean spotted the woman, pool stick in hand, putting a few quarters into the jukebox. Expecting some recent pop song, he rolled his eyes in advanced. Imagine the surprise on his face when "You're the Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised" by Warrant started playing throughout the bar. The woman sauntered back to the pool table, swinging her hips to the rhythm, lining up her next shot. It was time for Dean to make his move.
"You know, I expected you some pop song when I saw you at the jukebox," he grinned, approaching the woman. She smiled to herself and stood up.
"Do I look like I'm three? Besides, you saw me way before that," she replied, brushing past Dean to get a new angle on the shot.
"So you've been watching me, then, huh?" he said. The woman sunk the eight ball, before turning to face him.
"Okay, you got me," she laughed. "Name's Jessie."
"Dean. Dean Winchester," Dean introduced, shaking the hand she held out to him.
"Well, Winchester, here's the deal. I have to go to the little ladies room, when I come back we can start a new game if you're interested," Jessie smiled, snaking her fingers into his belt loop.
"Sure thing," Dean replied, not able to hold back his smile. He watched Jessie as she disappeared into the back of the bar and couldn't help but nod at Sammy, who was still typing on his laptop. It was always easy for him to get the girl for a night, and, if he was lucky enough, he could get them to come back for a second time. Only, Jessie didn't come back.
"Face it dude, maybe you aren't as good with the ladies as you thought," Sam laughed. Dean just snarled at his brother. It had been 30 minutes since Jessie had left him hanging at the pool table and Sam was still laughing at his misfortune.
"Shut up, Sammy, at least I talked to one," Dean retorted as the brothers walked into the parking lot. A terrifying sight stopped Dean in his tracks. "Sammy, where's my car?"
"Didn't you park it over there?" Sam said, pointing to an empty parking spot.
"Sam, where's my car?" Dean repeated. He frantically patted his empty jean pockets for the keys he just realized he didn't have. "Sam, someone stole my car. Someone stole my car!" Dean shouted, before he started hyperventilating.
"Whoa, Dean, calm down," the younger Winchester warned.
"I will not calm down, somebody stole my freaking car!" Dean shouted louder. His mind flashback to when Jessie had her hands looped around his belt; she was the only one remotely close enough to steal his keys. "Bitch stole my car!"
Jessie grinned as the 1967 Chevy Impala bounced down the highway with its stereo at full blast. The wind rushed through her hair as she sang along to Kansas's hit song.
"Carry on my Wayward Son! There'll be peace when you are down, lay your weary head to rest! Don't you cry no more!"