Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural!

This is based off of an imagine I stumbled upon: Imagine the Winchesters' reactions to you beating up a guy who tried to touch you. Just a random rambling :).

The secondhand smoke in the small-town biker bar was overwhelming. Your knee-high black boots clicked upon the hardwood floor as you moved to lean against the long bar. You grimaced as you propped your elbows against the surface of the countertop, the black leather sticking to where liquor had spilled earlier in the evening.

"Ugh," you groaned as your eyes darted by the walls of alcohol, pleading with the male bartender to hurry up the drink he was making and get over to you. "I need a drink."

Sam Winchester smirked from his stance behind you, his hands in his front jean pockets. "You've been hanging out with Dean too much."

You rolled your eyes. "You can say that again." You didn't normally hunt with the Winchesters, but you had been chasing a case that morphed into a job they just happened to be on. You had been tracking a vamp nest in Cicero when suddenly they made the trek to Sioux Falls where the boys were hunting a nest, as well. None of you had ever heard of nests joining together like that, so the plan was to take it slow and assess the situation before any of you just jumped right into something that could lead to trouble.

"Hey," Dean piped up, a playful scowl covered his features. "I'm right here."

You cocked your head and raised your eyebrows as you turned to face him, your back now leaning against the bar. "Exactly why I said it, Deanie."

"Jesus Christ, call me that one more time..." Dean's deep, frustrated threat came out as a growl, which made Sam laugh. A playful smirk played over your lips as you leaned up so your words fell just below his ear.

"Sure thing, Deanie."

Oh, if looks could kill.

"What can I get ya?" The bartender appeared in front of the three of you with a dish rag in his hands. You spun back towards the bar and smiled politely. Hunting could be exhausting and, at times, mentally debilitating. But hunting with the Winchesters? Somehow there was almost always a smile at the end of the day.

"Yeah, one whiskey and gingerale, a whiskey double for him and a Bud Light for this guy," you patted Sam on the shoulder as you fished through your back pocket for your wallet. You opened up the old leather piece and pulled from it enough cash to cover all three drinks and a decent tip.

"A pretty lady like you shouldn't be paying for the drinks," a rough voice came from your other side. You tossed a glance over your shoulder in the direction of the noise and noticed an average-sized man, his hair disheveled and a serious five o'clock shadow that had to be a good five days old upon his face. His eyes were glassy and red, a clear indication this man was most likely trashed.

You had to mentally remind yourself to breathe and not let this douchebag get the best of you. You were both mentally and physically exhausted from the hunt, and the last thing you wanted to deal with was a rowdy bar-goer who looked like he had been drinking since noon.

"I can handle myself and treat my friends," you responded curtly as you turned your attention back to the bartender. In most instances, a normal (sober) human being would take this as a clear indication that you weren't interested. Unfortunately for you, this man was not currently capable of taking a hint.

"Letme," his words slurred together sloppily as he pushed himself towards the bar, the side of his body bumping into yours.

You closed your eyes and gritted your teeth together; you reminded yourself to count to five before speaking or even moving, for that matter. It was in your best interest.

When you opened your eyes, you could see the two brothers stiffen in your peripheral vision. Sam had stood fully straight, using his height as an advantage to ward off the stranger. Dean had broadened his shoulders, his jaw in a fixed line, unmoving. This only frustrated you even further.

"I'm going to ask you once to take a step back," your eyes bore into the strange man beside you as the bartender accepted your cash and placed the drinks in front of you. He disappeared from before you but kept a watchful eye from the cash register. At least someone in this place knew you had the situation under control. That wasn't saying anything for the Winchesters beside you.

The drunk man laughed, his breath carried the scent of whiskey to your nose. As much as you loved the caramel colored liquor, you felt bile rise in your throat at the smell coming off of the man's breath.

"Oh, come on, Sugar," he tried to wink but failed miserably, both of his eyes closed in a pathetic attempt. "Lemme buy you a drink." His hot whiskey breath against your ear sent shivers up your spine just as his arm grabbed for your elbow.

"Back off, buddy," Dean's gruff voice sounded just as he chose to step toward the drunk stranger. You immediately shot him a look full of daggers. This time, it was your turn to kill him with a stare.

"I got it," you said through gritted teeth.

Dean's eyes widened slightly, but he took a step back just as you turned to face the strange man once more.

You yanked your arm out of the man's grasp and pushed against his torso. It wasn't a hard push, but considering his level of intoxication, it was enough to send him stumbling backwards. You took the given space and stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of you as your hands gripped his shirt collar and pulled his dead-weight body forward so his face was only inches away from yours. You held back a grunt as his weight relied on the strength of your arms to hold him up. A look of pure shock graced his features, causing you complete satisfaction.

"Listen here, pal," you said loud enough for him to hear you, but not necessarily loud enough to cause a scene. "I don't appreciate being womanized and told I can't buy myself and my two guy friends some drinks. And I sure as hell don't appreciate being called Sugar. I ain't your Sugar. So here's what's going to happen. You're gonna turn around and get the hell out of here," you pulled him even closer now so he was sure to hear you. "Otherwise, I will have to kick your ass. And trust me, honey. I wouldn't go there."

With that, you threw his body away from yours. The alcohol that had made him unable to make good decisions also made him clumsy. He stumbled backwards and fell fully on his rear, bar stools scraping the hardwood floor in the process of his fall. This caused some attention to draw as bikers and bar-goers alike turned away from their conversations to look at what had unfolded.

"You heard me," you repeated out loud, as the drunk still lingered, obviously not taking a hint. "Get the hell out of here."

Apparently two times was the charm. He scrambled to his feet, wobbling as he did so. The other men in the bar laughed and chuckled as they hollered after him for apparently being put in his place by a chick.

You turned back to the bar and in one long gulp, downed the golden liquid in your cup and slammed your glass back on the bartop.

"Let's get outta here," you mumbled to the two brothers. You hadn't noticed before, but their eyes were wide and on you-both had a small smile playing against their lips. As the three of you walked through the front door and towards the parking lot, you heard Sam chuckle. You quickly held up your hand to silence them. "Not a word."

Sam held his hands up in surrender. "I didn't say anything."

"But you were thinking it," you shot him a glare. "And you," you turned to Dean accusingly and shoved your index finger into his chest. He huffed, feigning surprise and held his hands up as well.

"What?!" He pretended as he had no idea what you were referring to.

"What the hell was that about?!" You snapped, your finger still planted firmly on his chest. You jabbed once for added effect. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Dean let out a laugh he couldn't contain anymore and removed your finger from his chest as the three of you walked towards the Impala. "Noted."

Sam walked ahead of the two of you, the shock had worn off from the bar encounter and now he was fully focused on his cell phone. Your fingers stretched around Dean's bicep as you caught his attention. He looked back at you inquisitively with raised eyebrows.

"But uh...thanks," you squirmed just having to thank him. "For uh, having my back." You took your gaze away from him and focused on the asphalt below your boots in the darkness. You saw a gleam in his eye and a half-smirk in the glow of the moonlight as you reached the Impala.

"Don't mention it," he muttered as he opened the driver's side door. You pulled open the back passenger door with Sam already climbing into the front seat. Dean smirked and laughed before he muttered, "Dude, remind me never to piss you off."

You couldn't help but smile.

Disclaimer: Happy Saturday! I found this imagine request on Tumblr and decided to go with it. This is my first imagine, but it was actually pretty fun. Just a short piece! Let me know if you liked it! Imagines are fun-I've been thinking about starting to take requests. So if you have any requests-send 'em my way either in a review or in a private message. I'll give any character/situation a whirl, for the most part :).

xx
SM