Sam Winchester's hands were slick—not from holding his beer, but with nervousness. The red painted walls were giving him a headache. He and his older brother had stationed themselves on two stools at the corner of the club's bar.
"This is some place, huh Sammy Boy?" Dean leaned over and asked, his voice a low purr against the younger man's ear. "A little something for everybody. Shame it's a vampire bar." He sighed. "Yep… quite the smorgasbord."
Fangtasia was certainly that. Sam's face was unreadable as he scanned the crowd. A long-haired leggy brunette gyrated around a dancing pole 10 feet away. A barely-legal young man sat a few booths from them with a voluptuous older woman. He leaned over and whispered something to her. She smiled. A tableful of college age kids clinked mutual bottles loudly together in celebration. Two jean-clad women strode past, arm-in-arm. Sam watched Dean's eyes follow the pair, then Dean turned to grin lecherously at him.
Sam found his attention drawn elsewhere. A tall, handsome blonde man had entered the barroom from what appeared be the office. From across the room, Sam had been able to sense the intensity of his ice blue gaze. Eyes never leaving Sam's, he approached the brothers. As he drew closer, Sam realized he was pale… pale in a distinctly undead way.
Sam scoffed and pushed his drink away. It would be just his luck that the hottest guy in the place was the guy they'd been sent to kill.
"Hello, gentlemen," the blonde positioned himself between the brothers at the corner of the bar. "I'm Eric Northman, the owner." He gave Dean a polite, cursory glance then turned his full attention to Sam. "I couldn't help but notice you'd barely touched your drink." He lay his hand on Sam's upper arm. "Could I interest you in something a little… stronger?"