Chapter Two

Dean was in a foul mood. First, the Chupacabra case was a hoax. It turned out to be some stupid kids thinking it was funny to kill the neighbor's livestock. When Dean and Sam had caught up to them, Dean was so pissed off that he waved his gun in the punks face, scaring the shit out of him. Then, when one of his friends decked Sammy, Dean lost it and beat the snot out of the kid just out of principle.

Then, that night in the bar, Dean was having a fun evening with a pretty red-head named Susan. Things were going good until Dean led her out to the car. He leaned in and was kissing her, but she pulled back when Dean tried to cop a feel. She said she wasn't comfortable getting so close to a guy she just met and then she took off on him.

Now, he was sitting outside the motel, waiting for Sam to come out so they could make the two hour drive from Poplarville to New Orleans to see the Voodoo Queen. All in all, Dean was convinced the whole thing was a trip gone bad. Ah well. At least they were going to go to New Orleans, a city where a guy like him could easily find some company for the night.

Finally, Sam came out of the motel, hair still wet from the shower. He climbed into the front seat and grabbed the paper cup of coffee Dean held out for him. Sam grunted a thanks and Dean had to smirk at him. For once, Dean had got back to the motel room before his brother did and Dean was curious what had kept straight laced Sammy out so late.

'So Sammy, you had a late night last night. Anything interesting happen?' Dean inquired.

'No.' Was Sam's terse reply. He looked a little hung over.

Dean pulled onto the road and said, 'What? You didn't meet a nice young thing to keep you company last night?'

Sam made a grunt of disgust.

'Well that doesn't sound good, so what happened?'

'It was too horrible, I'm not going to tell you.'

'Well you got to now, you've piqued my interest.' Dean grinned, loving to see the kid squirm.

'Fine! I was playing darts with a couple of guys and we were taking turns buying rounds. Towards closing time, one of them grabs my ass and says that he and his boyfriend think I'm yummy and invite me back to their place to play twister.' Sam spat out.

Dean nearly went off the road from laughing so hard. 'So is that why you got back so late?' Dean was finding it difficult to talk straight. 'You and your new friends were playing board games all night?'

'Fuck off,' Sam grumbled. 'I had no clue they were gay. After that I found an after-hours bar where I met some red-head who I couldn't get to stop hanging off me.' Sam paused, 'So we went to the alley for a bit, and then I came home.'

'That's my boy!' Dean exclaimed, cuffing him gently on the back of the head. 'So what was the lucky girl's name? If she gave you her number, we could always stop by here on the way back for you to see her again.'

'No thanks. Susan was a bit too much of a tramp for my liking.' Sam said disgustedly.

Dean's brain was racing to catch up to what Sam had just said. 'Did you say her name was Susan and that she was a red-head?' He asked.

'Yeah.'

'Was she wearing a green dress?' Dean asked sharply.

'Yeah, how did you know?'

Dean slapped the steering wheel and shouted, 'Son of a bitch!'

'What's going on?' Sam asked, alarmed.

'I was working on that girl all night and she turned me down cold!' He exclaimed. 'Then you meet her and she's all over you!' Dean accused him.

Now it was Sam's turn to laugh. After a minute Dean joined him, really, it was pretty ironic.

They had been driving in silence for awhile when Dean glanced at his brother and asked, 'You ever been to New Orleans before Sam?'

'No.'

'Well, you're going to love it. Too bad it's not Mardi Gras though, that's one hell of a party! Thousands of hot college girls, all dying to show off their ta-ta's for a plastic bead necklace.' Dean's face went wistful at the memory.

'When was the last time you were in New Orleans?'

'Three years ago, just before I came to get you at Stanford…when Dad went missing.' Dean said quietly, realizing now how sensitive the conversation has gotten. Dean knew that Sam didn't like talking about his college days, when he had had a girlfriend and a chance at a normal future. Before the Yellow-eyed demon came into the mix.

'So anyway, after we see Madam Mojo and decide she's a few fries short of a happy meal, we'll hit the bars for a little action.' Dean was actually getting excited, it had been over two weeks since his last friendly encounter, and that was too long for this Winchester.

Sam only grunted as a reply, his hangover keeping him from making his usual smart ass remarks. Dean leaned over and turned up the volume to the radio. Sam groaned and buried his head in the crook of his arm, while Dean smiled to himself thinking of all the hot girls he'd be chatting up later.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Out of the blue, a half hour out of the city, Sam asked, 'How do you do it?'

'Do what?'

'How do you sleep with so many girls?' Sam looked at him with an anguished expression.

'Sam, I think you already know the spiel about the birds and the bees,' Dean joked.

'No, I mean how do you do it emotionally? Do you even remember the names of the last six girls you were with?' Sam accused him.

'Sure, there was Lisa and Kim, Mindy…'

'Her name was Mandy,' Sam corrected.

'Okay, Mandy. Then there was…' and Dean was unable to remember the girls before that. He could remember vague descriptions of them, mostly if their boobs had been real or not, but not much else. He suddenly felt angry at Sam for bringing up the conversation. 'So I don't remember them all, big deal!'

Sam raised an eyebrow. 'So it would be no big deal if they didn't remember you?'

'Oh, they'd remember me, Sammy, I guarantee it.' Dean shot back.

'How are you so casual about it? Don't any of them mean anything to you? Are you happy just being a one night stand? A guy some girl did because the conditions were right, but never wants to see again.'

'I'm sure that there are plenty of girls out there that would love an encore to this show,' Dean gestured at his chest and torso. Hunting was hard work and he knew his body was proof of the effort, despite all the greasy spoon joints they ate in.

'You know, if you were a woman, you'd be called a slut.'

'Yeah, but I'm a man so I'm called a stud instead. Double standards are a bitch Sam, but when they work in your favor, you don't question it.' Dean was getting even more pissed because he was still trying to remember the names of girls and couldn't. 'Now why don't you shut your pie hole for awhile, I was enjoying the quiet.' He turned the radio back up until he saw Sam wince. Smiling at his brothers discomfort he leaned back into the Impala's seat and settled in for the last leg of the trip.