Two

I eased my '67 Mustang into the parking lot outside of the dive bar where I worked. Yogi and BooBoo pulled into the space next to mine in a shiny black '67 Impala. I had to admit they had damn good taste. And they weren't unattractive, either. Rather than let them catch me staring, I turned on my heel and stomped into the dark bar. I ordered my Blue Moon and sat down at a corner table, nodding to the tall blond guy behind the bar.

Dean slumped down first, squinting at me like he was trying to decide if I was human or not. Apparently deciding not to try to kill me, he sat back in his chair. "So you're a hunter?"

I snorted. "I suppose you could stretch it that way. If you really stretch it."

That seemed to puzzle him. Good.

Sam sat down. "You said this thing is a maenad?"

I straightened up. "Yeah. They're pretty nasty. You guys are lucky you didn't catch her. She would have torn you up. After… Nevermind." I smirked. "Some things are better left unsaid." I took a sip of my beer. "Let me put it this way: they like to have a good time. But they also like things their way. Things haven't been going their way lately."

"Define going their way," Dean said. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"You don't know your Greek history, do you?" I asked. They shook their heads. I sighed. This was going to be a long night. "Dyanisis is the Greek god of theatre, wine and nookie. The maenads were his fangirls but they kind of took it to an extreme level. To the point where they actually turned from women into those things. And when their cause is disrupted, all hell breaks loose." I glanced between their faces for recognition. Sam seemed to be following better than Dean.

"So they kill for their offerings or something, right?" Sam asked.

"Bingo. It used to be that grapes and bread would hold the god over but lately he hasn't been so forgiving." I caught Dean staring at me. "What?"

He shrugged. "Nothin. Just haven't seen a girl nerd out like this." He exchanged a look with Sam. "Well thanks for the tips. We'll take it from here, princess." He took a large gulp from his beer, as if to dismiss me.

"Not so fast. You still don't know how to kill it." I crossed my arms over my chest, pushing up at my cleavage.

My trick worked. Dean's gaze landed on my low-cut top. "No, but now we know what it is and can figure out how to kill it." He winked at me, smirking.

Momentarily, I panicked. I didn't want them getting killed because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "Fine." I said, sticking out my jaw. "If you're going to get yourselves killed, at least let me buy you a shot."

I strode up to the bar, trying to think. I pushed myself up into a stool and looked up to my close friend Jackson. He was leaning over the bar looking down at me, half smirking.

"Alright, what's eatin' you?" He wiped his hands and threw the white towel over his shoulder. "You don't walk in with two guys following you and come over here all cranky like that."

Jackson knew me well. He was the one who had trained me and we had grown fond of each other over the years.

"I need two shots of Jack. I've gotta keep them from doing something really stupid." I pushed my brain to come up with something better than sitting on their feet begging for them to let me come with them.

"Sweetheart, Jack isn't the way to make a man do something smart." Nevertheless, Jackson pulled down three shot glasses and poured. "The extra is for you for some courage." He smiled and shoved them toward me.

I gathered them and walked back to the corner where Sam and Dean were hudled over the table in conversation.

"I think she can really help us out, Dean. Come on! She knows what the thing is and we didn't even know. That says something!" Sam was pushing for me. I appreciated him for it.

I cleared my throat and set down the shot glasses. "You thinking about letting me come?" Finally an idea popped into my head. I jerked it toward the pool table. "I'll play you for it."

Dean looked me up and down and picked up his glass. "Fine."

I picked up mine and clinked it against his. We both let the burning liquid spill down our throats. Sam wasn't far behind us. I stood and strode over to the table. "Rack or break?"

"Ladies choice." Dean smirked at me, shrugging. Maybe it was the whiskey talking but I wondered if his hair was a soft as it looked.

"You rack, I'll break." I handed him the rack and started chalking my cue.

Once the balls were all put in their place, I bit my lip and leaned down to take my shot. Two solids sank on the break. Sam blew out a breath and headed to the bar mumbling something about a long night. Dean's jaw nearly hit the floor. I smiled inwardly and strolled confidently over to him and patted his cheek.

"Put your tongue away before someone trips on it." I leaned down for my second shot and sunk another solid. My third wasn't as lucky.

The bar started to get busier. Sam was sitting at our table drinking his beer, watching, mildly amused. Dean and I were tied with only one ball left for each plus the eight. I leaned forward to take my shot and suddenly there was a hand in the back pocket of my jeans.

"Hey darlin'. You put that pretty little ass out there just for me?" Some drunk guy murmured/slurred in my ear.

I spun around to tell him to get off but before I could, Dean's hand was around his wrist, clenching hard.

"I think you owe the lady an apology," Dean said through clenched teeth. If I weren't freaked out, I would've thought it was hot.

"Come on, man, let go," the creep said. "I was just messin' around. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go for your girl." He was squirming and his face was turning red.

Jackson came over, holding the trusty baseball bat that we kept behind the bar. "Is there a problem here gentlemen?"

"No," Dean said. "This guy was just leaving."

Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder. "And so were we." Dean loosened his grip and finally let go.

I looked up at Jackson. "I've got it, thanks." I gave him a small smile.

"You text me when you get home." Jackson looked at me before he took the drunk guy by the shoulder and pushed him out the door.

"Well," I said, trying to be cheerful. "Where are you guys staying?"

"The Nightlock Motel?" Sam said.

"Ew. No you're not. I have a couple of spare bedrooms. Think of it as a thank you for getting creeps off my ass. Literally." I wrote down my address on a napkin and handed it to Sam. "Meet me there." With that, I turned on my heel and left the bar.