Chapter 2

The bar was just another variation of the usual local entertainment. Men in many shades of rough lounged pretty much everywhere. Women in very little clothing hung off the bar and the men. There was one like it in pretty much every small town the boys had ever passed through. It was a scene Dean was familiar with, felt almost at home in.

Round wooden tables were scattered around in the dim room. The bar stretched itself all along the one wall at the back. A huge mirror stretched from one wall to the other behind the bar, calling attention to the impressive stock pile of bottles of alcohol that were lined up in rows on the counter before it. Three or four pool tables and a dart board in one corner of the room were surrounded by a respectable sized group of young men and women. That was where he gravitated. There would be a paycheck in that corner… and possibly a 'friend' for the night.

Alcohol and music flowed as freely as the women and the pick up lines. Dean couldn't help but smile. This was definitely what he'd needed. He all but forgot Cal as he sauntered toward the bar and his first bottle. The red head who was tending bar gave him a wink and a smile along with the beer. She all but devoured him with her eyes as he took his first long swallow…hmm, maybe the night wouldn't be as bad as he thought…

Cal had refused to be seen entering the bar with him. After his pig-headed response to her clothes she didn't want the man anywhere near her, especially at the bar. Besides, she liked to make an entrance. She couldn't achieve the head-turning effect she wanted with big brooding Dean glaring daggers at anything male that chanced a glance her way. So she'd stayed behind in the car to 'fix-her-makeup'. She wasn't wearing any of course. Wait, does lip gloss count? It did when she took her sweet-ass time applying it.

He'd argued her black and blue of course. Mostly because he didn't trust her alone in his little black car… what he saw in the darned thing she'd never understand. Her own little red '96 Mustang convertible was so much prettier to look at than his old hunk of junk…Sleek, modern and above all quiet. Okay, quiet-er…

Anyway, she'd finally agreed to let Sam stay behind with her. Honestly there hadn't been much point. She's a big girl. She can take care of herself and had been doing it for quite a few years now. Still, Dean was a bit of a mother hen. Or maybe it was caveman? Whatever. The point is a girl asks for a little help with a demon issue and suddenly she's a damsel in distress. Ha! She does damsel in distress like she does spandex skirts. Of course the whole needy female bit was working to her advantage at the moment so Cal decided that she'd let it slide for a little while.

She waited just long enough to be sure Dean was settled in the bar. The theory was that he'd be distracted enough by the bimbo of the moment not to notice the heads turn her way when she walked through the door. Playing bimbo was great for intel. Especially when you're sitting in a large group of men. They dote all over the girl all night long to keep her attention, and they assume she's an airhead so they talk as freely as if she weren't even there. Free booze, her pick of men and all the latest gossip. It was awesome. This was going to be a really great night.

"Sweet Jesus, look at that!" It was a hushed whisper of reverence. Dean hadn't even heard the jingle of the door opening when she came in. He'd just started to hustle the guy he was playing pool with and was really into the game when he'd heard the whisper. The macho-cowboy type had stood frozen at the sight of her. All the men in the room had. Scruffy looking pervs, the lot of 'em. But hey, if she wanted to parade around half naked then that was fine by him. That meant that the ladies in the bar would need a little more attention… something he was more than willing to supply them with. Who knew? Maybe Sammy would give a little fun a go for a change too.

She strutted her stuff all the way to the bar and a string of men trailed in her wake. She ordered a beer in a smoky voice that was all but drowned out with sandpapery voices asking for it to be put on their bill. Sam took that moment to sneak past the group and make a hasty retreat to Dean's corner. "She's as bad as you are, you know that don't you?" he asked his brother wryly. "Oh Sammy, I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way." He grinned mischief and sent another wink to the bartender before setting up his next shot on the table. Sam just rolled his eyes and sat down.

It didn't take long for things to settle down. Dean was working a hustle and started raking it in at the pool tables while Annie sat prettily, flirting with beefcake after beefcake. He tried to pretend he was okay with it all. It actually wasn't as bad as he'd expected… at least not right away. Sam sat in the corner nursing just the one beer. He didn't need a vision to foresee how the night would end. A storm was brewing and he wanted to be clear headed so he could haul his two hot-heads out of there when it hit.

You see, the thing about Cal O'Sullivan is that she never did anything halfway. It was go big, or go home all the way for that girl and Dean had yet to learn that lesson. He would soon enough though. A lot sooner than any of them expected.

The storm head came in the shape of the two-hundred eighty pound macho-cowboy. He'd been buying Cal drink after drink for the better part of the last three hours. Must've spent close to a hundred dollars on her. When the intel started getting stale, she decided she was tired of him and walked away to join the Winchester boys. You know, play a little pool and hustle a share of Dean's winnings from him before they went back to the motel. It had been too long since the last time she'd annoyed him. A whole hour at least. Yep, definitely too long.

Cal had been so busy plotting the demise of Dean's winnings as she got up from the table she didn't even notice Macho-man getting up too. Suddenly the pointy-booted mammoth was towering over her and looking plenty pissed off. "Where d'you think you're goin' sugah? We were just gettin' t'know each other." He reeked of booze, butts and something nasty sour. Why hadn't she noticed this before? Wrinkling her nose delicately at the onslaught she arched her brow at him and dragged out the sass she normally reserved for a particularly pig-headed hunter.

"Oh, hun, I hate to disappoint you but I think I've gotten to know quite enough of you. Period." Big fuzzy caterpillar eyebrows shot his bony, caveman-like brow at the surprise. This was a man who wasn't used to hearing 'no'. "Really? Ya think so? Well, I beg to differ." He said grabbing hold of her wrist and squeezing hard. Looked like he didn't get 'no' because he was used to just taking whatever he wanted whether it was his or not. She was insulted he'd even consider trying it.

Sam saw the giant move, saw him stand in Cal's way and watched him put his hands on her. It happened so fast he didn't even have the time to blink. Didn't want to either. He'd seen what she could do to a spirit… and to his brother. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. It was going to be one hell of a show. He actually felt bad for 'He-Man', the guy didn't stand a chance.

Dean had been practically lying on the pool table, trying to get the eight ball into the corner pocket for the benefit of the bartender. The looks she'd been giving him all night could have melted icebergs. They sure were warming him up nicely. Unfortunately when he looked up to judge the effect it'd had on her, he caught sight of the Incredible Hulk grabbing at Cal's wrist. Then all he could see was red.

"Listen, um… what was your name again? Oh, never mind. I'll just call you tall, dark and smelly." She smiled sweetly watching as the insult sunk in. His face went from ugly pro-wrestler red to angry bull maroon before she gave him his warning. "So dude, where I come from when a girl says she's done with you she walks away. I think you'd best let me do that if you value your health."

She'd had enough of this crap already. It was time for him to give it up or get his ass kicked. What the hell, right? Who was she to pass up the opportunity to break in her new strappy sandals? And what better way then to do that than by taking this hulk down a notch or two?

"Oh, I don't think so darlin'. Y'see, you're comin' home with me tonight. So let's go already." His mistake had been letting go of her wrist to try and grab her by the waist. That had been Dean's mistake the day before too. Sam popped another peanut in his mouth as he watched the scene unfold.

The moment his big meaty hand had let go of her wrist she swung her free hand up in a tight fist connecting it with the soft underside of his jaw. His head snapped hard to the side and blood poured out of his newly split lip. "Lady, you done just pissed me off." He growled at her and lunged. She stepped to the side just fast enough for him to soar right past her and into one of the empty tables like a rampaging bull at the sight of a red cape.

"Baby, I am no lady." She said rubbing her hands on her jeans. One last look at the satisfying mess she'd made of the guy and she turned her back on him and headed toward the pool tables again.

Cal had been positive she'd knocked him out cold otherwise she'd never have turned her back on him. So when she felt the none too gentle finger tapping her on the shoulder as she walked away she really wasn't expecting it. The element of surprise was the only reason he'd managed to haul her ass over his shoulder.

She'd been about to let out a very unflattering stream of insults as a prelude to physically making him put her down when she heard a very familiar, very angry voice. "Put. Her. Down." Only Dean Winchester could turn three normally harmless words into a threat on your life.

Cal may annoy the hell out of him but she'd asked him for help. He'd been raised a warrior, a protector of the weak and innocent. Though he very seriously doubted she was either, he would not stand idly by as some jerk tried to haul her away. A gallant gesture right? He sure thought so. She on the other hand… not so much.

"Dean." It wasn't his name, is was a warning to back off. "I've got this." She told him from her position on the Lone Rider's shoulder. "You heard the gal, tough guy. She's got me. So get lost already." Dean just glared menacingly. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size He-Man?" "What? Like you, small fry?"

The thing with tall, muscled beefcakes is that they're not too quick on the uptake. The same could be said about slightly shorter, smart-assed Winchester men who couldn't keep their noses out of other people's business… but that was beside the point.

The beefcake made his second mistake of the night insulting Dean, and his last and final mistake when he put Cal down to take care of business. Also with Dean. But not before the last and final insult to Cal. "You stay put little lady. I'll be back for you as soon as I take care of the pipsqueak." Then turned his back on her to get to Dean.

Rule number one: Do not piss of a girl. It never ends well. They hold grudges that last far beyond a fist fight and a few beers. Rule number two: Do not turn your back on said girl once you've effectively pissed her off. You will regret it. Cowboy sure did.

One swift kick and her foot connected with something sensitive from behind that brought Cowboy to his knees. She'd told Dean she had this one. Did he listen? Of course not. He just had to get a money shot in once the guy was down. She'd had enough of the damsel in distress crap. It's about time Dean learned she ate guys like Cowboy for breakfast.

So she played dirty and grabbed the first thing handy which just happened to be a half full bottle of beer. In true bar brawl fashion she smashed it over Cowboy's head and ended the night for him once and for all. Then as she caught the red-headed bartender's eye "You'd better call this guy a cab. He's just had one too many." Cal called out to her. Funny, the redhead didn't look too impressed although Cal couldn't figure out for the life of her why…

Dean practically had smoke coming out of his ears he was so mad. "What the hell was that?" "I told you I had the guy Dean." He looked to Sam to back him up but found nothing but a helpless shrug. "Sweetheart, I don't know what fight you were watching but in the one I saw He-Man there had you. Remember? If I hadn't stepped in when I did you'd be on your way to the farm to be his little plaything right now."

Oh, that was the last straw. She was the one who had taken the guy down. All Dean had done was distract the asshole. The one punch he had thrown had been after she had done all the work. She didn't think, she acted… and firmly connected her closed fist with Dean's face.

And that is how Dean Winchester ended up on his ass in the middle of a trashed bar with the beginning of a very nice black eye swelling up half of his face. His little brother was laughing hysterically behind him and the girl who had decked him a good one glaring at him ungratefully.

He had been right on three counts. Tonight sucked harder than he could have possibly imagined. They had not managed to gather any useful information. And Caitlin O'Sullivan was straight-jacket/padded room crazy.