Hey peeps. So, here's the next chapter. Yay! I know this story's rated M, so I have a wittle surprise planned for the next episode. Well, big surprise, since it's Dean we're talking about. I also have a tiny request. I want to put these up on livejournal, but I'm about as knowledgeable on that as Dean is on myspace. Other than thinking its a porn site. So any help would be appreciated.

Some dialogue is taken from 2x3 Bloodlust, and it belongs to Eric Kripke and the brilliant writers. Tawny's mine. My own. My precioussssssss. Lyrics are from AC/DC's song Back in Black, featured in said episode. Enjoy!

Back in black, I hit the sack
I've been too long, I'm glad to be back
Yes, I'm let loose from the noose
That's kept me hanging about
I keep looking at the sky
'Cause it's gettin' me high
Forget the hearse 'cause I'll never die
I got nine lives, cat's eyes
Usin' every one of them and running wild

Cause I'm Back

"Listen to her purr! You ever heard anything so sweet?"

Tawny glared up at Dean, squished between him and Sam, a scowl on her face. He'd only finished fixing up the Impala two days ago. She'd helped him a little when he got back from the Roadhouse, restoring the leather, cleaning the blood and grit from the floorboards before putting new carpeting in, little stuff that her father had taught her over the years. She and Dean still hadn't told Sam and Bobby about their budding ardor; sure, they knew Dean was sleeping in Tawny's bed, and she knew they had to see the little glances they would steal at each other from across the room, but she was almost positive neither had any idea that they were together. If her father only knew what Dean had done to Tawny in the garage on a regular basis, she was sure he'd break out his shotgun.

As far as secrecy, though, they were pretty good at it. Tawny hated that they had to hide, but stolen kisses in dark hallways and wandering hands late at night with bolts on the door added a kind of romanticism to the whole thing. But it didn't change the fact that right now she was pissed at Dean. Sam and her father, too, for that matter.

Yesterday she'd gone out in the early afternoon with a bucket, a couple sponges and some soap, planning on helping Dean scrub down the car. An hour later, after a half-assed cleaning and a quick romp in an old rusted-out Ford, the two made it back up to the house where Bobby told them he'd caught wind of a possible case. After Sam and Dean agreed to check it out, Tawny somehow got dragged into the conversation and Bobby suggested she go. She'd said no, trying to escape the kitchen-turned-war-zone, but Dean stopped her. After a two hour screaming match between Bobby and his daughter, Dean had packed a bag for Tawny and she was in her room, seething. She was still angry at 5:00 that morning when they'd gotten in the car, Sam literally carrying her to the car kicking and screaming so she couldn't run away.

"If you two wanna get a room, just let us know, Dean," Sam said, looking out the window. Tawny watched as Dean leaned forward to pat the dashboard lovingly.

"Don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand us," Dean cooed. Tawny rolled her eyes, tempted to point out that he was talking to a car, and that it couldn't actually hear him. Instead she just stared out the windshield, glaring at nothing as Sam chuckled.

"You're in a good mood," he said, stretching his arm out over the back of the seat, and Tawny instinctively leaned into his side. She felt him look down at her, surprise, so she glanced up at him.

"I'm still mad at you," she reminded, tightening her arms over her chest. She saw Dean look at her out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head faintly before opening his mouth.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"No reason."

"I got my car, got a case. Things are lookin' up," he enthused, slapping a hand on Tawny's knee. She pushed it off without looking directly at him, but she saw in her peripheral vision that he was frowning slightly. She ignored it as Sam laughed.

"Wow. You hear of a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and suddenly you're Mr. Sunshine." Tawny rolled her eyes. She was sure if she had to put up with this for four more hours, someone was going to end up hog tied in the back seat.

"How far to Red Lodge?" Dean chuckled. Sam glanced at the map. "Uh, about another three hundred miles," he answered, and Tawny groaned, throwing her head back against the seat. Dean looked at her, his normal smartass grin lighting up his already handsome features. She wanted to slap him.

"Good," he said, leaning over to crank up the volume. Tawny only lasted another five minutes, between Dean's off key singing and the fact that the burrito Sam had eaten a hundred miles back decided to kick it into high gear. She leaned forward, turning in the seat and starting to climb over when she felt Sam grab her belt.

"And just where are you off to, young lady?" Dean asked, shooting her a sideways glance. She pivoted at her hips, her face right behind his ear.

"I'm going to sleep," she said, then she lowered her voice. "To think about all the ways I'm gonna punish you." She was sure Sam couldn't hear her over the wails of Axl Rose coming through the speakers. There was a pause while Dean regained his composure, then he waved to Sam, who let go of her belt.

"Thank you," she quipped, finally climbing in the back seat. She shoved their duffels against the door and curled up on her side, closing her eyes to at least attempt to go to sleep.

They got to Red Lodge around dusk, Dean pulling into a small motel on the outer edges of the small town as Sam leaned over the seat to wake Tawny up. He didn't succeed until Dean had parked and was out of the car, and when Sam got out he was nursing a sore hand.

"I don't see why you have to be so mean about it, Tawny," he whined, holding it to his chest. Tawny slammed the door.

"I don't see why you have to be such a baby about it, Sam," she retorted sharply before stalking off to find the restroom. By the time she got back she'd given up on planning her escape. They'd dragged her 800 miles and even if she did get back home without some whack job in a truck killing her, she knew her father would lock her out and make her sleep on the porch with Rummy. So she walked back to the car, no fuss, but with a scowl still present, and stood there with Sam, patiently waiting for Dean to get back.

"So, did you enjoy the scenery?" Sam asked nervously, trying to make small talk. Tawny slowly turned her head to look at him, an eyebrow raised daringly.

"Look, Tawny," Sam scoffed, "Is it us? Or the actual hunt?" he asked, standing up straight and facing her. Before she could answer the door to the motel office opened and Dean walked out, two keys in hand. He tossed one to Sam as he circled the car, opening the door to reach into the back seat and grab his and Tawny's bags. Dean finished the circle, walking past Tawny. She held her arm out but he ignored it, walking past her to round the corner at the edge of the parking lot. She rolled her eyes, looking over to see Sam watching her like a guard dog.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going," she surrendered, holding her hands up in defeat. She followed Dean's path, her old brown boots noisy against the cement sidewalk. Dean was holding the door open when she got to it. She glanced around, seeing this room was just like every other she'd been in. She grabbed her bag from Dean's grasp, heading over to the bed that was pushed up to the wall, opening it and rummaging. Sam snorted when she turned, a lacy translucent baby blue bra hanging off her finger.

"Really, Dean?" she demanded, an eyebrow raised and her hand on her hip. Dean shrugged innocently.

"You never know. You might need it," he said. Tawny rolled her eyes, shoving it back in the bag, muttering incoherently as she continued digging. Sam was pretty sure that "whiskey" and "shotgun" were both used. Finally she straightened, a small zippered bag in her hand. She was at the bathroom door with her hand on the knob when Dean walked up and grabbed her wrist.

"Hold up. Window check," he said, and Tawny groaned, opening the door. Dean leaned in and switched on the light, looking in, then, apparently satisfied, he waved her in. The door was almost closed when he grabbed it. Tawny leaned out, her face tight with anger.

"What?" she spat. Dean looked at Sam quickly before turning back to her.

"Why are you so pissed off about this hunt? You're a hunter," he said, raising his eyebrows at her. Tawny scoffed.

"None of your business, Dean."

Before Dean could press the issue, Sam took a step towards her, raising his hand accusingly.

"No, Tawny! You're not allowed to play that card! Not after what you said to dad. You took us in, you're a part of this hunt, so we have a right to know what the hell is going on with you," he said loudly, his voice tinged with anger and hurt. Tawny stared at him, a look of shock on her face. Sam had only raised his voice to her a handful of times since they were five.

"Fine! You want to know what's wrong? You call my father and ask him! He's the one who made me come on this stupid hunt!" she yelled back, yanking the door out of Dean's grip and slamming it. Dean stared at the door for a moment before turning to his brother. Sam's chest was heaving, his eyes flaring.

"What the hell was that?" Dean whispered, hooking his thumb at the door. Sam shook his head, grabbing his coat. He'd made it to the door when Dean came up behind him.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, grabbing Sam's shoulder. He shook it off, pulling the garment over his shoulders.

"Food," he said plainly, walking out the door. Dean just stood there, staring at the closed door, a look of surprise on his face.

"God," he breathed, looking around with raised eyebrows. "It's like being on Days of Our Lives or something."

Tawny was livid. She was angry at Sam for prying into her personal life, at Dean for bringing it up, and, most of all, at her father for making her go on this hunt. He knew why she didn't hunt anymore; she didn't trust herself. She turned on the shower, turning to look at herself in the mirror as steam filled the room.

"Don't you dare let them down, Tawny Lee Singer. They're all you have," she hissed, glaring at her reflection. She stripped and climbed into the shower, letting the near scalding water beat down on her back. She went into auto-pilot, methodically cleaning as her mind raced with memories and hypotheticals. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she let the water run cold before getting out. When she walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her slender frame and her hair damp around her shoulders, Dean was sitting on the bed leaning against the pillows propped up on the headboard. She didn't look him in the eye as she walked over to the bed, once again rummaging through her bag for a change of clothes.

"So I, uh, called your dad," Dean said quietly. Tawny paused, a lump forming in her throat. She swallowed.

"What – Did you get your answers?" she asked, her voice soft, but still edgy. "No," he answered, playing with the phone in his hand.

"He said it was something I needed to hear from you."

He leaned forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand out of the bag.

"Tawny," he pleaded, sitting up. She looked up at him, tears filling her eyes. She sat, leaning into his chest when he shifted, letting her settle between his legs. He lifted a hand to slide her hair off of one shoulder, then traced her clavicle with the tip of his middle finger. His face dipped to her neck, suckling softly at the flesh behind her ear.

"Talk to me, sweetheart, s'why I'm here," he murmured against her hair. She looked at her lap, letting her hands fall palm up on top of her knees.

"It was three years ago, right before you and your dad came by, you know, when my dad threatened to shoot him?" she said. Dean hummed his response, pressing his lips to the back of her shoulder. She could feel him breathing against her skin, and she took a breath before continuing.

"I'd been seeing a local hunter, Cam Wentworth," she started, speaking slowly. "We'd been together for a few months, and he convinced me to go on a hunt. We, uh, we were in Ohio tracking a Wendigo – it had killed a family on a camping trip. We'd been after it for a week. The damn thing was good at keeping a low profile."

She paused, closing her eyes and swallowing back tears. Dean's hand ran across her shoulders, and she continued.

"It was late and we'd been sleeping in a tent. If it weren't for the fact we were hunting a monster it would've been romantic," she said, smiling sadly. A tear fell down her cheek.

"We, uh, we were distracted," she said, her voice thick with tears. Dean stiffened, and Tawny knew what he wasn't asking.

"Yeah, we were pretty hot and heavy," she said, turning to face him. He nodded, silently urging her to continue.

"Anyways, the Wendigo attacked. He ripped the tent and grabbed Cam, and somehow I got out. I really don't even remember doing it, but I grabbed a log from the fire and killed it. But not before I could save Cam," she said. She stared at her lap, tears streaming down her face. Dean sucked in a breath.

"So that's why you didn't want to go on the hunt? 'Cause you're afraid of getting me or Sam killed?" he asked quietly. Tawny nodded slowly.

"Yes and no," she whispered. She turned, bending her knee over his thigh. "Dean, we're together. We can't afford to get distracted like that. Not if the repercussions involve me losing you. I'm good at a lot of things, Dean, but not losing people. Especially people I love."

Dean reached up to wipe a tear away.

"You love me?" he asked, leaning his forehead against hers. She nodded, letting her eyes drift shut. She felt a puff of air against her lips.

"Aww, that's so sweet," Dean crooned. She pulled back, laughing, and hit his shoulder. "Dean!" she scolded, but she melted into the kiss he pressed to her lips. His tongue dipped in to flirt with hers momentarily before he pulled away.

"I love you, too, Short Stack," he said against her mouth. She hit him again, lighter this time.

"You know I hate that nickname," she muttered. Dean smiled.

"Too bad, Short Stack. Go get dressed. Gigantor should be back any minute," he said. Tawny stood, grabbing a pair of panties and an oversized shirt. "Do you call anyone by their real name?" she asked. Dean shook his head, looking up at her innocently, and Tawny rolled her eyes. She leaned down and kissed him softly before heading to the bathroom.

"Hey, Dean," she called from the door. He looked up at her, his eyebrows raised. "Can you, um, can you not tell Sam what I told you? Not yet, anyways," she asked, frowning at him. He nodded.

"Sure."

Tawny had been on the computer for four hours straight when Sam and Dean got back from seeing the Sheriff and going to the morgue. They brought lunch, the smell of greasy burgers and fries wafting through the air reminding Tawny of just how hungry she was. Dean kicked the door shut, dropping the bag on the table next to her. Tawny grabbed it, unrolling the top and fishing out a fry.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked, shrugging off his suit jacket and hanging it haphazardly on the back of a chair before sitting down. Tawny shook her head, swallowing.

"Nothing. No history of cattle deaths and the last decapitation was 83 years ago. A guy named Harold Russick was working on his truck and it fell on him," she said, tucking a leg under her. She looked up at Sam, who was nodding slowly. She smiled faintly at him, but he didn't return it, turning to grab a pair of jeans off of the floor. He stalked into the bathroom and closed the door, not quite slamming it but there was still a significant smack of wood against wood. Tawny closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head.

"He's still mad at you," Dean said quietly, tossing a burger in her direction. She picked it up, unwrapping it. She didn't look at Dean.

"So, did you find anything?" she asked, taking a bite. There was something she found soothing about the greasy, earthy taste. It reminded her of being a kid, stuck in the back seat of the Impala mushed between Sam and Dean while John and Bobby spoke in hushed tones. Dean nodded, swallowing half a mouthful of his own burger.

"Yeah, actually. The sheriff was completely useless. The man doesn't believe in cattle mutilation, says bloating and gravity did it," he mumbled, pausing to swallow the rest and wash it down with a sip of soda. "But get this. We went to see the body. You know that cult in Florida with the reverse pentacles on the foreheads deal? We were looking for that."

Tawny pulled away from taking another bite. "Did she have one?"

"Well, no," Dean said, looking at her. "But then we looked down her throat to see if the guy that sliced and diced her stuffed anything down in, like in Silence of the –"

"Did he?" Tawny interrupted eagerly, leaning forward, her eyes wide. Dean couldn't help but chuckle.

"No," he said emphatically "but what we did find was much more interesting."

He paused dramatically, and Tawny just stared. He grinned. "A fang."

"On the body?" Tawny inquired, sitting up straight, her burger forgotten at this point. "Do you think whatever killed her left it?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope, it was hers."

Tawny always felt at ease in bars. They were a refuge, a place where you could be anyone. Tawny had taken a variety of roles in bars: The lonely divorcee, the shy girl-next-door, the flirtatious co-ed, the biker chick no one wanted to mess with, the cop looking to drink away yesterday's case. But tonight she was herself, just a girl going into a bar with her boys. Her boys. It was a term she'd always loved. They gave her an anchor, something to turn to when the shit hit the fan. Now, as they stepped into the smoke-hazy dive, she grinned, knowing how lucky she was to be able to care about them enough to be willing to give her life for them.

The trio crossed the room, Tawny watching the patrons out of the corner of her eye. They made it to the bar, Tawny leaning against it as Dean nodded to the bartender.

"How's it goin'?" he said nonchalantly. The bartender glanced up.

"Livin' the dream," he answered, picking up a glass and shaking it dry. "What can I get for you?"

"Three beers, please," Dean answered. The bartender turned, grabbing three bottles before Tawny could speak.

"Actually, make mine a double shot of Jack," she said, shooting a sideways glance at Dean, who was staring at her like she was speaking in tongues. The bartender raised his eyebrows.

"What? Girls can't drink liquor?" she asked incredulously, looking between them with wide eyes. Dean shrugged. The bartender set two of the beers down on the bar before turning to put the third back and grab the square bottle off the shelf.

"So, we're looking for some people," Sam started as he poured. He looked up, returning the bottle to its shelf with a smirk on his face.

"Sure. It's hard to be lonely."

Sam looked at Dean before reaching into his pocket.

"Yeah, but, um, that's not what I meant," he replied, sliding a $50 bill across the bar. The bartender looked at it for a moment before taking it. Sam glanced over again, catching Tawny's eye as she took a gulp of her drink.

"Great, so, uh, these people would have moved here about six months ago," he said, leaning into the bar. "Probably pretty rowdy, like to drink."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, raising his beer. "Real night owls, you know, sleep all day, party all night." He took a swig of beer. The bartender put his hands on the bar, leaning forward.

"Barker farm got leased out a few months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot – drinkers, noisy. I had to 86 'em once or twice."

The three exchanged looks. Dean thanked him, taking another quick gulp before turning. Tawny downed the rest of her whiskey, smiling at the bartender before following them out. They'd almost made it to the door when she noticed a still smoldering cigarette laying in an ashtray, a half full mug of beer sitting next to it. She waited until they'd made it outside to say something.

"Dean," she said, grabbing th back of his jacket lightly. He turned, raising his eyebrows at her.

"I think one of 'ems here," she whispered, glancing around the parking lot. Dean did the same, turning back to Sam. He nodded towards the alley and they made their way into it. She could feel someone watching her and had to resist the urge to turn around, knife drawn, but she knew if she did it would give them away, and they couldn't afford that. So instead she stared straight ahead, turning the corner. Dean tapped her wrist lightly, nodding towards an open doorway they could duck into. Once they were concealed Tawny took out a compact, aiming it so she could see down the dark alley.

She knew he was trouble the minute she saw him round the corner. He moved like he knew what he was doing, but she almost laughed out loud when he turned his back to them. She nodded to Sam and Dean, closing the compact and slipping it into her pocket with her left hand, unsheathing the hunting knife she had concealed at her back with her right. They were at his back in seconds, grabbing him as he turned around. They slammed him against the wall, Sam and Dean holding his shoulders as Tawny pressed one hand to his chest, the blade of her knife resting against his jugular.

"Smile," Dean said harshly. The man looked at him. "What?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. Dean tightened his grip.

"Show us those pearly whites," he urged. The mystery man looked between them.

"Oh, for the love of – you wanna stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire," he said, staring down at Tawny. She leaned in, adjusting the blade. "Yeah, that's right. I heard you all in there."

"What do you know about vampires?" Sam asked skeptically. The man glanced at him before answering.

"How to kill 'em. Now seriously, girl, that knife's makin' me itch."

"Just open your mouth and I'll put it away," she offered, a small grin on her face. He leaned over slightly and Sam yelled, grabbing his shoulder.

"Hey, easy there Chachi," he said calmly, lifting a hand. He pulled his upper lip up to expose the gum. "See? Fangless. Happy?"

Tawny glanced at Dean, who nodded. She pulled back, lifting her jacket to slide the knife back into its sheath. She looked back up at him, glaring.

"Now, who the hell are you?"

"Clock me one."

Tawny looked back at Dean, her eyebrows raised. After getting the crap beat out of him by Gordon, she couldn't see why he would want Sam to give him another bruise. But apparently he did. Sam seemed to share in her confusion because he just stared back.

"What?"

"C'mon. I won't even hit you back," Dean urged, adjusting his stance to brace for the impact. "Let's go."

Sam laughed, glancing at Tawny, who was still thoroughly stumped.

"No," Sam said, shaking his head at his brother.

"Let's go, hit me! You get a freebie! Come on!" Dean continued. Sam waved at him weakly, turning to walk away.

"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a rain check," he threw over his shoulder. Dean walked up to Tawny's side. She looked at him for a minute before balling her fist and hitting him in the shoulder, hard.

"Ow!" he yelled, holding his bicep, as Sam turned, staring at the two. "What the hell was that for?" Dean whined, a pathetic look on his face.

"That was for dragging my ass out here. And," she smacked his chest with an open palm "that was for not listening to me when I said we should get the hell outta dodge."

Dean whimpered, cowering away from her. She moved towards him again, putting a hand to his cheek and kissing the corner of his mouth. "And that was for defending your brother," she finally said, turning to look at Sam. He was watching them, his mouth twisted up in a confused grin. Tawny only shrugged, walking over to the car and opening the door. She slid into the middle of the front seat, kicking off her boots.

"You boys comin'?" she called, looking around at them.

She heard Dean faintly as he walked up to the car. "I wish we never took this job. It just jacked everything up." Tawny bit back an I-told-you-so and stared straight ahead. Sam stopped next to the open passenger's door.

"What d'you mean?" he asked. Dean sighed.

"Think about the hunts we all went on, Sammy. Our whole lives," he said. Tawny leaned over and rolled down the window, pulling herself out of it to sit on the door. Sam glanced at her. "Okay," he said. Dean put his forearms on the roof of the car, leaning forward on it. Tawny glanced at him, putting a hand on his back.

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing?" he asked, guilt lacing his voice. Sam's eyebrows were knit in concern. "You know," he continued. "With the way dad raised us, and the way Bobby raised you." He looked pointedly at Tawny.

Sam looked away for a moment, staring at the sunrise. Tawny had seen the look on his face probably a hundred times growing up; sadness mixed with the need to console his big brother. It didn't fade as he turned back to look at Dean.

"Dean, after what happened to mom… Dad did the best he could," Sam said softly. Dean looked away, his expression leaving a constricted feeling in Tawny's chest.

"I know," he agreed, his voice quiet. "But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things – man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn't even think about it. Hell, I even enjoyed it."

Tawny had reached out and grabbed his hand before she was aware she'd moved, but Dean took it, squeezing tightly. The hand on his back moved up, looping around the back of his neck. Sam watched the movement closely before speaking.

"Yeah, but you didn't kill Lenore," he pointed out gently. Dean shook his head.

"No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all."

"Yeah, but you didn't, and that's what matters," Tawny said, squeezing his shoulder. He looked up at her, not even bothering to fake a smile. "And, for what it's worth, I think your Daddy did a great job of raising you both to be good men," she added, her eyes shining as she looked between them. There was a long pause, the silence only broken by Dean's soft "Yeah" of agreement. Then he wrapped his arm around Tawny's waist, squeezing tightly.

"But that's only cause you were a pain in his ass," Dean pointed out, pulling her out of the window. He slid an arm under her knees, making sure her socked feet didn't touch the dusty driveway, drawing a laugh from Tawny. "And Sam's a pain in mine."

Sam chuckled, looking away. "I guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass then," he said, leaning down to climb into the seat. Dean watched him, his face dropping back into a frown for a moment. Tawny kissed his cheek lightly.

"You gonna put me down?" she asked, and Dean grinned.

"Sure thing."