I usually don't update this fast, but I had been writing a lot of this chapter already before chapter 2 and 3 were done so...

I enjoyed writing it and I won't share just what hilarious images passed in my head at that time.

I'd reckon Dean would know about this subject. . Well, he does now.


The whole building definitely had the feel of having been abandoned long ago. The hallway they stood in contained a lot of chairs and a desk in the middle with a broken computer on it. It didn't seem to have been tampered with for ages and there were no traces on the dusty floor.

Ash went to investigate the terminal, frowning when she realized why none had used it. It still had an old password attached to the contents. For the sake of her own curiosity, she started to hack it, partly aware that Dean was moving around her, until he walked further into the hallway that led out to a corridor further off.

She was tempted to call out to him that walking away like that could be dangerous. Even though he could take care of himself, somewhat at any rate, his life was her responsibility right now. Focusing on hacking the computer, she quickly managed with it because, frankly, the password wasn't all that complicated and she had always had it easy hacking computers, despite being a bit slow in other things. All she actually found in it though were a few town related files from Pre-War, along with an invitation to a feast that was to be in the town hall at one point. With singing, dancing and excellent food, being three of the main reasons to go there.

She shut the computer off again, walking over to Dean who was casually looking into the corridor, before he glanced back at Ash.

"Well?" he asked, as she peered around the corner as well.

"Nothing hugely important in the computer. There was supposed to be a feast of some sorts here. On the 23th October 2077," she explained warily, as she rounded the corner.

The corridor had chairs all along the walls and most of them were… occupied with skeletons. Skeletons with scant remains of clothes. Those that had been knocked over something had shattered some of their bones, leaving piles of them on the floor.

"Must have been some killer entertainment," Dean said drily, breaking the silence after both had looked at the scene for a few moments. Ash rolled her eyes at the bad joke, before walking further into the corridor. Its right end led to a very large room, much larger than the hall had been. Like the corridor, it had chairs placed along the sides of the walls and the floor… the floor looked different somehow.

She crouched down to touch it and despite the cracks and obvious wear after so many years, it seemed to be made of a different material, something smoother than regular floor planks.

"Interesting," she mumbled to herself, as Dean stepped past her, all the way to the middle of the room. The room seemed to have a certain aura of elegance to it. The windows, although covered with boards long ago, still had some ragged curtains hanging from them. The corners of the walls had old speakers attached to them and at a closer look right next to her, there was a table with a few different radios on them, most of them smashed to pieces though.

She looked up again, watching Dean kick briefly into the floor, looking thoughtful.

"Radio based performances," he said suddenly, frowning a bit. "Not even a scene for the entertainers…"

"What are you talking about?" Ash asked puzzled. Dean extended his hands, gesturing around him.

"This is a… dance room if you so will," he explained. Loudly too. "Probably for the best too; not good enough acoustics in here."

"But there's no stage. No one would see the dancers… well dance," she protested.

"People would dance with each other in here. It was quite common before the bomb; I'd assume it still is?"

"Perhaps in towns; personally I'm surprised I have even the faintest idea what you're talking about. Not everyone dance… can they?"

"Well, no. Some people have no talent on a dance floor at all," Dean waved patiently. "But it can usually be learned. It's another elegant way of expressing yourself, much like singing. Am I to guess you're completely oblivious to the charm of dancing then?"

"I don't dance no, never have and never will. Nor would I ever sing."

"Don't sing," Dean protested too fast, as he walked back over to her. "I don't think you have the voice to carry a tune."

Ash folded her arms across her chest now, arching an eyebrow.

"We can't all be glorious singers, Dean," she said coolly. "Are you done here? We should go find the kitchen in this place."

"Why the rush? We're stuck here till the sandstorm passes, aren't we? Might as well have some fun while at it.

"Dancing's not fun."

"How do you know, if you haven't tried it? Come now, I can teach you to dance. I said you'd learn something from the trip, dancing might as well be the first. A little elegance wouldn't kill you, you know."

"Dean, I'm not dancing."

"From what I gathered during our walk today, you have an uncanny fascination with things before the bomb. I'm offering to teach you something of it and you'll say no?" he asked smugly, folding his arms across his chest, as the woman narrowed her eyes quickly.

"I'll only offer this once," he added calmly, moving a bit and reaching out with his hand towards her, palm up.

Ash was scowling, stuck between her curiosity and pride. Dancing seemed so… ridiculous and even if she had been just the faintest tempted when watching Tommy and his dancers perform, she hadn't imagined herself ever doing it. It just didn't fit into this world where the only important skills were how to survive. Everything else seemed moot.

So why was she collecting random junk if everything pre-war was 'moot'? Why be so curious about the era? She couldn't possibly say no really, because she had never turned down any pre-war opportunities before.

Muttering something under her breath, she pulled the bag off her shoulder; dropping it to the floor gently. There was still a moment's hesitation as she took his hand, but she wasn't really known for being a coward either.

That it was Dean mattered little. Had it been Raul suggesting it, she would have treated it with just as much suspicion. Probably more because although Raul was great, was better with talking people into his own ways.

…Blackmailing or not.

He brought her out on the middle of the floor, before he let go of her to gesture towards the pip-boy.

"I think that thing has speakers, yeah?" he asked. "Can't really dance without music."

Ash sighed, as she looked at the pip-boy. Dean might not be aware of it but every time he said music, he sounded so downright home with it. Even the word flowed so naturally.

"I'm surprised you're not having fits of laughter yet, you know," she frowned at him, as she turned on one of the radio channels.

"This is to my own interest. I can only travel with a savage for so long."

"I'm no savage!" Ash protested, her patience regarding insults growing thin in this awkward situation.

"I apologize. An uneducated woman then."

"Fine."

"With some savage tendencies."

"I'll go savage on your ass if you continue like that," she frowned, not really serious but it wasn't far off. Dean actually arched an eyebrow.

"Really?" he finally asked amused.

"God dammit, Dean!"

"Alright, time to put this show on the road before you get more… unpleasant. Don't worry about a thing, I'll lead, you just follow… and keep an eye on your feet."

"Why?"

"Because you'll be using them. Hopefully."

He grabbed her hand again, putting it on his shoulder before grabbing her other hand to stretch it out to the side a bit, without letting go. His free hand went to her waist, before he glanced down at her feet briefly. He used his own foot to separate her feet a bit, sighing.

"Stiff as a rock," he commented, making her frown quickly. Ash was looking at his face, but once he moved to the side suddenly, matching the music from the pip-boy and pulling her with him, she was forced to turn her attention to her feet, giving them a near panicked look. Dean seemed to move naturally across the floor, annoyingly enough.

"You need to relax," he said after a while, not even looking at her; he was busy seeing where they were actually going. "You're not this tense when you move or fight and I've seen you do both."

"This is different," Ash grumbled, still paying attention to her feet.

"Is it now? It's still movement; it's still about the grace. Only difference is that you're not currently fighting for your life."

Grace, my ass.

"Too much movement in this," she mumbled, yelping as he suddenly pushed her away to the side, before yanking her back again, in what she assumed was a dance move. She caught a glimpse of his face, revealing him grinning in amusement.

"Maybe a warning next time?" Ash suggested, as they returned to the ordinary dance, which she preferred to the random yanking back and forth.

"No fun in that," he chuckled, as he spun them around briefly. That made the dropping point for her, unable to follow that move that actually required a bit more participation on her part.

Her feet slid along the floor briefly away from him, which would have resulted in a fall on her back if Dean hadn't grabbed her upper arms. Ash blinked confused by the turn of events, before blowing the fringe out of her face.

"Yeah, you need more practice. A lot more," he said calmly, as he pulled her back up on her feet. The pip-boy was still blaring out music and to be honest, for the moment Ash had forgotten all about the world outside this room and the music. Whether that was because of enjoyment or annoyance was an unspoken matter.

"Well… I understand the charm behind this. If it's meant to be terrifying," Ash rolled her eyes amused.

"Yes, it is a bit terrifying at the moment. I'm quite glad we're alone, you'd probably scare off half the crowd the way you move," Dean sneered amused.

"Maybe you're a bad teacher," Ash retorted in the same tone, reaching out with her hands to the sides, palms up.

"Hardly. There's nothing I'm bad at, my dear," Dean replied, grabbing hold of her again as her gestures had indicated.

They continued repeating the same moves as before, with the occasional improvised move from Dean's side, when he figured she could handle it. Depending on the rhythm of the music that the pip-boy provided, the speed changed. Ash preferred the fast ones, since she was forced to watch her feet or their surroundings more. The slower ones were… awkward, as she could afford watching Dean more.

That was oddly enough a distraction.