Recruitment Pt. 4- There's No One Like You

The ride to Baton Rouge was supposed to be a little over three hours long, and since Dean had gotten his temper in check and was driving the speed limit for the most part, you were due to arrive on time. His contact was a man named Tom Z, a recently paroled convict who claimed to have knowledge of Crowley's recent whereabouts. Sam had located him God-knows-how.

After your little spat about the Mark of Cain this morning, Dean was pretty much silent for the rest of the ride. You decided to just ignore it and let him stew in whatever bullshit he was thinking about. Clearly the Mark was a sore subject, but it had needed to be brought up and out in the open between the two of you. Without trust, a hunting duo would never work. Which was why, sad to say, you usually worked alone.

After three and a half hours, Dean pulled the Impala up in front of a ramshackle double-wide set far back from an old country gravel road. The property would have been beautiful, if it didn't have rusted out cars and engines strewn about the overgrown grass in the front yard and all among the trees. You turned in your seat. "What's the plan? You sure this isn't a trap?"

"Not at all. Could be." Dean gave you a stern look. "Stay behind me. Keep alert. Make sure your weapons are easily accessible and-"

"Dean, this isn't my first rodeo. I've been doing this at least as long as you have." You pulled your gun out of your knapsack, checked the magazine, and slid it into the inside pocket of your jacket beside the angel blade you kept hidden there. You also retrieved your demon knife, slipping it into your belt.

"You have a demon knife?" Dean asked you, looking a tad surprised.

You nodded. "Yeah... how else would I kill demons?" You didn't mention the bag full of demon-killing bullets you also had, or the rest of your arsenal. Now wasn't the time to explain your particular kind of crazy to him, especially since he'd proven to be on the brink of becoming a spree killer at the drop of a hat. Best to keep the good weapons a secret for now.

"How did you get a demon knife?"

"How did you?"

"Sam had a demon girlfriend. Got it from her when we ganked her."

"Oh yeah. Ruby."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I forgot, you read the fucking books."

You winked at him. "Every page, Mr. Double-mint Twins."

"Oh what, did that interlude surprise you?" His features twisted from embarrassment into that little half smile he used when he was flirting with a bartender.

"A little. I didn't realize you were-"

"So open minded?" He winked at you. You nodded. "Does that scare you?"

You shook your head. "Not at all. It takes a lot more than a general interest in human anatomy and abject promiscuity to scare me." You smiled sweetly. "Though the fact that they're twins is a little weird."

"I'm not related to em'." He shrugged and swung himself out of the car. "Abject promiscuity huh? I kinda like the sound of that."

"You would."

You both approached the house. Dean motioned for you to circle around to the back door. You did, picking your way through the weeds and brambles, and old car and tractor parts, and stood next to the other door, ready to pounce should mister Tom Z. come darting out. You heard Dean's fist knocking on the opposite door, practically shaking the entire residence. Footsteps, then a door opening, and some muted voices. Then footsteps in your direction, and suddenly the back door was open and Dean was peering out at you. "Come in. He's here and he ain't running."

You entered the house. Tom was a scrawny man in his mid twenties with an unfortunate comb-over. He wore a striped bathrobe and house shoes. He led you both into the living room, moved a stack of newspapers off of the sofa, and motioned for you to sit. You did, but stayed diligent. Dean opted to stand.

"I thought you were coming alone, man." Tom was jittery, his eyes darting around.

"I never said I was coming alone." Dean rocked back on his heels.

"Yeah, but I assumed. I wasn't planning on company."

"You could have told me this over the phone, and you wouldn't have had to have any company." Dean continued to stare evenly at Tom, a stern expression on his face.

Tom was freaking out. You were beginning to worry a little bit about Tom. Why was he so freaked out? I mean, sure, he was selling out the King of Hell to a Winchester, which probably wouldn't end well for him, but he'd decided to do that days ago. Why was he so freaked now?

Tom started shaking his head. "No. No man, I can't."

Dean glared at him. "You can't what?"

"I can't tell you. I changed my mind." Tom continued to shake his head, beginning to pace. "I changed my mind. Crowley will torture me if I rat him out. I can't tell you."

"You do realize that when I find him, I'm going to kill him, right?" Dean was on edge as he slowly explained this concept to Tom. You could see the anger rising in Dean's face. "You won't have to worry about being tortured." You knew this was technically untrue, but Tom did not. If Dean killed Crowley, Tom wouldn't have to worry about Crowley torturing him... but another demon would no doubt find him. But you'd checked Tom's rap sheet. With what he'd been in prison for, you really didn't give a shit about selling him down the river.

Tom just kept shaking his head. "No. No. Sorry. You guys gotta leave now."

You looked worriedly at Dean. He looked like he was going to blow his top. He took two short strides towards Tom, pulling his knife out as he went, and quickly had him by the hair, blade to his throat.

"What the fuck man? What're you doing?!" Tom cried out, trying to pry Dean's fingers from the knife.

"You have two choices here, ass hat. You tell me where Crowley is, or I give you a Colombian Necktie." Dean's voice was low, and you could see the same look moving into his eyes that you'd seen at the bar. You stood up.

"No." You approached them. They both stopped and looked at you.

"No?!" Dean raised both eyebrows at you.

"No." You shook your head. "You're off of killing for the time being, remember?" You gave Dean a stern look. He returned the look blankly. "Remember?"

He sighed, letting go of Tom, and tossing the knife to you. "Fuck. Whatever." He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. "How do you propose we get information out of this twat, then?"

You looked at Dean smugly, a smile spreading across your lips. You turned to Tom, who looked relieved. He wasn't relieved for long. You quickly had him in the same position Dean had, by the hair, knife to his throat. "Unfortunately for you, Tom, I'm not on hiatus from killing. So I suggest you talk, and talk quickly, before I get bored."

"Fuck." Tom squeaked. Then he peed his pants.

"Fucking really?" You looked at him.

"Gross, dude." Dean looked disgusted.

"I can't help it!" Tom yelped as you moved the blade closer to his throat. "Okay okay okay!" He took a deep breath. "I just got out of the slammer last week. And while I was in there, Crowley came to visit my cellmate. Said he'd be looking forward to seeing him once he was out."

"When does he get out?" Dean stepped in front of Tom.

"He gets out tomorrow. He lives in New Orleans. But I know where they're meeting. Crowley is going to have Big Ed do odd jobs for him, and they're gonna meet up at a tavern called Ellis's. First meeting is the Thursday after he gets out. Crowley said he'd show him a good time. Something about "Howling at the Moon."

Dean snorted. "I've heard that line before."

Tom looked at Dean, confusion on his face.

"Crowley and Dean used to be homeboys." You told him, as if that explained everything. "I hear they howled at that moon quite a lot."

"Jesus, Y/N, too much information for the squealer." Dean frowned. "Tom, is there anything else you can tell us? A time maybe?"

Tom shook his head. "No. Never got that. Sorry." He was getting frantic. You removed the knife and pushed him away from you. He rubbed his neck tenderly.

"You've been very helpful, Tom. Now go get cleaned up. You smell like piss." You handed Dean's knife back to him. "Oh, and Tom. I know why you were in prison. If you ever beat a woman again, don't even worry about going back. I'll find you. And I will end you." You turned on your heel, and stalked out the door.

Dean smiled at Tom. "I may be off of killing for now, Tom, but I can honestly say, I'll be right there with her if that happens." He put his hands in his pockets and followed you out the door.

You both climbed into the Impala. You buckled up, then realized Dean wasn't starting the car. "What's up? You leave something in there?" you asked, turning to him. He was just looking at you. He held your gaze for a second more, then snapped out of it and turned the key in the ignition.

"Nah. I was just thinking how barbaric you were in there." His voice was low. You thought he sounded kind of turned on.

"Well, I couldn't very well let you do it. We'd have a dead Tom on our hands and no Crowley info."

"You're right. But I just meant, it was pretty awesome." He backed down the overgrown driveway. "You were pretty awesome."

You smiled, and felt a blush creeping up to your cheeks. What the hell? You pushed the blush away. "I try." You replied nonchalantly.

Dean pulled out onto the road, turned on the radio, and, glancing at you, reached over and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You looked at him oddly. It wasn't that you minded. But... he'd been a silent dick all morning, and now he was playing with your hair? What the fuck?

"You probably saved my ass. Again. So, thanks." He dropped his hand back down beside him, and focused once again on the road.

You peered at Dean. "So once we find Crowley, how long do you think it'll be before a couple demons show up at Tom's door?"

Dean shrugged. "About three minutes." He pushed the gas pedal down, accelerating on the open highway. "Couldn't happen to a better man."

You chuckled as the two of you drove off. You had two days to kill before you needed to be at Ellis's Bar in New Orleans, looking for Crowley and Big Ed.

That night, the motel you checked into happened to be right next door to an old country bar, and the sign on the door said it was "Eighties Night." Naturally, Dean insisted the two of you go and celebrate.

"What exactly are we celebrating?" You sighed, rolling off of your bed and pulling your boots back on. "We didn't hunt anything. It's not a hunt well-done."

"An... interview well done?" Dean smiled, pulling on a wrinkled button up over his tight fitting Henley shirt. His hair was damp- he'd just gotten out of the shower.

"I guess. If you call threatening to kill a man and him peeing all over the place an "interview." You stood up and stretched, and you both walked over to the bar.

It was smokey and crowded, and the speakers were blasting classic rock, mostly hair band music and power ballads. You saw Dean's eyes light up like it was Christmas morning. "Awesome." He whispered under his breath. He led you to the bar, ordered a couple of shots, and soon you were both giggling about Tom peeing his pants.

"You literally scared the piss out of that guy." Dean laughed, knocking back another whiskey.

"Serves him right. That's one bad dude." You tossed yours back as well, squinting as it burned all the way down your throat. When you opened your eyes, you realized that Dean's eyes were fixed on you, not on the super hot bartender with the extreme cleavage. You thought back. He hadn't even glanced her way the entire night. That was weird. Even you'd checked her out a few times, because, why the hell not?

Feeling his eyes on you and your face growing red, you excused yourself, hastily made your way to the bathroom, and splashed some cold water on your face. What was happening? One minute, Dean Winchester was stone faced and silent, the next he was beating the shit out of groups of people in bars, and the next he was staring at you like you were a fucking unicorn made of magic and sparkles. This Mark of Cain must really be fucking with him, you thought to yourself.

You made your way back out of the restroom, across the dance floor. The DJ had slowed it down, and "Wind of Change" was playing. The dance floor was crowded. You scanned the bar. Dean wasn't where you'd left him. You glanced around, half worried you'd find him in an altercation with someone and on the brink of murder. He appeared in front of you, holding a beer out to you.

"Hey." You took the beer from him. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He nodded. "Great song."

"Yeah..." You agreed, you did like the song. "Um, are we gonna go sit down?"

"I kind of felt like dancing." He looked down at you. You raised your brows. Dean felt like dancing. You did not see that one coming. "If you want to. I mean, we can't pass up this song, right?"

"Uh, I guess not." You stepped closer to him, putting one arm around his broad shoulders, holding your beer in the other hand. He circled his arms around your waist. "I mean, it is a classic."

"Exactly."

"But... you don't strike me as the dancing type."

"I'm going zen. Trying new things. Relaxing." He pulled you slightly closer against him.

"Says the guy who just drank four double whiskey shots at the bar..."

The song was half over. And as weird as it was that Dean Winchester was in the mood to dance, of all things, it wasn't unenjoyable. His arms felt nice around you; it was pleasant to be so close and it not be a situation where things were dire and he was shutting down.

"You were really awesome earlier." He told you.

You felt the blush creeping up again. God damn it. You were not a girl who blushed. "Thanks." You grinned sheepishly. "You would've handled it, except for the possibility of-"

"A murder spree." Dean's breath was hot on your ear. "I know." He was looking deep into your eyes, his lips hovering a mere two inches from yours. "We wouldn't want to let that happen."

You closed your eyes, swaying to the music. "No. That'd be bad." You agreed. You felt him lean in when all of a sudden-

"And we're going to start our Power Ballad Karaoke Contest! Our first contestants are... Dean and Y/N!" The DJ's voice rang out over the mic as the music faded.

Your eyes flew open. The moment was over. You looked at Dean. "You signed us up for a Karaoke contest?"

Dean nodded, smiling widely, his teeth gleaming.

"Dean, I'm going to fucking kill you."

to be continued