Dean decided the best bet was for him to stay quiet. He kept fucking things up whenever he opened his mouth and the guys were starting to get overly pissed off. It was beginning to stress him out. He didn't want to spend this entire dream getting frustrated and being in trouble. Besides, he had no idea where Ballard even was. So, for the time being, beyond the occasional 'this dream is so fucked up' rumblings from the back seat he let the whole thing slide. Might as well since apparently no matter how much he tried he just couldn't change this whole situation into a cool wrestling dream.

As they drove down Elliot Avenue toward where he assumed Ballard was located, he turned his head to look at the waterfront. He figured if he was stuck somewhere, at least it was a pretty cool looking city. And the water was decent to look at with the moon over it and shit. Too bad there were so many fucking clouds and the stars weren't really out. That was one of his favorite parts about living in the desert, the stars.

Seth and Roman spent the whole ride talking about the various strategies regarding vampire interrogation techniques, uses for tactical knives and their current RS146 weapons.

They had handed Dean his before they walked out of the offices with express orders that he not fire at every goddamn thing this time around, and fucking keep it on stun. Dean had looked at the weapon in his hand in confusion. It looked like a small black baton. There weren't even buttons on it or anything. How the fuck was he supposed to fire a fucking stick? Think bad thoughts and point with a hope and a prayer? At least they had given him a decent looking bowie knife. He grinned genuinely when they handed it over. Although, he considered, why they had to keep his weapons from him was something he would have to ask them about later. If they didn't get to annoyed at him again bringing up the fact that he didn't know anything about what they did, that was. Maybe he should just as Bayley.

He thought this dream would be cooler if they had real weapons, not some fucking sticks. But, again, he kept quiet. He nodded in acknowledgement when Seth gave him a pointed look and a short lecture while he was handing over the weapon. He mumbled in agreement when Roman reminded him that they weren't going to the Sunset to kill anyone right then and to please, please for the love of all the magical creatures in the world, keep it in his pants tonight. Dean arched an eyebrow at that, but figured that Roman meant the black stick not his… never mind.

Their black SUV rolled up to an unassuming brick building with a couple window displays. There wasn't a way to see into the tavern, but the large triangular glowing 'Sunset Tavern and Betty's Room' sign displayed the location for all who were walking down the street. Loud music poured out onto the street from behind the door. People milled around them as they walked toward the entrance, ignoring the three men dressed in full black tactical gear. Dean kept looking for someone to either notice them or worse yet, run screaming for help because they looked so menacing. But nothing like that happened. A couple walking down the street hand in hand glanced their way and nodded a greeting. That was it. No one cared that they were armed (with sticks) and potentially dangerous.

"Huh, Betty's Room? Who's Betty?" Dean wondered out loud, immediately regretting the decision to speak. He should probably know this if they had been around the city so long. Fuck, Seth was going to just give him another odd look or a lecture.

Instead, Seth snorted and looked over to him. "I thought you knew that, brother. Weren't you there when Sheamus got all plastered on fairy blood and moaned about the sign being wrong? It was supposed to be 'Becky's Room', but the people who made up the signage fucked it all up and he was left with business cards, signs and decals saying 'Betty's Room' instead. Poor fucker, just wanted to do right by the Phoenix, but he couldn't even get that right. I think he stayed drunk for a week afterwards and she refused to speak to him for days."

"Phoenix… yeah, Becky Lynch?" Dean asked, hoping his question wouldn't start another reprimand about how he was being an idiot.

"Mhmm," was Roman's only reply. He wasn't paying attention to Dean and Seth anymore. His attention had been drawn by the huge form of the doorman.

Dean broke into a huge smile and chuckled. It would figure that Braun Strowman would be a fucking doorman for vampires. Wait, he thought, was he one? That didn't really make sense. He was so… large.

"Ugh, why he had to hire giants for security is beyond me," Seth groaned under his breath.

"Probably because Ambrose fucked up the whole place last time we were here, and he didn't want a repeat," Roman said, dryly.

Dean looked from Roman to Seth and tried to figure out if it was a good idea to ask about last time. He knew that he was a little crazy sometimes, but they were making it sound like he was some insane fucking murderer or something. Besides, he wanted to see a giant… and Braun being one made sense.

Walking up to the door without giving his brothers a second glance he waved at Braun. "Hey buddy, long time no see. How's the family?" He asked with a smile.

Braun squinted his eyes at him and crossed his hands over his chest. "You're not comin' in here Ambrose. Not after last time. You're barred for life. Sheamus would be very put out if you were to do that same shit again."

Dean pasted on his best innocent look and tried a full smile, dimples and all. "Aww, Braun, my man, my chum, mi compadre. I have turned over a new leaf. Just ask my brothers there," he said pointing behind his shoulder. "They even think that I'm crazy for my new way of life."

Braun snorted and looked over to Roman and Seth who were standing there with their jaws open in shock. Ok, so maybe it wasn't normal for him to just go up and have a chat with people. What did he normally do here? Just break in to places, shoot first and ask questions later? That sounded stupid. He liked this method better, it allowed him to meet more magical folk!

"Changed, huh?" Braun looked at him suspiciously.

Seth choked on a cough and Roman patted him roughly on the back. Dean shot them an innocuous smile and shrug.

Roman came up to Braun and said, "Look, we have no idea what's going on with him, actually. But, he's not going to do anything in there tonight." He looked at Dean for confirmation and Dean gave a quick nod in affirmation. "See, he's good. We just need to chat with Sheamus really quickly then we'll be on our way."

Braun shifted in front of the door, eyeing Dean through narrowed lids. "You have weapons? You leave 'em with me."

Roman huffed in annoyance, "No, no deal. We've got permits to carry anywhere in city limits. You know that. Sheamus knows that. Dean's good tonight, we'll keep him in line."

"OK," Braun grumbled, "but any funny stuff and you get these hands."

Dean bristled at being someone who had to be 'kept in line' but he remained quiet about that part. He really wanted to get in the bar and see his first real vampires! Smiling again and nodding in confirmation he said, "I'll be on my best behavior, Braun-o. Scout's honor." He held up his hand and gave the 'live long and prosper' sign which got a snort out of Seth.

Braun huffed an annoyed breath but stood to the side, letting them proceed into the Sunset Tavern. Dean looked around and was immediately giddy at the realization that there were vampires here! He was around real fucking vampires! Wait, did he need garlic? A wooden stake? A chopstick? He chuckled and followed Roman as he went over to the bar. Nah, they'd be fine. They had their black batons, which he still had no fucking clue how to use.

Sheamus stood behind the bar, wiping down a large mug with a glower. His pointy red mo-hawk seemed to glow even more. If it was possible, he was paler than Dean remembered. His head shot up when they walked toward him, and he narrowed his eyes. His face fell to a definite scowl and his eye teeth poked out over his bottom lip.

"Feckin' barred you from this establishment, Ambrose. How did y' get in? Slip th' doorman a feckin' pretty stone or some small child to eat?" Sheamus growled.

Seth patted Dean on the back and looked at Roman with distaste. "I'm not dealing with him tonight. I'm going to go mingle, see what I can find out. You two deal with the surly motherfucker. Or, should I say, mother-sucker." Seth cackled at his own joke and turned to lose himself in the crowd. Dean watched him go, noticing that no one seemed to care that he was freely mingling around with vampires. Huh, maybe Seth came here more often than he let on.

Dean turned back to Sheamus with a smile. "Hey Sheamus, how's it hangin'?"

Sheamus looked at him for a moment as if trying to figure out if Dean was going to jump over the bar and attack him. Dean kept the smile on his face and tried again, "Uh, nice place you got here. I like the… décor."

Sheamus' eyes went wide, and he looked at Roman who just shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Th' feckin' décor? What y' on about, Ambrose?"

"Just thought we could start over, man," Dean said, extending a hand for Sheamus to shake. His face was starting to hurt from all this fucking grinning. Jeeze, he must really be an asshole in this fucking dream world if no one believes him when he's trying to be a little nice.

"Feckin' start over…" Sheamus mumbled grouchily, ignoring Dean's offered hand. "Y' want t' start over? I don't feckin' like demons. Never have, never will."

Dean let out a strangled cough and Roman shot him an odd look. Demons? What did that have to do with anything?

"Uh, yeah," Dean said slowly, sitting down at the bar, "never liked the bastards myself. Just came here for a drink and a chat."

Roman was full on staring at him in disbelief now. It was a little disconcerting to say the least, but he wasn't about to let anything get in the way of his first conversation with a real fucking vampire.

Sheamus' brow furrowed in confusion and he ran his tongue over his pointed teeth. "Seems an odd thing fer you to say."

Dean shrugged, "What can I say… Lunatic and all."

Roman broke in then, probably hoping to salvage any of the conversation that he could. "Hey man, we're just here to ask a couple questions about the stuff that's been going on lately." He looked around and leaned in to lower his voice, "You had a murder behind the bar two nights ago. One of yours. You know anything about that?"

Sheamus' eyes seemed to fill with genuine sadness. "Yeah, she were one of ours. Wee mite, never did no one wrong." Dean lifted an eyebrow at that. Weren't vampires all supposed to drink blood and cause general horror themselves? Sheamus placed the mug he was wiping on the counter in front of Dean and filled it with a green liquid. He pushed it toward Dean with a grunt and said, "Might as well have a drink if yer gonna take up space at me bar."

Dean eyed the smoking drink suspiciously. What kind of beer was fucking green? Was it St. Patrick's Day? He looked over at Roman who nodded and signaled to Sheamus that he'd have one too. He sat down and occupied the stool next to Dean while he waited for Sheamus to pour his drink… the same green viscous liquid.

Roman took a long pull from his glass after it arrived and nodded to Sheamus in thanks. "So, any news you've heard would be helpful, man, we're just trying to find who's responsible and bring some justice their way."

The vampire looked at both of them for a moment then nodded slowly, "I might 'ave heard somethin'. Mebe. But it'll cost ya."

Roman groaned beside him and Dean looked over to him. They could offer money, he supposed. It seemed like a little bit went a long way in this world. "Five?" Dean offered.

Sheamus barked out a laugh and Roman whipped his head to look at Dean in annoyance. He whispered harshly, "Seriously, bro, what the fuck is wrong with you tonight. You can't just offer up five without so much as a conversation with Seth and me. Fuck, I'm thinking we should have you checked out."

Dean looked at him in confusion. It was just five fucking bucks. What did it matter? "Roman," he whispered back, "do you mind if we offer him five dollars to give us some information?" He figured he might as well do this right if he was going to do it.

Roman stared at him for a long while then shook his head. "Five dollars? Five dollars? Dude, you just offered him five million!" He shouted, losing all semblance of the calm man that Dean knew.

Oh, shit…

"I'll not take that offer from your boy there seriously, Roman, I can see he's been touched in th' head," Sheamus chuckled, his grin showing the pointy teeth glinting in the low lights of the bar.

Dean dropped his head in his hands. Fuck fuck fuck. He just couldn't get it right in this dream world. Reaching out to grab the drink he had avoided, he took a long swallow. Bitter burning hot liquid scalded his throat. He started coughing and quickly brought both hands up to his throat for some relief. What the fuck was that drink? And why didn't Roman seem to have any reaction to the fact that it burnt like a motherfucker?

Roman slapped him on the back in an attempt to help him. Not that it did. Dean's eyes watered, and he pushed the drink away. "What the fuck is this stuff?"

Sheamus looked affronted by his words and snatched the drink back from him. "Dat there's th' best Demon Brew in all th' city! Y' daft bugger, 'tis yer favorite! At least that's what y' say when y' come in here 'n get pissed every time I let you in. Then y' go 'n wreck th' damn place."

Dean looked at Roman who was holding his drink mid-air, one eyebrow cocked as he regarded his brother. "Uh, turning over a new leaf. Going sober. Sorry 'bout the drink, Sheamus. Didn't mean to insult you."

Sheamus nodded and turned to pour the vile brew out into the sink behind him. Roman leaned over and whispered, "Uce, seriously, Demon Brew is your favorite fucking drink. What is going on?"

Dean looked at him and shrugged. If that was his favorite drink in this world, he hated to find out what some of his least favorite things were.