"Cut!" yelled Fergus Crowley, his tone sharp as he waved his assistant away and stood from his chair. "Let's take fifteen." Dean let out a sigh of relief and stepped back from Meg and Ruby. They'd been working on this scene alone for half the day, and right now he couldn't find it in himself to care that Crowley was obviously disgusted with his performance. Meg slapped his ass as she passed by, winking at him, and Ruby laughed as she followed. Dean had heard somewhere that people didn't quit jobs, they quit people. Both women seemed determined to prove it true, and the pain from the knot of stress that had settled just under his left shoulder served a constant reminder, as if he'd needed one, that he was not among friends.

They were shooting on location today, which meant their set was actually some fancy house Dean was sure no ordinary housewife would be running without a maid or two to back her up. Both women were heading for the catering table in the spacious kitchen so even though Dean was hungry, he wasn't going near it. Instead, he walked the opposite way, passing Crowley as the man argued with the writer. Chuck Shurley was a mild-mannered fellow on a normal day. But with Crowley in his face and short his six glasses of alcohol, the man was guaranteed to cave to whatever it was the director wanted. In Dean's experience, it usually wasn't good. Crowley's rewrites might be some of the most popular scenes in any movie he directed, but the man seemed to take personal pleasure in making Dean uncomfortable, and somehow knew just exactly how to do it. The bastard.

Garth was in his folding chair, thin legs crossed as he chatted up one of the make-up girls. She scurried off as Dean approached, and Garth turned to face him, his mouth turned up in that silly grin. "Now, buddy, there's no point in mean-mugging the innocents," he scolded Dean, waving a hand in the chick's direction.

Dean barely spared him a glance as he snorted and settled himself into his own chair. He grabbed the bottle of water from the tall table beside him and watched the on-going discussion between Chuck and Crowley. Even from across the living room of the house they were calling 'the set', Dean could see Chuck sweating, his hands twisting nervously on his copy of the script. Dean gave the man another two minutes before Crowley got his way. Crowley always got his way. "I'm noticing some tension between you and Ruby," Garth said, the first of his incessant chatter to break through to Dean, and he turned a glare on the other man, a clear warning to mind his own business that went unheeded. "Got the gossip mills running non-stop trying to figure out what happened between you two. All kinds of rumors, like maybe she's the mother of your –"

"Garth," Dean snapped, and Garth turned a too innocent look towards him, "shut up." The other actor grinned and started to say something more, but a glance over Dean's shoulder had him clamming up. He grabbed his own water bottle and clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder, before hopping down from his chair and strolling to the kitchen and the array of food it offered. Dean shifted to watch him go, his momentary confusion clearing when he saw Crowley headed his way. Fifteen minute break, and poor Chuck had taken up four, leaving Crowley with fully eleven minutes to rip Dean a new one. Dean took another swig of water, wishing as he had at least a dozen times already that the bottle held something stronger. Like vodka.

Crowley gave him a tight smile as he approached, and it said something about the month that Dean had had that he couldn't even muster up a simple one in return. He had to save all his acting for the damn camera. Crowley didn't seem to notice though, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks and rocking back on his heels. "Well, Dean, will you be offering excuses for that abysmal performance, then?" he drawled, that damn accent of his grating on Dean's nerves. Dean took in a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, tried to ignore the headache he could feel growing at the base of his skull, and finally shook his head to the negative. "Just as well," Crowley told him, turning his head as he scanned over 'the set', actors chatting and the small crew scurrying to reset the foyer scene. "Your excuses are almost as painful as those last few takes. So, let's get your head out of that shapely ass and possibly film something worth keeping. Right," he snapped when Dean only stared at the man in shock- shapely ass?- so the younger man jerked his head in a nod. "Right. You'll get the new pages in a few hours. We've taken Meg out of the scene. She didn't have any lines so it shouldn't be too much of an adjustment, even for you."

Dean sat straight then, brows knit together in confusion as his hand tightened reflexively on his water bottle. "Meg is out?" he managed.

Crowley turned his wandering attention back to Dean, taking in his tense posture. Then he gave the same tight smile he did each and every time Dean did something to annoy him, though he sensed that this time it wasn't directed to him. "Oh, don't get too excited. She's not completely out," he spat, and Dean thought he could hear something close to hatred in that clipped tone. "We've simply adjusted the definition of her character."

Dean shook his head as he shifted back into his chair. He'd say the man might have missed his calling, and could have been an amazing lawyer with that ability to qualify any statement, he figured, watching Crowley walk away and bark orders to his crew, but anyone seeing his multiple awards for 'Best Director' from the Adult Film Association would have begged otherwise.

Tension still ached behind his shoulder, his headache had gotten a bit bigger during his short conversation with Crowley, and he was still wound up tighter than an eight-year-old's toy car, but he let out a small sigh of relief. One bitch at a time, he could handle no problem. So when Crowley called for the actors to take their places, Dean was able to school his face to a decidedly more natural expression than he'd managed all day.

The scene itself should never have been so difficult to get through, just a few minutes of Ruby flirting and dropping hints that the hunter he was playing wouldn't pick up on until much later. Dean flirted back, moving so he was only inches from the woman. He almost expected Crowley to yell to cut the scene again, and was relieved when he didn't. "Agent Ford," Garth called as he rounded the corner from the next room, where his character had supposedly been searching for some sign of witchcraft, and tipped his head to the front door.

"Leaving so soon?" Ruby teased, letting her fingers trail up his arm and she leaned up, her lips just a breath from his.

"You heard Agent Hamill," he murmured, jerking his head towards Garth when the other actor called him again. Then he stepped back from the woman, feeling her eyes on him as he walked to Garth. They turned back before leaving the scene and Dean nodded to her once. "We'll be in touch," he said the line, trying to inject it with as much promise as he figured would satisfy Crowley. She gave him a sexy smile and he followed Garth out the door.

Then, curious about the changes Crowley had made, he brushed away the assistants who rushed to him and Garth in favor of watching the rest of the scene play out. He walked towards Crowley and Chuck as Ruby half turned from the door, the smile fading and her dark gaze shifting to the far side of the room. A door opened and Meg leaned against it, a wicked smile curving her plush lips. "I'll handle Agent Ford," Ruby told her, "Hamill is yours." Meg nodded slowly and Crowley cut the scene.

Dean figured it wasn't one of his better changes until he overheard Crowley instructing the editor to cut the top half of Meg's face from the scene, leaving her identity a mystery. He looked to Chuck questioningly. The man shrugged, wiping the sleeve of his shirt across his brow before scribbling more changes into his own copy of the script. "He plans on keeping the fact that Julia is in the coven a secret until the end. He says it will make the trap scene more believable."

He nodded, looking back to where Meg and Ruby were talking softly with Crowley. The conversation obviously didn't hold much interest to him and his bored expression made Dean grin. Sure Crowley hated his guts, but the man didn't seem to hold any more affection for either of the women talking to him. He couldn't say his life to this point had been lucky exactly, but could be that he had just enough to keep Meg and Ruby too busy with the director to mess with him. He crossed his fingers and tossed an empty salt packet from Chuck's table over his shoulder just for good measure. Then, ignoring both the strange look the writer gave him and Garth trying to get his attention, he headed for the kitchen and picked through the trays of sandwiches, silently reviewing his lines for the next scene Crowley planned on shooting today. With enough focus, he might make it out of this hellhole a few hours early.

A/N: I'm working on NaNoWriMo again this year, but as I'm still a few chapters ahead, it shouldn't effect my updates. Still, head's up!