For the SPN Saffic Challenge on Tumblr. My wlw pairing was Jo/Charlie. Hope you guys like it!

This is probably very obvious, but Annie is Charlie

There's a girl who comes into Annie's bar, every two nights, 7 o'clock on the dot. She always chooses the same table (near the back, next to the fire exit, facing the whole room), always orders the same drink (cheapest beer she's got) and never talks to anyone in the bar, save whoever's serving her. She's exactly the kind of person whom everyone else wouldn't look twice at, which means she's also the kind of person Annie notices first.

It's not like she's stalking the girl. It's just... like calls to like, or whatever the saying is. The look on the girl's face is one of someone who's running from something, who's always on high alert because they never know when they're going to need to grab everything and go. Annie gets that.

Even so, it takes a ridiculously long time for Annie to finally get up the courage to talk to her. She's not intimidated by much these days, hasn't been since she was the trembling, 12 year old Celeste Middleton. But there's something about this girl that sets Annie on edge, makes her wary of approaching her. Something that, somehow, both daunts her and excites her.

It's on a Tuesday night, maybe a couple weeks since the girl first showed up in her bar, when Annie just thinks fuck it and decides to at least ask her name. She watches the clock all day, nerves slowly building in her stomach as the seconds drag on. Her co-workers notice her agitated state, and she notices them whispers to each other, glancing sideways and smirking at her the whole time. They've all probably figured out what she's planning; she's been talking about this girl pretty much non-stop since she got here. Annie tries to ignore them, but she's not sure she succeeds.

At 6:30, Annie's hands start shaking, and she almost spills someone's drink as she pours it.

At 6:45, she slips to the staff bathroom, quickly splashing her face and checking herself in the mirror.

By 6:55, she's booted Dale from his spot at the bar, making sure she'll be the first person the girl sees when she walks in.

At 7, Annie's eyes are firmly trained on the door, her hands working automatically as she fixes someone's drink. Her heart leaps when the door swings open, only for it to sink again when there's no flash of blonde hair to greet her. Her fingers drum in time to her heartbeat as the seconds tick by and there's still no sign of her, but she'll come, she has to-

7:01.

Later, Annie's wiping down the tables when Dale comes up to her, smiling sympathetically.

"No sign of your girl?" he asks, but the look on his face tells her he already knows the answer.

Annie shakes her head, refusing to look him in the eyes. She's had sympathy directed at her all her life; she's done with that shit now. "Nah. I thought she might just be late, but... I guess she was busy, or something."

"Aw, that's just too bad," he says, but there's something in his voice that makes Annie look at him properly, her heart leaping in fear when she sees his cruel smirk. She tries to edge around him, but he reaches out and grabs her arm, his grip impossibly strong.

"Don't even try," he warns her, almost conversationally. "You run, and it will be a whole lot messier for you."

Annie stares at him, her brain working in overdrive to figure out a way to get free. She knows how to fight - she learned it the hard way, living on the streets - but instinct tells her that this guy, Dale, or whoever he really is, wouldn't even flinch at anything she could throw at him. Dale smirks at her like he can tell what she's thinking, and suddenly pulls her close to him, his gaze predatory and cruel.

"I've been thinking about doing this since you showed up in this shithole town," he murmurs, his breath tickling her neck.

Annie closes her eyes and waits, praying that whatever Dale is planning, it'll at least be quick. But he never gets the chance; the door suddenly bangs open and a gunshot echoes around the bar, a glass on one of the tables exploding into shards. Dale's grip loosens slightly in shock and Annie takes the opportunity to wrest her arm free, darting away before he can grab her again. She glances around the bar for her saviour, and her breath stops in her throat as she sees who it is.

It's her, Annie's mystery girl, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, a gun levelled at Dale as she steadily approaches him.

Well, Annie thinks. Mark me down as scared and horny.

The girl's eyes flick over to Annie, then back to Dale. "Get down, Red," she says, and something about that kicks Annie's brain back into gear. She notices the way the girl's finger tightens on the trigger, how Dale looks like he's getting ready for a fight, and she dives down behind a table. At the same moment, Dale lunges forward towards the girl, and Annie goes to shout a warning. Before she can, though, a second shot rings through the bar, and Dale thumps to the floor, a hole in the middle of his forehead.

Annie stares at the body, her brain struggling to catch up with what just happened. She's still staring maybe a minute later, when a shadow falls over her, and she looks up to see the girl standing over her, holding a hand down. Annie takes it and shakily climbs to her feet, pain flaring in her arm as she does so. She looks down and sees a long, shallow cut running down her left arm. She frowns; she doesn't even remember cutting it. Unless... Oh. She'd flung herself directly into the shards from the exploded glass. Figures.

"You okay?" the girl asks, frowning at her in concern.

"Um," Annie says, intelligently. "I- I think so."

"Okay," the girl says, clearly unconvinced. "I'm just gonna deal with, you know, this," she gestures to Dale's body, "and then we'll talk. Think you can sit there for a while without passing out?"

Annie nods mutely, watching with an open mouth as the girl smirks and walks over to the body, giving it a kick for... good measure? She then grabs his arms and starts dragging him outside. It occurs to Annie that she should probably offer help - Dale wasn't a big guy, but even so. But the girl is outside before Annie can move, so she just gets a couple of whiskeys from the bar and sits down to wait.

About thirty minutes and a couple of shots later, the girl saunters back into the bar, flopping down in the seat opposite Annie. Her hair is now loose, flowing freely around her shoulders, and her casual posture is a world away from the highly-trained Wonder Woman Annie had seen earlier. She arches an eyebrow at Annie as she tries to clean up her wound, using the rudimentary First Aid kit she found in the back. Annie flushes deeply and stops what she's doing, avoiding eye contact with the girl. A silence falls between them, and Annie's mind is screaming at her to say something, but her vocal chords have apparently stopped working.

Fortunately, the girl saves her, again. "Nice place you got here," she says casually, folding her arms.

Annie laughs nervously. "It's, um, it's not actually mine. That's just what I say to impress all the girls."

She dares a quick glance up at the girl - if anything, Annie seems to have caught her interest with that comment. She flicks her eyes up and down Annie's body, a curious glint in her eye. Annie blushes and looks away.

"Well, I gotta say," the girl says, leaning forward conspiratorially. "It's definitely working."

Annie's heart skips a beat at that, her mouth opening and closing, but no words come out. She desperately tries to think of something to say - usually she's so good at this - but her brain seems to have stopped working. The girl smirks knowingly and leans back again, pointing to Annie's wound.

"I can help you with that, if you want," she offers. "I've got some supplies back at the motel I'm staying in, and I bet it can beat what you're working with now."

Annie raises her eyebrows, seeing her opportunity. "You're asking me to go home with you when I don't even know your name?" she asked, in what she hopes was a seductive tone.

The girl laughs. "Fair enough." She holds out a hand. "Casey Cronin."

Annie reaches over and shakes her hand. "Annie Tolkien."

Casey rests her arms on the table, looking at Annie knowingly. "You seriously can't expect me to believe that your real name is Annie Tolkien."

Annie copies the gesture. "Casey Cronin?" she challenges.

'Casey' laughs. "Touché." She reaches out her hand again, looking directly at Annie. "Jo Harvelle, nice to meet you..?"

Annie shakes her hand again, unable to contain a small giggle. "Charlie Bradbury," she says. She's been figuring out this new identity for weeks now - no better time to employ it than after her co-worker gets killed and she meets an incredibly hot woman who's apparently excellent at sniffing out bullshit.

"Alright," Jo says, pushing her chair back and standing up. "Wanna come back to my place, Charlie Bradbury?"

Charlie shivers at the glint in Jo's eye, one that promises a little more than First Aid tonight. She stands and nods at Jo. "Absolutely."

They begin to make their way out of the bar, but, at the door, Jo stops and turns. "For the record," she says. "I know you're still lying about your name, but you're too hot for me to care." Then, tossing her hair over her shoulder, she leaves the bar, the door nearly slamming shut in Charlie's face.

She watches Jo's retreating back for a moment, before a smirk spreads over her face and she quickly follows her to her car.

Oh yeah. Tonight is going to be very fun indeed.