-6-

I stood among the small crowd that had gathered outside the bar to watch the showdown.

"Hey, is this him?" Dean asked the woman.

"There a problem?" the man who had been harassing her demanded.

"Yeah, are you Matt?" Dean asked him, not waiting for an answer.

He grabbed the man, Matt, and threw him into a car, punching him in the face.

"Dean!" the woman cried.

"You need to get away from here," Dean snarled at Matt. "Don't try and contact her. In fact, don't even think about her. You understand me?!"

He continued to punch Matt to the point of near unconsciousness. Then he turned, glancing at the woman, before pushing his way through the small crowd with Crowley to head back inside the bar.

"Hello, darling," a familiar English accent said behind me.

"Crowley," I breathed, turning.

He looked exactly the same as he did when he kidnapped me and my daughter just over four years ago. It disgusted me.

"How long has it been?"

"Not long enough."

The king of hell chuckled at that, smirking as his dark eyes twinkled.

"You've been following us."

"What can I say? Word on the street is Dean's become a knight of hell. I just had to get a firsthand peek."

"Firsthand peek… And how's that working out for you?"

I swallowed, glancing to the side briefly before looking back to the demon.

"Face it, sweetheart, you haven't seen the half of it…"

I bit down on my lip as another presence loomed behind me. Crowley had disappeared, but I couldn't bring myself to turn, my legs feeling like lead as I stood there stiffly. The presence got closer until I felt a strong pair of arms snake around my waist and then the person buried their face in the side of my neck, lips leaving a trail of kisses up to the area behind my ear. I felt them take the sensitive skin of my auricle between their teeth.

"D-Dean?"

A low chuckle came from the presence, and I felt the vibrations in their chest against my back, their breath tickling my ear.

"Hello, Lexi," his deep voice whispered huskily.

I felt my knees buckle underneath me and was certain I would have fallen if it weren't for his strong grip around my waist. I opened my mouth to say something else, but couldn't get the sound to come out as he went back to kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin on the side of my neck. Involuntarily, I felt myself lean my head back and to the side, giving him better access. Once he was satisfied with that, he moved to the other side and began the same process as I once again gave him better access. A few minutes later, I was spun around so our chests were pressed flush against each other and he claimed my mouth with his.

My arms snaked around his neck and my fingers started playing and yanking at the sensitive hairs at the nape of his neck. He growled into the kiss and shoved me back against a wall without breaking contact. His hands fisted my shirt, tugging until it was literally ripped from my back before moving to work the button on my jeans. Once he had finished undressing me, he hooked his hands underneath my thighs, lifting me up so my legs wrapped around his waist…

What? Oh, sorry… I kind of got carried away there. I guess you get the picture, then. It was really different, seeing that side of Dean. It was only because of the Mark. His demonic side. He normally would never have done something like that to me. And it was also to keep me in check somewhat. Crowley didn't want me running off, so Dean kept me on a leash.

Anyway, Sam had been trying to track down Dean all those weeks and he finally had some luck…

Inky black darkness surrounded an even darker classic car. I sat in the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean had one hand on the wheel steering and the other was sat on my thigh, fingers playing up and down the sensitive interior skin. A moment later, his phone rang. The caller ID said it was Sam. I glanced over at him and he nodded once. I accepted the call, putting it on speaker so he wouldn't have to move.

"I left you an open tab at the bar," he informed Sam. "Knock yourself out."

"Well, hell, I just may take you up on that," a voice that definitely wasn't Sam's came through the speaker.

"And who is this?" Dean inquired.

"Me? Well, I'm karma, brother," came the response.

"On my brother's phone?"

"On your brother's phone."

"Is he dead?"

"No. Not yet. And as long as you show up, your brother will be just fine."

I glanced at Dean but his face was stone as he stared ahead at the road.

"And how do I know he's still alive?"

"Speak," the voice commanded on the other end, supposedly addressing Sam.

When no words came from Sam, the sound of a punch came through the phone speaker followed by a cry that could have only come from the younger Winchester.

"Proof of life," the voice stated.

"Dean!" Sam yelled then.

"Got a pen?" the voice questioned Dean.

"No," Dean spat, face still stony as he drove. "You listen to me. There's no trade. There's no meet-up. There's no nothing- except the 100% guarantee that somewhere down the road, I will find you, and I will kill you."

"Well, that'll be a cold comfort to your dead brother."

"I told him to let me go. So whatever jam he's in now, that is his problem."

"Yeah, well, I'll be sure to pass that on to him as I'm slitting his throat."

"Yeah, you do that, 'cause he knows me. And he knows damn sure that if I'm one thing, I'm a man of my word."

He nodded once and I hung up the phone then.

I leaned against the pool table, watching Dean and Crowley talk at the bar while I waited for my turn. I had been playing up the part of the drunk clueless girl, waiting for the opportune moment to strike and hustle the men who had so eagerly taken advantage of the situation.

"You're up, sweet cheeks," one of the men got my attention.

I walked around the side of the table, getting in position and placing my feet so my butt stuck out slightly further than necessary in order to distract the men. I then made eye contact with the one playing me, winked, and proceeded to sink the rest of my balls.

"Eight ball, corner pocket," I announced, nodding my head at said pocket.

I swore the air around us stopped moving as I made the shot and sunk it. A collective groan was heard from the men surrounding the table.

"Better luck next time, gentlemen," I said sweetly, gathering my earnings.

A low chuckle sounded behind me and the familiar arms circled my waist as I pocketed the cash.

"That's my girl," Dean growled, kissing and nipping at my neck.

"What'd Crowley talk to you about?"

"The usual," he replied between kisses. "He found someone for me to kill."

"Can I be the getaway driver?"

He chuckled again, nodding his head against my cheek as he nipped at my auricle.

"Shall we?"

He grasped my hand, dragging me out of the bar and toward the ancient black car.

Am I boring you? You seem bored. I told you, everything I recount is important. Granted, I probably could have gotten away with leaving out the part about the vampire. You didn't really need the details about that. I could have simply said I lost myself in hunting for months and moved on. But oh, well. I told you about the vampire, we've moved on, now we're talking about Demon Dean.

Now can I continue the story? Thank you.

I sat behind the wheel of the Impala, watching Dean stalk up to the woman's house. He watched her through the window for a few moments, however just as he was about to make his move, a pair of headlights distracted him. Another car pulled up, not as well hidden as the black one in the shadows where I sat, and I watched as Dean snuck over to it and climbed in the passenger seat.

I waited there, staring at the car for what felt like hours, but in reality couldn't have been more than ten minutes. Finally, Dean reemerged, holding a now bloody First Blade in one hand. He stalked back over to the 1967 Chevy, completely ignoring the still-breathing wife inside the house.

"Drive," he commanded as soon as he climbed in.

I obliged, getting us as far away from the house as I could.

I followed Dean inside the bar where Crowley was waiting with two other demons.

"Dean! How'd it go?"

"Fine. Fine. Uh… He's dead, and you're right-I-I feel amazing."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, glancing between Dean and me.

"'He'?" came the inquiry.

"Uh, Lester," Dean shrugged and I smirked.

"The client?" Crowley said softly, before repeating it louder. "You killed the client?"

"Does it matter? He was a douche. Now he's a dead douche."

"Of course it matters! The deal was one dead wife for one soul. The wife's not dead, I don't get the soul. It's math!"

"Well… there you go," Dean nodded once, turning to leave.

"Hey! Don't you turn your back on me!"

Dean, turned back, cold gaze boring holes into Crowley. With one shove, the king of hell was sent sprawling to the floor. I couldn't help the giggle that escaped my lips, causing Dean to smirk and Crowley to send a fiery glare in my direction.

"Something funny?" Crowley spat.

"Of course not," I replied, voice dripping with sarcasm as I rolled my eyes.

"Good," he retorted, ignoring the sarcasm as he stood back up and addressed Dean once more. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, whatever I want."

"Really? Because I think you don't know what you want. Tell me, Dean- what are you? A demon? If so, why isn't Lester's wife dead? Did you feel sorry for her? So maybe you're human. Except you have those pretty black peepers and you're working alongside me. Why don't you do us all a great big favor and PICK A BLOODY SIDE?!"

By the end of Crowley's little rant he was screaming, his face turning bright red. Dean stared at the shorter man with his usual stony expression, the only indication of any emotion the fire within his emerald eyes. His voice was scarily calm as he spoke to the other demon.

"Or what? Hmm? Go ahead. Make a move. See how it ends. I ain't your friggin' bestie, and I ain't taking orders from you. When I need to kill, I'll call. Until then, stay out of my way."

"Fine. It's over. What can I say? Crazy ones- they're good for a fling, but they're not relationship material," Crowley looked to me. "Hope you have fun with him, darling."

"Are you done?" Dean snapped, briefly losing the calm in his voice and letting a bit of anger show through.

"We're done," Crowley nodded. "You know what, Dean? It's not me. It's you."

With that, Crowley exited the bar followed by the two other demons.

Dean sat at the piano, plinking out a few notes. However, I could tell his mind was far away. He pulled out the First Blade, cutting his hand open and watching it instantly heal. I knew Crowley's words were bothering him and I made my way closer to the piano. I put my arms over his shoulders, crossing my wrists on his chest and leaning down to kiss and nip at the skin behind and on his ear.

"You shouldn't let him get to you," I told him.

"He's right though. I need to figure out whose side I'm on."

Before I could respond, we were joined by the younger Winchester brother.

"Hiya, Sam," Dean greeted him. "Hey, Harv, why don't you grab a smoke?"

The bartender, the only other person besides Dean, Sam and myself inside stepped out to give us total privacy.

"Who winged you?" Dean inquired, referencing the black sling encasing Sam's right arm.

"Does it matter?" Sam shot back.

"Not really," the elder brother admitted. "I told you to let me go."

"You know I can't do that. By the way, your, uh… pal Crowley… Sold you out."

"Sounds like him."

"Dean-"

What now? I was literally in the middle of telling you… Oh. That's all we have time for today? Very well. I guess we get to pick this up tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it, truly. I can't wait until you realize the truth. The look on your face is going to be priceless.

Goodmorning. You're a new face… What happened to the other one? No? Not going to tell me? That's fine, I think I prefer your pretty face to the other one. Shall we begin? Let's see, where did I leave off… Oh, yes. In the bar with Dean and Sam…

"Dean, hold on a second. You don't have to do this. Look, we know how to cure demons. You remember that?"

"Little Latin, lotta blood. It rings a bell," Dean nodded in mock thoughtfulness. "Did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed?"

"That was Crowley," Sam insisted.

"It really wasn't," Dean smiled.

"It doesn't matter, all right? 'Cause whatever went down, whatever happened, we will fix it."

"Will we? 'Cause right now, I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out… with my teeth. I'm giving you a chance, Sam. You should take it."

I had remained silent throughout the brothers' whole exchange thus far, almost wishing I had stepped out like Harv to give the pair some privacy. Neither brother acknowledged my presence in the room. I knew Dean was ignoring me, but I was unsure whether Sam was following suit or had genuinely not noticed me yet.

"I'm gonna have to pass," Sam informed the other Winchester.

"Well, I'm not walking out that door with you. I'm just not. So, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me?"

"No."

"Why? You don't know what I've done. I might have it coming."

"Well, I don't care. Because you're my brother. And I'm here to take you home."

"Hmm," Dean studied his brother. "Ah!"

He stood taking a step toward Sam as he mocked him.

"'You're my brother and I'm here to take you home,'" he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, what is this, a Lifetime movie? Huh? With your puppy-dog eyes?"

He was laughing at that point, staring at said puppy-dog eyes Sam was gazing back at him with.

"Oh, thanks, Sammy. I needed that."

Instead of responding, Sam pulled a pair of sigil-etched handcuffs out.

"You really think those will work?" Dean asked him.

"Only one way to find out."

Sam took a step toward his brother, but before he could do anything else, a bomb containing tear gas flew through the window. Dean reacted fast enough to shield me as he ushered me outside, but Sam was left stumbling out as he was overcome with a coughing fit. Dean and I watched as a man knocked Sam over the head, rendering him unconscious. He then turned the gun in his hand on Dean. Dean pushed me further behind him, shielding me almost completely from the man.

"Wow," the man breathed. "It's really you."

"We met?" Dean asked him.

"Talked on the phone," came the response and I suddenly recognized his voice.

"Right. Right. You're the guy who's supposed to put a bullet in Sammy's brain. Did you miss?"

"Well, I had a better idea," the man explained. "I figure if I let your bro escape, he'd go running to you, and all I had to do was just tag along. And now here we are, finally- Dean Winchester."

"Great. A groupie," Dean said sarcastically, and I could picture the eye roll to accompany the tone.

"You remember me?" the man inquired.

"Yeah, yeah. You're that guy from that thing."

"Nyack, New York, June 21, 2003."

"That supposed to ring a bell?"

"It was the night you gutted and murdered a man by the name of Edward Trenton. He was my father."

"Okay," Dean's head nodded in acceptance.

"'Okay?'" the man repeated.

"Well, hey," Dean started, "I'm not saying I didn't slice and dice your old man. I'm just saying he wasn't the first, and he certainly wasn't the last. And they all just kind of get blended up."

"I saw you… That night… After. You let me live. That was dumb- real dumb. I spent half my life training for this moment. I've played out this fight a thousand times in my mind. And I know all about you, Dean-o. And you're good. Oh, you're real good. But, you see, I'm better."

"Prove it," Dean challenged him. "Take a shot."

"Now, that's not payback," the man said. "This is payback."

Dean shoved me back and out of the way as the man attacked him. The gun had been replaced with a knife, but Dean easily fended him off. When the second attack came on the Winchester, he easily sidestepped and grabbed the gun from the man's holster before dropping the clip and emptying the chamber.

"You know… And I'm just spitballing here, but, uh, maybe… you are not as good as you think you are."

The man shook his head, assuming a new stance and Dean quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh! You know Kung Fu?"

"I know everything," came the response.

"Well, come on."

The man attacked once more with fury, and once more Dean easily threw him to the ground.

"What did you think was gonna happen, huh? You just stroll up here and say, 'My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die,' and I'd just roll over? Well, that's just- it makes me sad."

I watched as Dean hovered mockingly over the man, not noticing as he pulled out another knife. A moment later, the demon recoiled as the man slashed the knife across his face.

"Ugh!" Dean cried, quickly recovering and slamming the man against a car by the throat.

The man's eyes widened as he watched the cut on Dean's face instantly heal itself.

"You have no idea what you walked into here, do you? None."

"What are you?"

Dean's eyes flashed black as he replied, "I'm a demon."

Pulling out the First Blade, he pressed it to the man's throat and a look of resignation came over the man's features.

"Do it! You said if you saw me, you would kill me, so do it!"

"I guess I changed my mind," Dean released him and took a step back.

I began to move forward as Sam, who had at some point regained consciousness, threw holy water at his brother. I watched Dean recoil, skin burning as Sam rushed forward and snapped the sigil-etched cuffs on his wrists.

"Stop! It's over! It's over," Sam said, mostly directed at the man, but also the now bound demon.

Dean glared daggers at the younger Winchester, but was powerless to do anything while in the confines of the cuffs. That was when Sam finally acknowledged me.

"How've you been, Lexi?"