Thanks for the views, follows, and favorite!

It is still very odd publishing this. I currently have 24 chapters to this story written and a lot more for the timeline.

I figured I would upload the first few rapid-fire to get, ya'll into the story.

From now on I will be posting once or twice a week.

Hopefully, I don't catch up to myself too quick.

Thank you for reading, and enjoy.

Chapter 5

The Roadhouse was pretty crowded. Dean had forgotten it was a Friday night. He and Sam wound their way through the throngs of people to the bar. Both Ellen and Jo were slinging drinks.

When Jo brought them their drinks, she sat down with them for a few seconds to explain the final plan now that everything was moving into action.

"Ok guys. Remember to keep a sharp eye out. J will make it clearly known who the target is. You keep your eyes on this job AND ONLY YOUR EYES. If you get any wild ideas, come find me or my mom first. We have been through this with J before. Trust us."

Sam was raising a finger to argue with Jo as she was getting up to head back to the bar. She raised her finger back in his face, "Don't you sass me, Sam Winchester. You are in our house, so you play by our rules."

Dean looked from Jo to Sam and bust out laughing. So, this is what it was like on the outside and not on the receiving end.

Sam glowered. "Fine." He said shortly. "I'm just worried. That's all."

"Don't be. She's a pro at what she does. Just lean back and watch." As Jo said the last part she looked over at Dean and winked at him.

Oh no. That cannot be good.

"She's over there at the bar. Just keep your eyes on her if you want to help." Jo said sternly. Squinting her eyes warningly at Sam.

They both scanned the bar. Dean didn't see her. Sam apparently did.

"Woah." Was all Sam said.

"'Woah?' Woah what? I can't find her."

"How can you not see her, dude? She's at your Noon-thirty." Sam guffawed.

Dean looked back at the bar and saw who Sam was talking about. Sam was right. How could he have missed her. J looked nothing like they saw earlier.

It was like she wasn't even herself anymore. She was the same person, alright. But, her whole… everything was different. He couldn't help but stare, open-mouthed.

She was sitting cockeyed on a barstool, more facing the door than the bar itself. Black stiletto boots elegantly placed on the rail of the bar. Skin-tight, high-rise, what looked like, leather pants. Cropped black t-shirt revealing the bottom of what was a VERY real tattoo. And a leather biker jacket slung around the back of the barstool.

On top of the tattoo, J was also wearing a studded collar, and a chest harness under her crop top.

Dean couldn't breathe. He literally could not breathe.

It was then that she slowly looked around and immediately locked eyes with him for the first time that night.

It was only then that Dean realized that she was wearing makeup.

Not that that usually mattered, but this time was different. She carried herself completely differently tonight. Which is probably how Dean missed her at the bar the first time. She had a confidence about her that was not part of the person he remembered.

Her dramatic eye makeup was perfect. Accentuating, and if possible, making her duo-tone, sweet, gemstone eyes even that much more apparent. Center stage. The main attraction. Like real jewels. She was biting down on one of those red-red lips and Dean had to look away. He had the image burned into his mind as he looked back at Sam.

Bad idea.

"Dude! You like J!" Sam exclaimed as he threw his arms up in the air.

"I knew something was off, but I had no clue it was this! You hid it pretty well. Until just now! Jesus, Dean you should see your face." Sam looked back over at J.

"Don't look over there!" Dean hissed.

"Why not? It's not like she's looking or can hear us. Or hear us." Sam said.

Dean thought for a second. He realized he was in a crowded bar, with a hundred other men, who were probably all looking at the same thing. Her.

"Of course, she couldn't hear or hear us. Just. Give me a second." As much as Dean wanted to continue ogling and fantasizing like the rest of the mooks, certainly were. He needed a chance to scan the joint and he wasn't the only one taking a good long look. Or looks.

He had to reel himself in and remember this was another job and what that would mean if it went wrong.

Easy.

Once Dean was back into a hunter mind-set it was easy to look back over at the bar where J sat. She was leaning over the bar now, talking with Jo. Dean had a nice view from here, but he also saw the goo-goo eyes Jo was making at J.

Looks like Jo had been wrong. There was serious competition.

"She needs to get her head back in the game. It's dangerous to let your guard down like that. Look at how into J, Jo is right now." Dean said. More to himself than to Sam.

"Says you!" Sam countered under his breath.

Dean gave him A Look and Sam took it as a sign to just shut the hell up. It's time to work.

They both began to scan the bar more thoroughly. Seeing some familiar faces, trying to scope out any potential threat or danger.

So far, no one had given any sign and J had just continued to sit there, undisturbed, for over half an hour. Dean vaguely wondered why all these men were leaving her alone. Especially with the way she was draping herself on the bar like that. He hadn't seen anything that sexy, that sensual, in a very long time.

Dean was starting to think that this whole thing wasn't going to work in anyone's favor when the doors of The Roadhouse swung open wide. A group of men came into the bar. Three Goons and one Pretty Boy, who seemed to be the leader of this particular gang of miscreants.

They made such a ruckus, many of the other patrons stopped and watched them head towards the bar. They headed right towards where J was sitting. The ringleader of the group slid right up behind her and literally ordered over her head.

Jo was staring daggers at him as she took their orders. He wasn't even looking at her so he didn't have a chance to see her expression. Dean didn't think he would have cared anyway. He was too focused on J. Then Jo looked up and made eye contact with both Sam and Dean.

This was their guy. There was no mistaking it.

Game on.

J just turned around and faced the witch. A big old smirk on those perfectly pouty red lips. Pretty Boy sent his Goons to a table, but stayed behind and began talking with J.

As time went on, the drinks flowed. Pretty Boy and J became drunker and drunker. And more and more handsy. Dean was starting to feel uncomfortable watching when J suddenly got up, yanking the witch with her. She grabbed her coat and began playfully dragging Pretty Boy towards the back door.

He had no idea what he was doing, but Dean was up out of his chair and halfway across the bar before it even registered that he was moving. Sam was close on his tail, trying but failing, to keep him from interfering.

Since the bar was crowded, it took some time to get to the back door. When Dean emerged, J and Pretty Boy were already halfway into the parking lot. The sound of the back door slamming open, and two men running, caused them both to turn.

For a second, Dean made eye contact with J for the second time that night. For the first time, he knew that she knew exactly what he was thinking. The flash in her eyes was something that started as pure agony, turned molten steel, ending in a burning fire Dean had to look away from.

Dean then realized two things. The first thing was that they were followed out the back door by the same group of mooks this guy was Ringleader of. And the second thing was that the Pretty Boy Witch had now turned on J.

A lot happened in such a short amount of time.

First, all three Goons that were advancing on Sam, stopped dead in their tracks when they noticed the scene in front of Dean. The Pretty Boy Witch dropped to his knees in front of J.

She had a rusted-looking machete in one hand, and in one motion she decapitated him. Before his head could roll, she had bent forward, throwing three, well-aimed, throwing knives. Each one hitting one of his lackeys. The puncture wounds, and severed neck, sizzled oddly, emitting a purple smoke. Then they also dropped to the ground. Obviously dead.

Dean looked at the knives sticking out of the heart of each Goon. Seeing that the metal was swirled with what looked like rust, but most certainly wasn't. These knives were the real deal, whatever they were. They must have been treated with something. The same thing that J's machete was treated with.

Dean and Sam locked eyes for a second. He made sure, in that second, that his little brother was ok. Sam's eyes looked over Dean's shoulder at something that made his eyes go wide. Face draining of color.

Dean took another breath before he turned back to J. She was straitening from her throwing pose. Eyes flashing. The look on her face was beyond description. To say Dean didn't feel the sting of fear that he also saw in Sam's eyes would have been an outright lie.