There was the distinct crunch of gravel underfoot and the familiar pop of broken glass beneath the soles of his brother's dog-eared boots, followed by the tart smell of gasoline.

Sam stirred, his eyelids fluttering open as the sounds of civilisation drifted in through the open windows, slowly rousing him into wakefulness. He stretched his long, graceless limbs, releasing a muffled yawn and glanced over at Dean, who was clambering back into the driver's seat of the Impala.

Sunlight, harsh and striking, silhouetted his brothers frame, and Sam blinked several times, feeling the warmth of its kiss against his sun-browned skin.

"Mm. What time s'it?" He asked, groggy, his voice thick from disuse.

Dean chuckled and handed Sam a large, styrofoam cup with A/C and Bitch scrawled inelegantly across the lid.

Sam rolled his eyes but accepted the cup nevertheless.

Real mature, Dean, he thought petulantly.

"It's eight o'clock, little brother. You've been out for six hours." Dean replied, uncharacteristically peppy.

Sam stifled another yawn, inhaled the piquant stench of burnt coffee and held the cup in his hands, semi-conscious.

"Wait. Six hours?" He muttered, still somewhat dazed. "But it was only going to take one, if that, to get to Thibodaux."

"Yeah, well, you looked peaceful and I didn't want to wake you. I let you sleep it off." Dean explained, his voice softer, every bit the older brother.

Sam frowned. "So, then, what did you do?"

Dean shrugged. "Went for a walk."

"For five hours?" Sam asked, scepticism creeping into his tone.

"It was a long walk."

"Right." Sam was worried. Seriously worried. Since his return topside, Dean had been spiralling, throwing himself from one case to the next, running himself – and Sam – into the ground. With no leads on the remaining seals, and with the angels choosing to remain silent, for the most part, it seemed that there wasn't much else that they could do. That didn't make it any less taxing, though. Soon, the coffee would lose its kick, the whiskey would lose its edge and Dean would have no choice but to slow down, take it all in, and face whatever horrors he was going through head on. How that would manifest though, Sam wasn't so sure. He just hoped that his brother knew that he was there for him, in any way that he needed him to be.

"So, Bobby said that Tandy would meet us at the marshes in an hour." Dean explained calmly. Too calmly. Feigning nonchalance clearly wasn't his strong suit.

"Tandy?" Sam's eyes narrowed and became impish. "This being the same Tandy you've been crushing on since '05, after that case involving the Shtriga?"

Dean exhaled.

Only Sam, the Geek Boy, would recall events through the cases that they had worked.

He rolled his eyes and jammed his keys into the ignition.

"You have a very odd way of remembering things, Sam."

Sam raised his eyebrows as a shit-eating grin stretched across his dimpled face and Dean pressed on, defensive. "Any way, dude, I don't crush on chicks. Chicks crush on me."

"Funny." Sam uttered, raising the cup to his lips as the engine sparked to life. "That's not the way I recall it." He added, taking a sip.

He frowned, the coffee was black, bitter. At that same moment, Dean choked, glancing down at his own cup with distaste. Silently, the brothers exchanged beverages.

"Oh? And how, exactly, do you recall it, Samuel?" Dean asked, slamming the Impala into reverse.

Sam smirked. "You made a pass at her and she shot you down. Then you got stupid drunk and -"

"Woah, woah, woah." Dean interjected, his eyes darting towards Sam for a brief moment, indignant. "That is not how it happened, okay."

"No?"

"No."

"Alright. Whatever you say, lover boy." Sam crooned, ducking his head in order to dodge his brothers sudden and intrusive fist.

Dean mumbled something beneath his breath, something along the lines of "little brothers" and "douchebags" before steering the Impala out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

Sam snickered, settling into the passenger seat with his almond cappuccino.

Maybe Dean would take the case slower this time, even if only to drag out his chances of scoring with the - as he had so eloquently once called her - "hot swamp chick."

It would be a nice change of pace, in the very least, not to mention hilarious.

How many times could Dean get rejected before he could take a hint?

He'd make a point of keeping count.

After all, what kind of little bitch brother would he be if he didn't?

Sam's grin widened.

Not a very good one.


Soon, the smell of the swamp rolled in through the open windows; a sign that they had entered bayou county.

Dean pulled into the clearing and cut the engine.

He and Sam both stepped out of the Impala, their boots sinking into the peat and soil, and approached an old truck that was parked at the base of a sagging willow tree.

A petite blonde, dressed in nothing more than a thin, black slip and thigh-high boots leant against the hood of the truck, balancing a small dagger between her manicured fingers.

Upon seeing them, the young woman swiftly stowed the dagger into a leather garter that was hidden on her outer thigh, and stepped forward to greet them.

"Dean, Sam! Hiya, boys. Where y'at?" Tandy beamed, her voice light and yet somehow sultry at the same time.

Dean licked his bottom lip as Sam embraced the slight hunter and a devilish smirk graced his features.

"A little over-dressed for wading through the swamps, aren't we? Not that I'm complaining." He commented, flirtatious, as always.

"Oh, uh, yeah." Tandy breathed demurely, gripping the hem of her deliciously tight dress. "Well actually, I was hopin' we'd be just canvassin' the area today. I have a, uh ... thing ... later."

"A thing?" Dean questioned, quirking a brow. "What, like a date?"

"Um, forward much." Sam sniggered, his voice low, so that only Dean could hear.

Dean shot Sam a sharp glance and refocused his gaze on Tandy.

"Just drinks with a girlfriend, actually." She murmured casually, unperturbed, her eyes sharp as she scanned the local vegetation. "I swung by here earlier this mornin'. Authorities were able to dredge up the remainin' pieces of the vic."

"Pieces?" Sam asked.

"Mm-hmm. Eleven altogether."

"Yikes." Dean breathed.

"Only thing missin' was his liver." Tandy stated frankly, as though she were merely commenting on something as plain and worldly as the weather.

Dean shook his head. Their lives were so, so weird.

"Interesting." Sam hummed, his brows furrowed, thoughtful.

While Tandy and Sam discussed the gruesome details of the case, Dean stole a moment to take in Tandy's appearance. His eyes drifted from her chic, heeled boots, over the smooth, tanned flesh of her strong legs, up the length of her torso, lingering for a moment on her ample breasts, before making their way towards her full, pink lips. Finally, his gaze came to rest on hers, forest green meeting stormy blue, and if she noticed that he was checking her out, she did a good job of pretending that she didn't.

"So, you boys have any idea what this thing could be?" Tandy asked, unknowingly reaching into her truck and collecting a faded, leather jacket, despite the heat.

Okay, so maybe she had noticed.

"Well, my best guess, judging by its choice of cuisine, would be an Aswang." Sam answered, ever the braniac.

Tandy pulled the jacket over her shoulders and pouted. "An Aswang? Little far from home, dontcha think, Sam-boy?"

"Honestly, we've hunted things that have travelled a lot further before." Sam admitted, allowing the use of her irksome nickname to slide. "Wouldn't suppose you have a whip entirely made of a sting-rays tail just lying around though?" He joked.

"Actually, you know what, we just might." Tandy replied, much to Dean's surprise.

"Wait, seriously?" He asked.

"Well, what can I say, Winchester?" Tandy winked. "Havin' a voodooiene for a mama doesn't come without it's perks."

Huh. Sexy and resourceful. A winning combination.

"That's awesome." Dean exclaimed.

"Guess I'm goin' home and gettin' into somethin' less scanty after all." Tandy observed.

"Now, why on Earth would you want to do that?" Dean jeered, playful.

Tandy smirked. "Better we tackle this thing now, in the daylight, while it's weaker, wouldn't you agree?"

"Agreed." Sam responded, stealing Dean's thunder. "Any idea on where this thing might be?"

Tandy unlocked her truck and swung the door open.

"Not exactly, but I have a hunch." She confessed, pulling herself into the driver's seat with about as much grace as a one-legged mule. "Meet me at my mama's estate. We'll be needin' some extra supplies, along with that whip." She called.

Dean and Sam watched the truck sputter into existence and pull away from the basin with a loud bang, smoke billowing from its oxidised exhaust.

"How she gets around in that death trap, I will never know." Dean uttered, making a mental note to service the engine for her before this gig was up.

Sam leant in closer to his brother then, unable to help himself. "Still think she's the one nursing a crush?" He teased.

"Eat me." Dean snapped.

"Strike one." Sam chortled.

Dean reached for Sam's shoulder and pushed him towards the Impala. "Just get in the car, sasquatch."

Sam chuckled. The look on his brother's face was utterly priceless.

Not a lot of things were able to amuse Sam these days, but he had to admit, watching this girl get under Dean's skin came pretty damn close.