Tandy raised a cool glass of water to her lips and took a lengthy draught, hoping to dilute some of the alcohol that she had just ingested. The empty pitchers scattered across the table seemed to be growing by the dozen, surrounding her, like a swarm. Admittedly, most of them were her own, but she figured - with the theological warfare that was about to take place - that if there was ever a good time to drink, now would be it. And while the blistering warmth that spread through her veins felt soothing, her more sensible nature - the hunter within her - shook her head in disapproval, admonishing her. If she was going to meet - and potentially end - this demon, then she needed to have her wits about her. Although few and far between, she had come across demons in the past and she knew how slimy they could be, how unscrupulous. They brought knives and guns to a fist fight. They were deceitful, dirty. They also didn't just wait around politely to be sent back to Hell, either. If she was going to exorcise this demon then she needed to speak quickly and without fault. Stumbling over her words in a drunken stupor was not an option. Her greatest advantage, at this point, was that it wouldn't be expecting her. At least, she hoped that it wouldn't be.
The jukebox clicked as it rolled over to a new tape and static filled the air, bringing Tandy out of the depths of her semi-lucid thoughts.
She glanced up, through the smoke and masses, to see Dean standing beside it, his palm out-stretched towards her, beckoning for her to join him.
Sexything, by Hot Chocolate began to pulse through the speakers, bringing back cringe-worthy memories from her childhood, and Tandy furrowed her brows.
Rhythmically, Dean shimmied his way across the floor, drawn towards her - like a moth to a flame - and he raised his hand to point his finger in her face.
"I believe in miracles, where you from? You sexy thing!" He sang, and in spite of how darned corny it was, his voice was actually pretty freakin' good, adding to the ever-growing list of reasons why she was completely besotted with him.
Tandy hid behind her hands, horrified, nonetheless. Oh, heck! She thought, helpless. Nu-uh. Not happening. Not in this lifetime.
Dean fashioned an invisible lasso between his hands and slung it over her shoulders. He then made a motion - half-shuffling, half-pulling himself - as he scuttled towards her, using the phantom rope as a guide.
Tandy laughed when he reached her and she propped her chin onto her hand. She stared up at him through her lashes, half-dazed, and said, "You're a dork, Winchester, d'ya know that?"
Dean smirked. "A dork that might be able to score a dance with a pretty little lady?" He countered, almost bashfully, and if Tandy didn't know any better, she'd have been putty in his hands. Jesus, she did know better and still, she was putty in his hands. Not that she would ever give him the satisfaction of knowing it.
"Cadence weren't enough for you?" She asked gingerly.
"Oh, trust me, Cadence is more than enough. For any man. Actually, she went looking for Sam ... Heaven help him." He responded and he chuckled softly. He then offered her his hand again, his eyes vibrant and green, cheeky yet charming. "So, whatta ya say?"
"M'Kay, fine." Tandy relented, easing her way out of the booth. He looked too damn adorable not to and besides, they were on a date after all. One dance couldn't hurt, especially when it might be their last. "I'll give you one dance, but I'm pickin' the song." She said.
"As you wish." Dean replied, leading her towards an opening in the dance floor, beside the jukebox. "I'm expecting something Bluesy." He said, a twinkle in his gaze.
Tandy shrugged and pressed her index finger to the corner of her mouth. "Hm, well, we'll see. I'm full'a surprises."
"Oh, I'll bet." Dean breathed. He licked his bottom lip as his gaze trailed down the lengths of her body, devilish, and she could only imagine what wicked thoughts had entered his mind. Although, judging by the way that his eyes darkened as he looked at her, it wasn't too hard to guess.
Tandy grinned, heavily tempted to swat him, and popped a quarter into the jukebox. She stared at him expectantly, waiting for the gentle melody to begin playing.
Soon, the delicate chords filled the room, and few patrons that stood around them murmured their approval.
"Metallica?" Dean gasped. "No way. This is more of a me song."
Tandy hitched her shoulders. "I know it is, it's why I picked it but hey, James Hetfield has some kind'a voice."
Dean threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her close to him. "It's perfect." He whispered; his mouth pressed against the shell of her ear. By response, Tandy leant her cheek against his firm chest, pleased that he didn't flinch and slowly, she swayed against him, following his lead.
"I'm not one for slow dancin' much." She mumbled, attempting, with great difficulty, not to trip over her own feet.
"Me neither, but for you, I'll make an exception." Dean replied gently, resting his cheek against the top of her head. He brushed his lips over her forehead and Tandy smiled.
"You smell like a hunter." She muttered and she felt his entire rib cage rumble beneath her as he chuckled.
"A hunter?" He remarked and she could hear the smile in his voice. "That's nice. You don't smell like a hunter at all."
"No?" Tandy quizzed.
"No, drunky. Typically, you smell like ..." He wanted to say that she smelt like memories, of baked goods and home-cooked meals, of a kiss to his forehead and a soft embrace but instead, he trailed off, his voice low and husky. "Well, any way, right now at least, you smell like about half a litre of whiskey and a bad hangover in the morning."
Tandy laughed. "That don't even make sense, and yet, I can already feel the hangover."
"I think this has been my favourite part of the night." Dean admitted gently.
"Mine too." Tandy concurred. By far.
Truthfully, she didn't want the night to end. She could have stayed this way, locked in Dean's embrace, forever. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, the night was not about to end, at least, not for her. It was only just beginning.
Tandy closed her eyes and let Dean support her weight. She felt heavier than she wanted to be, heavier than she needed to be. She wanted to live in this moment until the seconds slipped away into centuries and her bones turned to dust. They swayed together, as one, numb to everything save for the feel of each other's touch, and for the first time in weeks, the world wasn't ending. They weren't haunted or cursed, or lost in the hunt. They weren't being harassed by angels or taunted by devils. It was just the two of them, finally, after years of uncertainty, of doubt, and she had to admit, it felt pretty damn nice.
The song drew to a close and, reluctantly, Tandy forced herself a part from Dean, still holding his hands, her fingers entwined with his, unwilling to let him go.
"You know, the night is still young ..." Dean breathed, his eyes aglow. His voice waned quietly into nothingness, alluding to something that make her insides wriggle and Tandy bit her bottom lip.
Oh, don't I know it.
"Dean." Sam breathed, appearing beside them. He offered his brother a pointed look, then gestured towards the raven-haired girl that clung to his arm.
"Oh, c'mon, Sammy!" Cadence pleaded, tugging on his sleeve. "Just one dance. I know those spaghetti legs can let loose! Puh-lease!" Her eyes were large and unfocused, intoxicated.
Sam stared at Dean and pulled a face. Help me! It screamed.
Reading his brother like a book, Dean took a hold of Cadence' hand and gently pried her fingers free of Sam's arm.
"Woah, hey, have I worn you out already?" He asked.
"What?!" Cadence shot back, undignified as she took the bait, hook, line and sinker. "Me? Boy, you wish!"
Dean chuckled and watched Cadence slink towards the centre of the dance floor. She waggled her index finger at him, summoning him.
"I've got this, Sammy, you keep Tandy company for me." Dean whispered, and he let go of Tandy's fingers.
Tandy pouted, rueful and Dean winked at her; a silent promise that spoke of more to come.
Sam nodded his head, grateful, and waited for Dean to disappear with Cadence amidst the crowd.
"We're meeting out back in five." He muttered, conspiratorial. "She has a car, but you don't have to come with us."
Tandy nodded. Unknowingly, her eyes still searched for Dean through the crowd.
"You good?" Sam asked.
Tandy sighed. "If you're askin' me if I'm sober, then yes, m'good." She mumbled. She then directed her attention towards Sam, having to tilt her head upwards to meet his gaze. "What do you tell your brother when you disappear like this?" She asked, curious.
Sam shrugged. "Honestly, most of the time he's too distracted to notice. Lately, I have you to thank for that."
"Oh."
"I will tell you though, Ruby can be a little snarky." He forewarned her.
Tandy rolled her eyes. "Oh, good, so she's like every other damned demon in existence."
"She's not." Sam responded quickly. He then chuckled, sardonic. "I mean, she's different, I guess. She actually wants to help. She wants this apocalypse even less than we do."
Tandy pressed her lips together, thoughtful, but said nothing more in return. Maybe this demon had her hooks buried far deeper into Sam than she would have liked to admit and it crossed her mind, at that moment, whether he would just stand idly by while she attempted to send this demonic witch back to Hell. That could be problematic, if he tried to intervene, particularly if he'd grown fond of her. Tandy sighed. She supposed she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.
"We should go." Sam said.
Tandy bobbed her head. Silently, she followed him through the darkness, past the patrons and the pool tables and together, they slipped through the back doors, out of the bar, and into the hot, black alley way.
