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Chapter Two

Sam watched Dean bolt out of the door with a bag slung over his shoulder. He shook his head slightly, wondering what madness had possessed Dean. He slouched over to the paper the lay on the bench, curiosity getting the better of him.

F.C

Tonight 8pm

Easy Cash, be there.

We have business to settle.

Sam stared at the note. F.C? What does that mean? Probably some ridiculous nickname Dean had earned.

Tonight 8pm? Well that's straight forward, Sam reasoned, Easy Cash and be there were also logical.

We have business to settle? That set off alarm bells.

Last time some un-finished business with Dad bad things had happened. Sam had been kidnapped, Dean had been put in hospital and Dad had had to kill off the spirit that had caused the entire situation himself.

And they still wondered why Sam hated hunting? Sam shook his head at the note, trying to decipher some of the oddness about it.

It was written in deep blue ink until the last line, which was written in red, as though it was intimidating. Apparently Dean hadn't been too intimidated though.

The crunching of stones under tires attracted Sam's attention. Headlights flicked off and a car door opened.

He bit his lip and bolted into the bathroom, grabbing the motel phone as he went.

"Come on Dean, pick up…" He whispered dialling the number and pressing the phone to his ear while listening intently for a key sliding into a lock.

"Yo?" Dean's voice answered, bringing waves of relief to his little brother.

"Dad's home." Sam said without hesitation.

Dean swore…several times…several loud and vehement times.

Sam heard voices on the other end of the line. "Dean? Where are you?" he demanded.

Screaming and commotion replied to him. "Sam I gotta go, I'm at a bar alright…tell dad I'm at a bar…" Dean's voice was panicked, obviously petrified at what his father would think if he knew the truth.

The last thing Sam heard before the line went dead was a loud and menacing voice saying, "Come on Winchester…not gonna chicken out? I'll wipe the floor with you…"

Sam jumped at this. Dean didn't sound ok. Dean didn't sound very ok at all.

The key slid into the door and it flung open to reveal a muddy John Winchester, staring at Sam's best look of innocence.

What have my boys done this time? He wondered, dumping his things on the table.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Dean left the motel room at high speed. Ducking under the branches of a lone tree and he sprinted towards the not so flamboyant parts of town.

His father would kill him if he knew.

Dean stepped into the dark alley, staring at the "bouncer" that eyed him warily.

"McFinnigan invited me." He said roughly, pushing past the bouncer before he had a chance to react, not that he could have stopped Dean anyway.

Perhaps that's why they chose the little scrawny boy to act as a guard for the building, make the 'guests' feel tough, then wipe them on the floor.

He really acted as a reminder that it was their choice to come here, that they had to accept responsibility for any injuries they got.

That they would be the ones calling the ambulance if they got hurt, that no one was here to help.

Dean didn't mind though. It was all the same to him. Fighting ghosts for the world, or fighting men for money.

This is just another fight club. Just another few bruises, the cash back was good.

The only thing Dean resented about this was that if he lost, it was anything but graceful.

These guys don't mess around. Dean learned that lesson the hard way. He was already hurt from a spirit they had tackled a few days ago, another reason his father had left him behind. He sighed, he couldn't loose this fight, not against McFinnigan, and he was like the mafia in one man.

If he lost his fight, he'd loose his life.

He lived for the ecstasy.

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Ok review and tell me what you think.

Also I've been wondering if you could have one who would it be…SAM OR DEAN?

Tell me your thoughts…Do you like where this went? Please review!

Keep Smilin' :) Deana.