"Let me do the talking, Dean." Sam directed the words at Dean's back as he followed him into Chet's Bar.

Dean held the door open for Sam, and waited until they were side by side before answering. "I've got a better idea. I'll go talk to Ambercrombie & Fitch over there," he said, motioning to the four men still embroiled in a tense game of darts, "while you finish up with Big John." Without waiting for a response Dean walked away

Sam watched Dean offer up an easy smile as he approached the young men. Dean appeared to be calm and collected, but Sam knew under the surface a volcano was brewing. All it would take is one wrong look to send Dean exploding into a deadly rage. If that happened, Sam could only hope he could intervene fast enough to prevent any life threatening injuries. After all, there were only four of them.

"Hey, guys, who's winning?" Dean stood off to the side, watching as yet another dart narrowly missed the bull's-eye.

The four guys looked at each other then returned to the game, purposefully ignoring the newcomer.

Dean gave a dangerous laugh, then forced himself to count to ten. While he wanted nothing more than to hit one or all of those preppie little snots, beating the crap out of them would get him no close to the answers he needed. He tried again.

"Listen, guys, I hate to interrupt your game, but I just have a few quick questions. I'm looking for someone who was in here a little while ago. Blonde girl, named Jennifer. Do any of you know her?"

"What's she to you?"

Dean turned his attention to the young man tossing the darts. About an inch taller than himself, the guy looked like he should be reading poetry at a coffee shop, not hanging out in some seedy bar. After watching the dart successfully hit the target, he smoothed down his tan sweater and faced Dean.

"I think she may have accidentally grabbed my keys." Dean replied.

"Hmm, sucks to be you."

Dean gritted his teeth at the remark. Just keep pushing, he mentally willed the young man. Just give me a reason.

As Dean took a step towards him, one of his buddies stepped in front of Dean.

"I'm Mike. This is Joe," he said, pointing to the kid in the tan sweater, "And over there are Bill and Sean. You from around here?"

Dean shook his head. "No. In fact, I have somewhere I have to be, which is why it's really important I find Jennifer. Which is also why I'm stuck here talking to you country club rejects."

"And all that's missing is your car keys?" Mike asked skeptically.

"What are you getting at?" Dean squinted his eyes suspiciously.

"Billy over here knows a lot about cars. He can probably hot-wire your car for you." Sean said. His tone held a challenging quality, as if daring Dean to continue with his charade.

Dean could see they knew more than they were letting on. "Fine, ok, she stole my car, too. There, you happy? Now, for the last time, do you know her?"

The four friends stood shoulder to shoulder facing Dean. "Why didn't you call the police?" Sean asked.

"I was hoping to do things the easy way. Look, I don't want any trouble. All I want is my car back."

Joe folded his arms across his chest and glared at Dean. "You may not want trouble, but that's exactly what you have. There are four of us and only one of you. Now, I know this is probably well beyond your fourth grade math, but that means you're outnumbered."

"Oh, bring it on, tough guy." Dean started to take off his jacket.

Mike broke away from his friends and stood in between them and Dean. "Come on, cut it out! This is stupid." Turning to Dean, he continued. "Look, just be patient. I'm sure your car will show up in a few hours."

The foursome exchanged uncertain looks as Sam walked up behind Dean. Four against two seemed like decent odds, except when the two were built like the Winchesters. Dean normally loathed having a younger brother who towered over him, but at times it did have some advantages. He tossed his jacket onto a nearby table and focused all his attention on the group's weak link.

"Mike, is it? Just tell me where I can find this Jennifer chic and we'll let you finish your game. You might even get out of here early enough to have Mommy tuck you in. It is a school night, isn't it?"

Sam lowered his head towards Dean and spoke quietly. "Dean, let's just go. I got what we need."

Keeping his eyes trained on Mike, Dean shook his head. He had the kid right where he wanted him. One of two things were about to happen. Dean could tell from the flush that covered Mike's cheeks that he was either ready to tell Dean what he needed to know or start a brawl. At this point, Dean was fine with either scenario.

"I think it would be best for everyone if you called the cops and put in a report. I'll even do it for you. Then you and your buddy can leave." Mike pulled out a sleek cell phone and began to dial.

"I'd rather you didn't do that." Dean snatched the phone away from a surprised Mike and flipped it shut.

"Here we go." Sam muttered under his breath as Bill and Seanbegan to attack. Dean blocked Bill'spunch and countered with a hard left to his stomach. A savage grin crossed Dean's face as he watched Bill flop backwards onto the dirty floor. A split second later Sean joined his counterpart on the ground, his hand rubbing the cheek that bore the mark of Sam's jab.

Mike's hand was on Joe's shoulder, holding him back. Judging from the nervous expression on Joe's face, it wasn't entirely necessary.

"Easy, dude. Chill. Her name is Jennifer Johnson, all right? I don't know where she lives or her number, but her last name is Johnson." Joe said rapidly.

"Johnson." Dean scoffed. "You sure it's not Smith? You gotta do better than that."

"Her last name really is Johnson." Mike said pleadingly. "She goes to our school. That's all we know. Seriously."

"Dean, we gotta go." Sam said earnestly.

"Sam, not now."

Sam grabbed Dean's jacket and began to push him towards the door. "Yeah, Dean. Now." Dean may not have noticed Big John coming their way, but Sam sure did. While he was fairly certain the two of them could take on the seven foot tall behemoth, he wasn't really looking to test that theory. Once Dean did see the bartender rounding the end of the bar he reluctantly followed Sam towards the door, favoring the four preppies with one last scowl before heading outside.

"Great job, Dean." Sam punctuated his words by shoving Dean's jacket into his chest.

"I was handling things just fine, Sam." Dean replied angrily.

"Yeah, you've done a real stellar job of handling things all night long." Sam muttered.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

Sam sighed. "Forget it."

"No, Sam. If you've got something to say, then say it."

"I'm just saying, none of this would've happened if you hadn't been…" Sam trailed off. Arguing with his brother wouldn't bring him anything except more wasted time. Taking a breath, he tried again. "…if you had been helping me find a new gig instead of making friendly with the locals."

" 'Making friendly with the locals?'" Dean snorted. Although tempted to laugh at Sam's odd choice of words, he knew there was truth in them. He knew this whole situation was his fault; he certainly didn't need his little brother to rub his face in it.

"What do you want me to say? That this is all my fault? Fine. The car getting stolen was all my fault. There, are you happy? Can we get on with finding it now?"

"Just how do you plan on doing that?" Even as the words left his mouth, Sam had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what Dean's plan was. "Dean, no."

Sam jogged over to his brother, who was circling around the red pick-up truck still parked next to the spot once occupied by Dean's car. "They'll have the cops on us in no time. How do you expect to find the car while we're hiding from the police?"

Dean ignored Sam as he peered through the driver's side door. He figured he could have the alarm off and the engine running in under a minute. "Get ready."

"At least let me drive." Sam tried.

"Believe me, Sam. Whatever happy little buzz I had is gone. Now, get ready." Dean repeated.

Sam threw his hands up in defeat and went over to the passenger side door. He hadn't had the chance to tell Dean what he'd learned from the bartender before their hasty exit. Now was not the time, though. He didn't want to distract Dean from his task. He just hoped the truck had a map; they'd need it where they'd be going.

A shrill wail pierced the silence as Dean got the door open and dove inside. The alarm was cut off as Dean ripped out the wires. "Get in!" he shouted as he worked on getting the truck started.

Sam had barely enough time to shut the door as the engine roared to life. Dean floored the gas pedal, giving a shout of triumph as he peeled out of the parking lot. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed him no one from the bar had even come out to check on the noise.

"Jennifer Johnson." Dean said absently. "Of course, that really doesn't do us any good seeing as the laptop is in the car."

Sam popped open the glove compartment and began rifling through the contents. "Thanks to our good friend, Big John, we don't need it." he said as he pulled a map out.

"What'd you find out?"

Sam didn't answer right away but continued studying the map. "What road are we on?"

"Uh, Danbury Lane. Heading west."

"Turn around. We need to go the other way."

Sam gripped the dashboard with his free hand as Dean made a fast u-turn. Consulting the map, he continued. "About four miles up make a left onto Claudette. Then it's about another fifteen miles until we get there."

"Get where?" Dean asked.

"Blue Corners Road."