"You lit me on fire!" Sam barked. Dean tried his best to ignore him, but that's difficult with him right on his tail, whipping open the door that led into the bunker from the garage. A headache was growing, and Sam definitely wasn't helping. He was still very aggravated that Dean miscalculated how far he was when Dean lit the match to put that wendigo out of their lives for good. To be fair, Dean technically apologized. But Sam had insisted that giving him a beer and an old sandwich that Dean hastily prepared before they left for their hunt wasn't even close to an apology. Now he's been ranting to him for the past county and a half. Dean had figured once he got them to the bunker, Sam would give it up. That was another thing he miscalculated.

"Sammy, you're still kicking, aren't you? Let it go," Dean said at last, dropping the duffel bag he carried inside on one of the tables before turning down the hallway toward the kitchen. He could hear his baby brother do the same, the blades and spray paint cants clanking together. It was the ominous sound of a hunter approaching. Dean and Sam often wore it well. Right now Dean would take a machete to the throat then having to endure another minute of Sam's unnecessary squabbling. Usually, he wasn't this sensitive. But Dean figured it was because he hadn't given a sincere enough apology.

He grimaced as he entered the kitchen. One of them had forgotten to do last night's dishes. And by one of them, he really meant himself. The chore wheel Castiel had helpfully procured for them had gone to waste and just took up space on the front of the refrigerator, the same refrigerator Dean pulled open in search of some booze to soothe his nerves. What he came across instead were three containers full of salads and one bottle of Italian dressing. Dean had forgotten they needed a supply run. Damn it.

"You could've at least given me a warning," Sam snapped as he entered the kitchen after him, completely unaware that alcohol wasn't available to cool him off. "Why're you looking at me like that? I'm right!"

"Shut up, Sam!" Dean huffed. "We're outta beer."

"What?"

"We're outta beer."

"That's not true. I literally bought two six-packs two days ago," Sam scoffed, completely forgetting about his initial anger as he quickly approached the fridge, swatting at his brother's hand and only seeing his salads and disgusting dressing. "Oh, damn. How much had we taken for the road?"

"Not too much. But we were pilfering the stash pretty hard the night you brought 'em home. Celebrating the Djinn biting the bullet," Dean pointed out, running a hand through his hair. "I really don't wanna go to the store and come back here just for some brewskis."

Sam could only shrug. "Maybe we don't need it tonight. Just take a shower and head to bed. Cas said he's gonna give us an update on Crowley's situation, too, and you know he doesn't like to sleep in."

"Well, I do, and I definitely need to take some of the edge off before he goes off on one of his stories again. The last time he gave us an update, you fell asleep in your chair," Dean scoffed, pushing past him. "I'm gonna hit the bar instead. You wanna come?"

"What, right now?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Why not?"

"You're not tired?"

"I'm tired of you squawking in my ear," Dean called over his shoulder. He turned down the corridor that held their bedrooms, counting the steps before he found his door. He turned the brass knob and stepped inside, quickly shutting it before Sam could follow him inside. He switched on the light switch, painting his room in a light, orange glow. His room was the same way he left it: bed left unkempt and messy with an empty plate that had previously held twelve lemon pepper wings. His nightstand was littered with grocery mart receipts, stray coins, and his alarm clock which was showing the wrong time. He smiled, breathing in the horrible stench deeply. It was good to be home.

He disappeared into the bathroom, stripping himself bare from the singed and awful smelling clothes from his brawl with the wendigo. He started the shower, making sure the temperature would be stifling hot before throwing fresh clothes on his bed to change into before he'd head to the bar, with or without Sammy.

He took his time in the shower, washing all of the gunk left on him from the hunt off. He even used the floral scented shampoo he kept hidden from Sam. He hissed slightly when it got to the freshly made cuts. Thankfully, this hunt didn't require him to make stitches, but the cool burn still made him shiver in discomfort as the soap excreted from his washcloth.

Once he finished, he switched off the water and stepped out. He clumsily dried himself off and went to change, grabbing only his wallet, pistol, and his cellphone, which still bore no new messages. Coincidentally, Sammy had stepped out of his own bedroom at the exact same time, looking just as fresh and new as Dean felt.

"You decided to tag along?" Dean asked, stretching.

"Figured it's better than sticking around here trying to sleep. Might have nightmares about spontaneously bursting into flames," Sam said sarcastically.

"Okay, seriously, man. I apologized. We hugged it out. Get over it!" Dean snapped, turning down the hallway to make his way to the garage. Sam rolled his eyes, but he followed him. Alcohol would hopefully end this fight for the both of them. That, or it would just make Sam forget completely why he was so angry in the first place.

Dean hopped into Baby's driver seat once they returned to the garage. Sam automatically took the passenger side, strapping himself in. Childishly, he crossed his arms and turned away, clearly displaying he wasn't going to talk to Dean during the drive. Like he cared. Dean snorted obnoxiously and blasted the radio before pulling out into the night. Sam would get over it soon enough. That, or Dean would just have to kill him before the night ends. Then again, that got him out of Cas' long and boring tale on Crowley's plan to deal with the sudden spark of supernatural.

A few weeks ago, there was a stir for both the hunters and the hunted. Dean and Sam didn't have a clue on what it was. For a moment, it almost seemed like all the monsters and beasts they hunted went into hiding. Then they suddenly reappeared with sudden vigor, sudden red, hot anger that they didn't have beforehand. Dean theorized it was some kind of mating season, but Sam had his doubts. They consulted the angel on the matter, and he decided to go to Crowley about it, figuring the demons had something to do with it. Instead, he had come to see Crowley felt the same energy shift, and he's already set his demons onto the case to try and figure out what has occurred.

Dean didn't mind the sudden change in the monsters' behavior, truly. That just meant more to come into the open to be hunted. But it was strange.

Very strange.

The bar was packed tonight. There wasn't a spot for the Impala. Dean grumbled incoherently as he circled the bar around twice before he decided to settle near the brush in the back where the employees park. He had hoped they wouldn't notice. His Impala didn't really stand out between a red pick-up truck and a hideous beige van.

Switching Baby off, Dean swung open the door and stepped out, breathing in the crisp, midnight air with a happy sigh. Sam unbuckled himself and followed, appearing to have his anger slowly subside now that they were here at the bar. He didn't want Dean wandering off with some chick and leaving him to stay stranded miles away from the bunker. He's done that once or twice when Sam pissed him off. The worst times are when they're out of town and Sam can't remember which way their motel is.

They walked through the old-fashioned barn doors into the establishment, being welcomed into the low lighting and loud chatter of friends and couples. The many booths and tables were stock full of folk, some wearing checker-board button-ups, raggedy jeans, and stereotypical cowboy hats. Others dressed a little more casual with t-shirts and shorts. For once, Sam and Dean didn't stand too far out in their own daily attire. Dean nudged his brother and nodded toward the bar. There were two stools left, and they were, thankfully, right beside each other.

They strutted up to the counter and took their seats, waving the bartender over. It was Lorraine tonight. Dean preferred April. Lorraine was a short girl with thick thighs and a nicely sized bosom. Her long highlighted hair was always pinned back with pencils, and her eyeglasses sat at the very end of her button nose as she took orders and moved around rapidly. She was still exceptionally pretty, but she was no April.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted with a smile as she walked over to the two of them. She nodded to Dean, while batting her eyelashes prettily toward Sam. That was another reason Dean preferred April. "Can we take two beers...and maybe set us up with some peanuts, if ya can? Thank you."

"No problem, Dean. Hiya, Sam. You guys were gone for a while now," she said, trying to make conversation as she turned and snatched two bottles, easily popping off the lids and sliding them toward the brothers. She leaned down, ensuring Sam had an excellent view of her shapely behind as she got a bowl of peanuts for them to share. When she turned around, she winked and slid it toward Sam. "Almost thought we lost you guys."

"Nah. Just a small detour on our road trip," Dean grinned. "Thanks, doll. You're a peach."

"Yeah, uh...thanks, Lorraine," Sam said awkwardly, his ears looking particularly red. If he were truly interested, it would be his cheeks turning different colors. His ears meant he was growing quite uncomfortable. Dean frowned, now making it a point to show Lorraine he just wanted to enjoy the evening with his brother. He didn't need her making him feel any kind of weird vibes. He did just almost burst into flames for some reason. He needed to cool off. Thankfully, someone a few seats down was snapping their fingers at her, and she winked once more at Sam before walking away. "Why'd we have to come on her shift?"

"This is kind of a spontaneous evening, Sammy." Dean chuckled, taking a swig of his bottle.

"You could say that," Sam mumbled, thumbing at his own drink. He took one of the peanuts and carefully peeled off the shell before popping the contents into his mouth. "She's usually not this eager."

"Probably trying to get a good tip," Dean shrugged. "That, and we were gone for a while to begin with."

"I guess," Sam said, finally taking a drink. "Kinda hoping Cas cancels on us tomorrow. If he had anything new on this situation, he'd have called us by now. He'd consider it to be urgent, right?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. You know, Sammy, maybe it really is nothing. Maybe we're just being a little paranoid because we haven't endured a suicide trip as of late. Maybe we're wondering where all the action is. Or we're wondering which suckers are takin' our storyline from us. All I know is, we ganked a wendigo successfully, I didn't get dealt a barbecued brother, and I'm sitting here with you kicking back and enjoying myself. Try to relax!"

Sam chuckled. "You know, I'm still not over the fire."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Next hunt, I'll let you almost set me on fire, so we're even. Just watch the hair."

They clinked their bottles together and took a long gulp, the satisfying taste running down their throats and steadily cooling their nerves like Dean had wanted. When he slammed his bottle back down, he got the feeling he was being watched. It was one of those hunter instincts, something that grows with the times. It couldn't be Sammy, though, because he was currently digging through their bowl, trying to find the perfect peanut. Dean turned to his other side, barely noticing who he was sitting beside.

It was a slender woman with long brown hair that met her lower back. She had naturally tanned skin, wide brown eyes, and thick lips coated in dark red lipstick. She had on a regular t-shirt that cut off near her midriff, while her skinny jeans seemed perfectly acid washed; although, he could see her left leg was clasped in what looked to be a homemade brace. She was smiling at him, revealing her pearly whites. Above all, this chick was beyond words beautiful.

"Well, hey there," he greeted.

"Hey," she replied, laughter in her tone.

"Uh...don't think I've ever seen you in here before. You just passing through?" he asked, turning completely away from Sam. He could hear his brother scoff in annoyance, peeking over his brother's shoulder to see who he was gawking at. Dean didn't notice Sam's face fall in surprise as well at this girl's appearance.

"Just visiting an old friend. Thought I'd stop for a couple of drinks before I see him," she said, still smiling.

"Well, I'm glad you did. Name's Dean...Dean Winchester," he introduced, holding a hand out.

She smiled, studying him for a moment before she took his hand and shook it. "I'm Raven."

"Pretty name." he complimented. He could hear Sam clear his throat obnoxiously. He made it a show to roll his eyes in front of Raven, gesturing towards his brother with a mocking grin. "This here's my baby brother, Sam. He's got the whole shtick going on for Disney princess. He was just leaving to play pool. Weren't you, Sammy?"

Sam looked affronted. "Dean, seriously?"

Dean fought to keep his smile as he turned to Raven. "Would you excuse us for just one minute?"

"Oh, be my guest," she said, still smiling. He nodded gratefully, turning to face Sam.

"Sammy, I don't think I can stress enough how important chicks who fly into town to visit bars are. And I don't mean to throw this out here so suddenly, but I did see her first." Dean hissed quietly, pulling his brother down so he could hear him better. At times Dean hardly noticed the height difference, but when he was forced into situations like this, it was hard to be nonchalant about it. When was Dean's next growth spurt, anyhow?

"I thought we came out here to drink together and head back to the bunker so we can sleep the hunt off and get ready for Cas," Sam hissed back.

"Do I have to reemphasize the fact that there's a chick here?"

"Dean."

"Sam."

"Hey, she slipped something in your drink!"

Sam and Dean both turned at the same time. Lorraine was pointing accusingly at Raven, who seemed to be hastily pushing something into her front pocket. Dean looked from her to his bottle, then back to her. Sam was frozen in his seat, staring at her in bewilderment as this all unfolded right before his eyes.

"Um, you know what? I think..." Raven's voice had suddenly gotten shaky. Her previous demeanor of some kind of sexy mysterious chick was replaced with her looking extremely nervous and clammy as she inched herself off of the stool. "I think I should go visit that friend now...you just carry on with your brother. So sorry to interrupt." With that, she whipped around and raced toward the exit.

Dean whipped around toward Sammy. "I've never been in this situation before. Do we-?"

"Yes, Dean!" Sam exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"Right, right, of course," Dean coughed, following him. They raced after the girl, now determined to know why she just tried to slip something into Dean's drink, whether it be for the classical reason that would end up with Dean in the bathtub missing his kidney, or if it were for the other reason right after Dean happened to reveal his full name to this complete stranger all because she was incredibly hot.

She was fast, however. Once they raced outside, Dean finally found her slinking around the bar toward the back.

"Oh, she better not touch Baby!" Dean shouted, shooting past Sam to catch up to her.

"Wait up!" Sam called, fighting to catch up to him.

"HEY! STOP!" Dean called after her. To him, it appeared she was heading straight for the Impala. Instead, she was making a beeline for the disgustingly hideous van beside the Impala, prying at the back door and cursing loudly when it wouldn't give. Dean and Sam finally caught up to her, both panting for air. Dean wasted no time in reaching for his pistol, whipping it out and pointing it straight toward her. "Alright, alright, alright! Enough! Turn around with your hands in the air! NOW!"

She jerked at the door one more time before bowing her head. Heaving a great sigh, she slowly turned on the spot with her hands raised above her head.

"Look, man, I-"

"Shut it! Who the hell are you really? And what did you try to slip into my drink?" Dean demanded. "Are you an organ trafficker?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? No! And my name is really Raven. Raven Reyes. I don't want any trouble with you guys, really. I'm...I'm a hunter. Like you two. Monsters and demons...the works. I know about it all; I've researched and hunted it all, save for...djinn. That is on my bucket list, though. Look...I just needed enough time to get you and Sam knocked out before we-"

"We?" Sam repeated questioningly. He had his own gun out, pointed right at her. "Who the hell is we?"

"We're we."

Dean turned around first, keeping his gun raised. He couldn't help but stumble in surprise. Eight of them. There were eight people standing shoulder to shoulder, three of them with guns held up, pointing straight for Sam and Dean.

"What...what the hell..."

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" one of them asked. She was an average height female with shoulder length blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, with a shapely figure hidden underneath a black tank-top, open blue flannel, black jeans, and black combat boots. She was one of the three holding firearms up.

"Yeah..." Dean replied slowly.

"I'm Clarke Griffin. We're...We call ourselves Skaikru. We need your help."