"Andy?"

"Not now."

"No, Andy."

"What, Dean?" I snapped.

"You've kind of got your leg in a certain, very important part of my body."

"I felt my face blush bright red.

"Well, you're gonna have to deal with it, aren't you? I can't get a good shot."

"Hurry. Kinda uncomfortable here."

"So," I laughed, "Big bad ladies' man does have a sensitive side."

"Yeah. And your knee's kinda digging into it."

I sighed and leaned on the wall behind me, "Well, do you want this over with?"

"Yes," he snapped, "But I don't want you crushing my chick magnet!"

Sam made a gagging sound, "That's just wrong, Dean."

Tru gasped when Sam faked a barfing sound.

"I'm not really hurling."

"No, your belt buckle's digging into my spine."

"Oh, sorry."

I leaned on Dean again, making sure to keep my leg away from his "chick magnet".

I looked out again and finally got a good, clear shot. I took three shots, all aimed at the wendigo's head. All three hit home and splattered its brains everywhere.

"Nice shot," Dean commented when I leaned back, "For a girl."

He pushed his way out and I followed him. My ankle, realizing that I had to support myself now, gave out and I toppled down.

Before I could hit, however, Dean grabbed my arm and steadied me.

"You're so lucky I'm here," he said, "Otherwise, you'd be splattered on the gravel."

"You're so conceited. But thanks."

I grabbed my gun from next to the wall with the chains, and followed my sister through the long, winding corridors and into the sun breaking through the trees.

I felt Dean walk up behind me and I turned around. He smiled.

"Seriously, though," he said, "We should go get some coffee or something."

"Sure," I agreed, "But why don't we go to a bar tonight instead?"

He nodded, "Now you're speaking my language. Pick you up at eight?"

"Yeah. Eight sounds fine."

"Cool, where are you staying?"

"Blackridge Marshall Motel," Tru said, grabbing my shoulder.

"Really?" Dean asked, "That's where Sam and I are staying. What room?"

"338," I replied.

"I knew that '66 Mustang Fastback out there looked familiar."

"Yeah. It's my baby."

"That's awesome."

I smiled, "So was that your '67 Impala out there?"

"Sure was. She's my baby."

I nodded, "Nice ride."

"Thanks."

I started to walk forward, but my swollen ankle felt like lead, and I stumbled.

"Stop doing that," he said, grabbing my hand, "You're gonna hurt yourself. Come on, Sam and I will walk you two to your car."

We walked through the woods in silence, listening to the birds and the river to find our way out.

Dean opened the passenger side door for me and shut it once I was safely seated and waved. I smiled and waved back as Tru got behind the wheel.

"You like that guy, don't you?" she asked.

"Shut up and drive," I snapped, "I've got work to do."

When we got to the room, I sat on the bed with an icepack on my ankle, flipping through the channels until the swelling went down.

Then, when I could walk comfortably, I took a long, hot shower.

I rummaged through my duffle bag at 5:45.

"Andy," Tru said, "You're not wearing jeans and a t-shirt, are you?"

I shrugged, "It's all I have."

She growled, "Hold on."

A few minutes later, she pulled from her bag, a black tank top, black a-symetrical skirt, and black pumps.

Surprisingly, Tru's clothes fit me perfectly. I combed my hair and walked out of the bathroom.

"Andy. You look sexy."

"Thanks, Tru," I rolled my eyes.

She smiled.

"I just don't like how short the top is," I said.

"Don't complain, Andy. He likes Metallica. I heard it when he started his car. If the top's short, he'll be able to see their symbol tattooed on your stomach."

She handed me a diamond belly ring, "Switch 'em."

"No, Tru, this skull is my signature. I'm not switching."

"Fine."

"Crap, I forgot my ring," I said, running to the bathroom as Dean knocked on the door.

Tru let him in while I searched for my favorite ring. It had a dragon wrapped around an emerald. It was my good-luck charm, and I never went anywhere without it.

I walked out of the bathroom and Dean smiled.

"Dude! You look... Sexy."

He noticed my tatto and grinned, "Metallica?"

I smiled, "Ready?"

He nodded, held the door open, and led me to his car.

We spent a majority of the ride to the bar talking about our most interesting hunts.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of an old, eighties-style bar.

We walked to a booth in the back of the bar and Dean went to get some beers.

He returned a minute later with two glass bottles and set one down in front of me, sliding in the seat across the table.

"So," I said, "That Meg chick. You said she was possessed?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, Sammy and I tried to kill her a couple hundred times and she wouldn't die. But I think she pretty much did die when we exorcised her."

We were silent for a minute. Suddenly, a question came to my mind.

"What are some of your worst fears?" I asked, staring down at my beer.

He grinned at me, "What brought that up?"

I shrugged, "Curious, I guess."

"Just don't laugh," he said and began to count them off, "One, I'm afraid of losing Sam. Long story.

"Two, I have a serious fear of flying. Ask Sammy if you don't believe me.

"Three, being turned down by a hot girl.

"Four, midgets."

I laughed, "Midgets?"

"Okay, smartass," he said, "What are your worst fears?"

I turned serious, "Me? Pretty much anything not involved with the supernatural; rapists, murderers, car crashes, plane crashes. Anything that can't be solved with holy water, silver bullets, or stakes."

He didn't laugh like I expected him to.

"Why?"

I shrugged again, "I guess it's because I've been hunting for twenty-one years. With hunting, I know I can get out of it, relatively unscathed, but in real life, I could die. I mean, I know real-life is easier, but at least fighting ghosts and werewolves, it's what I was trained to do."

"I never thought of it like that," he said, "I just figured that..."

Dean was cut off when a tall man with short brown hair ran in sweating. He held a .44 Magnum in his hand and pointed it around the bar.