Nineteen

"Oh come on!" Dean cried as Reggie hit the eight ball into a corner pocket, winning her fourth straight game in a row. Sam gripped the edge of the high table he was sitting at, his entire body shaking with laughter. Several other patrons in the bar were snickering as they passed by the pool table, clearly enjoying the show.

Dean slammed the rack back onto the table. "We're playing again," he snapped. Reggie shrugged, glancing at Sam over her shoulder, an amused expression on her face.

"You'd already owe me five hundred bucks, Dean, if we were even playing for money anymore." She shook her head, laughing as she watched Dean continue to set up for a new game. "Are you sure your poor ego can take anymore of this?" Dean glared at her, his face set determinedly.

"Maybe you should just let it go, man," Sam said, wiping at the tears that had begun to stream down his cheeks. Dean turned his icy stare on him and Sam chuckled as he lifted his beer from the table and took a sip. "O-kay. Never mind," he muttered.

"I'm breaking first," Dean snapped as he removed the rack from the pool table and leaned over, taking aim. He was letting his aggravation get the better of him and hit the cue ball too hard, sending it soaring down past the other balls, and over the side of the table. Sam burst into a new fit of laughter as Dean's jaw dropped open in angry shock.

"Let me guess. That was a practice shot?" Reggie teased, as she returned with the white ball, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She rolled the ball across the table back towards Dean. He stared at the ball as it bounced off the bumper in front of him, watching as it slowly rolled away.

"I need another beer," he stated suddenly as he placed his pool cue on the table and hurried away, disappearing into the small crowd around the bar. Reggie looked at Sam who shrugged his shoulders. She walked over to the table and took a seat on the stool next to him.

"Dean really isn't used to losing, is he?"

"Not really. I mean, Dean's lost a few games before, but never that many at one time."

"And never to a girl," Reggie added. Sam shook his head at her and she raised an eyebrow at him in.

"Okay, so maybe it could be a teeny bit of a sore spot for him," Sam finally admitted with a grin.

Reggie laughed and shook her head. She picked up her glass of beer and downed what was left in it. Reggie glanced towards the bar, a crooked smile on her lips.

"You know what? I think I'm ready for another one myself," she said.

She started for the bar, but only got a few steps when Dean reappeared through the crowd holding two glasses filled to the brim. He handed one to her and chugged half of his glass first before putting it onto the table next to Sam.

"All right, that's better," Dean said as he rolled his shoulders and leaned onto the pool table.

He sank three balls into the pockets easily before missing a shot and relinquishing the table to Reggie. She smiled as she strolled to the table, eyeing each possible shot before deciding to shoot for the six ball. It was a rather complicated shot and Sam heard Dean scoff as Reggie leaned down to take aim.

"Six ball in the right corner pocket," Reggie called, ignoring Dean, as she pulled back her pool cue. Sam watched, impressed, as the cue ball sped across the table, hitting the small green ball and sending it rolling across the table and down into the right corner pocket.

"How…?" Dean spluttered as Sam burst into a new fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"My grandfather, Joseph, took a turn as a professional billiard player for a time right after he got out of the Marines. He kind of taught me a few things," Reggie explained as Dean continued to gape at her.

"A few?" Dean grumbled, looking petulant. "You could have told me that in the first place!" He glared between Reggie and the pool table. "Not exactly fair," he continued to mumble as they walked back to their table.

"I guess you're right," Reggie said, shrugging. "But what can I say? It's fun tormenting you, Dean." Sam held his side as he slid off his stool, draining the last of his beer.

"I'm gonna go get another beer, anyone want anything?"

"Yeah," Dean snapped. "Get me another beer and a whiskey chaser."

"I think I'm good for now," Reggie said as she sipped from her glass. Sam nodded and headed over to the bar.

As Sam passed, the music came to an abrupt halt and there was a screeching reverb as a man dressed in black leather pants and a matching leather vest stepped back from the microphone in the center of the stage. Sam winced and stuck his hands over his ears waiting for the sound to dissipate. The guy tapped the microphone a few times and finally the noise stopped.

"Sorry, folks," the man muttered into the microphone before taking a step back and nodding to his drummer. The band began to play, the notes sounding terribly off key. Sam grimaced and continued making his way over to the bar.

Once the bartender had filled his order and handed his change back to him, Sam began his trip back over to the pool tables. When he arrived, though, Reggie and Dean were gone. He scanned the crowd, confused and a little worried, the feeling of dread he'd had the night before rising in his stomach. Sam wandered around the bar, still holding the drinks in his hands and, as he approached the area where the dartboards were, recognized Dean's voice above the music.

"You gonna tell me your grandfather or somebody was a professional dart player too?"

Sam squeezed through a small group of people swaying to the music, which had picked up pace, but still sounded awful, and saw Reggie and Dean standing in front of a dartboard as Dean handed Reggie three red-tailed darts. Dean spotted Sam and started towards him. He took the chaser, gulped down some of his beer, and followed it quickly with the whiskey. "Thanks."

"Sure. Thanks for disappearing on me," Sam grumbled. Dean eyed him for a second, then shook his head.

"Relax, Sammy. It's not like we went very far." He took another sip of his beer and handed it back to Sam. "I was just about to school Reggie on darts."

"School me, huh?" Reggie called from her place behind Dean. "I can't wait to see this."

Dean grinned and strolled over to where she stood. Sam spotted an open table nearby and pulled a stool out to sit down.

He watched as Dean and Reggie played, laughing as his brother grew more and more irritated as Reggie's darts landed easily, matching Dean point for point. It was fun - easy - to hang out in a bar with his brother and their friend and just be normal for a little while. It made it easy for Sam to keep his mind on the present, on the lighthearted banter between Reggie and Dean.

Sam's eyes steadily grew heavy, the last few days finally catching up to him. He glanced down at his watch and saw that it was almost twelve-thirty. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, glancing up again. Dean and Reggie were still playing darts, Reggie leading Dean by one game. Dean walked over, grumbling to himself, to gulp some more of his beer. Sam had lost count on how many his brother'd had, his brain foggy with exhaustion.

"Hey, man," Sam started before having to cover his mouth to stifle another yawn.

"Easy there, Sam. You don't want to dislocate your jaw," Reggie teased as she stepped up next to him and reached for her own drink.

Sam smiled weakly at her. "Guys, I'm beat. Do you think maybe we can call it a night?"

"No way. I'm just about to beat her again," Dean said.

"You think so, do you?" Reggie teased. Dean grabbed his leather jacket and fished the Impala's keys out of one of its pockets.

"Here," Dean said, shoving the keys into Sam's hand. "Go ahead without me. I can get a ride with Reggie." Sam nodded and pulled on his coat. He waved at his brother and Reggie as he started for the exit.

"See ya," Reggie called after him as he disappeared into the crowd.

Sam stepped outside, the cold night air frigid against his warm skin, and made his way over to the Impala. The drive back to the motel seemed to take no time at all. He entered the room without turning on the lights, took off his coat, tossed it on a chair, and stumbled towards his bed. Sam gratefully pushed off his shoes and climbed under the covers, sleep overtaking him within seconds.

Reggie stood watching Dean as he aimed at the dartboard, his eyes focused and his lips set in a thin line of determination. He took a steady breath and threw his dart. It landed in the center of the board. "Ha! Beat that," he cried as he spun around and beamed confidently at Reggie.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her beer. Reggie could feel the booze in her system, her cheeks warm and her head light. Dean strolled over to the table and lifted his glass, realizing, when nothing hit his lips, that it was empty.

"Huh," he grunted and put the glass back on the table.

Reggie got up and positioned herself to throw her first dart. They were currently tied in winning games and she glanced back at Dean, watching as he picked up her beer glass and drained it.

Shaking her head, Reggie turned back to the dartboard and focused her eyes on the red center, taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes a split second before she threw the first dart. Reggie heard Dean whoop as the dart missed the bull's-eye. She threw the next two the same way, waiting for Dean's triumphant cries after each dart missed their mark.

"I won!" he yelled, throwing his hands into the air and smiling broadly.

"That you did." Reggie returned to the table and grabbed her jacket. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat."

"Yeah." Dean nodded and yawned. "I think it's time we call it a night. Besides, I think I've thoroughly tromped you enough for one night." He grabbed his jacket and started for the door, Reggie staring incredulously after him.

She followed Dean out into the night, the cold air brisk against her warm cheeks. Reggie pulled out her car keys and unlocked the driver's side door, groaning at Dean's unrelenting stream of self-praise, as she leaned across the seat to unlock the passenger door.

"…unbelievable skills like mine. You shouldn't feel that bad," Dean was saying as he climbed into the Plymouth.

Reggie drove down the winding road, listening to Dean continue his arrogant boasting. She turned on the radio, the CD player she'd installed only two years prior immediately starting. Def Leppard's "Euphoria" began to play, "Demolition Man" blasting from the speakers. Reggie turned the volume down some, hoping the music had ceased Dean's vain bragging. She sighed in relief when Dean remained silent. He turned to her, a strange look on his face.

"What?" she asked, concern edging up her spine.

"You're listening to Def Leppard?" Dean asked in disbelief, his green eyes wide.

"Um, yeah…," Reggie answered hesitantly. "I'm kind of partial to heavy metal and '80's rock." Dean continued to stare at her, his mouth hanging open as the music played. "I have a CD case in the back if you want to listen to something else," Reggie offered, her voice rising higher as she began to feel self-conscious under Dean's stare.

Dean blinked, his jaw snapping closed, and he turned to look out the windshield. "No. This is good." They drove in silence for a few minutes and Reggie relaxed again.

"You know, if you would have just waited a few seconds between your last two darts, you probably wouldn't have missed that last shot," Dean stated out of nowhere.

Reggie groaned loudly. She turned into the motel parking lot and pulled up next to the Impala, roughly yanking the car's gear shift into Park.

"That's it!" Reggie cried, yanking off her seatbelt. "I can't listen to another minute of your egotistical bull! I let you win, Dean, all right?" Reggie shouted.

"I'm sure you want to think that…" Dean began to argue.

"No, Dean," Reggie snapped, cutting him off. "I know it! I was tryingto be nice, but you won't shut up and I can't take it anymore!" Reggie glared at Dean. "I - Let - You - Win!" she spat, saying each word with emphasis. "I wasn't even trying with my last three shots."

Reggie continued to glare at Dean, watching as what she said sunk in. She was vaguely aware that the next song on the CD had begun. Joe Elliot's voice crooned out the beginning lyrics to "Promises" as she looked at Dean, waiting for him to respond.

Dean stared back at her, at a loss for words. "You…," Dean started to say before stopping.

Reggie growled, turned off the engine, and threw open her car door. She was halfway across the muddy lot when she heard Dean scrambled from the car. "Why?" he finally managed to call out to her. She continued to her room, listening to his footsteps behind her as he hurried to catch up.

When Reggie had reached her room and unlocked the door, she spun to face him, finding Dean much closer than she'd expected, the proximity startling her. She felt some of her anger ebb away.

"I saw how frustrated you were and I was tired, so I figured letting you win would be the simplest way to balance things out. You would relax about losing to a girl and we could finally leave."

"So, you're an expert at billiards and darts, you have great taste in music. And let's not forget cars, of which you also know the inner workings of…" Dean muttered staring at Reggie as she stood in the doorway of her room.

"What's your point, Dean?"

"You're me, but with, you know...girl parts."

Reggie snorted at Dean and he smiled at her.

"I mean it, Reggie. You even eat like me. If we looked alike, and I wasn't absolutely positive that you were born when you were to different parents, I'd think we were separated at birth!"

"Good thing you're absolutely positive, then," Reggie said, her face going a bright pink as she began to blush. Dean nodded at her, chuckling himself. "I mean, if we were related, then what happened that night in the abandoned apartments would have been…"

"Creepy," Dean finished.

He stared at Reggie, feeling the tension between them intensify. Reggie moved towards him, closing the few inches that had been separating them, and placed her hand gently on his chest, over his heart.

"Are you saying you think I'm creepy?" Reggie asked, her voice husky and low. "Or that what happened was creepy?" She looked up at him, her green eyes bright and expectant, with a small smile on her lips. Dean swallowed against the lump that had risen in his throat.

He shook his head. "No, it definitely wasn't creepy…" he started to say before Reggie silenced him with a groan and a roll of her eyes.

"Just shut up, Dean," Reggie growled as she grabbed Dean's shirt, pulled him to her, and kissed him.

Dean raised his hands to her face, holding it gently between them as he kissed her back, his eyes drifting closed. He felt her wrap her arms around the back of his neck as she pulled herself closer. His hand slipped around her slender waist and he twined his other hand in her hair.

Seconds later, Dean broke off the kiss, breathing heavily. Reggie looked at him, her eyes slightly glazed, her skin flushed. "What?"

"A little intense, don't you think?" Dean asked, giving her a crooked grin.

"I think that's the point."

"The last time…I mean, we got pretty close…" Dean stammered. He took a deep breath, smelling the scents of her shampoo and skin in the air around him. "Things are kind of going in a particular direction…" Dean stared down at her, trying to read her expression.

"I know," Reggie replied bluntly. "And I'm game if you are."

Dean stared at her for a second, reading the assuredness of the words on her face. Then he grinned at Reggie, lifted her up with the arm still tightly wrapped around her waist, and stepped into the room, kicking the door closed with the heel of his boot.

Dean opened his eyes slowly, his head still thick with sleep. He shifted and felt the weight of Reggie's arm across his stomach. He could feel the rough texture of her cast against his skin, but didn't move it. Dean turned his head on the pillow and stared at the woman as she slept peacefully curled beside him. He used his free hand to brush the hair from her cheek, gently stroking the skin across her cheekbone. Dean smiled to himself as he began to drift away again, Reggie's steady breathing lulling him back to sleep.