"So I found out who Hector was," Sam said, entering the hotel room holding two cups of coffee. Daylight shone in behind him. "He was the leader of a gang of bikers, real hard core. They were into running guns, ammo, even wanted for a couple of bank robberies."

"Hector?" Dean asked, reaching for the coffee Sam held out to him, still holding an ice pack on his head with his other hand. He was sitting on the bed of the hotel in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt, another ice pack on his lap. He winced slightly as he leaned forward for the coffee.

Sam smirked at his brother's pain. "Biker Dude from last night," he reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, right. The dead boyfriend." Dean replied. "But did you find out anything about the redhead?"

"Stella." Sam said. "Not much. She just showed up out of nowhere one day. Hector's friends all say she put him under some kind of spell or something. He was nuts about her. Like, literally crazy."

"Yeah, no kidding," Dean said, standing up and reaching for his jeans. Then it dawned on him just who his brother had talked to in finding out about Hector. "Wait a minute! You talked to a biker gang alone? Never do that without backup, Sammy!"

"It's a good thing I got to them when I did!" Sam retorted, pouting a little, throwing clothes into a duffle bag as he spoke, "The police were right behind me! They're going after her, Dean! We've got to get to her first. Once the police are done talking to them, they're gonna try to kill her! She's one of us, man!"

"And just how do you expect to find her?" Dean asked, zipping up his jeans and sitting down to pull his boots on.

Sam put his right hand on the doorknob and reached into his back pocket with his left, the duffle bag over his shoulder, ready to go. Pulling out a small slip of paper, he said, "I've got the license number of that Mustang."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get the bitch!" Dean grabbed his own bag and his brown leather jacket. "One of us..." he muttered, as he closed the door behind him. He had his own reasons for wanting to find her.

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot where a lone building with neon lights stood. Several women, dressed to the nines, were laughing and making their way to the door. Not bad, he thought, smiling to himself.

"Dean!" Sam snapped, knowing what was on his brother's mind. "We're here for Stella, remember?"

"Right. Stella." The smile left his face at the thought of her. And she had been so nice when she was dancing for him! He pulled the car around to the back of the building and quickly spotted the familiar orange-red Mustang. He wanted to kick it or smash in the windows, but that car was just too sweet.

"She's here," Sam said as Dean parked within sight of the Mustang. "Let's go inside."

They went around to the front of the building where a tall, muscular black man in black pants and a tight black t-shirt blocked their way. "Ladies night only," the bouncer said to them.

"Oh, but we work here," Sam protested.

"Yeah," Dean chimed in flashing a grin at the bouncer, "just starting tonight."

The bouncer looked him up and down and growled, "Dancers go in around back."

"Around back?" Sam asked, pushing Dean back the way they had come. "Sure no problem."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute!" Dean protested at Sam as they rounded to corner of the building. "Dancers?"

They went up to the back door where another man was sitting on a barstool, reading a magazine. Unlike the muscular bouncer out front, this guy was scrawny, but he was still blocking their way to the back door, with his legs propped up on the door jam. Sam pushed Dean towards him.

Dean walked up saying, "I, uh, think I'm supposed to come in here. I just got a job here, uh, starting tonight."

The guy gave him the same once-over the bouncer had and moved so Dean could get by. He looked at Sam, directly behind Dean and said, "Sorry. No boyfriends allowed."

"Boyfriend?" Sam protested, a look of grief on his face. "No, I start working tonight too. I'm a, uh, waiter."

The man let Sam pass. Dean chuckled and grinned back at the man, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder, with Sam still muttering, "Boyfriend?"

Dressed in tight black pants and a bow tie with no shirt and holding a serving tray, Sam approached the bar. A tastefully dressed bartender with her red hair pulled back into a neat ponytail barely glanced at him. "What'll it be sweetie?" She looked him full in the face when he didn't answer. "Oh, no! Shit!" she said under her breath. "Get out of here!" she hissed at him.

"Look, we're here to help you," Sam whispered back. "Hector's friends are looking for you!"

A brief look of fear crossed her face, then annoyance. "Well, they're not getting past Mike Tyson out there!" she hissed again, referring to the bouncer. "Besides, I can take care of myself!"

"We got by him, didn't we?" Sam pointed out.

"We?" she asked, looking around nervously for Dean. She knew she'd hurt him pretty badly.

"Is there a problem here?" A tall, stylish, blonde woman in a dark pin-striped suit walked up to them. Standing eye to eye with Sam, she asked, "Who are you? I don't remember hiring you."

"No, no problem. Charlie hired him," Stella said to her. "It's his first night. I'll show him where his station is." She came around the bar and took Sam by the elbow.

"Charlie knows all the new help gets approved by me first," the blonde said. "But you'll do." She stroked Sam's chest as Stella yanked on his arm, pulling him away.

"Okay, where the hell is he?" she asked, still hissing at Sam. Staying Alive started playing in the background and Sam was staring at the stage and his brother, who had just been pushed out to the stage by one of the other dancers. He was dressed in tight white pants and a royal blue collared shirt, open to the waist, with a white jacket, looking like he had just stepped out of a bad 70s porn movie. Stella yanked on Sam's arm again, pulling him out of the laughing fit that was about to start. Women were whistling, hooting and yelling at Dean to "take it off!" while Sam and Stella made their way backstage. From backstage, they waved at a stagestruck Dean to get off the stage, while on the other side, one of the dancers said to another, "What a pity! He would have made a great dancer! Just look at that body! Mmmmm, mmm!"

Coming to his senses, Dean moved backwards towards Sam and Stella, standing behind the curtain. "Sorry, ladies! Gotta run!" he said to the still screaming, hooting audience. Just then a gunshot rang out. Three bikers were standing in the front door of the club, one of then pointing a pistol at the ceiling. Having never seen Dean, they didn't realize who he was. They were too busy looking for Stella to care about a dancer with stagefright. Dean ran off the stage and he and Sam both grabbed her, pushing her toward the back door, grabbing their clothes on the way.

"Hey, wait! My bag!" she protested, slipping out of their grasp and ducking back towards the bar. Just as she reached the bar, two more bikers came in through the back door.

Dean looked at Sam, "We're being shot at and she has to stop and get her purse?" Sam shrugged and they ducked down and followed her toward the bar. The bikers had started on the opposite end of the room, checking out all the female patrons, now hovering on the floor, pulling up any redhead they saw and then shoving them back to the floor. Staying Alive was still playing in the background.

Popping up from behind the bar, the sawed-off shotgun in her hands, Stella fired off two rounds, hitting two of the first three bikers, killing them instantly. "Oh, sh..." Dean and Sam said, simultaneously. Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out two pistols, tossing one to Sam, who was closer to the bar. They turned and fired on the bikers who had come in the back and were now blocking their exit. Dean hit one of the bikers in the leg, as the other ducked behind a wall, Sam's bullet just missing him. Stella ran up behind them, a backpack thrown over one shoulder, the shotgun still in her hands. "Never leave home without it," she said, grinning at the brothers. A shot rang past them. Sam turned and fired back at the third biker in the front of the building. They were running for the back door when the biker who had ducked behind the wall jumped out, but before he could fire off a single shot, Stella hit him in the stomach with a single blast from the shotgun. As they jumped over the dead biker, Sam glanced down to stare into his vacant eyes, crimson trickling out of his mouth and streaming toward his ear. They ran past the doorman, also dead, through the back door to face a blazing fire in the parking lot.

"My car!" Stella screamed as the brothers pulled on her arms, pulling her toward the Impala. They knew that at least two of the bikers were still alive in the club. Neither of them had shot to kill. She struggled against them, straining toward the burning Mustang. Frustrated, Dean picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, now running for the Impala, with Sam running behind them. Stella was still screaming to get back to her car.

"Shut up!" Dean growled at her as he dumped her on the ground beside his car.

"Dean, they're coming!" Sam said impatiently, looking back toward the club.

Without hesitation, Dean hauled his fist back and hit Stella as hard as he could. She slumped to the ground, unconscious. Dean pulled Stella into the backseat and Sam threw her backpack in on the floorboard after her. He wrapped her shotgun in his clothes as he and Dean climbed into the front seat. Leaning over so they couldn't be seen, they heard two bikes roar past them. Starting up the Impala after the bikes went by, they heard sirens in the distance and then an explosion as the fire reached the Mustang's gas tank. Dean pulled slowly out, as if nothing were wrong. "We've got to help her, Dean." he muttered under his breath, "She's one of us, Dean! Jeezus!"