A/N: Hello everyone! Apologies for the long wait. I've been really busy with school and have been battling writer's block on this story. Pssst! Reviews make me want to post!

Chapter 13

Dean woke up in the middle of the night to a dark room and a shadowy shape standing over him. Glancing at the other bed, he could see Sam was asleep. That only left one candidate. He looked back at the shadow, eyes lidded and half-closed, "What is it?"

Cas's voice sounded through the room, "Dean, I am afraid I am in need of assistance."

"Uh-huh. At one-o'clock in the freaking morning?"

The angel's eyes narrowed confusedly, "It's 12:06."

"Yeah, Cas. Figure of speech. What do you need?"

"How do I… Dean, how do I go to sleep?"

The man chuckled, "Getting tired, huh?"

Cas cocked his head in an odd sort of nod, "It is a strange, but necessary process. As a human I had hoped you could explain it to me."

"Uhh… I don't know. You just sort of lie there and eventually you wake up."

"I do not understand…"

"Just- just go lie down, Cas. Try counting sheep."

Dean heard the angel mutter as he turned and walked away, "What sheep? We do not own any sheep. What could sheep possibly have to do with…"

Shaking his head at the retreating figure, Dean turned over to go back to sleep.

The next day it was agreed that Cas would stay in the room, out of sight, while Sam and Dean went to do interviews and get information. Dean pulled into a parking spot outside a bar, according to the sign called "The Red Pony." Sam stared at him, "Seriously, dude?"

Dean returned his look, "What? Bars are a good place to get info."

Sam blinked, speaking as they exited the car, "Okay, just, remember we're here to work, not drink."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean muttered under his breath, "Prude."

Sam glanced at him, a confused look on his face, "What?"

"What?"

Sam shook his head, "Nothing."

Dean looked him over, "Hey, uh, by the way, you're really pretty with your hair down like that."

Sam stared at him, "Dean…"

"I'm just saying, you should wear it like that more often. It's all…" He motioned with his fingers, "…Wavy and stuff."

"Shut up."

Dean smiled as the entered the bar, making their way to sit at the counter. The Indian bartender was on the phone at the moment, and so they sat for a minute, absorbing the atmosphere and casing the clientele.

A big guy in a cowboy hat came swaggering over, pointedly ignoring Dean as he leaned over the counter, "Hey."

Sam glanced at him, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, "Hi."

"So, uh, my name's Fred Morgan. What's yours?"

"Uh… Sam."

"Cute name." His eyes raked over Sam and the girl shot a glare at Dean who was trying desperately not to laugh.

"Don't suppose you'd let me buy you a drink. Pretty girl like yourself, damn shame for you to have to go thirsty."

"No… that's okay."

"You sure? It's my treat."

Dean finally decided to help his brother out, "Hey! Dick! She's not interested in you."

For the first time the man took notice of Dean, "Yeah? And how would you know?"

Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulders and donned a vaguely possessive smile, "'Cause she's here with me. Right, baby?" He grinned at Sam, whose expression was rapidly sliding towards bitchface. Then he suddenly smiled back, "Always, honey," and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek. Dean gave the guy a smile, "See? Now get lost."

Sam's smile vanished and Dean retracted his arm as soon as the guy left. Sam spoke, "I can't decide if this is better or worse than when everyone thought we were gay."

"Better. Definitely better."

"Yeah, well you're not stuck as the girl."

"Dude, they already thought you were the girl."

"Hilarious."

A new voice broke in, "I hope he didn't give you any trouble." They looked up to see the bartender, away from the phone and standing in front of them. Dean spoke, "Oh, no. It's fine. You know how it is. Sammy here's so pretty, can't get rid of them. Don't know why she stays with me."

Sam smiled tightly, "Just stupid, I guess."

"I am Henry. What are you doing here?"

Dean's arm snaked back around Sam's shoulders, an idea coming to him, "Oh, you know. We're just passing through. We're doing a road trip for our one year anniversary of us dating. We're trying to see as many states as possible."

The bartender continued to smile, "A laudable goal."

Dean continued to talk over the next few minutes, trying to build up a relationship with the bartender and make him amenable to giving them information. Dean thought they were doing quite well.

"Hey, so, um, how about these deaths, huh?"

The man leaned on the bar, an incredulous look slightly altering the ever-present smile, "This is a bar. We serve drinks. If you want information, I recommend speaking with the sheriff."

Dean smiled, "Point taken. Two beers, please."

"Good."

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled in frustration as they walked out.

"I don't know, I thought we were doing pretty well until the end there."

"Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you go chat up Fred? I think he likes you."

Sam glared at him across the top of the car, "Dean, if you ever mention that again-"

"What? It was a valid suggestion. I'm serious."

"No. Never. Not in a million years."

Dean shrugged, climbing into the car as he spoke, "Fine. Who's first on the list?"

"Ummm… widow of wife-beater guy."

Dean started the car, "Okay."

About half an hour later the bartender made his way over to a new arrival, a middle-age man with a gun on his belt and an air of authority.

"Walt, it is good to see you."

"I got your call. What is it Henry?"

"There were two people in here earlier, a man and a woman, asking about the murders. They were trying to pass themselves off as curious passers-through. I thought you would like to know."

"What happened?"

"They are bad actors."