A/N: Ok, I've been trying to make this one work for a while. It didn't start out meaning to be anyone's POV, but Dean muscled on in there for most of it... Hopefully, it's a fun read – I certainly enjoyed writing it!

And be reassured – I'm about as fond of Mary Sues as I am of having to keep reminding myself that I don't in fact own anything Supernatural-related other than DVDs (and a funky clock!). So don't be put off by the beginning. I promise that OFC is not the point of this piece!

Please review and let me know what you think – I'm intrigued to see whether people agree with how I think Dean would react to this situation. Italics represent Dean's thoughts, although I'm sure you all know that lol!

Officer

They stood and waited, having rung the doorbell of the imposingly expensive-looking house in front of them. Each brother wore a deep blue jacket bearing the badge of the local police department. As disguises go, it was always one of their favourites – conveniently explaining away any weapons they may happen to be carrying. And, of course, the uniforms always helped when it came to interviewing impressionable young women. Something Dean was much happier about using to their advantage than his younger brother was, but hey, as long as it worked.

The door swung slowly open in front of them. Sam clicked straight into professional mode, training in how to carry this particular charade off convincingly making it as close to instinct as it could be. On the surface, Dean did the same. In reality, huge amounts of concentration were devoted to not letting his jaw hit the floor as he stared at the vision that stood in the doorway. The stunning, mini-skirt-clad, blonde vision.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I'm Officer Burnett, this is Officer Lowrey. Are you Eve Henderson?" Sam's voice was deeper than normal, affecting an authoritative tone – letting just a hint of a drawl creep in there. Dean, as usual, fought to hold back a smirk. Because Sam was far better at this game than he would ever admit to either Dean or himself. Better than that protesting, cuddly, caring morality of his – wouldn't be such a problem if he actually had, like, testosterone somewhere in there - would let him admit.

Dean sometimes worried he was being outdone in the charming stakes. Would never say it, because the bitchy backtalk, the snide insults, would be endless. But those damn puppy eyes that Sam had learned far too early would get pretty much anything he wanted out of Dean – they worked on other people too, and, damn, they always worked. The fact that he had more ammo to back them up, even more ways to turn on that charm when he needed it? That was just plain unnecessary.

"No, I'm not, but she is here. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to talk to you, officers." The last word of the reply was just that bit emphasized, a slight smile accompanying the end of the sentence. Later, Dean would think that his first clue should have been right there. But at that moment, he was oblivious. Blissfully ignorant.

It was like a switch had been flicked inside Dean. The upstairs and downstairs brains had conferenced and decided that they were working for a common purpose. There was no way – no way – he was letting Sammy unleash the full-force puppy-dog offensive on this one. Not before he'd been allowed to assert his own clearly more masculine irresistibility.

He cleared his throat as he took half a step forward, finding and maintaining eye contact – the eyes, look at the eyesas he began. "Well, that's just great. We need to speak with Eve. It's.." A conspiratorial lowering of the voice, drawing her in – mentally and physically too – damn, this stuff was fun. "It's important. If you could take us right on through – um...?"

"Amy." Dean could hear it in her voice – she'd fallen for it, so quickly it was almost unbelievable. If Eve was anything like her friend, this was going to be one of the easiest fake police investigations they'd ever carried out. Which, for figuring out just what was going on with this hunt and getting the hell out of possibly the most hideous motel room he'd ever seen – which was saying a lot – was a very good thing. "I can absolutely take you through. Just follow me."

Dean followed Amy straight into the hallway, focus unwaveringly on her. He didn't need to look back – he could practically hear Sammy rolling his eyes. No good, can't just turn this sort of chemistry on and off, dude.

Amy led them down the hall into a huge kitchen-dining-area-in-one, the interior of the house just confirming the impression from outside that these were some pretty well-off people they were helping. Not for the first time, Dean wished they could operate in a less under-the-radar way. That they could just come out and tell people what they were doing. Set up an agency or something. Be legitimately official, because it was pretty likely that all they'd have to do was sit back and watch people fall over themselves to compensate them for the crap they went through every damn day. Get something real back. And the hero worship and admiration from those adoring hordes of rescued damsels? Well, that wouldn't hurt either.

Dean snapped back into focus as Sam tapped him on the shoulder. "Dean, I forgot something in the car."

"'K Sammy, you run back and get that. I'll just stick around here, wait for Eve." He flashed a confident grin in Amy's direction, noted with satisfaction the coy half-smile that she sent his way in response.

Usually, Dean knew his brother inside-out. Never missed a beat when it came to Sammy's moods, the different tones in his voice. But just then, his attention was elsewhere, caught up in turning the self-assured charm up to 11, and he missed it. Missed the well-concealed undercurrent in Sam's voice as he told Amy he'd be back in "just a minute" and headed back down the hallway. That was one he'd kick himself for later. Second clue, right there, and still nothing had registered.

There was a moment of silence after Sam left, which Amy broke as she (reluctantly, Dean noticed) said she'd just go and let Eve know that he wanted to see her. Dean glanced around the kitchen after she left, saw the large amounts of alcohol sitting on the side. Wow, someone's getting ready to party. That was the first moment that something started nagging at the back of his mind. Something... not quite right? But as he was about to start really taking notice of that feeling, Amy's voice drifted through from the next room.

The ultra-cool, cocky swagger returned easily to his mindset and his movements as he made his way to the room the voice was coming from. He pushed open the door... and stopped dead in his tracks.

It wasn't often that Dean was phased by things. He could pretty much take anything in his stride. Improvisation, adjusting attitudes and reactions on demand, was more than just an art, it was an essential life skill. One that he excelled at. But this? This was... new. Unexpected was an understatement. It completely blind-sided him, froze him in the doorway.

This wasn't Amy and Eve, like he'd been expecting to see. Instead, he was standing in front of a whole room full of women. Slightly inebriated, giggling, twenty-something women. Some of them with bright red "L" plates hanging around their necks. His eyes darted around, took in the scene, and things started to fall slowly into place. Into a very bad place. A place he didn't want to think things could possibly fall into. Because, if they did... holy crap.

The couple of seconds seemed to stretch out into hours of awkward silence, the air in the room practically humming with anticipation. It was Amy's hand resting lightly on his arm, the question - "Isn't your partner back yet, officer?" - that actually made it hit Dean. This was actually happening. He couldn't believe it. Any semblance of dignity, of cool, calm and collected, completely deserted him as the words tripped over themselves in the rush to get the hell out.

"Woah, woah... no, you think...? No, no, I'm... we're... look, erm, ladies, we're not... I mean, my partner and I – not, like, my partner, we work together... woah, but no, no, not like that... that came out wrong... Look, we're actually police officers, ok?" In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best time to bring out the badge and handcuffs that had come with the jacket to prove his point. Idiot.

"Oh, come on, you're not fooling anyone," Amy giggled. "No actual police officer would flirt that openly. Look, if the other guy's not coming back soon, we'll find some music for you. It's Eve's last day of freedom! Let's see your moves – it feels like you're just all muscle under this jacket..." As her hand started travelling slowly up his arm, Dean finally re-discovered how to move. He stepped quickly away, yanking his arm from Amy's grasp as if she'd hit him with an electrical charge.

"Woah, ok – that's enough. Look, I'm not a stripper, ok? I'm an officer of the law. Eve, we'll come back to speak with you at a less... inappropriate... time, and let's all just try to forget about this incident, shall we? Ok... erm... I'm just gonna – leave - now." He practically ran from the room, was out the front door in five seconds flat, his cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment, still trying to process what had happened, or just forget it – forever – and move on.

But the first thing he heard as he stepped out the front door made it horribly obvious that the second of those wasn't going to be an option. It took a second to register where the mocking wolf-whistle was coming from before, of course, he saw his smug, self-satisfied, holier-than-thou, stupid pain-in-the-ass of a little brother leaning on the hood of the Impala, a huge grin spread across his face as Dean started moving towards the car.

"So, how'd it go in there? With, you know, the questioning?" Sam's frankly pitiful attempt at deadpanning ended up in a snort of laughter followed by something suspiciously like a fit of the giggles.

"Dude, don't make that noise. You sound like a 10-year-old girl." Change the subject, change the subject, shame him into shutting the hell up... But Dean knew that it was never going to work.

"Oh, man, I don't care. Nothing you say is gonna embarrass me right now! You just... you..." Sam paused to take in gulps of air in between bouts of derisive laughter. ".. you walked right on in there, you just had no clue. Damn, I wish I could have seen your face when you realized..." Sam saw the image in his head and dissolved back into giggles, tears starting to roll down his face. He hadn't laughed this hard since... well, for a while.

Dean watched in silence, completely unimpressed. Just for a few seconds. Then he turned sharply, heading for the driver's side door. As Sam headed for the passenger side, Dean reproached bitterly: "I can't believe you knew. And left. And didn't tell me. That's just... it's just low."

"Oh, come on, Dean! Appreciate the irony! You were practically drooling all over that girl, not doing the job properly, and you got caught out!"

Dean tried to protest, but his traitorous little brother was hearing none of it. "You know it's true. You would have noticed the balloons, the party in the next room, all of it, if you hadn't been trying to, like, prove your superior manliness, or chauvinistic superpowers, or whatever it is that you do." Sometimes, Dean really hated that Sammy knew him so well.

As Dean turned the key in the ignition, there was a resignation in his voice. "You're not gonna let this one go, are you?"

"Hey, I know it's difficult for you, but just look at it this way – it's incredibly entertaining for me!" Dean glared at his brother. If daggers could literally shoot out of peoples' eyes, Sam would have been pinned to the passenger door. By many, many daggers. "Come on, Dean, think about it, would you let something like this go?" The kid had a point. Damn it.

Which was no reason not to lie. "Yes!"

There were a few moments of blissful silence before Sam spoke up again. "Dean..."

"What, Sammy? More "look-at-me-being-all-superior" bitching? Go for it. But I will throw you out of this car if you really start to piss me off. While it's moving."

"Hey, come on, I can rise above it if you need me to – for a while at least. I was actually thinking, you know, I could go back and do that interview tomorrow. If you'd prefer."

"Yeah, thanks, whatever."

"I want you to know that I'm here to support you, help you out. Cause, you know, I understand that you won't have so much time for all this stuff any more. Not with your new day job..."

Once again, Sam dissolved into uncontrolled laughter, not even dissuaded by the swift punch that almost deadened his left arm. Dean drove on in stoic silence, back to the motel, trying his best to ignore the periodic insults about his IQ and his questionable sexuality. Silence. Contemplation. Thought. Plotting. Planning his revenge. Cause it was gonna have to be damn good.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A/N: Wow! Longer than I thought... But yeah, there it is. Again, let me know what you thought.

Anyone who can figure out where the fake names – and Sam's TV quote (which, if Dean would have recognized it, would have led to more accusations of Sam being a girl lol) – come from... erm... gets the extra cookie :)