By the time Sam and Dean came to the end of their spiel (and they took shifts), the look on Lory's face could have easily been sold on eBay for three million dollars.

"Whoa..." she exhaled as though her innocence had been shat upon.

"Yep, that pretty much sums it up," nodded Sam.

Turning to Dean, she inquired in awe, "So you were in Hell? Like 'Hell' Hell?"

"No, like 'Wisconsin', Hell, Special Edna."

"Dude," chided Sam, "don't be a dick. Please?"

"You tell me how many different Hells there are, and then I'll apologize."

"So, what was it like?" she prodded with an innocent, good nature.

"Like answering all your stupid fucking questions," he shot.

"Dean!"

"Yeah, I'm a rude bastard. I don't really give a fuck, Sam."

The oldest Winchester picked up his jacket, swung it on and went for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To Wisconsin, Hell!"

The door slammed loudly and sharply enough to make the girl jump. Sam sat on the bed next to her, head in his hands, as though ashamed for his brother.

"I am so sorry, Lory. I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's generally a nice- nice-ish guy, you know?"

"It's not your fault," she smiled calmly, radiating warmth, "it's not even his fault. He's a good man. The angel- Castiel- he arranged this without telling you. He's done that before, hasn't he?"

"Well, yeah. I guess he has a couple of times. Why?"

He crooked his neck a bit to look at the girl as she continued in her airy way.

"Dean is not the type of man who likes to take direction from anyone, much less orders. But being his brother, you would know that."

"Yes, but how would you?"

The girl touched a finger to her temple.

"Psychic," she replied simply with a smile.

Sam returned it.

"Well, you hit it right on the head. This whole thing has been really tough on him. It has for me, and I wasn't the one who was ripped apart and sent to Hell. I guess that's what really set him off though, tonight. It took him months to talk to me about what he experienced, and when you asked him, it just… I don't know, like I said, it's been rough."

"He abhorred me the second we came within feet of each other."

"That's not true. He can't hate you. He doesn't know you. Sometimes I think he hates me, too. But that's just Dean. It's been just us for so long… Just give it time. I promise, he'll warm to you. You're a girl, after all."

And they shared a chuckle.

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The whiskey had begun to lose its sting after the third shot. Dean sat cracking his knuckles, not even paying attention to the several fairly attractive women who were paying attention to him. There was only one woman in his head and he could not get her out. He had no idea what to make of Dolores Fletcher, and he didn't like that. Not one bit. Ordinarily, when he came across something mysterious, he or Sam killed it- not bunked with it. He resented the fact that Castiel thought that it would be just dandy to bust up the dynamic duo and add a third party- and a girl at that- and a psychic! That sounded too much like the premise of a shitty CBS sitcom for his comfort. But most of all, he hated the way she looked at him.

It was as though she could see right through him- right inside him. Inside his soul. Read his thoughts. He thought maybe she could, being psychic and all. And he didn't put it past her.

Sam's just eating it all up, isn't he? Right out of her chubby little hand.

He didn't take her for innocent act for one second. For all he knew, she could be another angel- sent to spy on them personally. God's own little narc.

"This seat taken?" was the phrase that jarred his thoughts.

He turned his head to right, looking up and down the cute, leggy blonde in the short skirt and long jacket that had spoken to him. He smiled.

"Actually, I was saving it for you."

"Oh really?" she said, sitting down, "How sweet of you."

"Well, I try my best."

"You know, that's real lucky for me because I was almost under the impression that you didn't want any company tonight. You looked kinda pissed…" she finished with a smile.

"I was, but there's nothing like a pretty lady to put a smile on my face. Name's Dean," he smiled, extending his hand.

She took it, almost caressing rather than shaking.

"Karissa."

"Nice to meet you, Karissa. That's a beautiful name. It fits you."

"Thank you. You're not bad yourself, but I bet you're taken, huh?"

"You're not a very good gambler, Miss Karissa. I'm free as a bird."

"And this bird I cannot change?" she smiled a bit before they both burst out laughing, the alcohol making the joke a little funnier than it should have been.

"You a big Skynyrd fan?"

"'Gold & Platinum' is only the best album known to man."

"Except…"

"Except 'Appetite for Destruction' by-"

"Guns N' Roses! Wow, a beautiful girl who likes Guns N' Roses. My birthday isn't for a couple months."

"I don't normally do this… But I got the original vinyls back at my place… If you wanna come and listen… I only live a few blocks away. I could whip us up some ranch potatoes skins. We can have some beers, watch some TNT- It'll be fun."

"You had me at 'ranch'."

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"Lory, what's wrong?" Sam asked, placing his hands on the girl's shoulders.

Mid-conversation she just seized up and began shaking, eyes rolling into her head. But almost as soon as he touched, she snapped out of it- perfectly still.

"D-Dean…"

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When a beautiful lady pulls you into an alley, you don't object. Dean knew this, but still couldn't help but ask.

"Nice place you got here…" he smiled as she pulled him past a fire escape, to the darkest recess of the alley.

"This isn't my place, silly. Just a little pit-stop is all."

"This is about the dirtiest pit-stop I ever made," he commented as he tried to ignore the smell of garbage and animal (and hobo) urine by focusing on Karissa's lovely, milky face.

Pushing him forcefully against the wall, she purred, "Oh, Dean… I took you as the type of guy who liked dirty…"

She dropped to her knees before him, unzipping his jeans, ripping them down his legs.

"Oh, I do. I do…"

She smiled up at him deviously, grabbing hold of the waist of his boxers, deliberately bumping into the tent in his underwear.

"You want me to take these off, Big Boy?" she teased.

"Y-yes, ma'am," he stammered, looking down into her hazel eyes which were lit with fire.

She stood up, staring into the depths of his sage-colored eyes. Her lips connected with his in a slow, sensual, wet kiss- the result of her tongue entwining with his seductively, but his trying to find its way down her throat. She brought her knee between his legs, caressing his bulge with it.

"Do you wanna fuck me, Dean Winchester?" she hissed, caressing a bit rougher, "Huh?"

"I- I... I never told you my last name was Winchester," he said as he narrowed his eyes into slits.

Her kneecap slammed into his groin with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"Oops," she shrugged, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him across to the next wall.

"You stinkin' demon-skank hoochie-momma!" he choked angrily.

"This is what you get for always thinking with Little Dean," she smirked as she crossed over to him.

"Bend over, bitch," he replied with a defiant grin, "and I'll show you how little it is."

With almost no effort, the petite woman lifted him to his feet by his shirt.

"You're a cocky one."

"You have no idea. But you almost did."

"Maybe I'll keep it as a toy after I bite it off."

Her body tensed suddenly, eyes widening as her face contorted into a grimace.

"Bite this, bitch."

Sam removed the dagger from her back and she fell to the ground between the brothers.

"Thanks," Dean shrugged lightly.

"You can thank me by pulling up your pants, dude.

As Dean fixed himself, Sam continued.

"Besides, don't thank me. Thank Lory and her 'freaky-deaky mojo'. She had a vision and we booked it over here."

The girl shrugged modestly behind Sam. Feeling a slight pang of shame, but not daring show it, Dean stoically nodded to the girl.

"Thank you."

She nodded with a warm, forgiving smile, "Just doing my job."

.