Chapter Two

"…he hadn't realized I had put superglue on the bottle," Sam finished his story, causing Jo to throw her head back with laughter.

"And what did you do for payback?" She asked Dean when she got her breath back.

"Nothing…yet," Dean said with a devious smile at his brother. They might have agreed to stop with the prank war, but he hadn't forgotten about it. "Anyone up for another round?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm going to head back to the motel. Starting to get a headache."

"Getting sick?"

"I don't think so. Some Tylenol should clear it up."

"Good. Last thing I need is you throwing up all over my baby. What about you Jo? Another drink?"

"Absolutely."

As both brothers got up from the table, Sam held out his hand. "Dude, keys?"

"No way. My baby likes the bar. She's staying with me."

"How am I supposed to get home, then?"

"Use those freakishly long legs of yours. It's only a mile-long walk."

"Come on, man, I'm the one with the headache here."

"If you take the Impala, how do you expect Jo and me to get home?"

"It's only a mile-long walk," Sam replied with a sly grin.

Dean grumbled as he fished his keys out of his pocket. "Making a lady walk home in the dark. You know, Sammy, most people would consider that rude."

"You're right," Sam turned to Jo. "I'm sorry I'm making you walk home in the dark with this obnoxious asshole."

Jo grinned as Dean punched Sam in the arm.

"Hey! Jerk."

"Bitch."

As Sam started to turn his back and head towards the door, Dean called, "Get one scratch on my baby, and I'll…"

"I know, I know," Sam called over his shoulder. "You'll kill my sorry ass and then hunt down my spirit so you can kill my sorry dead ass."

"Damn straight." Dean headed in the opposite direction towards the crowded bar. Getting the bartender's attention, he silently held up two fingers. The bartender nodded and came back with a pair of beers. Dean tossed some money down on the counter and headed back to the table.

He was a little surprised when he saw two obviously drunk guys standing by the table, talking to Jo. Actually, judging by her face, it looked more like they were harassing Jo. Well, that won't end well for them, he thought, trying to move more quickly through the crowded room.

Suddenly, one of the guys tried to grab Jo's arm. She easily avoided his grasp and returned his gesture with a quick, hard punch to the stomach. The man doubled over, backing away. His friend reacted with a clumsy throw, missing Jo by several inches. She retaliated with a series of quick punches to the abdomen and an uppercut to the jaw. He was tougher, or at least more stupid, than his friend, and he didn't back off right away.

By this time, the other man had returned, but so had Dean. Before the man could make a move towards Jo, Dean grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, giving him a nice face full of fist in the process. Another punch combined with a kick to the groin and the guy fell to the floor.

Dean looked back over to Jo. The other guy was down for the count, but another man had decided to join in on the fun. How many stupid drunks are there in this bar Dean thought with exasperation as he hurried over to assist his friend.

This guy was obviously a better fighter than the first two. He managed to block a few of Jo's jabs, though he still couldn't land any hits. That is, until Dean walked up behind him and got caught in the nose by a wild elbow.

Dean backed up, hands covering his now bleeding face, cursing his own stupidity. He should have seen that coming.

Somehow the drunk managed to get his arms around Jo. He held her tight against his chest as one of the first guys got up and started moving towards them. The returner brought his fist back, but before he could land a punch, Jo kicked him hard, bringing him to his knees. She head-butted the guy holding her, forcing him to loosen his grip and allowing her to escape.

Dean caught the guy with a jab, finally knocking him out. Looking around, he saw no more stupid drunks trying to join the fight. What he did see, however, was the bartender with a shotgun in his hand, walking angrily towards them.

"Out!" He shouted at them. "I don't tolerate no brawls in my bar! Get out! Now!"

Took you long enough Dean thought ruefully as he and Jo walked through the door, leaving the bartender to deal with the three downed drunks.

"Nice face," Jo said when they were alone in the cold.

"Shut up," Dean replied, leaning his head back to try and stop the blood from gushing out of his nose. "You're the one who started the fight."

"Hey, I didn't ask for them to be stupid."

Dean snorted. "You see the punch that second guy tried to throw?"

"It was pretty awful," Jo laughed.

"Ah, damn!" Dean said suddenly.

"What?"

"Forgot our beers in the bar."

Jo laughed again, and they continued their walk back to the motel. The night was cold and dark, the only noise the sound of their boots crunching on the snow. It only took a few minutes for Dean's nosebleed to stop, and by that point they were almost halfway there.

The hunters froze as they heard a scream echo from the alley on their right. Glancing at each other, they both pulled pistols out from the band of their jeans, clicking off the safety. Silently they ran into the alley.

Two large men, both armed with crowbars, were approaching a woman cowering in a corner. She screamed again, pure terror on her face.

"Back off!" Dean yelled at the men as he and Jo ran into the alley.

The men hesitated, noticing the guns that were pointed at them.

The hunters moved between the men and the woman.

"Drop the crowbars and leave," Dean warned.

The men glanced at each other, obviously unsure of what to do.

"I said drop the-" Dean was cut off by a gasp from Jo. Glancing beside him, he saw her clutching at a depressed syringe sticking out of her neck. "The hell…?"

Suddenly the woman kicked Jo hard in the back of the knee, making her fall to the ground. Before Dean could react, one of the men slammed a crowbar into his stomach. Dean doubled over, the wind knocked out of him. That was soon followed by a blow across his back. Winded, Dean's instincts kicked in and he rolled to the side. He crouched, gun raised.

"Get him!" the woman commanded as she leaned over Jo's unconscious body.

The men rushed towards him. Taking aim, Dean shot the one on the right in the arm. The man stopped, screaming, but the other one continued forward. Before Dean could get in another shot, the uninjured man swung his crowbar and knocked the gun out of his hands. Dean grabbed the crowbar the next time it came within reach and pulled, dragging the man towards him. He kicked the unbalanced man in the stomach, causing him to double over and lose his grip on his weapon. Wielding the crowbar, Dean slammed it across his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. The man grabbed Dean's ankle and pulled it out from under him, causing him to fall onto his back. The grunt stood and grabbed Dean by his shirt, pulling him up. The man placed one hand around Dean's throat and squeezed. Dean gasped, struggling against the unyielding hand. He kicked out with his foot, and felt a satisfying crunch as his kick landed in the guy's crotch. The man dropped Dean and he fell to the ground. He felt a sharp pull on his neck as they separated and realized his amulet had broken off in the grunt's hand.

Seeing that the downed man wasn't about to attack him again anytime soon, Dean looked over at the other grunt. He was still shell-shocked from his wound and posed no immediate threat. Dean turned just in time to see the woman before she tackled him to the ground. She immediately pulled out another syringe and plunged it into his neck. In moments Dean was slipping away into unconsciousness.