It is nearing seven o'clock when they receive a call from Brent to inform them that there has been another murder, and they have been given access to investigate. They don't waste a moment to get to the park where the murder occurred, with Dean definitely violating a couple driving laws on the way there.

Climbing out of the car, the two walk side by side towards the scene and are stopped by an officer guarding the yellow tape strung around the premises.

"You two Wesson's people?" he questions, his eyes darting between them with suspicion.

"That would be us," Laine replies with a nod as she surveys the surrounding area. Quite an exposed environment to commit a murder, but it's the same type of place as the last one.

"Go on then. Chief's waiting for you," he says and holds the tape up for them, allowing them clearance.

The chief officer spots them the moment they step foot onto the scene and begins making his way towards them, darting around the investigators and other teams to reach them. "You two sure move quickly."

"It's what we're hired for, so..." Dean replies with a shrug.

"Well, regardless, I appreciate you coming on such short notice. Hopefully more hands on deck means we'll catch this bastard quicker," the older man says with a nod, shaking each of their hands in turn.

"Who was the victim this time?" Laine casts her gaze over to the center of the crime scene behind him, the forensics team currently working away with red and blue lights illuminating the area.

"Local woman in her late twenties, Jenny Ferris," he explains as he leads them over to one of the officers standing around, who then hands him a file folder which he hands to Dean. "According to her husband, they were talking their daughter to the park when Jenny disappeared. He had no clue where she went, until he heard screaming from the trees over there. He went to see what was going on, only to find his wife mutilated on the ground. Poor man."

"Is the husband still here?" Dean asks and tucks the folder under his arm once he is done thumbing through the papers within.

The chief nods, pointing his finger at the ambulance parked a few feet away.

Before heading over to talk to the husband, Dean leans down and places a gentle hand on her elbow. "I'll go see if he saw anything notable, you check the body."

With a nod, Dean departs and she turns her gaze back to the officer. "Would it be all right if I go and have a look at the body?"

When he gives his consent, she states her thanks and excuses herself before heading over to the other ambulance, a black bag resting atop a gurney stationed next to the vehicle.

"I'm here to inspect the deceased," she says once she is standing in front of the man who appears to be from the coroner's office, if his name tag is any indication. He lifts his eyes away from his clipboard and barely spares her a glance before he shrugs and returns to his notes.

"Knock yourself out." His tone is anything but friendly and she mutters a sarcastic thanks as she brushes past him to get to the body bag. She pulls a pair of rubber gloves out of her pocket and slips them on before sliding down the zipper down the length of the bag.

The face of a woman her age greets her, and if it weren't for the blood coating her abdomen, it would look as if she was sleeping, the expression on her lifeless face peaceful. Shaking off her feelings, she slips into the mentality saved for torture and hunting.

Hitching up the blood soaked shirt of the woman, her eyes widen at the sight of a jagged cut running up the length of her abdomen. Slowly, and with slight apprehension, she tugs the flesh apart to reveal a gaping hole – a crevice she is sure was once holding something precious.

"Hey, you," she calls over her shoulder, waiting with strained patience for the notepad guy to look up. When he does, there is a prominent scowl on his angular face.

"What?" he snaps, a scalding heat present in the stare directed at her.

With a sigh, she supresses the urge to put him in his place and instead focuses on the question she needs to ask.

"Was she pregnant?" He contemplates that for a moment before he glances down at his notepad, and just when she begins to believe he has gone back to ignoring her, he looks back up and nods.

"Just over fifteen weeks. That all you needed?" His voice holds clear irritation, the emotion echoed in his hooded eyes. Returning his hard stare, she nods stiffly in response.

"Sorry for wasting your precious time," she mutters under her breath as she turns back to the body. As she reaches for the zipper to pull it back up and end her examination, her eye is caught by something jutting out of the incision.

Reaching into the cut, she grasps the tiny curved object and wiggles it free to dislodge it from the flesh. She holds it between her forefinger and thumb as she brings it up to eye level, inspecting the odd object from different angles. Closing her fist around what appears to be a claw – though to what it belongs to, she has no idea – she pulls her gloves off and tucks them securely inside of her jacket pocket.

She steps away from the bag and scans the area for Dean, soon finding him standing next to the ambulance still in conversation with the husband.

Heading over, she stops a few feet away from the two, just out of sight from the husband, and allows Dean to finishing his questioning without interruption from her. His gaze lands on her over the man's shoulder and he continues talking for a few moments more before excusing himself, slipping past the man with a nod of his head to reach her.

"Find anything?" he inquires when he reaches her, and after a nod, the two begin their walk back to the car.

"She was pregnant. Fifteen weeks."

"Just like the other victim." A look of disgust clouds his face as he falls into step alongside her, and she nods once again, confirming his statement.

Stopping, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the glove holding the claw.

"I found this embedded in the body, along the incision in her stomach." She hands over the glove for him to see and he takes a moment to snap a photo of the small object. He types something out on the screen before shoving it back into his jacket as they continue walking towards the vehicle.

"I think you're right about this being a case."

"Question is, what are we dealing with?" she asks with a quick look Dean's way before she slides into the passenger seat, eyebrows drawing together as she thinks.

Dean shrugs and starts up the car, soon merging with the rest of nighttime traffic. "I sent Zach the pic, so we'll give them a few hours to analyze it. I'll call Jamie when we get back to the room and see if they've found anything. In the meantime, it's time for some well-deserved chow."

**********

Half an hour later, they find themselves sitting at a table in a quaint little roadhouse bar a few miles from their motel, making conversation and enjoying a warm meal.

Dipping a fry into the small dish of gravy, Laine tears off the half covered in sauce with her teeth and chews it while she peruses the desert options displayed within glass cases on the main counter.

"That one looks delicious," she mumbles and points her half-eaten fry at the chocolate mousse pie, her mouth watering at the sight of the decadent treat.

"That it does," Dean says around a large bite of the massive burger he had ordered.

Looking away from the array of pies and pastries, she fixes Dean with her best doe-eyed look. He meets her gaze and a muffled groan slips from him, the noise sounding funny coming from his food stuffed mouth.

Thankfully, he swallows his food before speaking again, a slow sigh leaving him. "And you want it."

A guilty grin overtakes her lips and she shrugs, leaning back in her seat as she sips at her drink. She can't help it that her stomach wants what it wants, and will not settle until it is appeased with a piece of pie.

Dean shakes his head at her silent response and without a word, he sets his burger down on his plate, slides out the chair, and walks up to the counter. Ignoring her food for a moment, she turns and watches Dean lean against the counter – he only has to wait a second before a pretty-faced young woman with ebony curls walks up to him.

"What can I get for you, sweetie?" she chirps, a hint of a Southern accent lacing her voice, and places her hands on the wooden countertop. Her eyes are glued solely on Dean, only flitting past his shoulder and over to Laine for a second.

She is unable to see Dean's expression at the moment due to his backside facing her, but with the way his stance shifts and one of his shoulders dips forward, head cocked slightly to the side, she can tell he's turning the flirtatious grin and bedroom eyes up to maximum.

And all for a slice of pie.

"I'll take a piece of chocolate pie and one of blackberry, as well, please."

When the waitress leaves to get the desserts, the laugh that leaves her is uncontrollable. Dean glances back at her, eyebrow raised at her sudden outburst. "Laying on the charm a little thick, don't ya think?"

Dean shrugs and shifts a more innocent version of the charmer look in her direction, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. "I know how you are if you don't get your sweets."

"Well, thanks," she says and turns back to her meal, popping another gravy-slathered fry into her waiting mouth.

The waitress returns a few moments later with two plates of pie and a folded piece of paper held between her fingers. Looks like Dean's charm worked a little too well.

Eyeing the interaction with interest, she watches as the woman places the plates down in front of Dean before she tucks the paper into the pocket on the front of his shirt, taking their close proximity as an opportunity to lean down and whisper something into his ear. A giggle leaves her as she leans back, rouged lips pulled back in a smile as she trails a hand across Dean's.

With a final inviting smile aimed at Dean and another blank look tossed in Laine's direction, the young woman turns and leaves to attend to other things.

Dean picks up the plates and walks back over to the table, setting them down as he takes his seat.

"Why is it that I can't go anywhere with you without getting jealous looks or glares from every woman we come across? One of these days I'm gonna get my face clawed off, or worse," she says around a fry and watches Dean pull the slip of paper out of his pocket, placing it on the edge of the table without a second glance towards it.

"You could take them all on any day," he says without looking at her, eyes trained on something over her shoulder. She goes to ask him what he's staring at, but he shakes his head and focuses his attention back on her. "Now stop talking and eat that atrocity."

Ignoring his comment against her pie, she picks up a fork and pokes it into the dessert, wasting no time in shovelling a large piece of the creamy goodness into her mouth. A full blown moan escapes her as the taste of whipped cream, homemade crust, and rich chocolate touches her tongue. The urge to hide her face rises within her when Dean snickers in response to the obscene noise she just made.

"What? It's good," she mutters and places another decently sized piece into her mouth, this time not voicing her enjoyment of the taste quite as loudly as before.

"Didn't say a thing," Dean says, defending himself with a laugh.

When she glances up, he is looking right back at her with his arms crossed over his chest. Chewing the piece in her mouth, she swallows it quickly and pokes her fork towards the paper sitting next to him.

"Her number, right?" He looks over at the slip and hums in confirmation immediately after. "You gonna call her?"

Dean shakes his head and lifts the ketchup bottle off the table, using it to hide the paper beneath it.

"Nope." When he sees the questioning look she sends his way, he leans back in his seat and flashes her a half-grin. "We're on a job, remember? Besides, I've got a woman much more beautiful sitting right in front of me."

Her face immediately heats up at his blunt statement and she begins to squirm in her seat, head ducking down. Compliments and flirtatious statements never make her blush to this extent, even when Ryan would give her them, but apparently something about it being Dean makes her turn as red as a tomato.

Pushing his plate of pie closer to him, she hands him a fork and urges him to begin eating before she decides to try the dessert for herself – at least, that's what she tells him. She may be using it as a tactic to remove attention from herself, but she won't admit that and it's beside the point. It must work, for Dean doesn't say another word as he digs into the pie and her blush starts to fade from her cheeks while she finishes hers.

As she waits for Dean to finish eating, they lapse back into everyday conversation and begin to toss taunts and jokes back and forth. That is, until a trio of riotous guys stumble in and take up residence at the pool table, their raucous laughter and crude humour filling the bar.

Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she sees two of the guys checking out the three waitresses delivering orders while the other orders them beverages. With a disgusted huff, she turns back around and rests her arms on the table.

Dean leans back in his seat and looks past her, eyes analyzing the group for a moment before he looks back at her, a frown tugging at his lips. "Guys like that are assholes."

Her eyebrows flit up and she huffs, using the action of taking a sip from her drink as a distraction from the commotion going on behind her. If she pays attention, she's probably gonna end up doing something that will cause a scene. "You're telling me."

With another glance at the men behind her, Dean pulls out his wallet and places a couple twenties on the table, enough to pay the bill and leave a tip. Standing up from his chair, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods his head towards the exit. "Ready to get outta here?"

"Yeah." She rises to her feet and grabs her jacket off the back of the chair, making to slip it onto her frame.

A burst of obnoxious laughter and a feminine shriek have her stopping instantly, eyes travelling towards the source of the sound.

Her gaze falls upon the three men from before who have now cornered one of the waitresses against the pool table, surrounding her in a semi-circle to prevent her escape. She can't hear what they are saying, but from the angry and slightly frightened look on the woman's face, she knows that whatever it is, the words can't be good.

Without warning, she tosses her jacket back down and saunters over to the males. She hears Dean call her name and tells her to stop and wait, but she ignores him and walks on. Stopping behind them, she crosses her arms over her chest and clears her throat.

All three men turn to face her, their eyes immediately sweeping over her body like starved men, and she has to repress the shudder that rips through her at the unwelcome attention. The middle one easily towers over her by a few inches, his height similar to Dean's, and he stares at her with a smirk on his lips.

"Well aren't you a pretty little thing. Something we can do for you, sweet cheeks?" he asks, voice sickeningly condescending and overly dominant. Men like him make her want to punch something, or more specifically, she wants to punch them.

"Yeah, you can leave the waitress alone." Her words have all three men freezing and turning to face her completely. The alpha male in front of her scoffs and glances between his buddies before taking a step towards her, his frame stiffening in a failed attempt to intimidate her.

"What did you just say?" His tone dips low, taking on a threatening edge. He now stands directly in front of her, a sneer twisting his thin lips, and she has to crane her neck slightly to meet his eyes.

"I said," Her arms drop to her sides and she steps forward, merely a foot of space between them. "Play the damn game and leave her alone."

"Mind your own business." His words come out as a snarl and she feels his breath on her face, can see his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"Don't tell me what to do," she growls back, staring him down without mercy. She had wanted to avoid causing a scene, but now one seems inevitable. Oh well.

The two glare at each other, neither saying another word as they try to outmatch each other's dominance. Her hand twitches at her side, slowly inching up to her back pocket where a switchblade is tucked – if words won't work, knives will have to do the talking for her.

She quickly realizes that her blade isn't in her back pocket, but rather in her coat which is on the chair a few feet away. Before she can decide on another plan, an arm appears between her and the guy across from her before a body follows. Startled by the interference, she can't help but take a step back as Dean wedges himself between her and the other guy.

"Hey, man, just play the game. No need to start something," Dean says in a calm tone, a hand raised to place a barrier between them. The alpha's attention remains on her for a moment longer before it flits over to Dean, the hardness to his eyes multiplying.

"What're you gonna do?" He laughs as he crosses his arms over his chest, moving back a pace to lean against the pool table. His buddies haven't moved since the beginning of the argument, but now they swarm his sides to show support for their leader.

"Me? Nothing." Dean shrugs, a small grin working its way onto his face as he steps out of the way. "But I can't speak for her."

The man scoffs and looks over to her, eyes once again sizing her up like she is to be his next meal. "Ginger, here? What's she gonna do?"

Her hands clench into fists and her stance hardens, body ready to attack on her command. If he's going to underestimate her, he's going to pay for it. "Don't test me."

They stare each other down again, this time with a palpable fiery tension resonating between their gazes. She feels Dean step to her side, his hand barely grazing her arm and she understands it for what it is – a warning not to start something, but also a show of support in case something does break out.

The chatter in the bar has stopped and she feels multiple sets of eyes on her, their curiosity and anticipation for a possible fight blanketing the air.

His gaze begins to falter as the aggressive attitude appears to drain from his face and he swallows slowly, expressing his nervousness in the simple gesture. She has to fight to keep the triumphant grin off her face when he lowers his eyes and sighs.

"Whatever. Why don't you take your boyfriend and leave," he says, dismissing her presence as he turns around to the pool table.

His admission of defeat shocks her for a moment, disbelieving of how easy it was to get him to give in, but she isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. With a nod, she opens her mouth to say something, but Dean rests a hand on hers to stop her.

Looking over at him, he shakes his head and nods towards the exit. She takes one last look at the three guys, noting that the alpha still has his back turned to her while his buddies are flicking glances between her and him.

"Don't do it again," she mutters before stalking away and out of the bar, Dean following after her. They don't say anything as they make their way to the vehicle, and still no words are uttered as they are buckling up.

As they are about to pull away from the roadhouse, she remembers that her coat is still on the back of the chair. With a quick word to Dean, she heads back inside and catches sight of her leather jacket the moment she enters.

She retrieves it and slips it onto her arms, and just as she goes to make her way back outside, a hand grabs her arm and stops her in her tracks.

Looking over her shoulder, she sees none other than the guy she just argued with, an irritated look contorting his features. His two buddies stand behind him with their arms crossed over their chests, smug looks on their faces.

Instead of struggling, her arm falls slack in his grip and she turns to face them completely. "Something I can help you boys with?"

"You and your boyfriend embarrassed me back there. That was a stupid move on your part," he hisses, grip tightening ever-so-slightly on her arm.

"The only stupid thing is what you're doing now." Shaking her head, she tugs her arm away from him.

With that said, she turns and strides out of the bar. She doesn't bother to stay and see their reactions, but before she can get two steps past the corner of the building, a hand lands on her shoulder. She is tugged to a stop and her back collides with a firm chest, the sudden stop making her lose her balance. A hand snakes down to grab her wrist while the one previously on her shoulder slides down to her bicep, the large fingers squeezing and digging into her flesh through her coat.

"I wasn't done talking to you, ginger," he snarls and tightens his grip on her body, her wrist bone straining under the applied pressure.

His two companions come into view in front of her and she notices the hungry looks on their faces as they step towards her, awaiting a signal from the man behind her.

She spares one glance down at her boots before looking back up, connecting her gaze with the tallest of the two in front of her. Her stare must be frightening, for his composure falters for a moment, all emotions but terror vanishing from his face for a second before the look of want returns, albeit at a lesser intensity.

"I wouldn't do this if I were you," she mutters, shoulders rolling as she looks to each of the men in front of her.

"What're you gonna do?" The one behind her murmurs into her ear, breath hot against her cheek.

Taking a deep inhale, she steadies her posture and shifts her stance to give herself the best possible advantage against the strength and height of three men. "I don't want to hurt you."

"There's three of us and one of you. Odds aren't in your favour sweet cheeks."

"That's where you're wrong."

Not wasting any time by waiting for a reply, she leans back into the man's embrace. Hooking her hand on the back of his neck, she uses him as leverage to kick her legs up and plant them square on the chests of the two in front of her. She pushes off with force and sends them stumbling backwards, while she and the one holding her hurtle towards the ground.

The body behind her breaks her fall and the unexpectedness of the impact knocks the wind out of him, giving her a second's reprieve from his grip. She doesn't hesitate for a moment before she rolls of the man into a standing position. She collects her bearings just in time to dodge a punch aimed for her face, knuckles barely grazing her cheek.

Sending back her own punch, her fist connects with the guy's right jawbone and sends him staggering backwards. As she is about to launch another attack, arms wrap around her arms and chest, pulling her back into a restraining hold.

Glancing around, she notices that the ring leader has recovered from the fall and is making his way towards her, a scowl on his face.

He reaches a hand out and strokes her cheek with a gentle touch, brushing her curls behind her ear in the process. A touch akin to that is meant to be reserved for intimate relations, and only a select few have been allowed to touch her in such a way – and he is most definitely not one of them.

She wants to lean backwards and shy away from the unwelcome touch, but she steels herself and hardens her facial features and eyes. Biting her tongue, she tries to keep herself from lashing out like she so desperately wishes.

"You're a little spitfire, aren't ya?" he mutters and grasps a chunk of her hair, using the leverage to tug her head back and expose her neck. "You took my fun away, so I'm gonna need a replacement. You don't mind, do you?"

He looks about ready to make a move towards a more violent, inappropriate behaviour and his boys begin to snicker in anticipation and encouragement. Her hands clench at her sides, fingers itching to reach for the switchblade, and she readies herself to fight back.

The sound of a gun cocking has her halting and his body stills, his hand loosening in her hair.

"Bad idea." The voice behind those words sends grateful shivers down her spine, and she is able to forget the hands touching her for just a moment. Craning her head as best she can to her right, her eyes land on Dean standing stoic with his gun raised and a murderous glint in his eyes. "Let her go. Now."

"Or what?" The alpha male taunts and tugs her out of his friend's grip and into his own, wrapping an arm around her shoulder while placing the other in her hair. "You gonna shoot me?"

"Wanna find out?" Dean responds with not a single hint of emotion in his voice as he readies his finger over the trigger. The nonchalant tone to his voice seems to unsettle the man holding her, for he scoffs and shakes her body with deliberate roughness.

"You're fucked, man. You'd just shoot me?"

"You think you can take advantage of a woman 'cause she embarrassed you?" Dean tilts his head slightly to the side, lining his gun up with the man behind her. If she didn't know the exceptional skill of Dean's shot, she would be worried to have him pointing a gun at her.

"Maybe I can."

All Dean does is shrug and hold his hand steady, jaw tense. "I've done a lot worse than shoot some son of a bitch."

The hold on her shoulder tightens as the man tenses in fear, his hand shifting with a slight tremble against her skull. Dean opens his mouth to say something else, but when one of the other guys smacks his friend on the shoulder, urging him to let it go and get the Hell out of here, Dean keeps his mouth shut.

She is released seconds later and shoved towards Dean, feet stumbling beneath her. When she regains her balance and looks behind her, the three men are darting back inside to the relative safety of the bar.

Dean's hands are on her shoulders in the next instant, eyes bearing down on her with clear concern written within their depths, the expression the complete opposite of what was displayed moments ago. "You good?"

"Yeah." With a deep breath, she spares one final glances at the bar before following Dean to the car. "I had it handled, y'know."

"Didn't want to take any chances." He doesn't look back at her as he climbs into the vehicle, and she drops the subject with a defeated sigh.

It's just her luck that the night went from a pleasant and enjoyable dinner with Dean to Hell in a handbasket with a side of attitude. Apparently, normal nights out are just not in the cards for a demon hunter.