"Dean, you can't be serious," Zach huffs in disbelief as they roll into the quiet town of Holland, Michigan. 

"Hell yeah I am. Jamie wants us to get this chick, and that's what I plan to do. No point in wasting time," Dean says, his hand flicking over to the radio to crank the volume up. His brother has been asking too many questions and Dean is getting tired of it, so hopefully Zach will take the cue to stop.

Another sigh slips from Zach as he shakes his head, dark brown hair shining in the passing lights with the movement. "I doubt she'll appreciate us showing up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. Can't this wait 'til morning?"

Dean's eyes flit over to Zach to send him an annoyed look, but he soon relents, his lips setting into a deep frown. "Fine. Where's the nearest motel?"

After a few minutes of driving through the city, they eventually pull into the parking lot of a decent looking motel, its fluorescent sign lit up like a beacon against the night sky. It's not the nicest looking place, but it will have to do for the night.

The car rolls to a stop outside the entrance of the front office and Dean shifts the car into park, unlocking the doors. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some bills, handing them over to Zach.

"Go book a room," he orders, hand drumming on the clutch impatiently.

"Where're you going?" Zach asks as he climbs out of the car, money stuffed in his back pocket. He grabs his duffel bag out of the backseat and slings the strap over his shoulder before coming back to lean through the open window of the passenger side door.

"I need a drink," Dean says.

"Dean..." Zach starts, probably hoping to talk about what went down with the demon they killed the other day. Well, he better be prepared to be disappointed because Dean does not want to talk about it, and he makes that fact known with the look on his face.

"I just need a drink, okay? I'll be back later." With that said, he shifts gears and gets ready to pull away.

"Okay, fine." Zach sighs as he steps back, thankfully giving up on pursuing the subject.

Dean spares one final look back at his brother before he drives out of the parking lot and onto the street, merging with the rest of nighttime traffic.

Once he is on the road, he cranks the volume on the stereo and starts nodding his head in time with the beat of the music, fingers drumming on the steering wheel in a rhythmic fashion. His eyes scan the sides of the streets in search of a sign that promotes a bar, or something of the sorts; any place that he can get a decent drink will be fine with him.

After a couple minutes of aimless driving down the crowded main street, he catches sight of a neon sign – even someone just passing by and not searching would clearly see it. As the car crawls closer, he sees a single word intricately written on the sign: Glow.

"Why not?" Dean mumbles to himself as he turns the wheel, the car jutting upwards as it rolls over the curb and into the parking lot of the club. With the car parked in a stall, he twists the key in the ignition and listens as it rumbles to sleep.

He flings the door open and steps out, swinging the door shut behind him as he adjusts his jacket. His eyes roam over the exterior of the building, noting the blue lights that reflect off the matte grey walls, as he walks towards the door guarded by a burly man in a clinging black shirt and heavily tinted Aviators, despite it being late at night.

"ID," the man mutters as his gaze fixes on Dean, the stare penetrating through the dark glasses, but it doesn't faze Dean in the slightest.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his ID and allows the man to see; it's been a long time since he was last asked for his ID.

The man's eyes scan over the card before he nods, opening the glossy black door. "Go ahead."

Shoving his ID back into his pocket, Dean walks through the entrance and into the club.

All around him there are bright strobe lights cutting through the foggy atmosphere, music that pounds against the confines of the building walls, and scantily clad men and women dancing on the stages and various other places, not to mention the hundred or so club patrons socializing and dancing. The air is thick with the stench of cigarettes, sweat, alcohol, and vomit, and he's sure he saw a few people doing lines in the back corner.

A small frown works its way onto his lips as he maneuvers through the sea of bodies crowding the dance floor, trying to make his way over to the bar he caught sight of when he came in. Clubs aren't really his scene. He much prefers bars – those at least play decent music, not shitty dubstep or remixes – but he desperately needs some hard liquor in his system, and fast.

He finally emerges from the swarm of sweaty people and finds a vacant bar stool, taking a seat before someone else thinks to do the same. His eyes begin to wander inquisitively around the club as he waits for one of the three bartenders to come and take his order. Another reason he doesn't like clubs – it takes forever to get a single drink.

After a few moments of sitting their idly, he feels his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. Fishing it out, he switches it on to see a text from Zach informing him of the number of the room they are staying in. He goes to type out his reply, but a presence in front of him has his fingers pausing.

Looking up from the screen of his phone, his gaze lands on a woman with hair the colour of the night sky, arranged in voluminous tight curls that cascade down her shoulders, twisting past a petite nose and a dazzling smile gracing her plump lips, and by God, is she gorgeous. Dean feels himself grinning in spite of himself and he tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth, a subconscious action, as his eyes do a longer than necessary once-over of the woman standing behind the bar.

"Hi." The greeting is simple, but it earns him a soft grin from the woman as he meets her dusk blue eyes.

What can I get for you?" she asks as she leans on the counter separating the two of them.

Dean can't help it when his eyes flick down to her breasts that are pushed upwards due to the action; her low cut shirt isn't doing anything to help the matter, either. He looks away in haste and back up to the woman's face, a small grin still on his lips.

"Can I have a tall glass of you?" Dean jokes, watching with satisfaction as her face becomes heated with a soft blush from the cheesy line, the rose colour on her cheeks barely visible under this lighting. Her gaze casts downward quickly before flicking back up to meet his, her smile more shy now, but still as radiant as before.

"Very funny, mister." She laughs and shakes her head, midnight curls bouncing on her shoulders with each movement, and she looks up at him through dark lashes.

Dean laughs along with her and flashes her a gentle smile, easing back on his flirtations – for now. "I'll have a beer."

The woman nods and begins filling up a large glass, placing a napkin down first, then following it with the glass brimming with golden liquid. "First one's on the house for newcomers."

Dean gives her a puzzled look and takes the first sip of his draft, the liquid leaving a warm trail down his throat.

"How do you know I'm not from here?" he asks as he folds his arms in front of himself after setting down his drink, resting them casually on the bar top.

"Honey, I've lived here for a while. I know who's new and who's not. Besides, you don't look like everyone else here," she admits as she fills up another glass similar to his own before placing it close to his.

"I'm that obvious, huh?" Dean hums, his gaze following her closely as she hoists herself up onto the counter and slides across, sitting herself down on the stool next to his, all in one fluid, practiced motion.

"Yup." Pulling her drink towards her, she takes a hearty swig and then sets it back down, looking over him with curious eyes. "So, what is a handsome man like yourself doing in this part of town?"

Dean laughs softly then shrugs, his gaze transfixed on the woman's finger as it traces around the rim of her glass. For a reason unbeknownst to him, the simple action sparks something deep within the recesses of his mind and vivid memories of someone he once knew float into his head; memories of a fiery haired woman with blue eyes.

Before the memories can cause too much damage, he pushes them away with a firm hand. "Just passing through, thought I'd stop in for a drink."

The woman smiles, almost as if approving of his answer. "Well, you picked the right place."

"Seems like I did." Dean sends her a suggestive look as he lifts the glass to his lips, and this time, her face remains devoid of any blush as she returns his gaze with her own heated stare.

"Are you here alone?"

Dean looks at her over the rim of his glass, shaking his head as he sets the half-empty beer down.

"Right now I am. Me and my brother, we're on our way to pick someone up," he admits and his hand reaches out to grab his glass again, but he stops himself and instead starts picking at a stray piece of thread on his jeans to keep his fingers busy.

"Who is it?" As soon as the words slip from her mouth, she lets out a nervous chuckle and shakes her head, locks of hair falling into her face. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry. It's really none of my business, just forget I asked."

"Hey, it's fine. No harm in asking," he says, tossing a lazy grin her way.

Despite his reassurances, she doesn't press the subject further and the two lapse into a comfortable silence, the questions completely forgotten about as they finish off the remainder of their drinks. Once the glasses are bone dry, the woman grabs both of them and pushes them to the side.

"I think we need something a tad stronger." With that said, she hops off the bar stool and walks the short distance around the counter. Turning her back to him, she begins scanning the shelves of alcohol for something to drink. When she spots what she wants, she plucks it from the top shelf and turns to face him.

"You good with tequila?" she asks, waving the bottle at him. When he nods, she grabs out two shot glasses and begins filling them. "What's your name?"

Placing a shot glass down in front of him, she strides around the counter and back to her seat, her body much closer than it was before, and waits for his response.

"Dean, yours?" he replies, now holding the shot in his hand.

"Cory." She flashes him that dazzling smile, and again, he is hit with a wave of memories, though he has no clue why he is remembering her right now. Shaking it off, he focuses his attention back on the gorgeous woman sitting barely a foot away from him. "Well, Dean, I officially welcome you and I hope you enjoy your stay here, however brief it may be."

The two clink glasses together before bringing them to their lips, throwing the liquid into their mouths without hesitation. Dean clamps his mouth shut and swallows, humming contentedly at the burning sensation left behind from the liquor, the feeling much appreciated.

"Another?" he suggests while sliding his empty glass towards her.

"Of course," she says with a grin, refilling their glasses without a second thought.

The pair down a couple more shots of tequila, with Dean telling stupid jokes in between and Cory giggling at every one of them. She starts to pour another round when a blonde haired woman in a body-hugging crimson dress walks up to the bar. The woman stares at Dean with a hungry look in her dull brown eyes and the sensual upturn to her blood red lips only grows.

"And who might you be?" she hums in appreciation, her eyes sweeping over his body once as she runs a hand down his arm, fingers tugging on the edge of his jacket sleeve.

A shiver runs up his spine at the contact, and not a good one at that; it's not that she isn't attractive, but women with catty attitudes who wear too much make-up like her have always turned him off. Before Dean has time to respond to her question, Cory is flashing the other woman a dangerous look and her eyes darken in contempt.

"Cat, leave him alone. He doesn't need to be tormented by you. Go find some other hapless victim to sink your claws into," she says and Cat – such a fitting name for the woman – visibly jumps at her tone, but she brushes it off with a swift raising of her nose.

"Whatever. It's your turn on the floor, anyway," she sneers as she tosses her hair over her shoulder, turning on her towering heels and sauntering away, soon stopping to talk to another club patron.

Cory lets out an apologetic laugh and resumes filling their glasses, passing Dean's back to him with a half-smile on her lips. "Sorry about her. She can be quite... upfront sometimes."

"It's fine. I know her type," Dean admits as he tosses his drink down his throat.

"I bet you do," Cory mumbles, the music almost drowning out her voice, before she downs her shot, not leaving any room for him to reply to her comment. With a chaste shake of her head, she places her glass down and stands up with a long sigh. "Looks like it's my shift."

"You're leaving?" Dean asks, watching as she reaches behind the bar once more for something.

"I'm not just a bartender around here," she states, her tone light and airy, and grabs his forgotten napkin to scribble something onto it. Setting the pen down, she brings the paper to her lips and kisses it softly before placing it in front of Dean. "It was nice to meet you, Dean."

She smiles and pauses, a look of contemplation on her face as she bites her lip, but it disappears as soon as it had appeared and she turns, walking into the swaying crowd.

Once he can no longer see her amongst the people, he casts his eyes towards the napkin on the counter. He picks it up and brings it close to his face, trying to get his eyes to cooperate and focus on the writing in the dim lighting of the club. Soon enough, he can make out the blue writing of a phone number, the print of her red lipstick below it. In little under an hour, he has the phone number of a very beautiful woman in his hand. Score one for Dean.

He holds it tight in his hand as he stands up, placing a few bills on the counter before walking towards the exit of the club.

The cool night air hits his face when he exits the club, jolting his senses awake as he makes his way towards the car. He unlocks the door and slides in, stuffing the napkin into his jeans as he pushes the key into the ignition. The car roars to life before settling into a soft purr to signal that she's ready for use, the sound bringing a relaxed expression to Dean's face.

Shifting the gear into reverse, Dean backs out of the parking lot and rolls onto the street, driving in the direction that will lead him back to the motel. The entire way back, he is unable to get the images of Cory out of his head, and he is surprised when they remain fairly innocent. For some reason, he feels as though they have met before, but that's highly unlikely since he has never been to this small city in Michigan before, and also, he would remember a face like that.

Even once he is buried under the covers of the cheap motel bed and his arms are tucked beneath his head, eyes drooping shut as sleep takes over, he can still see a breathtaking smile and bright eyes, but instead of raven hair, all he sees is red.

**********

Dancing has always been an exhilarating form of release for her; be it in her kitchen while preparing food, outside amongst the creations of nature with the leaves and wind dancing along with her, or even up on the stage with countless sets of eyes glued to her form as she twists and turns. It doesn't matter where it takes place, as long as it does, and that's all she can ask for. That fleeting moment in which she is truly free, escaping from the harsh reality of the world through the practiced movements and thrumming music, consumed by the steady and succulent beats pounding in her ears.

Tonight is not any different than nights before.

Her body moves of its own accord to the rapid beats of the music reverberating against her skin, spinning and swaying through the crowd of dancing people. The movements come to her with ease, no thought required to make the sensual twirls and hip-sways after so many years of doing them, night after night, day after day.

Hands and bodies brush up against her fire-scorched skin, their own heat mingling with hers, as she flows along with the sea of bodies. Each bodies she brushes up against sends invigorating shock currents throughout her, every breath she takes stokes the flame of exhilaration inside of her, illuminating her glistening skin from the inside out. Her heart thumps against her chest, overcome by the abundance of raw adrenaline raging inside her veins.

Occasionally, a hand catches her wrist or an arm wraps around her waist and she is pulled against them, her willowy movements shifting to match that of the other person. Her hands slide up her current dance partner's chest, circling their neck as finger grip at their hair, tugging as she moves against them at a slow, enticing pace. When the man tries to turn her around, she takes this as her chance to dart away with a teasing smile, daring him to come after her, but he doesn't and she smiles even wider.

She doesn't stay with one person for long before she is flitting away in another direction to find a new spark of energy to latch on to, making her way to each of them as if guided by an invisible string. Each person invigorates her with a different kind of adrenaline, some making her heart race like wild, and others slowing it down to a steady, rib-shattering thump inside her chest.

As the fire beneath her skin starts to die down from the lack of fresh sparks, her thoughts begin to wander back to Dean. Her heart almost stops at the thought of him, her grin dwindling down as she recalls their conversation from earlier.

He hadn't recognized her, not in the slightest, and it had been extremely difficult to keep their conversation in the territory of two people who have just met, when that is not the case. She had nearly decided to tell him that it was her, but she hadn't been sure of what his reaction would be, so she stayed quiet and disappeared into crowd.

Despite him not recognizing her – and even though they didn't part on the best of terms last time – she couldn't stop the familiar warmth and happiness that spread through her when she laid eyes upon him. When he had looked up at her, eyes alight with lust and teeth toying with his lip in flirtation, the swell of longing that formed in her belly was instinctual.

Something about that action made her heart skip a beat in the exact same way it used to when she would see that look. Her heartbeat had quickened, thumping inside the confines of her chest like a Jack rabbit, as her mind had been overcome by a flood of repressed memories and emotions.

She had pushed away those thoughts, put on her best smile, and focused on the then and there – the rest was a blur of smiles, drinks, and laughter. The whole time she had sat with him, though, she hadn't been able to decide whether it was a good thing that he had shown up. Even now, hours after he has left, she still can't decide whether the man who was completely tangled in her life showing up now is going to lead to something amazing or if it is the beginning of something terrible.

One thing she does know, though, is that it's not going to be fun explaining all this to Dean tomorrow.