Dean is very happy with where he is right now. He doesn't care where he is physically — though he must admit, he has always liked Texas, even if it was the first place he was shot as a wanted criminal -- he's just happy with how his life is going right now. He's out of prison. He ditched California as soon as Sam told him to leave, and the feds never caught up to him. He threatened to murder a dweeb until the guy made him a fake identity. He has a roof over his head and food on the table, albeit from a homeless shelter and the local food kitchen.

And, even better, Dean has been hanging out at Swayze's Bar every night for a month straight. It's not a perfect arrangement, though -- at least, not anymore. It was fine for a while, but everyone knows his face by now. He still gets to hustle pool when new customers show up, but his chances of finding a suitable victim are getting slimmer every night.

Tonight is one of the rough nights. Wednesdays usually are. The only people drinking on a Wednesday are people who come here often, and Dean's not going to fool any of them. He sits by the bar and keeping an eye on the door just in case, but it doesn't look like it's going to pan out today.

A drink slides in front of him.

"On the house."

Dean turns around to see a guy, probably about his age, standing behind the counter with a small smile. He's kind of hot, Dean must admit, but his hair reminds him too much of Sam. He really shouldn't have paid his brother a visit. It's ruined long hair for him.

"Thanks," Dean says cautiously, keeping his eye on the man as he picks up his drink. It tastes pretty good, he must admit. Dean's seen this guy behind the bar pretty much every day, so he's not surprised that the dude knows what he's doing.

"Looking for your next victim?" he asks.

"That obvious?" Dean replies, hoping that he means a pool-hustling victim and not a murder victim. No one's recognized him yet, and he'd like to keep that streak up.

"Little bit," he replies. "That's what you get for coming by every day, I guess."

"I guess so," Dean agrees.

He holds a hand out. "The name's Lee."

"Jason Teague," Dean replies, shaking his hand. At least, that's the name on his ID, and he'd like to think no one will know otherwise.

"You know," Lee says, "as much as I enjoy watching you putting these guys in their place, you might want to find a new hunting ground. You'll probably find some overlapping customers at any bar nearby, but a lot of fresh meat, too."

"Probably," Dean admits. "But I like it here." It's not far from the homeless shelter, and there's an ATM just a block away, so he can deposit his earnings at the end of every successful night. Perks of having a fake identity — he can make a real savings account. He has a few thousand dollars saved up already. It's only a matter of time before he can start renting his own apartment. Maybe he'll even settle down with a real job soon.

"I appreciate that," Lee says. "Worked hard to build this place up. But Booke's is just a few minutes' drive away, and they've got plenty of pool tables with your name on 'em when you finally realize this place is a lost cause for you."

Dean frowns. "Maybe I'll check 'em out tomorrow night." It's going to be a pain in the ass to get there, though. Texas isn't exactly known for its public transportation, and he doesn't have a car waiting for him outside. He doesn't want anything too easy for the feds to track if and when they catch word that he's here.

"Hustling pool ain't exactly stationary work, you know," Lee remarks. "I wish you the best of luck with it, though. It's what the guys get for taking advantage of a poor drunk like you."

Dean chuckles. "What can I say? Karma took a holiday. Figured I'd fill in." 

A/N people asking for updates usually doesn't work but two people happened to ask for one today and I'm not having a very good day and don't feel like being productive in any way that matters soooo have a chapter ig