Author's note: So this one is for Joey, whose birthday it is tomorrow! Happy birthday – hope you enjoy the story! I'll try not to be too long with the next chapter... ;)

"I am NOT doing it!"

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. They'd been arguing about this for the last hour and they were still no nearer to a solution. And judging by Dean's escalating temper they weren't about to get any closer.

"Look, come on Dean. We got no choice, man. We need to get into the competition to find out what the hell is happening and this is the only way. I mean it's not like you'll actually have to go through to the final or anything – I'm sure we can deal with whatever it is way before then. It's not that bad, really." he said as calmly as possible.

Dean fixed him with a glare, "Not that bad? Yeah, for you maybe. You won't have to do it! I said no, and I mean it Sam – end of story."

Sam threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine. You're right, lets just forget it. Leave this one to someone else and move on. I mean, what's one more death? It's not our problem."

"That's low, Sam. You know I don't want anyone else to die but this isn't fair."

"You're the one who always tells me life isn't fair, remember?" said Sam and Dean looked like he was ready to shoot him with the gun he was cleaning far more vigorously than necessary.

Uneasy silence descended and Sam ran his hands through his hair. He could see Dean's point of view, really he could, but what choice did they have? No way Sam could volunteer with the cast on his arm.

Dean fumed as he polished the weapon in his hand, despite the fact it was so clean you could have eaten off of it. If using a gun as a plate was your thing of course. He was mad at the whole situation, which in fairness wasn't Sam's fault. Although if his brother had been a little faster on his feet and a little less clumsy he wouldn't be sporting the cast on his wrist which meant Dean was the only sucker who could actually do this one.

He was actually contemplating breaking a limb of his own, just to even things up.

Sam glanced at Dean and tried to think how he was going to get round his brother on this one. When they'd first spotted the job they'd assumed they'd be able to check it out in their usual way. They'd soon discovered unfortunately that security surrounding the competition was far tighter than anything they'd encountered before, and the only way one of them was gonna get anywhere near where the action was would be to enter. Which of course lead to their current dilemma.

Dean looked up and saw Sam watching him. He rolled his eyes.

"It's no good giving me the puppy dog eyes, Sam. We don't even know this is anything supernatural. It could just be some psycho with a thing against this sort of stuff. Which, by the way, I would totally agree with. I mean could you get anymore lame for crying out loud?"

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes now. "It's not lame Dean, it's just not your thing. It takes a lot of skill you know. Is that what you're worried about? That you won't be any good at it?"

Dean snorted. "Nice try, but I'm not falling for the whole reverse psychology thing Dr Phil. And by the way, I'd be awesome at it I'll have you know."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? That's a pretty sweeping statement from someone who – to my knowledge – has never done anything like this. Unless you've been holding out on me that is?"

Dean threw the cloth he was using on the gun at Sam's head. Sam ducked it easily and just smirked, clearly implying he was waiting for an answer.

"I don't have to have done it before to know I'd be awesome. Some things you just know."

Sam shook his head. "I know you're full of crap, Dean. If you're so convinced you'd ace this, why don't you prove it?"

Dean looked at him. "I'm not a kid you know – that whole 'I dare you to do it' thing is not gonna work on me, Sam."

Sam just looked at him, his expression innocent. "What? I wasn't daring you, I was just saying. If you're too scared.."

"I am NOT scared. And I'm not falling for this so just give it up little brother." said Dean firmly.

Sam shrugged. "Well, if you've got a better idea."

Dean fumed. The trouble was, he didn't. There really was only one way to find out what was killing the competitors and he couldn't just walk away from a job. John Winchester had raised him better than that.

He was however gonna make Sam pay for this. Just as soon as he'd worked out something hideous enough for the purpose.

Throwing the gun down on the bed he shook his head in disgust.

"Fine! Looks like it's down to me to take care of things – AGAIN." he said.

"Hey! It's not my fault I broke my wrist, Dean." said Sam indignantly and Dean snorted.

"It's your fault you tripped over those freaky ass legs of yours. I swear you were just trying to get out of the hard stuff - I'm not gonna forget this you know."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. If you're done with the hysterics shall we go get you signed up for the competition?"

Dean glared at him. "If you EVER tell anyone about this Sam, I swear to God, I will hurt you."

Sam just grabbed his jacket, ignoring the muttered words. He knew Dean would never actually do him bodily harm so it was a pretty empty threat. Although as he caught sight of Dean's expression as he followed him out of the room, he wasn't quite as sure about that suddenly.

Deciding he should really try and make things a little better for his brother, especially as it was partly his fault he couldn't help much with this one, he tried to put a positive spin on things.

"Look, it's not gonna be that bad. You might even enjoy it."

Dean looked at him as if Sam had just suggested that he might enjoy listening to Country music.

"Are you insane? How the hell am I gonna enjoy it? It's a friggin dance competition Sam!"

Author's note: Yes, I am an evil woman.. Dean in a dance competition – can't you just picture it? LOL! TBC...