A/N: I own nothing. Though, seriously, I would do things to Sam and Dean that would make Lucifer blush. Just kidding, sort of. Please let me know what you think, and if I should continue.

"Georgia May Singer, what in the hell so you think you're doing?" John Winchester's deep voice asked, he was glaring at her like a pissed off father.

"Hi, John." She replied sheepishly. He raised his eyebrows, and proceeded to drag her out of the bar. Dean was standing by his car looking like a teenager that just got caught sneaking out of the house.

"You know, Bobby told me that you two were working together. I told him that I thought it was a good idea, but now, I'm not so sure." He paused dramatically. "George, what the hell were you thinking walking into a bar dressed like that, flirting with men twice your age, dancing on bars? Your mother would be so disappointed in you." George felt like she had been slapped in the face. Her jaw dropped and tears formed in her eyes. "And Dean, you let her walk out of the house like that? Where the hell were you when she was dancing on the bar like nothing more than a two bit whore?" John turned to face his son, fixing him with a glare that even demons would be scared of.

"I told her to put on a jacket. Have you ever tried to control a Singer?" Dean tried to cover for himself. By the look on John's face, it wasn't working.

"Both of you get your asses back to the hotel, I'm leaving this town tonight, I expect a full report on this hunt by the end of the week." John stated.

"Yes, sir." Dean replied.

"Oh, and George, don't think I won't let your father know about this little stunt you pulled tonight." George dropped her head, but nodded. John stormed off and got into his big black truck.

"I'm heading to Oklahoma. Stay out of trouble." He said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean and George looked like they had just taken the beating of a lifetime as they sunk into the Impala's leather seats. Neither one said a word the entire way back to the hotel. They were both still reeling from John's verbal smackdown. George decided it was time to break the silence.

"So…that was interesting." She said slowly. They were both out of the car before Dean spoke. He looked at her over the hood of the Impala and shook his head.

"Yeah, I'd say so. Who knew you were Coyote Ugly in the flesh?" He smirked.

"Whatever. I was just having a good time." She replied.

"Yeah, we'll see about that good time once Bobby catches wind of this." His smirk was now a full blown grin. And like he could hear them talking from five states away, George's phone started ringing. She paled when she realized it was her father.

"Hey, Daddy." She said sweetly.

"Don't you 'hey, daddy' me. I just got a very interesting phone call from John Winchester. Care to explain?" He sounded pissed, and she could almost feel the heat radiating off him through the phone.

"It wasn't a big deal, Dad. I was just having some fun. We got into town, and it was too late to do any research so we went to the bar." She explained.

"Really? That's wonderful. Put Dean on the phone." He stated sarcastically.

She handed a frightened looking Dean the phone. He had always told her that vengeful spirits he could handle, demons no problem, but pissed off fathers terrified him more than anything, especially when it came to their daughters.

She could hear the verbal back lashing from across their hotel room. Every time Dean would open his mouth to say something; Bobby would start ripping him again. He looked thoroughly defeated when he finally hung up the phone.

"Thanks for throwing me under the bus." He glared at her.

"Sorry." She gave him a small smile. "What'd he say?"

"Between the cursing and life threatening?" He asked. "He said that I better watch you like a hawk, and apparently you don't get to drink whiskey anymore." She frowned. That was her drink of choice.

"This sucks." She sighed.

"I warned you." He smirked.

"I'm going to bed." She threw off her clothes, leaving her in a cami and her boy short panties. Dean couldn't help but notice her long legs leading up to the curve of her hips. He physically shook his head trying to rid himself of the dirty thoughts that were trying to make their way through.

The next morning they both woke with a start to a loud bang outside, George reaching for her gun, Dean his knife. They gave each other silent signals, as Dean opened the door, and George covered it.

A bruised and bloodied blonde fell through the door. George caught her just before she hit the floor. George looked past the swelling and cuts on the woman's face and saw that it was one of her best friends.

"Jo, honey, what the hell happened?" George asked as she pushed strands of blonde hair behind Jo Harvelle's ear.

The girl groaned in response. "Roadhouse…" She stopped to take a ragged breath, "Demons." George looked to Dean to see if he could make out what the girl was saying. He just shook his head. She decided that maybe Jo needed sometime to regroup before she could explain her appearance.

"Jo, let's get you to bed." George grunted as she picked the girl up off the ground, thankful when Dean came over to help. Once Jo was asleep, both hunters made their way outside.

"Who's that?" Dean asked.

"Her name is Jo Harvelle. Her mom owns a bar in Nebraska frequented by hunters." George sighed. "She's my best friend."

"What's she doing here?"

"I don't know. I need to call Ellen." George replied and grabbed her cell out of her pocket. Dean watched as the woman tried and tried to get a hold of someone, but it seemed no one was answering. His ears perked when he heard her sniffle and make one last phone call.

"Daddy?" She cried into the phone. Bobby Singer was as tough as they come, but the sound of his daughter crying was enough to scare the crap out of him.

"Baby, what is it?" He asked.

"Daddy, you need to get to The Roadhouse. Jo just showed up at our hotel room battered and bloody saying something about The Roadhouse and demons. Dad, I'm scared something happened to Ellen." George broke down.

"Is Jo ok?" Bobby asked. Jo Harvelle was like a second daughter to him.

"She's sleeping right now. I checked for any large injuries, but she seems to be fine. Just get to The Roadhouse, and call me."

"Will do, baby. Listen, I want you and Dean to make sure that you are careful. Salt on every window. Devil traps at every door, and if you run into anything, and I mean anything, Georgia May, that you can't handle, you call me or John. Got it?" He asked.

"Yeah, I promise, Dad." As she hung up the phone, she turned to Dean, whose eyes softened. He walked over to her and wrapped her in a big bear hug. She laughed, these hugs were what caused the nickname Deanie Bear to come about.

She took a deep breath. "Thanks, I needed that, Deanie Bear." She smiled through the tears.

"You get away with that only once." He looked at her, glad that she seemed to be back to normal. He had only seen George cry a handful of times, but only once since they had both grown up. It wasn't something he did well with.

"So, you gonna tell me what's going on?" He asked.

"Dad's going to The Roadhouse to check on Jo's mom, Ellen. We are going to finish this hunt, then head up there ourselves, unless my dad or Jo says different. We need to be extra careful, Dean. Salt and devil traps galore."

"I'm always careful." Dean smirked. They made their way inside, but quickly realized that with an injured Jo sleeping in one bed, they would have to share.

"I keep a loaded .45 under my pillow at all times. Try anything, and I won't hesitate to shoot." George stated through a grin.

"Please, George. You're like my sister. Like I would try anything with you anyway." George couldn't help but feel the sting of disappointment at his statement, and Dean couldn't help but feel like a liar.

The next morning George woke up feeling something heavy draped across her chest. She started to panic immediately, and reached for her gun. She relaxed when she heard Dean's inaudible grunt, protesting her movement, and realized that they were a tangled mess of arms and legs. She felt almost comfortable in Dean's arms, safe. She heard another grunt coming from the bed beside the one her and Dean shared, and immediately recalled Jo Harvelle falling through her door in the middle of the night speaking of demons and The Roadhouse.

George started to unravel herself from Dean, trying careful not to wake the light sleeper. Waking a hunter could be dangerous, especially one like Dean who kept a rather large hunting knife under his pillow at night. Dean sat up straight as she moved him about. She laughed as he looked around the room confused.

"I'm telling Sam." She laughed. He gave her a confused, tired look.

"What?"

"That you like to cuddle. Who would have thought, Dean Winchester, bad ass hunter, big spooner." She winked and grabbed her things heading into the bathroom before he could reply.