A/N: Story title taken from the movie of the same name.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit.

Summary: Dean, half naked on the side of the road, with a fugly. Sam's got a shotgun. So what else you need to know?

Dean nearly died outside Tucson, Arizona.

Well, it wasn't death, not exactly. More like a fate worse than, you know.

It was hot as hell that day, only about nine in the morning but it was ninety seven in the shade already. The heat vaguely reminded Dean of hell; this was a cool summer breeze compared to that. He was wide open now; he could smell the blood he'd spilled, the blood on his skin, the sulfur in the thick dark smoky air.

"Good job, Dean, good job," Alastair whispered. The louder the damned souls screamed, the better ol' Allie liked it.

It was nice to be appreciated. Nice to be wanted. The screams faded away into the bright dustless morning, and all Dean was left with was the road and the sun and the merciless blue open sky above him.

He could hear the voice whispering inside his head…

Come here, pretty boy, come here…

She sounded like Cassie. Then Lisa. He didn't even wonder what the hell either one of them was doing out in the middle of dusty Bumfuck nowhere. They weren't dead. At least he didn't think so. He hoped not. Hadn't heard anything, and someone would have called him, right? Mrs. Robinson would have. Ben was just a kid (my kid, Dean thought sometimes, if he's not mine he should be) but he had Dean's cell phone number, he would've gotten to a phone someway, somehow…

That thought was a little too disturbing for Dean at this very moment. A little too heavy. She was here and she was okay and she was calling him.

Missed you. Cassie whispered.

Missed you so much, Lisa whispered, and Dean grinned a little dopily at that. They ditched him, but they came back to him. Geez. Someone alert the media.

Dean stumble-stepped along the shoulder of the road, and he forgot about Sam, and he forgot about the Impala behind him. He felt light-headed in a good way, not like after a night out with Jose and Jack. Didn't feel like throwing up, which was a definite plus. His body knew where it was going, and Dean really didn't give a damn why he was headed in that direction.

He kind of didn't care. Didn't give a fuck. About everything.

The only thing he cared about was reaching that voice, feeling her skin move underneath his fingertips. The softness of her mouth underneath his, as he rocked into her, slow and steady.

His Colt 1911 was suddenly too heavy in his back waistband. He pulled it out, tossed it.

He shrugged out of his jacket, dropped it on the side of the road.

His silver boot knife went next, followed by his work boots.

That's my good boy, she purred.

He wouldn't need any of that. Not with her.

Lock picks went next, down there on the ground.

Keys to the Impala (my baby, Dean thought) but he threw them down anyway.

That's my sweet boy, no metal, get rid of all of it. Dean touched the amulet around his neck, was acutely aware of the wide silver ring on his finger.

Those too, Lisa murmured, and he felt an ache in his chest that didn't feel too good.

Come on, baby, Cassie whispered, and something was wrong, he couldn't get the ring off. Dean tugged at it, and he hated the look on her face, like he'd disappointed her somehow, and he was gonna break his fucking finger to get it off, gnaw his damn finger off if he had to.


Sam. Dean blinked, pursed his lips. Sam was gonna ruin everything. "Go away," Dean muttered. He stumbled forward. He nearly face planted into the dirt as he yanked at the amulet's cord. He didn't want to take it off.

He wanted it off in the worst way because she told him to take it off.

Want to get inside you, beauty, wear your skin ---

The amulet joined Dean's other things on the ground. He slipped out of that black tee shirt of his, and the sun felt good on his bare skin.

Oh it's been too long, so long since I wore flesh…

And that was wrong, Lisa never sounded like that.

Cassie never sounded like that, all growly and deep and..and hungry…


Sam sounded closer now, and Dean's head was starting to hurt, a low throb that settled down behind his eyes. He saw her then, on the road right in front of him, and Cassie looked just as good as she did the last time he saw her, her heart shaped face framed by her long wavy auburn hair, that cute little black leather jacket and those painted on jeans of hers.

Dean stood there, swaying, and he unzipped his jeans. He was having a little trouble. It wasn't fair, he hadn't had this much trouble getting the damn things on this morning.

Missed you, Cassie smiled, and Dean felt a tear go down his left cheekbone. His vision shimmered and Lisa was there, dressed in that yellow sundress he liked so much.

Sam stood right beside him, and he was gonna ruin it, Dean knew he was.

Sam growled as he raised the shotgun up. Lisa's face shifted and melted, dark and rubbery, her eyes sunk in up to her hairline, her mouth a cavernous hole filled with jagged teeth. She reached for him, and Dean drew back.

Sam pulled the trigger in one smooth motion.

Cassie screamed.

Lisa screamed, and it felt like someone had stuck one of those long barbeque forks inside Dean's head and twisted it around and around.

Dean went down in an awkward tangle, jeans turned inside out, arms and legs suddenly numb. The road came up to meet him and everything turned black.

Dean came out of it moments later. Could have been years later. He still didn't care. It was nice sitting there on the road, in the bright sunlight. Sam was right there, holding him. Maybe it was girly but Dean leaned into the bulk of his not so little brother. 's nice.

Sam was all wide-eyed and wired, still pumped up over what had almost happened. "Trust you to do a strip tease by the side of the road," he grumbled. He sat there on the ground, with Dean sitting practically on his lap, half in and out of his jeans, curled up against him like an overgrown feline. Thank God Dean wore black boxers underneath. "Almost lost you, you damn idiot!"

Sam also thanked whatever gods might be listening that there was no traffic on this stretch of the road. The last thing he needed was an audience to this.

"Hell…it worked didn't it?" Dean muttered raggedly. "Knew she couldn't resist my fine ass."

"You okay?"

"Got one hell of a headache." Dean squinted, finally closed his eyes. "Since we're havin' this chick flick moment without screaming and blood and running and stuff I guess that means the fugly's gone, right?"

"Put a fork in her. It. She's done."

Dean nodded. "Good."

"This is the last time, Dean. Last time you use yourself as bait. Man, our lives are fucking weird enough as it is. Gotta be an easier way to do this shit."

"Couldn't ask you to do it," Dean muttered softly, and Sam got it. He knew. Jessica, and Madison. If the damned thing had appeared as either one, Sam would have been lost. He would have walked right up to it and surrendered himself, gladly.

"No more hunting, at least for this weekend. We need to rest up. Recharge. Deal?"

Dean looked blank for a moment. Then he huffed tiredly. "Deal."