Kilpruel Says: I don't own the characters of this story, they are strictly belonging to Carver Edlund.

Stomp, stomp, I've arrived

The music was in her blood. Who cared about the case? She was finally able to dance like she wanted. The forceful slam of her heels on the stage to the beat of the music as she undulated her body like water, the swift open of her thighs-what man could resist her? Her eyes landed on Dean as she spun around the pole.

Drop the beat, nasty face
Why ya lookin' at me?

That one, she reminded herself slowly as she let her legs grip the pole and support her weight. He gave her a glance, then looked away slowly, letting his tongue travel over his lips before putting it to the mouth of his beer bottle. Her fingers trailed through the glitter that fell from the ceiling.

Flyin' flyin' flyin' flyin' through the sky

She cupped a handful as momentum kept her spinning, pouring it so it looked like it would land on her breasts but actually landed on the ground around the pole. Her eyes were as watchful as his.

In my spaceship
I'm an alien tonight

Dean watched her rip off- literally- the tattered shirt that was clinging to her svelte form and then looked away. He knew, that with her on stage, there was no way anything that missed his attention would miss hers, but he didn't know what form her cues would take. He took another swig from his bottle and tried to think of anything but her.

Dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty sucka
You think I can't get hurt like you, you motherfukka

She was off the pole, doing more grinding undulations against it as she passed her hands over her ears, putting her earrings on. She could feel the attention in the club swing her way, and she smiled as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave the crowd a sultry look that was all in the eyes.

I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you

She snatched a hat from one of the patrons and twisted it backwards on her head as she crawled forward on the stage. She could be his own personal siren, Dean thought to himself, but smiled anyway. The thought of Prue being anything like a guy just cracked him up.

Do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you

When her feet landed on either side of a guy's head and she undulated near his face, The music abruptly changed. She slowly made her way back to the stage, taking the microphone and sang.

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all

Dean frowned as he looked around. But those four lines had made everyone's attention be on her. So what was… the purpose of it? He gave her a confused look, but she only smiled sweetly.

Go ask Alice when she's ten feet tall

Prue met eyes with Dean, and remembered Bobby's words. The only thing that gets a siren riled up and her eyes off a target, is another siren, or a woman who can steal her spotlight.

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to fall
Tell him a hookah-smokin' caterpillar
Has given you the call

And call Alice when she was just small

Dean looked around again and realized the inspector next to him wasn't entranced. Instead, he seemed infuriated. Dean took another swig of his beer and kept his eyes on him with his peripheral vision, seeming to be as entranced with Prue as the rest of the bar.

When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you have just have some kind of mushroom
And your mind is movin' low

Go ask Alice, I think she'll know

Dean tried not to laugh, but some of the lyrics to this song were just nuts. The hyacinths lay forgotten on the table when the inspector started reaching for an inside pocket, Dean carefully put the bottle down.

When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the white knight is talking backwards
And the red queen's off with her head

Prue watched the inspector carefully, a challenging smile on her face, sweet, and sultry. Other than Dean, he wasn't affected, so it had to be him, if it was anyone here. She didn't stop smiling as the inspector pulled out a gun. And just before Dean smacked him upside the head with the bottle, she mouthed, "Mine, bitch."

What the dormouse said
Feed your head
Feed your head

She pitched her voice to sound over the bottle as Dean knocked the siren out. She dragged out her performance until Dean had left, and then collapsed to the stage, a hand over her heart as she gasped for air. She was met with rousing applause from the patrons, and some concerned voices before she passed out.

I hope you like-I don't really like Prue. i plan to continue this though, so reviews are love-tell me if Prue should die? i actually wanted to do this story with Bela, but she was dead by this point, right?

A/N: So. The point of this story is actually to be a companion fanfic to one of the RP I'm doing with two friends of mine. There will likely be more stories like this coming from me when i get inspired to write them. Kilpruel (Kill Prue, get it?) and pals are Fanfic writers meant to write stories as though Beatrice Dawson, Shaun Mars, And Prudence Aurelie Jaeger were an actual part of the series. So if you want to borrow Prue, Send me a message, I'll send you a picture of what i intend for her to look like and her basic personality.