"Sam, you are way too drunk to making these sorts of decisions."
"You're not the boss of me."
"I'm just saying…"
"Yeah, let the kid make his own choices." The man had to be about thirty-five, in a baseball cap who was mediocre at pool and thought he was much better. He was the perfect target.
Dean had to refrain from grinning at his brother like an idiot. They had him in the bag.
"Fine dude. It's your money."
His job done, Dean made his way to the bar and ordered a double, neat.
"You doin' anything tonight?"
Tossing back his drink, Dean turned to the source of the husky voice to find a tanned hand on his shoulder, leading up a smooth arm, over a bare shoulder up to an oval face, sporting two dark brown eyes and bow-shaped lips curved into a smirk.
"I'm sure I could squeeze you in," he said, raking his eyes over her. "Got something in a few hours."
Dean glanced at the pool table, where his brother was kicking ass, then over at Ruby, who was 'advertising' their coming fight.
Sex did always sell, Dean thought, with a mental smirk.
He pushed back from the bar and made an open armed gesture. "I'm all yours."
Her smirk widened. "Name's Monique."
"Well then Dean, let's see how much we can get done in a few hours."
Folding the wad of money over and shoving it in his back pocket, Sam checked his phone.
In the middle of something. DON'T COME BACK TO THE ROOM.
Sam sighed. "What am I supposed to do, Dean?" He muttered to himself.
"I checked out a room too, in case you forgot."
Sam didn't turn his focus away from his phone. "I think I'll just stay here until it starts," he said, refusing to look at Ruby.
"Come on, we've got time before the fight. Your brother obviously thought so."
Sam sighed and slipped his phone in his back pocket along with the money. Slowly, he turned to face her. "I've got work to do. I think you do too."
Ruby rolled her eyes and sat on the stool next to where he was leaning up against the bar. "You guys are famous. I hardly need to do anything. Just drop the name 'Winchester' a few times and half the bar is already making bets. Word travels fast in the underground."
As if to illustrate her point two women looked over at the name and began muttering and stealing quick glances at the pair.
Sam sat down heavily next to Ruby and gestured for a beer. "What are we fighting?"
"There are a few warm-ups before Dean's fighting a werewolf and a shifter in a row, then some guy named Smallwood's taking a wendigo. You are the pièce de resistance, you're fighting a demon Sam."
"What have I got?"
"You get the knife, but this one's good. The odds are in your favor simply by reputation, but she definitely has you in experience. She's been fighting for over a thousand years. She isn't going to be fooled by your usual moves. Come on," she said, getting up. "I'll show you a few tricks, get you warmed up."
Sam finished off the last of his beer and followed her down the stairs to the arena.
Entangled in sweaty limbs and cotton sheets, and surrounded by various articles of clothing, Dean attempted to untangle himself and get dressed.
Monique was proving to be difficult in that respect. She rolled over to let him off, but ended up pulling all the covers, with Dean still tangled in them, with her, back onto the bed.
"This is flattering, really, but I really do have to go."
"Feel free, no one's keeping you."
Dean hurriedly dressed, and with a quick wink at Monique, left.
"Call me sometime," she called after him.
What had started out as a quick practice round to get him warmed up had ended up as a sweaty, half-naked wrestling match, the knife long forgotten to the side.
Ruby was currently on top of him, straddling his hips, her hands pinning his shoulders down.
She traced her hand lazily down the center of his chest, sending shivers down his spine to settle into a pool of warmth in his lower stomach. "You're going to have to do much better than that. She's much older than me."
Sam hooked his leg around the back of her knee and quickly shifted their positions so that she was pinned fully beneath his much larger body.
"Point taken," she said, the wind knocked out of her. "But if I were her, you'd already be dead."
Sam sat up so he was in the same position she had been in moments before. Securely between his legs, Ruby was difficult to look at for too long without some sort of reaction in his lower area. "If you were her, I'd still have the knife," he said, avoiding the dark eyes.
There was a slight cough from the entrance. They both looked to the side to see Dean leaning against the wall. "Hate to interrupt anything, but don't I get a warm-up?"
"You look pretty warmed-up as it is," Ruby retorted. She wriggled out from underneath Sam and walked to the other side of the arena for her shirt.
"You have no idea," Dean said with a dreamy look on his face. "There was this thing that she could do, where…"
"Dude," Sam cut him off, reaching for his shirt, which had somehow made it on top of a floodlight. "Too much information."
"Hey Sammy, I'm the one who just walked in on you In Flagrante Delicto with a demon. You should not cast stones."
Sam ignored him and tugged on his shirt.
He picked up the knife and stuck it in his belt.
"You're up first," he said to his brother. "You're going to need silver."
"Wait, I've got two fights?"
Sam shrugged, quirking his lips. "Guess so."
Dean pushed past him to the changing rooms, grumbling. "I blame you," he said, pointing accusingly at Ruby.
"You think you're ready?" Ruby asked when Dean had gone.
Sam shrugged. "If I'm not it's too late."
Ruby gave a conciliatory nod. "Just don't die out there. You guys are earning my paycheck."
Sam gave a half smile. "You're earning it."
"Not anymore," she said. "Tell your brother that and I'll kill you."
"Not if I kill you first."
They were interrupted by Dean's eloquent returning statement.
"Ready to watch the untimely demise of two sons of bitches?"
The first two fighters were just getting the crowd worked up. They were both human and fake fighting. Not too realistically either. And yet the crowd loved it.
It always shocked Sam how many people showed up to this kind of thing. And the people you least expect to. Middle aged men with anger management problems, young punk lesbians or soccer moms. There were a few demons in the crowd that Sam could spot as well. The only thing they had in common was their bloodlust. It was only just beginning. Soon they would be tearing each other and the fighters in the arena apart.
The arena was surrounded by salt and iron bars crossed each entry and exit. Absolutely nothing that they didn't want in wasn't getting in, or out for that matter. If the apocalypse were to hit, this would be the safest place to be.
A man in his late twenties sat down next to Sam.
"Smallwood," he introduced himself. "Jack Smallwood."
"Sam Winchester," Sam said, taking his offered hand.
Smallwood gave him a curious look. "I know who you are."
"Ladies, gentlemen," a young charismatic demon had taken the middle of the arena. "I welcome you to our next fight." He smiled beatifically as the crowd cheered. "Yes, I'm just as excited for some bloody deaths. Tonight we have some very special guests from out of town. I'm sure you've all heard of them…. May I present… The Winchesters!"
The sound was deafening.
Ruby gave Sam an I told you so look.
"Our first fight is the devilishly handsome Dean Winchester, up against the vicious Werewolf. As you saw coming in, the moon is at its peak, and the wolf hasn't eaten in two days. So I hope that the older Winchester is in top form. Or," the demon smiled evilly and scanned the crowd. "Not."
Dean entered, strains of The Rover by Led Zeppelin playing in the background, waving at his adoring crowd and even winking at a select few. Not that they were all adoring. Just as many were calling for his blood.
The iron gate across from him was opened and out barreled a starving werewolf, jaws open wide to accommodate Dean's approaching throat.
Dean rolled to the side, barely avoiding the jagged teeth. He turned quickly and slashed down at the werewolf, just grazing its back. The werewolf made an angered pained growl as the silver burned its skin leaving red marks behind.
"Damn it Dean," Sam muttered to himself. "You've got to get it in the heart. What are you doing?"
Dean had always been one for theatrics and that's why the crowds loved him. He always gave them a good fight.
The werewolf came at him again, this time Dean stood his ground and gave it a solid fist in the gut, leaving it bent over and heaving dryly. It straightened and swiped at him, raking its sharp, thick nails across his cheek.
Knife in hand, Dean finally took the offensive, charging it down. It ran straight at him again. They clashed in the middle becoming a tangled mass of blood and limbs as they crashed to the floor, rolling, trying to gain purchase.
The fight was clearly coming to a climax.
Dean ended up in the dominant position and drove the silver knife into the heart with both hands.
Sam let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Dean's fights made him nervous. He didn't know, but it was nothing compared to the sweaty palms and white knuckles Dean got while Sam fought.
Covered in blood and sweat, Dean made his way over to where Sam and Ruby were sitting.
"Well," the demon commentator said. "I'm sure most of us were expecting this outcome, but a thrilling fight nonetheless. Fifteen minutes until our next fight, Dean once more, against a shape shifter. The betting table is open for the next fifteen minutes."
"The shifters always have the advantage," an anonymous voice from behind Sam said. "They can take the form that will most confuse or emotionally debilitate their opponent."
Sam and Dean shared a look.
"You'd think I'd get used to killing you, with how many shifters I've fought," Dean said, giving his brother a sad look.
"You never get used to it."
"I mean, don't they have any originality?"
Sam shrugged. "They know our weakness, Dean."
"Yeah, I know the spiel Sam."
"You're up again. Good luck."
"Thanks Sammy, but I think I've got this one in the bag," Dean said with a cocky wink.
"Dean, the bets on you are just raking in the money," Ruby said, facing them as Dean got out of his quick shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Most figured you would win against the werewolf, but it was kind of iffy with the shifter. Work on that."
"You work on that," Dean retorted. "You're the manager."
She ignored him. "Sam, the odds are not in your favor here."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"
"There are a lot of demons out there tonight and the one you're fighting has a reputation. They know her and let me tell you she is one bad ass mother fucker."
"You'll have the knife, but that is your only advantage. Don't lose it."
Sam nodded again.
"Let's get out there then."
They went out to the last few seconds of Jack Smallwood's existence. Blood and bits of fleshy substance sprayed across the arena as the wendigo ripped Smallwood's body in half.
Sam flinched. "Don't they normally keep their victims alive for a while?"
"Not when they're threatened." Ruby was all business and watched emotionlessly as Smallwood's entrails were splattered and spread out across the entire arena and the first few rows of the audience. "Splash zone," Ruby said humorlessly.
"How can you watch that with a straight face?" Sam could barely take the sounds of the wendigo's guttural grunts and the sloshing of blood and insides.
"Right." It was too easy to forget that the body he was looking at was actually a coma patient and the real thing inside her was a demon. He was actually uncomfortable with how easy it was.
"They're going to take a while for clean up, you need anything else before the fight?"
"Nope, 'm good."
Sam's entrance was less of an affair than Dean's. He wasn't introduced as 'devilishly handsome' or have a classic rock song playing in the background as he walked in. Nor did he wave or blow kisses. He walked on, trying to look confident and not throw up.
"Another Winchester for you tonight. This if course is a much more fair fight. Dean and Sam have been fighting werewolves and shifters and ghosts since before they hit double digits, but demons are a much more dangerous breed and far more difficult to kill. I give you, Sam Winchester versus Heleana."
Gripping the knife for dear life, he watched as Heleana entered across from him.
Damn demons, he thought to himself, always choosing the sexiest hosts possible. Hardly fair.
She was wearing leather pants and a tight black shirt, slightly baring her midriff. Her dirty blonde hair fell in ringlets onto her shoulders. Oversized lips formed a perfect pout and doe-eyes stared out from him under jaggedly cut bangs.
She was definitely playing dirty.
She had obviously finished assessing him and moved her left hand slightly, sending him flying to the left, and crashing into the wall.
Her pout turned into a smirk.
In the audience, Dean was tapping his foot madly. "Bad start, Sammy," he muttered.
Leaning heavily against the wall, Sam took up a defensive position with the knife held out in front of him.
She took a step toward him and flickered out of existence until she was suddenly right in front of him.
Sam slashed violently at the hand reaching toward his throat and left a gash across her palm.
"Paper cut," she muttered to him.
He made another swipe at her, aiming for her stomach, but she easily dodged it and mentally sent him flying again, the knife going in the opposite direction.
Sam tried to get up, but even the thought sent pain wracking through his ribs.
Face it, he told himself, in a fair fight, you're no match for a demon.
This time he couldn't stop her as she held him by his throat.
Giving up seemed like a very good idea at this point.
Stars were beginning to form behind his eyes.
Dean was just barely being held back by Ruby from jumping into the ring himself.
"He's dying out there!" He shouted at her.
"I know, alright? I'm not happy about it either."
I'm not going to die like this.
He just knew. That knowledge gave him strength.
"Get. Off. Me. Bitch." He grunted through his closing air pipe.
Somehow it worked. He felt the energy blow through his mind and without even moving a muscle, he flung Heleana backwards, just as she had flung him earlier.
She lay across from him on her back, looking stunned. Her eyes had even changed from black to blue. "How did you do that?"
Sam stood, ignoring the pain in his chest and picked up the knife.
"Die, bitch," was his only response and he sent her permanently downstairs.
For possibly the first time in history, the arena was silent.
And Sam collapsed.
Author's Note: I have been looking forward to writing this and beleive me, it is so much fun. So I really hope you enjoy it as much as I do. The story was begging to be written and so far it's been flowing well. I'm in a bit of a rut with my other story, so I'll be working on this one while I try to get the creative juices flowing on the other one. Also, for the record, I do not own Supernatural, and the title obviously does not belong to me.
"Sammy, the case just got even better."
Dean smirked at him. "Bisexual hookers."