⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

The boys were hit by a wall of music, laughter and chatter the moment they stepped into Mystic — one of Chicago’s newer, more popular nightclubs.

“Damn. Could practically feel the energy being drained from me just by being in here,” Dean joked, nudging his brother as they passed the bouncer, his green eyes sweeping the room. “Definitely a succubus we’re gankin’, Sammy.”

He let his gaze roam over the staff, let out a whistle and smirked. “Finally…a case where my talents are appreciated. Wonder which one’s our succubitch.”

“Or, y’know, it could be a whole nest of them.” Sam rolled his eyes. “We’re not here to get laid, Dean."

He could practically feel eyes on them as they moved further in, and a wave of uneasiness ran through him.

“Relax, Sammy.” Dean clapped him on the back and headed for the bar. “We’ll just find it quick, get rid of it, and enjoy the—” A waitress waved; Dean grinned. “—perks of the good ol’ Windy City.”