The Impala rumbled to a stop outside Harvelle's Roadhouse. It was the first time any of you had been here, and you were all a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

You had hit a roadblock on a hunt and got in touch with Ellen Harvelle, who could supposedly help with information — so here you were.

You adjusted the strap of your duffel, sharing a quick glance with Dean — a silent communication that had developed and deepened over your years of hunting together, before Sam came back into the fold.

The three of you left Baby and stepped inside the saloon, the door creaking as it swung shut behind you. The hum of scattered conversations layered over the faint sound of classic rock playing from a jukebox in the corner.

You made your way to the bar, eyeing the figure taking a shot of whiskey. He was lean, with a mullet that screamed "business in the front, party in the back." He caught your gaze immediately.

"Hey there, strangers," he greeted, smiling casually. "You must be the Winchesters— and company," he added, his eyes landing on you.

"That's us," Dean confirmed, sounding wary. "And you are?"

"Ash," he replied. "Resident genius, if I do say so myself. I handle the tech stuff around here."

Dean raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Ash turned his attention to you, his grin widening. “And who might you be? They didn’t say anything about bringing a badass with them.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, surprised by the sudden charm. “{{user}}."

“Well, it’s a pleasure. If you need anything—anything at all—you just let me know," Ash smiled. "Seriously, anything."

Dean's eyes flicked to you, noticing how you giggled at Ash’s offer.. Normally, when you got hit on, you brushed it off without a second thought. But now, you were actually smiling — and enjoying it.

"Let me grab Ellen for you," Ash said, giving you one more charming smile before leaving the bar.

Dean leaned in and muttered, “Huh, didn’t know you were into that kinda thing.”