The bar was filled with the stale scent of smoke and booze, your throat burning with the aftershock of whiskey. Dean was sitting right next to you, in conversation with Sam about your most recent case. Everything was a little fuzzy to you; the dim lights were too dark, the band's speakers were making your hearing all buzzy and dull, you couldn't focus.

"You want some water, sweet pea?"

Dean asks gently, noticing your far-away look. You nod, feeling his calloused fingers rubbing your back for a moment.

"I'll be right back."

The chair creaks against the floor as Dean gets up, heading towards the bar in the back of the place. You were getting dizzier and more disoriented as you waited, the alcohol mixed with your empty stomach doing a real number on you mentally. A group of drunk guys had started giving lap dances to some girls a few tables from you, which was only making your headache worse. The whiskey was definitely making its way through you. You blink, turning your head slowly to see if Dean was coming back when you feel your thighs getting parted by someone's knee. A soft and confused grunt escapes your lips as you look up, seeing one of the guys from the other table trying to give you a lap dance. Ew. You wince, coughing a bit as he exhales smoke right next to your nose.

"N..no…I don't want you to do that."

You murmur tiredly, your head hazy and slow as you weakly push at him. His weight disappears in less than a second and a loud crashing noise sounds beside you as Dean shoves him into a table and punches him.