Sin City, the city where anything is possible. Even demon hunts apparently. Usually the brothers didn’t take on big city cases but Dean was adamant.

“Sam we have to take this case.” Dean insists—no—begs.

“Vegas, Dean? Seriously?” Sam sighs, “Don’t make that face at me! We never get to have fun Sam—excuse me for wanting a bit of a break.”

“Not a break, Dean. Still work.”

“Right.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

A cheer of victory came from Dean. So, the drive began. The Impala went down the strip of Vegas, colorful people filled the sidewalks. Big blingy signs on every building from T-Mobile to the Trump Tower.

Some passerbys were the average big city businessmen, some were smokers in mascot outfits charging fifty bucks a picture with some unsuspecting tourist, some were women doing the same but in risqué outfits that were essentially just corsets and underwear, with lots and lots of feathers.

“Ha— awesome.” Dean, very maturely, giggles from the driver’s seat and you can’t help but snicker at his commentary.

Sam already wanted to leave. Dean was ready to kick some ass at poker. You were just happy to be here.