GASOLINE | S.W.

Chapter 2

"C'mon, baby. Another game, please?"

Macon held a pool stick with her right hand, her gloved left hand leaning on the pool table. She wore a black tank top underneath a leather jacket, leather pants, and her black combat boots.

She wore light makeup; just black winged eyeliner and red lipstick. Her black hair was tucked behind her ears, the rest cascading down her leather-clad back.

The bar she stood in, The Lucky Clover, was pretty crowded. All of the five pool tables were occupied, along with most of the booths and tables. There were several patrons sat at the bar, the lighting dim and rock music blaring.

"You sure?" Macon fake slurred before taking a shot off a tray that a waitress was passing by with, "I don't need to lose anymore money to you." She tipped her head back and swallowed the hard liquor. It burned her throat as it went down, but warmed her belly.

The man across from her smirked, "We'll see." He threw down a couple of twenties. Macon rolled her eyes and took her money out of her jacket pocket, smacking it down beside his, "Fine."

Her opponent quickly racked up the balls and set them up. He grabbed his pool stick and gestured to the table as he smiled at Macon, "Ladies first." She scoffed at him before leaning back against the table, positioning her shot.

Macon hit the cue ball, signaling the start of the game. It started just as it ended, Macon sinking one to two balls every shot she took. She would sip a beer or make jokes about how bad she was beating the man. He would just roll his eyes or clench his jaw angrily.

Macon's finger tapped the pool table as she watched the man sink his last shot. All she had to do was get the eight ball in and she won. More than five hundred dollars was on the table and she wasn't about to lose.

"Nervous, sweetheart?" He asked her as he circled around the table. Macon flashed him a toothy grin, "Never." She twisted the pool stick in her hand before bending over the table and lining up her shot. With a deep breath in, she hit the cue ball. It rolled across the table before smacking into the eight ball, sending it into the left corner hole.

The woman flipped her hair over her shoulder as the few people watching cheered her on. "Don't cry now. It's only money." She told the fuming man as she counted the money in her hand. Macon pocketed it before mockingly waving goodbye at the beat man and making her way to the bathroom.

The bar packed with sweaty bodies was starting to make Macon hot, her leather jacket and pants not helping in the slightest. She slipped passed people, muttering 'excuse me's as she went.

When she got to the hall that lead down to the bathroom, she made sure it was empty before shrugging her jacket off her shoulders slightly. Her metal arm glinted against the dim lights as she walked down the hallway. What Macon forgot to notice was the pair of green eyes watching her.

Dean stumbled back over to the table Sam was sitting at, the youngest Winchester's eyes focused on his laptop. He practically fell into the chair next to his brother, his head swimming as he tried to get the blurry out of his eyes.

"Dude," Dean slurred, drunkenly take a piece of crumpled paper out of his pocket, "I got the bartender's number. I can't remember her name though. Stacy? Susan? Sadie?" He started counting off his fingers as he listed names.

Sam watched from his seat, barely amused, "You have no shame, do you?" The oldest Winchester laughed as he shook his head, "Nope." Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his laptop. Once he realized his brother wasn't paying attention anymore, Dean sighed.

"Fine, I gotta go hit the head." The hunter put his hands on the table to help him stand before he staggered through the crowd to the bathroom.

Dean turned down the hallway and immediately sobered up when he saw the glint of silver as a woman turned to push the door open with a gloved hand.