Highway to Hell: Special Feature: Deleted Scene 1
Chapter Wordcount: 1616
Same disclaimers, pairing etc from series
Set sometime between "Fire in the Rain" & "Burn in Hell"
Download and Listen to the entire Highway to Hell Soundtrack Here!
Monte sat, feet propped up on Dean’s empty chair, watching the scene unfolding.
He was bent over the bar, million-watt smile and oozing charm, completely flat out knocking the poor, young bartender of her feet.
Sam smiled, as the bartender not so stealthily gave Dean a napkin, no doubt with her number scribbled on it.
“You gonna let him get away with that?” he asked with a grin.
Monte just shrugged. It didn’t bother her. She knew he flirted his way into getting them information, free food, beers, whatever. Hell, they all did it at some point in time. Besides, she knew exactly who he’d be sleeping next to come nightfall. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun with the situation.
Dean came strutting back to their table, mile wide grin and three beers in hand.
“Check it out, totally free of charge,” he smiled, sliding the sweating bottles to Sam and Monte respectively.
About halfway through her first bottle and after Dean had came back triumphantly from scoring them another round, Monte spoke up.
“I’m gonna run to the motel, I’ll be right back.”
Dean looked confused, half standing up to accompany her.
She just smirked and patted her jean-clad calf where he knew one of her many guns was waiting patiently.
“I’ll be back in a minute, chill out,” she grinned, pushing his shoulder and keeping him in his seat as she headed for the door. He shrugged and went back to his beer.
Not ten minutes later there was a collective intake of breath that had both brothers looking up.
Black strap heels rooted a pair of mile long legs that left nothing to the imagination. They disappeared into an impossibly short pair of Daisy Duke’s, topped with a slim piece of sculpted and toned stomach before melting into a tight black cotton tee emblazoned with ‘Sweet & Sinister’ that stretched across an…ample, chest. Only after the buxom brunette pulled off a pair of sleek sunglasses did Dean and Sam even realize who it was.
Sam choked on the sip of beer that had been precariously perched at his lips and Dean’s jaw dropped comically.
“Son of a bitch…”
Monte literally strutted into the bar, heels clicking against the worn hardwood floor. She made her way towards the jukebox, stealthily whispering in Dean’s ear as she passed.
“It’s not polite to stare cowboy,” she winked, long black eyelashes fluttering as she grinned with strawberry gloss lips.
She continued on to the jukebox, making a quite explicit move out of digging a quarter out of her back pocket. The waistband of her barely there shorts were tugged down just enough to show off a thin black studded cord that left no doubt to the imagination at the fabric, or lack there of, that was underneath.
Finally retrieving said quarter, her now gunmetal grey nails dropped it into the slot before pushing the ‘D’ and ‘2’ buttons.
The beginning chords of ‘I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll’ started to vibrate from the old radio a second later.
She continued her private little burlesque show and danced in spot for a minute before sighing exaggeratedly and heading to the bar.
She took a shot of Wild Turkey that had every man in the joint near applause before swinging her hips over to the pool table, beer in hand.
“Hey fellas,” she said sweetly, conjuring up that deep southern Georgia girl charm she used on special occasions.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing when the jaws of the old roughnecks went to work silently, not being able to form words.
“Can a little girl join in on the fun?” she asked innocently, picking a cue off the rack and holding it just so.
“What? Is she gonna give ‘em a private pole dance?” Dean asked in huff.
Sam just chuckled, resulting in a glare from his older brother.
“’Cause you know…my favorite games include sticks and balls,” she said, batting her eyelashes.
One guy actually did double over, choking on his beer at that comment. She smiled, masking the sudden fit of giggles that almost overtook her.
“Honey, for you we can play any games you like,” one rather large man finally said, leaning in close.
She grinned as if she had just won the lottery.
“Really?” she asked excited. “Well rack ‘em Joe!” she grinned.
He smiled too and did as she asked.
She broke spectacularly before standing straight and slapping a hundred on the small table next to them.
“But you should know boys…I play for real.”
A couple arched eyebrows and some whispered words were exchanged before the man she was up against smiled and slapped his own hundred on top of hers.
Four games later and Dean sat brooding and mumbling things at Sam about how stupid this was.
Another four games later and he was just sulking.
She had beaten every man that had challenged her and bet at least a hundred each go round.
Oh, the guys all knew they were going to get their asses handed to them. But they were all more than willing to lay their money down just to keep this bombshell bent over the billiards table in those barely there shorts.
When she pocketed the newest wad of cash and bought a round for the house she chalked her stick lazily.
“You know, it’s getting kinda late boys, so whaddya say we up the stakes?”
Smiles were tossed and words were whispered.
“Whoever can beat me…”
There’s that southern drawl again.
“Can take me home.”
She swore some of them were about to pass out.
That was it. This was so over.
Dean shot up out of his seat, knocking it to the ground, which Sam scrambled to upright before rushing after his brother, hoping he wouldn’t have to break up a brawl.
“I’ll play,” he rumbled, parting the sea of men that had surrounded the pool table.
She grinned and arched her eyebrow.
“Alright James Dean,” she smiled, trailing her eyes over his leather jacket and ripped jeans as if she’d never seen him before.
Sam just grinned and ordered a beer, wishing he had some popcorn for this little show.
Monte broke the triangle of balls, sending them in a spectacular scatter that had even her arching her brow.
Dean knocked his first, a purple solid into the side pocket. Second was a green into the opposite side.
“Not too shabby,” Monte said, winking at Sam who just chuckled.
Next was a yellow to the corner pocket that unfortunately ricocheted and never sunk.
Courtesy of Monte’s oh so subtle lean over the table, letting herself almost fall out of her shirt, right at Dean’s eye level.
He glared.
She smiled as she took her turn. Number 13, side pocket…sunk. Purple stripe, corner pocket…sunk. The cue ball nicked a green stripe and sunk it into another corner.
She blew on her cue stick like a smoking gun as a smattering of applause came from the previous men she had beaten. She slid past Dean, brushing him more than was really necessary and smiled when he stifled a groan.
Blue stripe, corner, piece of cake.
“Corner pocket,” she said, leaning over the table, eyeing her next shot.
“You sure you don’t wanna try a bank shot?” Dean asked somewhat sarcastically.
He knew she could make a bank shot no problem. And he knew she couldn’t make the shot she was currently setting up for.
She knew it too.
“Oh no, sweetheart, I’m sure,” she winked.
Of course she missed, standing up and giving a very convincing pout.
Dean rolled his eyes. His turn.
Red, side…sunk.
He angled his cue stick just right as murmurs went through the crowd. The cue ball jumped one of Monte’s stripes and hit his red, knocking it into the side pocket.
Monte leaned over as he took his next and potentially final shot.
“Hey sweetheart, half my winnings from tonight say you miss this shot.”
“You’re on,” Dean grinned.
The cue ball bounced off the side of the table to knock the black eight ball and send it rolling into the corner pocket.
Monte just grinned as the other men groaned in defeat.
“Well hun, looks like you take home the prize,” she smirked, placing her cue stick on the green felt.
“Looks like I do,” he growled as he ushered her from the bar.
Sam was full out laughing by the time they made it to the Impala.
“Get in the car,” Dean barked, to which Sam with a final laugh actually complied.
“What the hell was that?!”
Monte smiled. “That was me clearing almost a grand.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he seethed, raking his eyes over her body.
“Honey, you flirt your little pretty boy behind off all the time to our advantage and well, I happen to have a little more assets,” she said, pushing her breasts together and upwards, “Than you do.”
He just glared.
“And that stupid ‘whoever wins can take me home’ crap?”
She rolled her eyes, “Sweetheart, none of them could touch me on that pool table, or anywhere else for that matter,” she grinned as he continued to glare in silence.
“You let me win that game,” he whispered.
“Well, I had to make sure I went home with the man I wanted to, didn’t I?” she grinned as she got in the Impala and slammed the door in his face.
He just growled before following.
“And where the hell did you get those shorts?” he asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.
Both Monte and Sam’s laughs echoed in the car.
I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts
I saw him dancin' there by the record machine
I knew he must a been about seventeen
The beat was goin' strong
Playin' my favorite song
An' I could tell it wouldn't be long
Till he was with me, yeah me, singin'
I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come an' take your time an' dance with me
He smiled so I got up and' asked for his name
That don't matter, he said,
'Cause it's all the same
Said can I take you home where we can be alone
An' next we were movin' on
He was with me, yeah me
Next we were movin' on
He was with me, yeah me, singin'
I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come an' take your time an' dance with me
Said can I take you home where we can be alone
An we'll be movin' on
An' singin' that same old song
Yeah with me, singin'
I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come an' take your time an' dance with me
Previous: Song Fic #1: Fire in the Rain | Next: Episode Three: Burn in Hell
Highway to Hell Master Post
Same disclaimers, pairing etc from series
Set sometime between "Fire in the Rain" & "Burn in Hell"
Download and Listen to the entire Highway to Hell Soundtrack Here!
Monte sat, feet propped up on Dean’s empty chair, watching the scene unfolding.
He was bent over the bar, million-watt smile and oozing charm, completely flat out knocking the poor, young bartender of her feet.
Sam smiled, as the bartender not so stealthily gave Dean a napkin, no doubt with her number scribbled on it.
“You gonna let him get away with that?” he asked with a grin.
Monte just shrugged. It didn’t bother her. She knew he flirted his way into getting them information, free food, beers, whatever. Hell, they all did it at some point in time. Besides, she knew exactly who he’d be sleeping next to come nightfall. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun with the situation.
Dean came strutting back to their table, mile wide grin and three beers in hand.
“Check it out, totally free of charge,” he smiled, sliding the sweating bottles to Sam and Monte respectively.
About halfway through her first bottle and after Dean had came back triumphantly from scoring them another round, Monte spoke up.
“I’m gonna run to the motel, I’ll be right back.”
Dean looked confused, half standing up to accompany her.
She just smirked and patted her jean-clad calf where he knew one of her many guns was waiting patiently.
“I’ll be back in a minute, chill out,” she grinned, pushing his shoulder and keeping him in his seat as she headed for the door. He shrugged and went back to his beer.
Not ten minutes later there was a collective intake of breath that had both brothers looking up.
Black strap heels rooted a pair of mile long legs that left nothing to the imagination. They disappeared into an impossibly short pair of Daisy Duke’s, topped with a slim piece of sculpted and toned stomach before melting into a tight black cotton tee emblazoned with ‘Sweet & Sinister’ that stretched across an…ample, chest. Only after the buxom brunette pulled off a pair of sleek sunglasses did Dean and Sam even realize who it was.
Sam choked on the sip of beer that had been precariously perched at his lips and Dean’s jaw dropped comically.
“Son of a bitch…”
Monte literally strutted into the bar, heels clicking against the worn hardwood floor. She made her way towards the jukebox, stealthily whispering in Dean’s ear as she passed.
“It’s not polite to stare cowboy,” she winked, long black eyelashes fluttering as she grinned with strawberry gloss lips.
She continued on to the jukebox, making a quite explicit move out of digging a quarter out of her back pocket. The waistband of her barely there shorts were tugged down just enough to show off a thin black studded cord that left no doubt to the imagination at the fabric, or lack there of, that was underneath.
Finally retrieving said quarter, her now gunmetal grey nails dropped it into the slot before pushing the ‘D’ and ‘2’ buttons.
The beginning chords of ‘I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll’ started to vibrate from the old radio a second later.
She continued her private little burlesque show and danced in spot for a minute before sighing exaggeratedly and heading to the bar.
She took a shot of Wild Turkey that had every man in the joint near applause before swinging her hips over to the pool table, beer in hand.
“Hey fellas,” she said sweetly, conjuring up that deep southern Georgia girl charm she used on special occasions.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing when the jaws of the old roughnecks went to work silently, not being able to form words.
“Can a little girl join in on the fun?” she asked innocently, picking a cue off the rack and holding it just so.
“What? Is she gonna give ‘em a private pole dance?” Dean asked in huff.
Sam just chuckled, resulting in a glare from his older brother.
“’Cause you know…my favorite games include sticks and balls,” she said, batting her eyelashes.
One guy actually did double over, choking on his beer at that comment. She smiled, masking the sudden fit of giggles that almost overtook her.
“Honey, for you we can play any games you like,” one rather large man finally said, leaning in close.
She grinned as if she had just won the lottery.
“Really?” she asked excited. “Well rack ‘em Joe!” she grinned.
He smiled too and did as she asked.
She broke spectacularly before standing straight and slapping a hundred on the small table next to them.
“But you should know boys…I play for real.”
A couple arched eyebrows and some whispered words were exchanged before the man she was up against smiled and slapped his own hundred on top of hers.
Four games later and Dean sat brooding and mumbling things at Sam about how stupid this was.
Another four games later and he was just sulking.
She had beaten every man that had challenged her and bet at least a hundred each go round.
Oh, the guys all knew they were going to get their asses handed to them. But they were all more than willing to lay their money down just to keep this bombshell bent over the billiards table in those barely there shorts.
When she pocketed the newest wad of cash and bought a round for the house she chalked her stick lazily.
“You know, it’s getting kinda late boys, so whaddya say we up the stakes?”
Smiles were tossed and words were whispered.
“Whoever can beat me…”
There’s that southern drawl again.
“Can take me home.”
She swore some of them were about to pass out.
That was it. This was so over.
Dean shot up out of his seat, knocking it to the ground, which Sam scrambled to upright before rushing after his brother, hoping he wouldn’t have to break up a brawl.
“I’ll play,” he rumbled, parting the sea of men that had surrounded the pool table.
She grinned and arched her eyebrow.
“Alright James Dean,” she smiled, trailing her eyes over his leather jacket and ripped jeans as if she’d never seen him before.
Sam just grinned and ordered a beer, wishing he had some popcorn for this little show.
Monte broke the triangle of balls, sending them in a spectacular scatter that had even her arching her brow.
Dean knocked his first, a purple solid into the side pocket. Second was a green into the opposite side.
“Not too shabby,” Monte said, winking at Sam who just chuckled.
Next was a yellow to the corner pocket that unfortunately ricocheted and never sunk.
Courtesy of Monte’s oh so subtle lean over the table, letting herself almost fall out of her shirt, right at Dean’s eye level.
He glared.
She smiled as she took her turn. Number 13, side pocket…sunk. Purple stripe, corner pocket…sunk. The cue ball nicked a green stripe and sunk it into another corner.
She blew on her cue stick like a smoking gun as a smattering of applause came from the previous men she had beaten. She slid past Dean, brushing him more than was really necessary and smiled when he stifled a groan.
Blue stripe, corner, piece of cake.
“Corner pocket,” she said, leaning over the table, eyeing her next shot.
“You sure you don’t wanna try a bank shot?” Dean asked somewhat sarcastically.
He knew she could make a bank shot no problem. And he knew she couldn’t make the shot she was currently setting up for.
She knew it too.
“Oh no, sweetheart, I’m sure,” she winked.
Of course she missed, standing up and giving a very convincing pout.
Dean rolled his eyes. His turn.
Red, side…sunk.
He angled his cue stick just right as murmurs went through the crowd. The cue ball jumped one of Monte’s stripes and hit his red, knocking it into the side pocket.
Monte leaned over as he took his next and potentially final shot.
“Hey sweetheart, half my winnings from tonight say you miss this shot.”
“You’re on,” Dean grinned.
The cue ball bounced off the side of the table to knock the black eight ball and send it rolling into the corner pocket.
Monte just grinned as the other men groaned in defeat.
“Well hun, looks like you take home the prize,” she smirked, placing her cue stick on the green felt.
“Looks like I do,” he growled as he ushered her from the bar.
Sam was full out laughing by the time they made it to the Impala.
“Get in the car,” Dean barked, to which Sam with a final laugh actually complied.
“What the hell was that?!”
Monte smiled. “That was me clearing almost a grand.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he seethed, raking his eyes over her body.
“Honey, you flirt your little pretty boy behind off all the time to our advantage and well, I happen to have a little more assets,” she said, pushing her breasts together and upwards, “Than you do.”
He just glared.
“And that stupid ‘whoever wins can take me home’ crap?”
She rolled her eyes, “Sweetheart, none of them could touch me on that pool table, or anywhere else for that matter,” she grinned as he continued to glare in silence.
“You let me win that game,” he whispered.
“Well, I had to make sure I went home with the man I wanted to, didn’t I?” she grinned as she got in the Impala and slammed the door in his face.
He just growled before following.
“And where the hell did you get those shorts?” he asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.
Both Monte and Sam’s laughs echoed in the car.
I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts
I saw him dancin' there by the record machine
I knew he must a been about seventeen
The beat was goin' strong
Playin' my favorite song
An' I could tell it wouldn't be long
Till he was with me, yeah me, singin'
I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come an' take your time an' dance with me
He smiled so I got up and' asked for his name
That don't matter, he said,
'Cause it's all the same
Said can I take you home where we can be alone
An' next we were movin' on
He was with me, yeah me
Next we were movin' on
He was with me, yeah me, singin'
I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come an' take your time an' dance with me
Said can I take you home where we can be alone
An we'll be movin' on
An' singin' that same old song
Yeah with me, singin'
I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come an' take your time an' dance with me
Previous: Song Fic #1: Fire in the Rain | Next: Episode Three: Burn in Hell
Highway to Hell Master Post