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girl_wonderLindsay/Dean.
Beautifully written and such a fabulous pairing.
The guy, with a sort of off country hick look, stared at him, then his car. Said nothing, but went back to his beer with one long up and down look that would have meant something else in a city, but here it probably just meant, "I could take you." Dean thought he couldn't, but he also knew off and he knew that anything off probably meant evil.
Moreover, there was that black slit-eyed look about the guy, the barely contained one, rattler curled in on itself, aware of Dean, aware of the heat of his blood, not aware of the shotgun pointed at it. A lot of really evil things had that slice of black in them, sure black, pitch black, soulless black. Eyes were the window to the soul and the Winchesters just happened to take that a little more seriously than everyone else.
Dean sat down on a barstool, near the bartender. It was a bar. Like any bar. Like every bar. He saw enough to know everything there was about it.