Siren's Song - A Sam x FMC x Dean Fanfic

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕟

"You think I'll be lucky enough to get a lap dance before we-"

"Dude, shut the fuck up." Sam hissed, cutting me off as he whipped his head toward me to shoot me a nasty glare. All I could do was let out a chuckle in response. 

What can I say? You gotta make your own fun in this serious, death-defying job we have. I admire my little brother for being so straight-edged and down to business...I do...it means I raised the kid well. But I will admit, it makes it a little harder to get through.

You gotta smile through the bullshit sometimes. More often than not, it's our only way to survive. We see so much blood...so much death...so much scary crap that everyone else in the world thinks only exists in TV and books....legends and fairytales...movies and nightmares. We've lost so many people we've cared about...our parents, for starters. This life is a lonely struggle...so when I get the opportunity to have some fun, take the edge off, or crack a joke...I'm going to. Whether he deems it appropriate or not. 

There has to be some good with the bad. Because if not...what else is there to fight for?

 It's been hunt after hunt after hunt lately. Some went great...others, not so much. It's a lot of weight on both our shoulders alone...sometimes I wish I just had someone besides Sam to share the burden with. Thank God I have him, obviously...but he does deserve a break from time to time. We both do. 

There's nothing funny about a string of mysterious murders that we can't find any connection to, really. So far...besides this place we're currently combing through...it's just chalked up to a bunch of horny dudes willing to kill for a decent lay. Demented...sad...twisted, of course...but nothing has really screamed 'our kind of gig' so far. 

Nothing....save the fact every person who seemed to mysteriously lose their marbles...lost it right after visiting this club.

A strip club. 

I mean...Sam can't blame me for finding solace in this. He's excited about it too, deep down...I know he is. We plunder through graveyards, deal with our fair share of creepy ghost children. Often times, we find our monster in the lowliest of places....places that reek so bad, no amount of detergent will ever get the stink and the morbidity out of our clothes. 

But for our lead to be a strip club....I mean...c'mon....who wouldn't be thrilled by that change of pace? 

I sure as hell am. Even if our monster turns out to be camouflaging itself as some sexy ass stripper, and we'd unfortunately have no choice but to gank her...it'd be a relief from the grotesque horror of the usual shit we have to put down. And if we have to interview other strippers to try and get a lead...maybe I'll even be lucky enough to have a night of fun to take the edge off amidst all the brutality. 

I'm not afraid to admit how excited that thought made me. Given the string of bad luck, blood and guts we've been through lately...I'd say Sam and I deserve a night off to just be stupid and be dudes...just appreciate the finer side of life.

He's not having it, of course. It's all work, no play with him. I can't say I blame the guy...we've been desperate for a win lately. It seems like the two of us are cursed with bad luck, no matter how hard we try to fight for the greater good of the world. It's unfair...the punchline to a bad joke, in all honesty. We bust our tails day and night...and we have been since both of us were old enough to even hold a weapon in our little hands. All for nothing. Scraps, loneliness, heartache...

So if he's mad at me for getting giddy about something as simplistic as the attraction to strippers...let the bitch be mad. I'm gonna have fun whether he wants me to or not. I deserve it...and so does he. He just needs to learn that even though our lives suck....it is okay to live a little here and there.