Author's Notes: I've been itching to write a new story again, and this came to me as I was watching one of my favourite CM clips from the episode Open Season. The guy, Brad, reminded me of Dean, and his actions greatly resembled something Dean would do. I'm also a fairly big fan of crossovers, when done well. Naturally, I've taken liberties with the episode to line up with my own story.

Disclaimer: I, Samuel Ocean, do not own Criminal Minds or Supernatural.

"Hey, look at this. Several hunters in the past few weeks have been found mauled. Witnesses report seeing a large, dark, animal with glowing red eyes in the area the hunters were found. Possible black dog?"

"Dude, Sam. We're in a bar, dressed to kill. Why not get your nose out of the computer and check out some of these chicks?" Dean flashed his teeth at a passing college girl.

Sam sighed and clicked his computer shut. "We need to find something, soon. We've been in DC way too long. Majority of people here are feds… And we've already toed the line going door-to-door with FBI badges and rock aliases enough in this town. Someone's bound to notice eventually."

"Relax, Sammy. We've been declared dead again. No one's looking for us. If anything, we can leave tomorrow. Tonight, let's enjoy ourselves. Play pool, pick up girls." Dean looked over his brother with a critical eye. "Or in your case, go back to the hotel room and rent Nerdy Demon Chicks Gone Wild."

He ducked to avoid the pen aimed at his head.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

A small group of good-looking women came in together and sat in a table not far from where the two brothers were sitting. A tall, thin, brunette separated herself from the other two and went to pick up their drinks from the bar.

Sam rolled his eyes and busied himself with the newspaper in front of him as Dean stood from the booth to head towards the bar to make an interception.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam watched as Dean engaged the woman in an apparently interesting conversation and was led back to the table of women. Great. At this rate, he wouldn't see his brother again until late the next morning. Perhaps he ought to find a case closer to Virginia…

"Ladies, this is Brad, a real FBI agent!" Prentiss said with a smirk in her voice.

"Really?"

"No way." JJ and Garcia smiled into their drinks.

"Yep." Dean gave his best aren't-I-adorable grin and held out his hand. "FBI Special Agent Brad Whitford."

"Brad Whitford? Isn't that also the name of the guitarist from Aerosmith?" Prentiss.

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he could have sworn he heard a snort of laughter from Sam's direction. "Ehr-"

"That's exciting! What's it like working at Quan-ti-co?" Dean couldn't have felt more gratitude towards the blond, Garcia, than he felt at that moment.

"Oh, it's impressive." He puffed out his chest.

"What department are you in?" JJ asked as she popped a few pretzels into her mouth.

He smirked. "That's classified," he stated, slowly. "But we investigate, you know… strange things."

"Ooo. Must be tough, keeping all of those secrets." A smirk and a wink to her friends.

Dean chuckled. "Oh, you know. It's a skill like anything else. Carpenters are good at building stuff; measuring. FBI's good at, well, keeping secrets and kicking criminal ass."

He knew he had to be getting somewhere as the girls giggled.

"Yeah, well somebody's got to do it. Oh- do you have to carry your gun and badge everywhere you go?" The brunette- Emily?- asked excitedly. Dean figured he liked her the best.

"Affirmative." The trick was to look and act important and official. Girls loved that. And the suit definitely helped.

"Can we see it?"

"See what?" He asked coyly, giving a slow smile. Mix the aforementioned with playing hard to get, and…

Prentiss gave her own slow, suggestive smile in return. "Your badge."

Oh yes, he definitely liked the brunette.

"… Sure…" He started feeling around his pockets for his fake badge. Front, back… Outer pockets of his jacket… Dammit, he didn't leave it in the car, did he? He frowned, and continued his search.

Just as his hand closed down on a familiar leather rectangle in the inside pocket of his jacket, Prentiss pulled out her own leather rectangle.

"Tell me Brad, does it look anything like this?"

"Or this?"

"Or maybe this?"

Dean found himself looking at an official-looking FBI design that looked WAY more official than the one on his badge. The same design on three different badges… with pictures of three different women on them… Pictures matching the women in front of him.

Oh. Shit.

Feeling himself pale and saying nothing, he stuffed his own badge back into his pocket and half-walked, half ran back to the table where Sam was sitting.

"Sam, we have to go."

"Woah, Dean! What?" Sam scrambled to gather his laptop and newspapers as his brother began dragging him out of the booth and towards the door of the bar.

"NOW, Sam." Dean spared a wild-eyed glance back at the table where the three women were laughing. One appeared to be on the phone.

"We've been in DC way too long."