Chapter One

Dean smiled as he heard the first few chords of "Ramble On" emanate from the old jukebox across the room. He knew Sam didn't quite understand his love for the songs on the aging collection of cassette tapes in the Impala and their ilk, he was simply content to humor his big brother. While Dean did prefer the lyrics and sound of classic rock to the pop garbage that passed for music nowadays, it was more about what the songs represented to him. Times spent driving the open road with his family, the three of them together. The soundtrack of his childhood. A comforting constant in the crazy life he and his brother led.

That life currently found the two of them bellied up at the end of bar. After finishing a job they'd stopped in a small town outside of Decatur, Illinois for the night. A simple salt and burn case that served as a refreshing change of pace from the crap hand they'd been dealt lately. Between their father's death and their seemingly never ending hunt for the yellow-eyed demon, Dean was happy to get back to work doing what qualified as normal for a hunter.

He drained the last of his beer and, noticing that Sam had nearly reached the dredges of his as well, motioned to the bartender for another round. As he waited for their drinks, he spared a glance around the bar and shook his head with a wry smirk. No matter how often the location changed, the scenery never seemed to. The roadhouse they currently found themselves included have been any of hundreds that he'd passed through over the years. Same dim lighting, same dingy atmosphere, same underlying smell of stale beer and smoke.

He paused as his eyes slid over to the back corner of the room. There was one thing he was always glad to see change. New town, new opportunities, he thought, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. The twenty-something was staring in the direction of the TV above the bar as the slim fingers curled around her beer bottle tapped absently along to Led Zeppelin. As the bartender arrived with their drinks, he took advantage of her distraction to give her an appreciative once-over.

Long dirty blonde hair framed an attractive face before falling over her shoulders in sleek strands. A snug black tank top left her toned arms bare and, much to Dean's delight, an alluring amount of her chest exposed. From this distance he couldn't make out the color of her eyes but from the furrow of her brow he could tell they weren't really focus on the local news coverage of a high school football game. She seemed deep in thought as she pursed her lips, drawing his attention to her full mouth.

His musings of what those lips might feel like yielding under his were interrupted by a theatrical sigh. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" Sam challenged as Dean tore his gaze away from the woman to look at his younger brother.

Dean smiled cheekily, "What can I say Sammy, I've got an appreciation for the finer things in life.

"Whatever man," Sam said, shaking his head but grinning good-naturedly. He took a large swig of his beer and stood, clapping his brother on the shoulder before turning and heading in the direction of the restroom.

Dean watched Sam's departing back before returning his focus back to object of his earlier attention. After a moment, he took a drink and stood to cross the room, beer in hand. As he neared the woman's table, he put on what he knew from past experience to be quite the ladykiller smile and waited for her to look his way. When she didn't move, his smile faltered slightly, and he cleared his throat.

After a moment she turned her head towards him, eyes looking up at him from under raised brows. "This seat taken?" he asked, gesturing at the vacant spot next to her.

She leaned back in her chair to look him over briefly, a hint of a smile playing over her lips. "Knock yourself out," she replied.

As he pulled out the chair and settled into it, he used the closer distance to get a better look at her. A faded scar across her right cheek was the only real blemish to her sun-kissed complexion. Minimal makeup left her fresh-faced, a nice change from the overly dolled-up women he normally encountered in these type of places. A long silver chain encircled her neck, though whatever hung from it was hidden from his view as the ends disappeared tantalizingly beneath the neckline of her shirt.

He flicked his gaze upwards and found himself looking into the entrancing mix of steely grey and clear blue in her eyes. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he realized he'd been staring and collected himself. "I'm Dean," he began conversationally, and waited for her to return the courtesy. When her only reply was to raise her beer bottle to her lips, he smirked. "Okay then." He sat back in his chair, intrigued in spite of himself. "So, you from around here?"

She snorted as she swallowed her drink. "Your pickup lines need some work," she said, eying him with a mix of amusement and disdain.

"Well it's not like you're giving me much to work with here," he replied, spreading his hands wide. "Wanna throw me a bone?"

She regarded him silently for a moment before quirking the corner of her mouth upwards. "Just passing through."

"Ah, look at that. We have something in common," he said, tipping his beer bottle towards her with a charming smile. "See what happens when you share?"

She allowed a small chuckle and smiled back at him. Taking that as the most encouraging sign he'd be likely to get, Dean put both elbows on the table and decided to go for broke.

"Maybe there are some... other things we can share with each other," he added with a wicked grin.

She set the bottle on the table, dropping her gaze. When she looked back up at him, it was from beneath seductively lowered lashes. "Sounds fun," she purred, leaning towards him. Dean copied her body language, surprised that his tongue-in-cheek comment had elicited such a response. He'd half expected to get slapped. His gaze was unconsciously drawn to her mouth as she parted her lips slightly.

He was considering closing the last bit of distance between them when she pulled back suddenly. "But, as the song says," she explained with a wink, "I've gotta ramble on," pushing back her chair and standing. She dug into her pocket, threw a couple of bills on the table, and reached for the jacket she had slung over her chair.

Taken aback by the quick turn of events, Dean sat back in his chair heavily and tried to compose himself. "Shame, and here I was thinking that we were hitting it off so well," he said, smiling flirtatiously.

She gave a short laugh, "Trust me, we weren't." She shrugged into her jacket and flipped her hair out from beneath the collar. "But don't feel bad. It's not you, it's me, or however that drivel goes." She reached for her beer and finished it off before looking back at him, her gaze taking on any icy edge that belied her playful tone. "I just don't play well with others," she concluded with a wink before moving away.

As she walked behind him, he dropped his gaze to the table and smiled wryly at her rejection. He turned his head to watch her leave and was surprised to feel her hair brush the back of his neck as she leaned close, lips nearly touching behind his ear.

"Especially Winchesters."