Hi everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. I appreciate it so much more than you know. Please feel free to review and tell me what you think! (Be nice about it, though. Please and thank you.) If you haven't read my other story, "A Meeting By Chance," I ask you check that one out first. This one picks up roughly 27 months after that one ends. Yes, I know 27 months is pretty specific, but I counted and recounted and recounted it up last night, and was pretty proud of myself for it. A LOT has happened in those 2 years and 3 months, which I hope I do a good job of explaining here. I kind of follow the storyline of Supernatural Season 2-4ish, but I also kind of take my own liberties with it. For example, Dean did go to hell, and angels broke him out, but the breaking of the seals hasn't started yet. With that out of the way, please enjoy part 2 of Dean and Melinda's story. :)

**Anything you may recognize, remember, or even think comes from Supernatural or Charmed DOES NOT belong to me.**

Chapter One

Sam Winchester looked across the table and studied his brother. It had been exactly six hours—Sam wasn't counting, he swore—since Dean had said a word. He'd been reading through some book Bobby had tossed at him, and nursing the same cup of coffee for nearly the entirety of those six hours. Sam had tried to make small talk, but when he ended up only talking to himself, he shut up. It had been a hell of a year, with Dean literally going to hell and back, but that wasn't what was bothering him. Sam knew, because Sam knew his brother. Dean's problem was centered in a nice house, in a nice neighborhood, in a nice suburb in San Francisco, California. Dean's problem was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed witch who'd stolen his heart, just a little over two years ago.

Sam stood up, stretching his long legs. He let out a breath and walked into Bobby's kitchen, pouring himself, and Dean, a fresh cup of coffee. They practically lived on the stuff now. Sam walked back into the room, taking the empty cup from Dean, replacing it with the new one. Dean lifted it in Sam's direction, taking a sip, then turning the page in his book. Sam let out a sigh, then clenched his back teeth together. If Bobby didn't find them a hunt in California soon, Sam would summon a damn demon himself to take them there.

Dean flipped another page in his book and Sam walked to the window. It was cold in South Dakota, and the first snow was expected to fall any day now. Sam bet it would be warm in California. He thought back, tried to remember the reasons they weren't there right now. Oh yeah. Dean's stubborn ass. Although he was sure Melinda wasn't entirely innocent. He and Dean had stayed in San Francisco for three months, until late one night, when Dean said they had to go. Of course, Sam later found out that the hunt Dean dragged him out of Halliwell Manor for was actually a hoax, and he was actually running scared from something else. Something much bigger than he was, and more powerful than any demon. Love.

Right after that, Sam had been taken by Azazel, trapped in that town with the others, forced to fight to the death. And Sam had actually died. Dean, that stupid idiot, had made a deal with a crossroads demon: Sam's life for Dean's soul. And the demon, being a rather intelligent creature, had snatched that deal right up. Although, instead of the regular 10-year agreement, Dean's sentence had been reduced to one year. He and Sam had fought that entire year to break the contract, but to no avail. Dean died, as Sam watched helplessly, and had gone to hell. But four months later, Dean had returned, being saved from hell by an angel. Sam had stayed in touch with Melinda, had cried on the phone with her when he had to tell her that Dean was dead. He'd called her back when Dean was alive, but her brother had answered, promising to get Melinda to call. That had been almost seven months ago.

Bobby came walking into the room and motioned for Sam to follow him. Sam drained the last of his coffee and walked into the den, where Dean looked up from his book. Bobby laid a stack of papers down on his desk.

"Somethin' big's happening, boys. Somethin' big and bad."

Sam walked over, taking a look at some of the papers. Weather reports, reports of electrical storms, all the signs of demonic activity. Sam stopped when he saw the missing person's reports.

"Bobby, what are these?"

Bobby glanced over and sighed.

"Five girls, ages 13-15, have been reported missing in the past two weeks. And five bodies have been found. All of them had their throats cut, missing a great deal of blood. And all of them were virgins."

Dean looked up then, spoke his first words in six hours and twenty-two minutes.

"Son of a bitch."

Sam sighed, and Bobby just looked at the two of them. Dean took the missing person's reports, thumbed through them.

"Five virgins over two weeks? Ritualistic killing if I've ever heard it."

Sam nodded, glancing over the weather reports again. His heart kick-started, and he turned to Bobby.

"Where is this, Bobby?"
"Oakland, California."

Sam wasn't going to fall to his knees, thanking whatever god or demon responsible for this. And he wasn't going to run over, kiss and hug Bobby. He wasn't. And he didn't. God, he was jumping up and down on the inside, though. Oakland was a hop, skip, and a jump—and possibly a little more than that—from San Francisco. With any luck, he and Dean would run into Melinda on this trip. Dean looked up from the papers.

"Wait, what? Oakland?"
"Oakland. California. We're headed to the Golden State, my friend."

Dean sighed. Sam walked out of the room, came back nearly as quickly.

"I've got our bags, the Impala's gassed up and ready."

Dean and Bobby exchanged a glance. Bobby reached up to scratch his beard.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were wanting to leave here."
"Just ready for a hunt, Bobby."

Dean stood up, walked out of the room. Sam turned to Bobby.

"And if I have to sit and watch him brood for one more minute, I'm going to take my shiny silver knife and put us both out of our misery."

Bobby laughed, patted Sam on the back.

"I know what you mean, son. You two be careful with this one, all right?"

Sam smiled.

"Of course, Bobby. Hey, we might take a little while when this one is over."

Bobby nodded.

"I figured. After all, Oakland's only—"
"Twelve and a half miles away from San Fran."

Bobby laughed, shaking his head.

"Idjits."

Sam smiled.

"Let's go, Dean! Rolling out!"

Peyton Halliwell shook out her long, dark hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. Her cousin, Melinda, sat across from her, on the bed, absently braiding her own long—but shorter than Peyton's—blonde hair. Peyton kept brushing her hair, watching Melinda as she did. They had just learned of some ritualistic killings in Oakland, and were preparing to research a little before heading over there to check it out. But that wasn't what was bothering Melinda. Peyton knew exactly what was bothering Melinda, and she had ever since it started, roughly two years before. What was bothering Melinda was a tall, dark, broody demon hunter with green eyes and a killer smile. Dean Winchester.

Peyton set the brush down and picked up some lotion for her hands. Melinda had fallen for Dean Winchester when he'd shown up in town, when she ran into him outside her mom's café. They'd saved his brother together, damn well falling in love in the process, but something, and Peyton wasn't sure exactly what, had torn them apart. Dean and his brother had left in the middle of the night, with no explanation. They'd sort of fallen out of touch after that, until Melinda got the call that Dean had died. Oh, that was a rough time. Peyton shuddered whenever she thought about it. Sharing her mother's power of being an empath, Peyton had felt every single thing her cousin had, and the shattering devastation had almost done them both in. But Melinda had pulled through somehow, and Peyton too, and they'd tried to get on with their lives. Until the call that said Dean wasn't so dead after all. Chris had expounded on that point, letting them know the whole story, and Peyton had felt Melinda's hurt and anger. Seven months had gone by since then, and Melinda was now—

"Peyton?"

Peyton turned around, smiling at her cousin.

"Yeah?"
"What do you think these killings mean?"

Peyton blew out a long breath. Melinda turned to look out the window, absently picking up one of the pillows from the bed.

"Well, they obviously mean something. The question is what."
"Why these girls? They were so young."
"And virgins, Mel."
"True. We start them young nowadays."

Peyton nodded, then cocked her head.

"What's really bothering you, Mel?"

Melinda shrugged her shoulders, then looked away from the window.

"Stop empathing me, Peyton."
"I can't help it. We're too connected."

Melinda smiled. They were best friends, she and Peyton. Had been their whole lives. Their birthdays were only two weeks apart, to the day. Peyton stood up, walked over to the bed. She sat beside Melinda, and Melinda let her head drop to Peyton's shoulder.

"What's wrong, Mellie?"
"I don't know. A lot of things. These girls were so young. And they all have blonde hair and blue eyes."
"Mel, you think you're going to be next? No chance in hell. We won't let them get to you. Plus, you're kind of old."
"Twenty-six is not old."
"I know, I know."

Peyton smiled, and Melinda's next sentence was very soft.

"This is a big thing, Peyton. What if ... What if we run into them?"

Peyton sighed.

"Then we run into them. You hold your head high and give him a great big 'screw you.' You're Melinda Halliwell, for God's sake."

Melinda smiled and nodded. Peyton kissed the top of Melinda's hair before she stood up.

"Come on. I bet Wyatt's waiting on us."

So now we have a story! Just in case you were wondering, Peyton is one of Phoebe and Coop's daughters. She shares the power of being an empath, like Phoebe, but she also has a few cupid powers from her dad. Those will show up later, though. And maybe Peyton could turn out to be important to someone else in this story...? We'll just have to see! Please feel free to review for me! Thanks!