A/N: Sorry I've been away for so long. This is not a one shot. I promise. I'll be back for more.

Review. Please. I'm already halfway through the second chapter, I swear I'll post it after a good review. If you review/follow/etc. then I'll definitely check out ur page and stuff.

Also: looking for a beta!

Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, I would not be writing fanfiction about it.

The first time he sees her, he's in a broken-down house, facing the Seven Deadly Sins (he still capitalizes the S and D and S mentally, doesn't quite know why.) He's in a corner, because Tamara the fucking idiot let the goddamn Biblical sins in opened the door and broke the salt line and they all came exploding in, him and Bobby and Sam breaking back and retreating to their prescribed places, with Devil Traps and buckets of holy water and salt shells on standby. He's already dunked Lust, or at least he assumes it was her, and now he's backing up because god damn he's cornered and there's not much he can do, and the ceiling devil's trap is broken and he's clenching a knife and trying to remember the exorcism. I will not die here, now, because a stupid hunter chick messed up, he thinks, and mentally curses Tamara. Not for the first time, today.

And then there's a crashing sound and a shard of glass hits him in the hand, cuts into his palm and coats it with blood, and he looks over to his left with a quiet curse and sees a window broken. He looks back fast at the demons, who (very surprisingly) haven't made a move yet, and then back at the window, expecting another Sin, or at least a human enchanted by them— but all he sees is fire, suddenly appearing on the frame, on the broken glass inside the window. He jumps back to his glaring position facing the Sins as the window remains quiet, backs away from the flames and keeps one foot slightly to the side, ready to turn and fight whatever monster comes through.

And then there are coal-darkened knuckles curling over the top of the sill and this woman vaults in, and at first all he can see is her face, slightly surprised and still coated with a smug smirk. And then her hand is reaching down into her boot, slowly and deliberately, and he could swear there's not a single person breathing in this room. He shoots a glance back at the Sins (he's still capitalizing the S, and it's annoying him), and backs up, appreciating the distraction.

Her hand snaps out of her boot, and she pulls out a goddamn water gun and shoots the left bastard once, twice, three times, and it screams so loudly he knows it's holy water. And her other hand has suddenly produced a knife and it is flying into the middle one and— holy shit. The middle Sin is on fire, spreading out from the area that the knife hit, and it's screaming. Meanwhile, the woman is spinning past him: literally, spinning, with her hair (black and curled) bouncing in the hot room. She stops and taps him on the shoulder, lightly, with two fingers. 'Sweetheart? Run.'

Her lipstick, he takes in, is dark red, and her accent is a slow, drawling mix between New York and some variety of English accents. She widens her eyes and pops her fingers out, like she's about to surprise him, and then she's turning away with a thickly accented 'I mean it.' He can't quite place her accent, and it annoys him. A lot of things annoy him, these days, because if he gets angry it means something or someone is dead.

And then she's pushing him out through the doorway, and there are two Sins left, and he looks and sees her stab one and push the other against the wall with her hand against its throat, and he doesn't know who she is, and for some reason that's only coming to him now. And he doesn't know this woman, fiery and but he sort of wants to kiss her and he sort of wants to punch her and he sort of wants to yell 'fuck it all' and go back in and finish off the demons, but there's a yell from the other side of the house and his mind goes straight to Sam Sam Sam and he's off, back into the gear he's found where he can run forever.

And then he's bursting into the room where Sam is, and he's shooting and salting and drenching the Sins in that room as Sam coughs out exorcisms, and then he's dragging Sam back somewhere and then they're all in the living room, him and Sam and Bobby and Tamara. And there's a scream, inhuman, and he looks over and the left wing of the house is on fire, and the woman comes walking into the room from over there, eyebrows raised and boots clacking.

"Well? Aren't ya gonna say thank you?" she says, with a gently biting grin, and looks Dean in the eye, recognizes him as a. "Well. Here's my card." She has a small businesscard in the palm of her hand, metal-edged and covered with neat black-inked words, and she flips it over to Bobby. There's Boston in there, too, he thinks to himself; her accent is rolling and dragging itself over the words, careless and cocky.

And then the woman is giving Tamara a nod and shaking her hair over one shoulder, and with a smaller, clean knife, she puts it up in a bun. Like a messy pencil one, only with a knife hilt grazing her neck. Like it's the most natural, thoughtless and careless thing in the world for her, pressing a knife, a weapon, to the back of her head and using it like a hair tie or a pencil.

And then she's walking through them, pushing past Sam and Tamara, towards the window, and he wants to stop her and make her say something, anything, explain herself, who is she. He's angry now, and confused, and the fact that she saved his life is barely even factoring in anymore because she walked into the middle of a fucking hunt with a knife that lights demons on fire and now she's acting like it's every day.

But then she puts her hands on the window and backflips through it, and suddenly the frame is on fire and bloodless (why? shouldn't she be bleeding, injured?), and she's gone when he makes it down to the ground, even when Bobby checks for tracks and finds the sunstruck grass covered with ash and another goddamn business card laying neatly next to the house.

He wonders about her for a long time.