He looked over at the woman in his bed. Her back was to him, one edge of the seedy motel sheets draped over the smooth curve of her backside. The rest of her was bare, tempting him back to her from his place at the table. Before he could stand, she rolled onto her back and moaned, tossing the sheet from her body. His eyes widened at the sight. He cleared his throat to keep himself focused, and heard her chuckle.

"Oh, you're awake?" he inquired, about to stand until he realized a part of his body already had.

"I've been awake since you fled to the other side of the room Dean," she smirked, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and placing her feet on the floor.

"I didn't flee. My uh, my legs cramped," he muttered.

She pulled her underwear on, rummaging in the folds of the sheets for her bra. "Bull riding will do that to ya. You'll get used to it."

He scoffed. "It's one hobby I won't be taking up."

"Too bad. You were starting to look pretty sexy up there," she teased, pulling the bra from under a pillow.

"I see it benefits you in other ways, outside the bar."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Riding the bull is NOT where I get it from."

Dean swallowed and stood up. He opened his mouth to speak, but the room filled with the theme from the X-Files. When she reached into her pants and pulled out a cell phone, he rolled his eyes. 'Great. A sci-fi freak,' he thought. When she turned to face him, he smiled and tilted his head upwards. It was then that she let out a bellow of laughter. His smile vanished, replaced by pursed lips and a raised eyebrow.

"What's so funny? All my parts are covered, but you didn't laugh last night anyway," he stated.

"Your smile and half nod. Everytime your brother kept trying to talk about something, you gave him that humouring look," she explained, slithering into her jeans.

He sighed. "The ring tone of your phone. I knew a lot of space dorks in high school. They drove me crazy."

"Oh I don't watch X-Files religiously or have a secret shrine to Mulder with a lock of his chest hair or anything," she stated.

"Chest hair?"

"My best friend in high school had one of those creepy 'I'd die with out you' obsessions with Duchovny."

"If you don't, then why the ring tone?"

"It's a joke about my job. My brother calls me Scully," she responded, rolling her eyes.

His body stiffened, his jaw hardening at her words. "Your job? What are you?"

"Uh, I'm FBI," she responded, looking under the bed for her shirt. "But that's all I'm going to tell you."

Dean scanned the room, trying to locate his jacket. In the left pocket, he knew he would find a gun. He spotted it in a heap next to what would have been Sam's bed if he hadn't made him sleep in the car. But when he looked back at her, she was pulling on her boots. 'Damn, she finished dressing fast,' he mused, watching her march around the bed to pluck her cowboy hat from the lamp. Dean studied her, trying to find the weight of a gun in her coat or the bulge of a knife in her pants. When he didn't notice any, he relaxed and allowed the sight of her approaching to excite him, instead of send his mind scrambling for escape plans. She placed her hand on the back of his neck and pressed her lips against his. Dean put his hands on her hips, pulling her tight to his pelvis. A few minutes later, she pulled away, lightly panting.

"So…" he trailed off, completely blanking on her name.

"Kendall. You didn't forget it. I didn't tell you," she stated. "Thanks for the wild ride, cowboy."

She was halfway to the door when he realized that meant goodbye. "Woah! You're leaving? But it's barely morning!"

"That X-Files phone call? My partner," she said with a shrug.

"Mulder can wait."

She smiled. "Not with the info he's sitting on."

At that moment, Sam burst through the door, ruining Dean's chance for a witty comment. "Dammit Sammy! Didn't you learn from last time?"

Sam's brow furrowed, confused by Dean's remark. "What are-nevermind. Dean I found something."

"Congratulations. You want a medal?" Dean barked.

"No. I FOUND something. Bobby just called," Sam explained slowly.

Kendall shrugged. "And that's my cue to resume leaving. See you around boys. Oh and Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"This looked better on you," she winked, tossing him her cowboy hat.

When the door shut behind her, Dean held up his hand. "Shut up. Shut up and don't say anything."

Sam laughed. "A girl you slept with, tosses you a cowboy hat because it 'looked better on you' and you expect me to listen to you when you tell me to shut up?"

"I mean it Sammy. Not right now," Dean warned.

"Whatever you say, Sundance," Sam snickered.

Dean scoffed. "Sundance? He's small-fry. We both know I'm Butch Cassidy."

Sam laughed and shook his head as Dean walked off to the bathroom and slammed the door. The running water of the shower indicated that the topic was no longer up for discussion. But Sam would wait for his moment, even if he knew that Dean would fire right back. While he waited, Sam put the cowboy hat on his head and looked at himself in the mirror. He puckered his lips and gave himself the thumbs up.

"He wishes he looked good enough to be Butch Cassidy," Sam scoffed, turning to check himself out.

He heard whistling behind him and whirled to find Dean with a towel around his waist. "Looking good Sammy. A few more trips to the south and I may consider you as my Sundance," he taunted. "Now take that thing off. We got work to do."