A/N: So sorry I haven't posted anything lately! I've been working and I had a really bad case of writer's block...BUT I'm back now guys! I'm re-doing Complicated, so please, please read and review again and let me know what you think. :)

Prologue: Julian's Bar- August 2004

Dean Winchester pushed the door to Julian's Bar open and walked inside. Dust covered the windowsills and the floor; the tables and bar were clean, however, and almost every booth and chair was full. It wasn't the cleanest bar he'd been in but it would serve his purpose. Ever since Sam left for Stanford and deserted his family, Dean was having trouble finding the effort to do anything; even a basic salt and burn wasn't worth his time. Drinking, however, was his only escape.

Stacey James had been sitting at the end of the bar since five thirty that evening, a half empty bottle of vanilla rum in front of her. Three weeks of drinking every night, to the brink of being wasted in hopes of forgetting. She was horrible at talking out her feelings and always tried to hide behind a cheerful mask around her team. She preferred to drink the pain away. It was the only choice, as shooting Owen Wilder was, unfortunately, illegal. The bar wasn't perfect, but thanks to her standing tab, it worked nicely for her.

(Stacey's POV)

I poured my third shot of rum for the night, downing it before I put the bottle back. Julia, the bartender, gave me a sympathetic smile as someone sat down on the barstool beside me. "Strongest thing you got." The stranger asked in a smooth, deep voice.

I peeked through the bright red hair hiding my face from view. He was handsome with short brownish-blonde hair, freckles, and piercing green eyes. I guessed him to be around my age. "Sure thing, cutie." She poured a shot of whiskey for him.

"Leave the bottle, please."

She nodded, moving off to clean the tables. I shifted and tossed my hair over my shoulder. He was hurting too, judging by the forlorn expression on his face and his death grip on the whiskey bottle, clinging to it for life. Suddenly, his eyes met mine and I realized I'd been staring. "Heartbreak?" He asked quietly.

"How'd you guess?" I countered wryly, downing yet another shot of rum.

He nodded toward the half empty bottle in front of me. "You're alone." Raising an eyebrow, he added, "Only reason for a beautiful woman to be in a place like this on her own, unprotected."

I lifted the hem of my shirt just enough to reveal the Glock holstered at my side. "Guess again, hotshot."

"I stand corrected, then."

I laughed. "Same deal for you?"

"Of sorts." He held out his hand. "Dean."

"Stacey." His hands were calloused from years of hard work. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Yahtzee, darling." Dean grinned slightly. "Passing through."

"Really? Where are you headed?" I inquired curiously.

"Baltimore. I gotta meet my old man tomorrow."

I took another drink. "Sounds fun."

"I wish. But you do what you gotta do, you know?"

"Yeah."

We continued talking until Julia announced last call. "So, do you wanna get out of here?" Dean was smiling, but he seemed slightly nervous.

I hesitated. One night stands weren't my usual deal but Dean seemed…different. However, with the amount of alcohol coursing through my system, maybe my profiling instincts were dulled. I didn't care though. "I thought you'd never ask."