Maxima Wise was puttering around her studio apartment. She was slowly getting ready for a date she didn't really want to go on, but she had promised her self she would try new things. Dating in the modern age was definitely new.

Max, as she preferred to be called, was a witch, born in the middle of the fifth century. In 1865, due to countless tragedies, Max put herself to sleep, only waking in the 21st Century when the Darkness was released.

Now she lived in Lebanon, KS due to a purposeful chance.

Max reached up to touch the dampening charm she wore on a necklace to reassure herself that it was there. She wore it not to tame her abilities, but so they wouldn't give her away. The charm and the cloaking tattoo were the main reasons she'd lived so long. Well, that and she hadn't found anything that could kill her….yet.

She looked over at the clock and sighed. It was already 5:00pm. She had to get going soon if she was going to make the dinner at 6:30 in Hastings. When asked out, she decided the hour drive was worth not running in to you-know-who.

Max had just started to get her dress out of the closet when there was a knock at her door. She quickly grabbed her robe, not wanting to answer the door in just her undergarments. Crossing the apartment, she wondered who could be knocking on her door. The only person she could think of was the little girl from downstairs selling cookies again.

"I told you, I don't want any more cook—" she opened the door to find Dean Winchester standing there, "-kies."

"Good," Dean answered. "Cause I only brought whiskey." He held up the bottle.

"Dean, what are you doing here?" she asked although she knew the answer. This wasn't the first time he'd showed up unannounced with alcohol in tow. And usually she didn't mind, but she had a date.

He brushed in past her, walking straight to the cabinet for glasses. It wasn't until he had poured two glasses that he actually looked at her and saw her.

The front of her hair was pulled back away from her face, held back by a barrette on top of her head. Her pale blue eyes rimmed in black eye liner, making them more striking. Her lips painted a dark pink. She was in her silky robe, tied loosely around her waist and her legs were clad with stockings.

"Wow," he took it all in. He thought she was beautiful without all the effort, but damn! He'd never seen her like this. "You expecting someone?" he tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice.

"Actually, I have a date," she told him, a little smile playing across her lips. "You jealous?" she teased him, knowing he probably was, but he'd made his choice.

After their first night together, they had gone their separate ways. She didn't get his number. He never asked for hers. So it was quite a surprise the first time he showed up unannounced. He had brought a bottle of vodka then.

He had looked ragged that day and asked if they could talk. She let him in, not able to say no to someone who desperately looked like they needed a friend. And, if she were being honest with herself, because she needed a friend as well.

Their talking had turned in to so much more that night, the alcohol allowing her to drop her inhibitions just enough. She had never experienced anyone quite like Dean before. When they were together, they were just together. Nothing else mattered. It was freeing.

The next morning they talked briefly. He wanted to keep things casual, no expectations. She agreed, willing to take him as she could get him. At least that was what she told herself every time he came back and she let him in.

"Ah," was his response, as he quickly downed one of the glasses and closed the bottle. "Guess I'll get out of your hair then."

Max was a little disappointed he didn't put up more of a fight. But what did she expect?

Dean had his hand on the doorknob when he turned to her, "It's just, we're going to rescue Mom and Jack. But I don't know if we'll all make it back alive."

Max suppressed a smile and blew out a fake frustrated breath. "Fine. But just talk," she told him.

She picked up her phone and sent a quick text to her letting him know she couldn't make it. Then she walked over to the counter where the still full and now empty glass were sitting, grabbed the full one and went over to the couch.

She sat down on 'her' side of the couch, folding her legs under her. Dean followed suit, bringing the empty glass and bottle over to the couch with him. But instead of sitting on 'his' side of the couch, he placed on hand on the arm of the couch and the other on the back of the couch. Then he bent over and kissed her.

"Hey," she protested, pulling her lips away from his. "I said only talking!"

He smiled, pulling her to her feet. Then kissed her again as he untied the robe's belt. He separated himself from her and took a step back to admire her. Her lingerie was the same color as her lipstick, while her garter belt and stockings were black.

"How come you never dress up for me?" he questioned, giving her a fake pout.

She playfully hit his shoulder. "Well if you would ever warn me before you come over

She said some version of that every time he came over. Yet every time he came over was still unannounced. She figured it was probably his way of keeping it casual even though she knew he had real feelings for her just as she did for him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tight. He covered her lips with his and kissed her until she was breathless.

She wriggled out of his arms, purposely losing her robe in the process. Then she took the barrette out of her hair and shook it out. Luckily it hadn't been in long so there was no crease. She sauntered over to the bed and then motioned for him to follow.