Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural in any way or form...sadly... :(
The ring of the doorbell jolted me back to the real world. Setting down my latest fantasy book on the coffee table, I rose from the couch. Apparently, my foot had fallen asleep, and it felt as though pins and needles were stabbing the area. I grimaced slightly when my weight was shifted to my right foot. I limped slightly across the short distance to the door and swung it open.
The masculine figure had his back to me, clad in a worn leather jacket and stood at about 5'1". His hands were shoved in the pockets of worn jeans and his black boots were caked with dried mud. And sitting in my driveway was a black '67 Chevy Impala. I took these details in quickly as years of training had instilled into me. The painful tingling faded away as I recognized the all too familiar man.
"Dean?" I could hardly manage a whisper.
The figure whirled around at the sound of my voice, and my suspicions were confirmed.
Dean Winchester had found his way back to my front porch.
I leaned against the doorjamb nonchalantly and crossed my arms. A piece of brown hair slipped from the bun on my head and fell into my face. I brushed it aside hastily.
"Juliette. You look well." Dean's bright green eyes met my own blue ones and his face lit up with a heart-stopping smile.
"You don't look so bad yourself." I replied. Glancing around, I noticed someone missing. "I see that you came by your lonesome. No Sammy attached to your side?" I teased.
"He'll be by later. He said he had something to take care of. Though, I don't know why he would delay seeing you again." As always, Dean was the embodiment of charm. Being used to it, I brushed it off.
I gestured to the car in the driveway. "I see you're still driving your 'baby'." I chuckled.
"Of course. She's been through hell and back and then some." His expression, then, turned to one of ultimate seriousness. "You got any pie?"
I was not surprised that his thoughts turned in that direction. I nodded. "Of course I do. Please. Eat it before my willpower crumbles." I stepped aside to allow Dean into the house. He made a beeline for the refrigerator, tracing the familiar path through the living room to the adjoining kitchen. He yanked the stainless steel handle, hunting frantically for the pastry. I watched with amusement from the living room.
"I can't find it!" Dean yelled after a few seconds of eager searching. He glanced over at me with slight panic in his eyes, fearing that I was messing with him.
Laughing, I said, "It's on the top shelf behind the milk." This man can be so complicated at times, but when it came to pie and his family, he had a one track mind.
Dean removed the dessert from the fridge with a triumphant look on his face. "I love me some pie." He whispered under his breath. I had to stifle a snicker. Not many people got to see this side of Dean Winchester.
As he fixed himself a plate of pecan pie, topping it with a huge spoonful of Cool Whip, I grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from my alcohol cabinet. I poured the two drinks and handed one over to Dean. He gestured toward me with the raised glass in thanks, and took a swig. I smiled in return and took a sip of my own.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I asked, "So, what brings you to my humble home?" Not that it was strange seeing the Winchester boys in this house. But it had been about six months since I last saw the brothers. Dean didn't seem to hear my question; he was all-encompassed in his snack. I rolled my eyes, and repeated the question.
Breaking the reverie, he glanced up at me. "Just passing through. Thought we'd drop by." He paused, then restated his answer. "Well, I thought I would come see you. Sammy seemed too preoccupied with whatever he was working on to pay attention to anything else. God, this pie is amazing." And that effectively recaptured his attention.
I rolled my eyes and downed the rest of my drink. The burning of the alcohol ran down my throat. It was almost too strong; I hadn't had a good drink in a while. I strode pass Dean, snatching his empty plate out of his hands, and put it and the whiskey glass in the sink. "Hey!" I heard the outraged protest come from behind me. "I wasn't done!"
"You were one second away from licking the plate." I countered.
"So?"
I just rolled my eyes and turned the faucet on, rinsing off the dishes.
The doorbell sounded throughout the house. Dean quickly looked in my direction, before he pushed himself off of the counter and strode toward the entryway.