Whaaaaaaa, new story already? Yeah, well, I had this one started up around the same time as my last one, and this plot bunny just wouldn't leave my head. Originally this was going to be a oneshot, but it's really getting too long, so it's just going to be a short series of moments, around four, I wanna say? Just a head's up.

This is gonna be part of a two part series of Dean Winchester hooking up with girls from other shows, preseries. If you've read my profile, you already know who the other girl is, and I have plans to write that one as soon as I'm done with this.

I absolutely love the idea of Swanchester, but preseries, and I really don't like the HC that Dean could be Henry's father. No, it's established that it's Neal, and I like the idea of Tallahassee crossing over into Emma's consciousness while talking to Dean. So here's this take; hopefully it's decent so far!

"When Stars Cross"

Part 1

Old Joe starts chewing tobacco, and Emma stifles a groan, leaning forward on the dining counter. Hank only tolerates it because the old geezer has been coming here since God knows when and seriously, with the way he looks, his ticker's almost up. So Emma, like the rest of the employees and patrons at the Five and Dime Diner (which, with a name like that, already indicates how old the place is), just look the other way and pretend not to notice.

Kind of hard, with the way Old Joe's lips form around the gross substance and make a noise that's nothing short of nauseating.

Luckily Old Joe is in Minnie's station today.

Could be worse, Emma supposes. After all, this was pretty terribly on a day-to-day basis, but it wasn't prison. She shudders at the thought; nothing had been worse, but she thanks the stars above that that chapter of her life is done and over, and her old life is left back there, joining foster care, Ingrid's batshit insane nature, Neal, giving up her son.

Sometimes, to amuse herself (or hurt herself more, Emma isn't sure which), Emma pictures her son in the background, coming home to shrieking cries and messy, grabby hands and babble she can barely understand. He's almost three, she thinks, and she hopes to God he's had the luxury of having some nice family adopt him. Sometimes Emma wishes she'd done the parenting thing; most days she's glad she never put herself in deeper trouble trying to make ends meet.

In the end, giving him up was probably one of her smarter decisions.

The familiar trill of the bell at the door indicating a new customer has entered interrupts Emma from her thoughts, and the whole diner stills for a moment, all eyes on the newcomer.

Because he's just that, a newcomer. All the people who eat here are all regulars, all people with miserable lives and nothing better to do in this backwater Virginia town. Everyone here displays an aura of sadness and a need to just escape it all by consuming a greasy burger and a milkshake to chase it down.

It certainly isn't the place for cocky twenty somethings, flaunting their steely good looks and new suits. This man is certainly out of place, with his youthful, freckled face and observant green eyes. Emma chastises herself for staring just a moment too long, but she can't help herself—he's certainly handsome, and he isn't trying to hide it.

The patrons go back to their checkered booths, but the employees are a bit on edge. Who will serve him, what will he order? Why is he even here in the first place? Sure, some newcomers show up once in a blue moon, mostly broke college students and homeless men who have enough for a meal, but certainly not single men in suits, with heads held high and tall statures. Emma is transfixed, confused.

And oh, so trying not to be attracted to him. She's sworn off men, after what happened with Neal. Coming here ensured she would never have to encounter anyone of the sort again.

Yet here she is, a hunger she didn't know she had surfacing. Damn her for thinking this way!

Minnie seats the man in her section, and Emma puts on a strong face. She reminds herself of what Neal did to her, and that's enough to put her guard up around this man as well. With a deep breath, she approaches him, pen and notepad in hand.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asks, her voice less than enthused.

The man gives her an amused smirk, leaning forward on the table with his elbows. "Usually I'd get a 'hello,' but you just get right down to business, don't you?" he muses, and Emma can feel the blush on her cheeks. "Coffee, if you don't mind."

Emma ekes out a "sure, coming right up" before she quickly disappears behind the counter, wishing she'd handled that better. In looking like she didn't care, she was coming off as rude, and damn, did she need those tips… she had to move out of the motel soon; soon she'd have to work two jobs just to keep her place there as well. So she composes herself as she procures an off-white mug and freshly brewed pot of coffee, a smile on her face as she hands it off to the man. "Cream and sugar is next to the napkins," she explains, but the man just takes a sip, black.

"Nah, I'm good," he replies coolly, his smile softening. "So… what do you recommend?"

Emma's never been asked this, in the past few months she's worked here. All the patrons know exactly what they want and how they want it, so the question takes her aback a moment. Blinking at him, she pauses, thinking about it. She's sick of the food here, to be honest—she only tolerates it because there's one necessity she doesn't really need to worry about. But she has to make business, so she just shrugs and answers, "The burgers are pretty popular. We have a special going on—order a burger combo and get a good deal on a slice of pie."

His face lights up as she mentions pie. And how is the pie here?" he inquires, as if it's a life or death question.

Emma raises a confused eyebrow, but she has to admit, Becca's pies are to die for. "Really damn good," she says truthfully.

He breaks into a grin. "I'll take that combo then," he decides. "And I'll fork over a bit extra for some bacon."

Emma scribbles down his order, wondering why a man in a suit would be so enthused about being here. He has to be passing through, he just has to be. She politely excuses himself and pushes her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose as she gives the order to the kitchen. In the meantime, she gives Leering Tom (named because he stares at all the waitresses here) a doggy bag, gets some extra ketchup for Old Laura, and refills coffee for the stranger before he beckons her over again.

"Yes?"

"Mind if I ask you a few questions?" he asks, flashing an FBI badge.

Emma's face pales, and her stomach drops. She hasn't done anything illegal in the past three years, certainly nothing that would get her on the FBI's Most Wanted List!

The man senses her unease, and only glares, confused. "I don't think this should concern you too much," he tells her, bringing Emma back down to reality. "Wanna take a seat for a second?"

His confusion at least assures Emma this isn't about her. She shakes her head, and stays standing, crossing her arms tight over her chest.

"Agent Townshend," he introduces, holding his hand out for her to shake. Emma takes it, but there's something she realizes as she observes him further.

Her eyes slit. "That's not your real name," she accuses, and she scrutinizes his suit. "And you're not a real FBI agent." At this distance, it looks far too cheap for their regulation, Emma is sure.

Now it's his turn to pale. "You don't know that," he reasons.

"Like hell I do," Emma defends, crossing her arms again. "Only an idiot would use Pete Townshend's name for their badge. Also your suit's some cheap poly blend, I can see it now." If there was one thing Emma had gotten out of prison, it was her acute sense of telling when people were lysing, to the point where it even scared her sometimes. But she can tell now she's definitely in the right.

His secret's safe, though; he seems pretty harmless despite playing Cops and Robbers.

"Order up!" The bell dings, and Emma knows this is the man's food, so she excuses herself politely and deposits his steaming plate of a greasy bacon cheeseburger and equally greasy fries. As he settles, Emma checks on the rest of her station, collecting tips, clearing tables, plastering a fake smile on her face.

In a few moments, the only person in Emma's section is the mysterious newcomer, and the rest of the diner notices it.

Emma slowly approaches his booth. "How is it so far?"

"Hits the spot," he replies casually, his mouth full as he speaks.

She crosses her arms again. "I'll let you ask me some questions," she decides. She'll humor him; she can certainly hold her own. Before he can speak, though, she adds, "Only after you tell me your real name."

"… Dean," he reluctantly answers after a moment, but Emma knows he's being truthful, and he seems keen on not revealing his last name, so she takes it. Certainly he can read her nametag; she doesn't really need to introduce herself.

"Okay, Dean. Shoot."

He gets down to business, speaking in between bites of his lunch. "You know—or knew, I should say—a Gil Brown 'round here?"

Emma nods tersely. "Yes… Heard he was mauled by a pretty nasty bear that ate his heart." It makes her a bit more cautious about going out, ever since a few days ago when his body was discovered. "I served him a few times." And wasn't he the misogynistic ass, leaving her very small tips and ordering her around like a maid. Emma isn't particularly glad he's dead or anything—but let's just say, she felt on a certain level that he had it coming.

"Okay." Dean nods in return, considering her answer. "You know anyone around here who might have held a grudge against the guy…?"

Emma gives him a strange look. "Are you implying Gil was murdered as opposed to mauled?" she asks.

"Just considering all options."

He's not really a Fed, Emma knows, but he certainly is sincere in his statements, a very confusing thing to her. Just what does he do with his life…?

"He wasn't really popular among the waitresses here," she admits. "But he was good friends with Hank, the owner. So we put up with it." Her shrug is nonchalant; Gil was an asshole but she's never acted on it. This job is too important.

"Kind of a misogynistic dick?"

"You could say that." Emma smirks. There's a charm about him, she hates to admit, and it's contagious.

"Huh." He looks up at her, a but too long to be friendly, and Emma raises a brow.

"Something else you want?"

"No, not now… Emma." He's finally read her nametag. "Thanks for your time. Might have to talk to the other girls here, then, get their input."

Ah, so he's a total player. Of course.

"Sure." Emma notices Dean's empty plate and picks it up. "I'll get you that pie, then. What flavor?"

"I'm feeling traditional." He grins. "Apple, if you don't mind."

"Coming right up." And with that Emma is off.

Becca prepares Dean's slice of pie as Emma brings his finished plate to the kitchen. "So lemme get this straight—a bear maul brought an FBI agent here?"

Emma shrugs. "Guess so… maybe it's an alien," she teases.

Rolling her eyes, Becca hands Emma the plate, a hot slice with a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream. "Well, he is very cute, not gonna lie," she admits. "Guess I'll talk to him when you're done flirting."

That wink doesn't go unnoticed. "I've sworn off men forever," Emma vows, though she can tell Becca doesn't believe her.

The groan that leaves Dean's mouth as he takes a bite of pie shouldn't make Emma feel this way. She clutches the hem of her pale yellow uniform skirt tightly. "You, uh… need a moment there alone?"

"Did you make this?" he asks.

Emma shakes her head and points at Becca, who's dealing with the screaming toddler across the diner. "Becca's the genius behind them."

"Too bad." Dean further elaborates when Emma gives him a bit of a frown. "If you did I'd be in love."

Asshole.

Minnie gets to leave early, lucky duck. She blames a terrible illness that comes with her period, and Emma has to admit her coworker looks pretty terrible. After a few tense words with Dean, she's out the door, and the fake Fed's prying look isn't one of desire, but suspicion.

Just what is going on through this guy's mind? He talks to Becca next, complimenting her pie and making her blush. As long as Emma's known her, Becca's been dying for a good looking guy like Dean to roll into town, like it's some sort of fantasy of hers to be rescued by some guy to get out of here. Good dream, but it's unlikely.

He leaves her a good tip and Emma can't help but think that maybe Dean isn't so bad of a guy. At least she doesn't have to worry about gas money for the next few days.

She isn't around to see his car, but she hears it. Sounds like some old muscle car, the kind of car she definitely associates with someone like him. Maybe for a guy who's more of an asshole. Dean's a player; he's not afraid to show it and already it's worked its way into charming Becca, but Emma can tell that his true passion lies in just that suspicious look he gave Minnie as she walked out.

So maybe he isn't a real FBI agent, but he's something.

Emma parks her Bug beside a vintage '67 Chevy Impala when she drives back to the motel in which she's currently residing in the outskirts of town. Huh, she didn't see that behemoth earlier—there must be a new tenant. How unfortunate for them to be here, of all places.

And no, she doesn't connect it to Dean—sure it's a muscle car, but a guy like Dean is probably hitting on some poor girl in one of the washed up dives in town. She just walks into the dingy room, showers, and falls asleep, all while chastising herself for continuously thinking of green eyes and freckles, all while realizing—she just so happens to have those features, too.

She wonders if her son inherited them.

Nothing much to say here so far, just kind of establishing where this is going. While mystery definitely isn't my strong suit, this isn't a mystery, it's character feels and potential romance.

Part 2: Dean doesn't show up again until a second body is found. Emma discovers just what Dean finds interesting about her, and tries to figure out if she finds it creepy or a bit endearing.

As always, reviews are appreciated!

~Eliza