Waiting for a Coincidence

Summary: Dean just can't stay away from Mavis Singer. Will that connection help or hinder this job when he drags her into it?

Disclaimer: I really don't own anything… for the reals. Maybe Mae but she can get scary if she hears you say that. The quote in the main summary is from Michael Aita's one act skit 'The Chain Letter'

A/N: Okay, here's the sequel to The Mercy of Fortune. If you haven't, it's probably best to read because otherwise, this won't make a lot of sense. There's also a bit of back story littered in Why Won't You Stay (the first two chapters anyway as it is ongoing). This one takes place after 'Home'. On with the show!

Chapter 1

The clatter of glasses and swell of voices filled the bar with a sort of mist, a dingy ambiance. It didn't assault the senses in this particular bar. It washed the room in warmth. A haze of smoke settled with in the areas of the room, but the acrid scent did drift over the entire bar. The marred tables and bar top were all too familiar. While it looked like a dozen similar bars, it felt like hers. It was soothing in some way to Mavis Singer's jangled nerves.

They needed to be settled right then. Perhaps whiskey and isolation weren't the answer, which was what brought her to the bar rather than staying home. She attempted not to remind herself that this was just whiskey and isolation somewhere else. She knew why she felt off kilter and it annoyed her to no end. Dean Winchester. The man was like a virus. He permeated her system and the more she attempted not to think about him, the more she did. He kept calling her.

If he didn't try to stay in contact with her so much, it would have been easy to forget. Easier she hoped. Okay, she thought, she did enjoy the calls on some level. A lot of levels. But this was not what she was after. She wasn't ready to deal with any of the emotions he brought up in her.

She tipped the beer back, looking at her notebook with a small amount of disdain. Usually when disenchantment set in, she retreated to her 'normal life'. There was none of this melancholy drinking alone in a backwater bar. Except this time. She couldn't even pretend there was a good reason. No, it was Dean. He was like a bad song that got caught in her head. Now that song just rolled over and over, driving her mad. He was her very own 'Little Spanish Flea'.

With a sigh, she signaled the waitress for another beer. She didn't want to go home, not yet. Frankly, she was satisfied with getting shitfaced. She even considered the possibility of occupying her time with the least gap-toothed man in the bar. Slim pickings tonight, she thought but their odds might improve the more she drank. She missed him. She goddamn missed Dean Winchester. That was just completely unfair. A growl nearly erupted from her lips as she picked up the phone to listen to that damned message again

6 Hours Earlier

At this point, the questionable decor and underlying feeling of grime did not faze Dean, if they ever had. He had more years under his belt jumping from motel to motel than he had living in a house. He knew the sights, sounds, and smells of a bottom dollar motel. It took his brother a little more getting used to; Stanford had domesticated him some. But for Dean, homes seemed strange, not uncomfortable but they carried the idea of a life he just couldn't have. Besides here there was free ice and if they were lucky, magic fingers.

Even after throwing his bag on the bed, laying salt lines and unpacking a bit he realized something was still off however. Something was missing. Sam fell into line, bringing the weapons he thought they might use or needed routine cleaning. Dean bit back a growl when he realized what he really wanted was to call Mae. Goddamn. She was like a freakin' addiction. He was determined that he wouldn't call her. The girl wasn't losing sleep over not talking to him. He knew she wasn't exactly receptive towards the whole thing. Frankly, it was like pulling teeth. But every so often, he's hit a sweet spot, when she would laugh, and she wasn't defensive.

He wanted to chase that feeling. He wished he could figure out how to get that to last longer than it did. If there were a magic word or something, anything, he could do to get her to ease. He hated that he was so twisted up over her, that a woman could occupy his mind like this. He also hated that he didn't have a plan for it either. Nothing was set up in his mind. He wasn't trying to seduce her or convince her of some elaborate lie to get her to go back to his motel with her.

She wasn't some kind of monster or demon he needed to put down. And those were the two major areas of his expertise. All Dean knew was that he wanted to spend time with her. Wherever or however they ended up was okay. Anywhere was better than where they had been. He had her talking now even if it was awkward. And boy was it awkward sometimes. He would say something, or she would censor herself and they would lose that nice smooth rhythm they had normally.

He hadn't been looking for these feelings again. It was not too long ago that he was convinced she'd betrayed him and that he had no other choice but to hate her. Seeing her again sparked something in him, awakened some long-forgotten feeling. Was it love? Was it desire? He wasn't sure. The depth of his experience was only focused in one of those areas and it certainly didn't match up with what he felt now.

Dean Winchester did not search the world for some long-lost love or a deep connection with a woman. He lived his life in the complete opposite mentality. And that was safe and easy. But there she was. Even when she wasn't there, Mae was there. He thought about her at the most inopportune times. It had to be some sort of revenge she was having for all the years they spent in anger.

Lost in thought, he had flopped on the bed and let his eyes drift close. He was still aware of every move his brother made as he set up to do more research. It seemed like a go nowhere sort of case but when Sammy got something stuck in his head, he was stubborn. Cracking open one eye, Dean's mental picture was made real. Sam sat at the table, laptop open as he scanned between the websites and the newspaper articles. Licking his lips, Dean tested the waters. "Find anything yet?"

Annoyance was more than evident in his brother's eyes. "Maybe if you were helping out Dean."

His face crinkled thoughtfully before he produced a trademark shit eating grin. "Nah… I couldn't do that to you. Take away the thing you love most?"

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, thanks for that."

"C'mon dude. We've hit a wall."

His brother may have been right. There was something going on in this town but damned if they were coming up empty handed. The information was spotty at best. Sam knew the truth was in the details, he just couldn't find them. Dean was no help. The man was distracted. The past few weeks, come to think of it. He was on autopilot. Anyone could have seen that it matched up with the increase in Dean's phone calls.

It had taken Sam a while to put it all together, figure out just whom Dean was talking to so often. His new perchance for trying to hook up with random redheaded women only served to highlight the recent interest he had for a certain ginger haired hunter. It made sense on some level. Mae and Dean just went together. It was easy to see them that way. The way they interacted rivaled most studies on human interaction. Still, someone would have to be blind not to see there was something between them.

Dean didn't get close to a lot of women, none really. Mae was Dean's first love. Moreover, issues aside, they seemed well suited for each other. So it wasn't that much of a shock when Dean asked, "Maybe we could use some help?"

"Help? From who?"

Dean shrugged. "We could call Pastor Jim or Caleb."

"Yeah, we could."

Damn, Sammy wasn't helping at all. There weren't that many hunters out there. "I just think maybe another set of eyes might be good."

"Sure. Any particular set of eyes you had in mind? Maybe a pair of stormy blue ones? Maybe lots of red hair and a pretty smile. You know, maybe it's not eyes you're interested in. I think it might be a pair of –oomph—" The book clipped his shoulder and despite Dean's glower, he laughed. "Dude, just call her!"

The older Winchester frowned but relief filled his eyes.

"Dean," his brother's tone softened, "If you think she could help us then go ahead."

Sam's voice bordered on that all too emotional 'get the suspect to talk' tone he used, as if he were about to bridge something Dean had yet to figure out completely. Although knowing his brother wouldn't turn down another set of hands, Dean felt more embolden to reach out to the maddening woman. He got off the bed and headed out to the parking lot to the walking music of his brother's laugh. Oh, he so owed Sammy a beat down for making fun of him over this, Dean thought.

Now sitting in the car, he deliberated. They didn't really need the help and Mae had led him to believe she was working on something big but hadn't explained what it was. She'd have reason to turn down the proposal, He and his brother could hunt just about anything. And Sammy was falling back into the game.

He missed her. He wanted to spend time with her for no other reason. After so many years, one chance encounter and hunt had his brain cooking up elaborate scenarios about with her. He knew not to get his hopes up since he was currently pulling the weight of reconnecting them. He knew it would not be perfect but damned if he didn't want her all the same.

So, he called her. Disappointment touched his features when he got her voicemail and realized he would have to figure out what to tell her to get her to come to Idaho.

One fidget and then another. It went on for the longest time and it was putting Sam on edge. Dean was never this jumpy and unsettled. These days there was only one reason his brother was ever this antsy and it was Mae. Mavis Singer was a thorn in the Dean's side, maybe more of an obsession. Sam had no desire to get into the reasons behind the fixation.

Something had changed between the two during that night he was out cold. Dean hadn't given him any more information on what had transpired. Dean wouldn't even begin to talk about it with him. Dean had more than enough reason not to like the woman, but his brother surprised him by doing just the opposite. It wasn't a bad thing and Sam thought if they could actual make up and forgive each other, perhaps they could be good for each other. He thought his brother and Mae might make a better team than he and Dean did since they were both far more committed to the life than he could ever be. That didn't change his annoyance at his brother's nervous behavior. "Dude!"

Dean's eyes snapped to the taller man. "What?" His tone was just as sharp as his eyes.

"Can you calm the hell down?"

Dean just shot him a dirty look before he stood to pace. He didn't want to embarrass himself by peering out the drapes. Again. He didn't know if she had even listened to the message and at the risk of looking too eager to see her again, he resisted calling her again. So, he was simply hoping she would reach out or just show up.

Mae had spent the entire drive trying to talk herself out of meeting up with Dean and Sam. She kept telling herself that she could and should just turn around. It wasn't that long of a drive back home. Even as she sat in the motel parking lot, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she thought she could still turn around and leave.

She had already scoped out some of the more appetizing places to eat, topped off her tank, gotten coffee and done everything else she could think of to avoid actually letting Dean know she was in town. More than once, she started the car again with the full intention of turning around and leaving but as quickly as the impulse sprung from her gut, it died back down, and she'd kill the engine.

God, she was nervous. Nervous! Over what, she continued to ask herself. She'd spent weeks trying to gather details, sightings, and any possible research she hadn't found in the past two years for her ultimate hunt. She hadn't been on the road in over a month, not since the last job with Sam and Dean. She'd spent more of that time than necessary trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings as well. Usually over a stiff drink. She had been itching for a hunt.

That was why this last call, or rather message, drew her out. She tried to convince herself that was true even though she knew it was only because Dean was asking. And she missed him. He called her at least once a week now, even if it were just a brief meaningless call. Most of them were but she thought they had found a nice easy pattern. Her stomach fluttered indignantly. Eventually she would have to go inside, if only to avoid looking like some creepy parking lot stalker or cheap hooker.

Screwing up her courage, Mae got out of her car and walked up to the room Dean told her they were staying in. She knocked on the door lightly. If no one answered, she could leave and claim they just missed each other. Couldn't she? Although it was in that moment that the door flew open suddenly. Did she gasp? She could have sworn she heard a gasp. Maybe it was Dean. Either way they both stood at the door staring at each other. As she had feared, seeing each other now had this undercurrent of discomfort. Only this time, it wasn't because of the past. It was because of what might lay in the future.

It was primal; it had to be. There was no rational reason behind her attraction to him. Physically, she could understand it. And if it was only physical, if it could only be a physical attraction and draw, there would be no question about whey she would do. God, he was good looking. Rugged but just enough pretty to be dangerous. Careless hair, perpetual stubble and those hazel green eyes made her want to do stupid things with the man. He had a lean body, maintained with the rigors of hunting and balanced by a love of all things bad for him.

It made her want him even more. She knew better. She could count all the ways her attraction and arousal would lead her astray with him. Mae tried to clear her thoughts. This was not helping at all. Why she had to be attracted to him in the first place had to have been a cruel taunting of fate. Dean assumed that she no longer felt these things for him. Or maybe she was just as bad at hiding that from him as she was everything else. Dean had a way of knowing exactly how to chip away at her defenses. She couldn't feel this way about him. It would only lead to problems and there was far too much behind just the physical.

Dean knew he's been a bit too quick to open the door. However, he'd been anxiously waiting for her to knock on the door. When he heard the throaty growl of her hunter green mustang even made his heart beat faster. Hell. It was then that Dean realized he made a mistake. He never should have called her. Keeping his emotions on check around her would be a struggle. Scratch that, it would be impossible. Maybe it was too soon for them to interact face to face. While he hoped they'd be able to move past their respective hurts, maybe it was too soon. Damn. She took for-fucking-ever to get out of her car. He knew she was sitting out there for at least 20 minutes.

Looking at her now, he frowned as he watched the lovely redhead. She was slim, lanky and pretty. The woman was just striking enough to merit the turn of a head. Her eyes were the perfect shade of blue-gray, soft and big eyes. She had full lips and when she gave it, she had a charming smile. He was rather gob smacked by her. Dean knew she shouldn't have that power, at least not over someone like him. He had hoped by now she wouldn't be able to make his breath catch. Dean didn't even say hello. He was unusually silent, only pausing a moment before pushing past her.

"Where are you going?"

She had asked with a slight glare that he would have seen if he had looked at her. "Out."

Mae frowned as the door to his beloved car slammed shut and the engine roared to life. Dean took no time in pealing out of the lot. "What's his problem?" She asked turning to his brother.

Sam shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Yeah well I have the feeling it's about me."

The taller Winchester smiled sadly. "You know how Dean can get."

There was no humor behind Mae's laugh, but she flopped down on the bed. "You mean when he acts like a little bitch."

"Exactly." Sam said with a grin.