A/N (Summary: Sophia is a spitfire. Hunting at her youth and raised by a slightly off kilter man named Bobby Singer from age 10 left her tough as nails. When the world starts to rage in that all too familiar war between hunters and the things that go bump in the night, Sophia is all too ready to face the challenges head on. Demons, witches, werewolves, and vampires are all well within her ability to face, but when a green eyed hunter makes his way into her life, her world is turned upside down. Those Winchesters sure do have a way of bringing down the house. Literally. Dean/OC.

Written by two college attending kiddos, so prepare to be patient! Posting will most likely take place during weekend and breaks. We're aspiring writers, so reviews are welcome! Thank you! Please read and review :-)

We do NOT own supernatural, but Sophia is our brain baby. Please do not use her character or our story without our permission! Enjoy.)

The last customers had left not twenty minutes ago, despite the fact that the diner had closed an hour before they left. It was because of them that at 11:20 at night Sophia was still cleaning the diner. It had been some celebration. A late night birthday party on a Tuesday night, celebrating a middle aged man. It had run on for hours and it was all she could do to keep the smile off her face. She didn't mind picking up their trash, wiping up spills, or tossing dirty dishes that were left on the tables and counters in the sink. She had already wiped down the kitchen. She had sent the cook, Jared, home as soon as the clock struck 10, knowing that he had a family to get too. She smiled at that, a ghost of one. Jared had two kids. It reminded her... The crush of wheels against the asphalt of the parking lot interrupted her meandering mind. She perked up, glancing out the wide windows at the front of her diner. The rag she had been washing the table with still in hand, she sauntered to the door, glancing to the ridge above the door that held a thick line of salt, hidden. She pushed the door open, raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the engine. "Hey buddy, we're closed."

The engine cut out and a despairing voice, however deep and gravely in tone, called, "You're joking!" Disappointment clouds over his face as he turned, resting his arms over the top of his ride "This is the first town I've seen in miles, and I've got a long drive ahead of me." His eyebrows pulled in a slightly dubious look, a smirk pulling his lips. "Think you could make an exception?"

She almost laughed, her amusement at his obvious flirting overcoming her irritation at his obvious disregard of the unlit 'open' sign. With an eye roll, she huffed, "Dude, you're lucky I'm nice." His grin split wider, as though he had won the lottery or something. "Come in, I'll make you some coffee." He shut the door, following her in.

She watched him closely as he passed with no issue through the salt line, her suspicion diminishing, though not completely fading. She glanced at the rag in her hand and, with a shrug, called, "Heads up."

He caught the soaked rag with a rather odd expression, taking in the trash that spanned over six tables, pushed together. Holy water didn't bother him. Maybe he was just a regular flirt rolling in from wherever. "What, rough crowd? It's a mess."

"Birthday party. Thanks for reminding me." She huffed out a laugh. "We've got some pie left over. You seem like a pie guy. It's cherry. Want some?"

The coffee pot gurgled in the background. His eyes lit up and Sophia couldn't help but compare him to a child. "Yes, please."

"I'd offer you a menu, but I already cleaned the kitchen for the night and, well, I'm doing you a favor… so deal." She pulled a plate from the stack near the register and a napkin wrapped bundle of silver silverware. Only the best for her customers. "I'm Sophia, by the way."

The man, strong jawed, stubble covered, straight nosed… and rough around the edges. He looked like he had been through hell. She knew the look. "I'm... Jared."

There was a pause in his words, and she let a soft hum of disbelief. "Yeah. Sure. And I'm not stupid. Here's your pie."

At that, Not Jared - as that was most definitely not his name… he seemed too unfamiliar with it… and that same name resided on a nametag that hung on the real Jared's apron just behind her - grinned, pulling the plate to him. He rubbed his hands together in excitement, the chafing noise bringing Sophia's eyes down to his hands. They were calloused. She glanced down at her own, wiping down the counter where crumbs had fallen from his pie. Sophia had the same sort of rough hands from digging graves.

Not Jared was staring at his silverware with an odd look, and Sophia tensed. Shape shifter? Werewolf?

"Is this real silver?" The man looked up and his eyes never quite made it to her eyes. And his eyes left nothing up to the imagination in what he was thinking. Sophia leaned forward, snatching a fork from the bundle he had yet to touch and slamming it down into the wood of the bar that showed similar score marks all down its length. His eyes snapped away from her chest and to her hands, a small 'whoa' jumping from his lips. Sophia lifted her hand and pointed to her eyes, the fork standing on the tines pressed into the wood. His eyes followed her gesture. "My eyes are up here, hot shot. I'm not some eye candy. If you can't behave, I'm gonna send you back outside without your pie and coffee."

With that, she slid out from behind the counter, ignoring his eyes as she finished cleaning up the table that had housed nearly 24 people. Not Jared didn't speak for a long time, after a last muttered "well okay, then." He had pulled the fork from the bar and she could still hear it scraping across the plate as he ate. So… not a monster. Well, not the supernatural kind of monster. People were sometimes monsters too. But Sophia could handle a human with one hand tied behind her back.

She pushed against the mop with a final, half frustrated, half relieved huff, the last streak of water filling the room. Finally finished. And despite the fact that it was, honestly, one of the more simple of her closing duties, mopping was not her favorite. Sophia puts the mop in its bucket, striding across the diner, taking great care to avoid the slick spots of water. Not Jared was leaning back in his chair, a hand resting against the table, eyes pensive.

The severity of his gaze almost made Sophia offer him one of the beers from the back fridge or, at the very least, punch him in the nose. She decided to break his train of thought instead of his face. The last thing she needed was the police poking around. Sophia pulled her strawberry blonde hair up and off her front, into a high ponytail. "So, where exactly are you driving to?" That broke him from his thoughts rather effectively… though that may have been his sudden inhale mid drink. Sophia smirked at him, pulling the coffee pot from the heater and gesturing for his mug despite the sputtering and coughing he was emitting. She was not gonna waste a whole pot of coffee.

"Uh, Stanford." He sounded choked, and she smirked, placing the pot back over the heat with a mild clank of the glass against the warming tray. He poured a ton of sugar in his coffee and she made a face.

He didn't look like the college type. "And who's in Stanford?"

He instantly tensed, defensive. "What makes you think I'm going to find someone?" Definitely not the college type. Sophia smirked as he sat the coffee aside.

"What can I say? Someone like you doesn't exactly fit the 'college' type. You're not a very quick learner." Sophia paused… perhaps that had been a tad harsh. She decided to change the subject rather abruptly. "So who is it?"

"Someone like me? What kind of person do you think I am?" Still defensive. Such a man. Sophia got insulted every day for her lack of stature or supposed inability to hold conversation because of her hair color, and you tell a guy he's not the college type and he gets all touchy. And, in all honesty, Sophia was reaching the end of her rope with the way his eyes kept dropping.

"Like I said. You aren't a fast enough learner for college." She growled. "When you talk to someone, you look them in the eyes. And, despite what you may think, my eyes do not reside on my chest. So look me in the eyes before I put that fork," she gestured to the one resting on his pie plate in frustration, "In your chair. And this time, I don't miss."

"Okay! Okay, you got me." he raises his hands up in surrender. His eyes didn't fall again. Sophia felt herself relax. "I'm going to see my brother."

Sophia was surprised. He sounded genuine. "Oh, finally some honesty!"

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, and his hands spread wide, even as his smirk grew wider. "What do you mean? I've been completely honest!" Now it was her turn to show disbelief.

Sophia rolled her eyes and picked up the cook's apron, where Jared's name tag rested in plain sight. "Oh please, you started lying the second you told me your name." She laughed without humor, "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? For heaven's sake, he's my fry cook!"

Not Jared shrugged, "I was starved for options."

She glared at him. "More like starved for pie and caffeine. If I don't see some honesty out of you soon, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave." She didn't tack on the "or call the coroner" part that tugged at her tongue. This was a civil conversation.

"Well I didn't know I was dealing with a hunter before I lied." … Or not… His tone and face had become serious as he sat forward, green eyes piercing.

"Of course I hunt. Have you looked around? We live in the boonies. The menu calls for Fried Deer. What are you? A genius?" Even as she began to talk, Sophia was panicking, her hands falling beneath the counter to touch the long machete that had been blessed by a priest and the pistol holding her special bullets. A witch? No, he had sat in the chairs without a pause… Vamp maybe. Her hands wrapped around the machete, watching him closely.

He sat back, rolling his eyes, his voice gruff. "That's not what I meant."

"You're going to have to be a bit clearer for me," she deadpanned.

"Hunter, as in you kill things, like I do, when things go bump in the night. The kind of things that nightmares are made of." he pauses for a second, noticing as her hands appeared above the bar once again and wondering at the arsenal that had, most likely, been at the tips of her fingers, "and you must think me stupid if you deny it. The salt? Holy water? The silver. For crying out loud, it screams hunter."

Sophia paused, her whole body shifting. "How did you…"

He grinned, leaning forward, his voice taking on a sultry and annoying tone. "I'm just that good, Sweet cheeks."

And yet, his eyes flickered to her chest and back to her eyes. Sophia rolled her eyes, tugging at the collar of her v-neck and exposing the anti-possession tattoo. "It was the tattoo, wasn't it. Bet it took you 'til your second cup of coffee to notice, despite the fact that your eyes were glued to my chest half the time you've been here." His choking made sense now. As an afterthought… "My name is Sophia. Don't call me 'sweet cheeks,' dumb*ss."

He raised his hands, grinning. "Caught me. Nice place you got here. Pretty well safe guarded. You've done some research. Though, isn't washing the table in holy water a little over the top?"

All the tension that had been building up within Sophia dissipated, "It's in the ice too. You never can be too careful," Sophia glances outside, "because the day you stop watching your own back is the day you die in this line of work." There's a second of silence as her words struck a chord in both of them "So, what's your real name?"

There was that grin again. Sophia rolled her eyes. "It's Dean."

The two shared a few stories, a lot of Dean's had his dad in them, and not much mentioned about a brother, though she sensed some bad blood between them. Even so, some of Sophia's stories seemed like child's play compared to all the death and destruction he and his father had seen. They traded secrets, such as how Sophia used demon symbols on the bottom of iron chairs in her diner to ward away demons and witches, and how Dean had an arsenal in the trunk of his impala. They didn't bring up relationships or loved ones lost, but they both could feel the sense of sadness in certain hunts. Chalk it up to Hunter's Intuition. All the while, they shared coffee from the same pot and, eventually, had dwindled the supply to a cup's worth at its bottom. Sophia had finished cleaning the diner near an hour before they finished talking, but, as the clock neared 12:30, she couldn't hold back her exhaustion anymore.

Sophia grabbed one of the to-go cups and topped it off with coffee, handing it to him with a tired, "Here, for the road." She practically shoved him out of the diner door, locking it behind them. "Good luck finding your dad and brother." Her words were genuine, though Sophia couldn't quite think about what she was saying, more focused on the heavy things in her left pocket.

But her mind snapped away from that quickly, when a large, tan hand appeared before her holding her own phone as if it were some gift. She had paid good money for that! She suddenly didn't feel so badly. "When did you-"

"I snagged it when you were mopping, put my number in it." Dean wore what Sophia's grandmother would call a 'sh*t eating grin' as he dangled it in front of her. "You know Bobby Singer?"

Sophia almost snorted, snagging the phone away from him, "Honey, everyone knows Bobby Singer, he's the best go-to man there is." Dean chuckled, then paused, his hands in his pockets and eyebrows drawn in confusion, searching; perhaps she had tortured him enough for one night. With a chuckle, she handed him his keys, "snagged them when you were ogling." he almost looked hurt, but she simply rolled her eyes. "What? They're just keys. I could have taken the car."

He gasped, and, for a moment Sophia wondered if it was just mock anger in his voice. "Not my baby!"

She rolled her eyes watching him get into his car.

Dean didn't even notice, so, with a sigh, Sophia leaned against the side, tapping the window's edge with his wallet. "Probably don't want to forget your wallet either. You wouldn't get far without your ID, Hasselhoff." she said the last part with sugar sweet sarcasm.

"Hasselhoff is awesome!" Dean says. There he was with the defensiveness again.

"Yeah sure, whatever." She laughs, "Anyway, you better get going. And, hey, don't worry about the pie and coffee. I skimmed enough off the top to pay for the to go cup and, I have to say, Dean, you tip extremely generously." She didn't pause to see the slight shock and overwhelming humor on his face. "Now get out of here. You've got a lot of driving to do." She backed away from the car with a small wave as it started with a roar.

"I guess you're right. Bye Sophia." Dean says, putting the car in gear.

She didn't know why, but for some reason, she felt closer to this hunter who she had only talked to for an hour or so than she ever had with the familiar faces of her customers. So, as an afterthought, she called, "My friends call me Sophie."

"Then, goodbye, Sophie!" Dean hollers back, that grin still in place as he drove away from her diner.