This story is going to be starting just after 'Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things' in season two. It'll be going all the way up until this past episode and I'll hopefully have it close to being caught up by the next episode on March 25th. Please R&R.

As they finished covering the grave with fresh dirt, they sat down tiredly and Dean watched his brother rub at his cast. Zombie broke his hand really bad and Dean just smiled and rubbed a dirt covered hand across his forehead.

"I swear to God, that was the craziest thing we've ever come across," Sam said, blowing out a breath he had been holding in. His head fell back and rested on a headstone as he squeezed his eyes shut and hoped another headache wasn't on his way.

"Ah, come on Sammy, she might have been a few fries short of a happy meal but she wasn't the craziest," he smirked, getting to his feet again before lending a hand to help his baby brother up.

"Whatever. I just hate things that get the upper hand," he muttered, kicking at the zombie's grave a little before they headed back to the car.

He laughed quietly to himself as they deposited their weapons and tools into the trunk. Looking around again, saying a silent goodbye to his mom, they climbed back into the car and drove away from another job well done.

With every life they saved, Dean always felt better about himself but never enough to actually accept that he was a good person. He hated himself most of the time. The way he couldn't keep a normal relationship with anyone, romantically or otherwise. How his father had to die before he finally accepted that maybe he loved him. He just couldn't take himself most of the time and he missed his old self. His high school hunting self.

At least then he got a date every once in a while that lasted more than one good romp in the sack.

As he headed out of town, Sam stared out the passenger window and kept count of the city names they passed. It was something he always did when he tried to keep his mind off things, something that Dean found very annoying.

"Sam, would you count in your freaking head or something? You're going to drive me to shooting myself in the head," he groaned, wishing he could turn up his music and drown him out.

"Shut up De--, hey, wait! Look!" Sam said almost excitedly, pointing at the large green highway sign.

Dean looked up, dark eyes reading the large white letters spelling out SALEM, 60 MILES. He couldn't believe it, he hadn't realized that they were so close to the town that he and Sam had spent the most time in when they were teenagers. The city had very fond memories for Dean, and a very fond friend.

"Do we have anything important to do yet?" He said, getting on the exit as some car honked it's horn behind him. Flicking the other driver off with a smile, Sam told him that nothing had come up yet and he let a big grin grace his face.

-----

They pulled into town about an hour later, the streets covered in red and white streamers as the homecoming game approached. High school kids were seen all over the place that late Thursday as they decorated and probably talked about the dance. Dean didn't envy them one bit.

As they made their way towards the west edge of town, Dean pulled the car into one of his favorite diners. The neon sign reflected off the blackness of the hood of the car and he saw Sam's eyes light up probably the brightest he'd seen since their dad had died.

"They better have some fresh onion rings," Sam said, his mouth probably already watering at the thought.

"All they better have is some damn pie," he said, parking quickly and they both hopped out.

Squeezing through teenage girls and picnic tables, Dean and his brother got their fair share of giggles and winks. Giving a smirk to a particularly pretty blonde, they finally made it through the glass front doors.

Coming up to the hostess stand, they waited a few minutes before a short lady waddled her way towards them. Her grey hair was bundled high atop her head and big glasses made her eyes wide and bug-like. God, did he miss this woman.

"Well, bless my soul, if it isn't Sam and Dean Winchester!" Miss Meredith said, her southern accent strong under stained pink lips.

"Right you are, beautiful. You know we couldn't stay away forever," Dean laughed, getting a hug from the short lady before Sam bent to get one himself.

"Damn straight you couldn't, not with that appetite! Now, go get yourselves that corner booth and I'll be right over." She smiled at them happily, hitting them with menus as they walked towards their favorite booth. It brought back great memories, this place.

Sliding across the vinyl seats, they settled across from each other and didn't even glance at the menus. They always knew what they wanted when they came to Merry's Diner. Looking around the place, he checked every waitress to see if she was here. Maybe, just maybe, she'd still be here.

"I don't see Lex, Dean," Sam said, he could hear the sarcasm in his tone.

"I wasn't looking for her."

"So, what did you two want then? The usuals?" Meredith said a few seconds later, her chubby figure now blocking Dean's view.

"That sounds about right," Dean game her a smile, his most charming he thought. And she knew he was asking for extra whipped cream on his pie with that smile.

"And Miss Alexis Jones should be here any moment to start her shift. You just wait and her pretty little head will bring you your food," she gave him that knowing look, the same one Sam had been giving him since they turned off the exit.

"Thanks, Meredith," Sam said happily, his large frame relaxing into a somewhat uncomfortable looking position.

"Fine, so I want to see Lex, who cares? I just want to see how things are going, you know, catch up," he grunted, taking his leather jacket off and throwing it over the back of his seat.

Fiddling with his sleeve cuffs, he pushed them up to his elbows and began messing with the straw in his soda glass. He was nervous for some reason, an unsettling feeling falling into his gut. He hadn't seen Alexis since he was 22 and she was 20...it had been almost seven years. And Sam hadn't seen her for even longer.

That was no reason to start acting like a little bitch though, knock it off Dean.

Shaking his head clear of any thoughts or visions of his best friend, he tapped his fingers along with the song playing in the diner. Sam was checking his phone for messages as Dean's ears suddenly perked up.

"Clara, you won't believe what I saw outside. It's a freaking 67' Impala, black! I haven't seen one of those since I saw you know who. Where is the lucky owner sitting?" Her voice rang clear, the Minnesota accent still thick and he could think right back to the night they sat in this same booth together and drank milkshakes until they puked.

He missed her.

"Booth 3, order's up. Why don't you take it over?" He heard the other waitress say, and that was when his heart rate started thundering in his chest. Sweat broke out on his back, neck, and forehead as his hands shook.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam asked, his brother knowing that he didn't get like this except for near-death experiences.

"I'm dying of starvation, nothing serious," he groaned, knowing by the way Sam was smiling now that Lex was standing behind him.

"You've got to be shitting me," she said, shock apparent in her voice when she set his plate down in front of him.

Looking up, his green eyes connected with her blue ones and he almost instantly relaxed into them. Her face was still as soft as he remembered it, her features the only thing the signalled she had aged since he lost saw her. Her small nose was covered in freckles along with her cheeks and her pouty pink lips were opened slightly in surprise. Almost laughing at her, he noticed her usual short brown hair was back in a ponytail, now long and curlier then he ever remembered it being.

"Hey, Lex, miss me?" He smirked, cocking an eyebrow as she looked between him and his brother back and forth.

"I cannot believe that you would just roll into town without even giving me as much as a phone call! What if I didn't even work here anymore? I never would have seen you're cocky face and that would have made me oh so disappointed," she laughed now, her arms opening slightly as he stood up to hug her.

"Come on now, I knew you'd never leave Salem. You've always been to damn comfortable here," he said softly, his arms encircling her waist and bringing her against him. All the memories he had of her flew back with a venegance and he wondered if she was feeling the same thing.

"That is true you know, you always acted like you owned this place," Sam laughed, standing up and hugging Alexis next.

"God, Sam, you grew into a freaking Sasquatch on me," she joked, her head barely at his shoulder as they sat down again.

"Yeah, the water they must have had at Stanford," Dean laughed, poking at his brother. He watched as Alexis fixed her apron more tightly around her hips and gave him another big smile.

"Are you two here for the night, or is this just a drive-by?"

"No, I think we'll stay the night, catch up a little," he said, getting the okay from Sam as Lex gave him a weary smile. Almost as if she didn't believe him.

"Well, good. You two are staying with me then." She said with finality, walking away as they dug into their burgers and pie.

"Girl never gives anyone a choice, does she?" Dean muttered to himself, smiling as he thought of something, and then took a big bite of orgasmic pie.

-----

"Welcome to Casa Jones," Alexis said later that night, unlocking the door to her house and throwing it open as if it was some grand welcoming.

When the light came one, Dean noticed that it looked almost the same as it had when they were younger. The paint was different and the furniture was new, but the layout and most of the accessories, exactly the same.

"Like what you've done with the place," Sam said, looking at some of her pictures on the fireplace as she took off her apron and laid a bag inside the kitchen doorway.

"Well, you know, my mom would come back and haunt me from the grave if I changed it too much," she joked, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge and passing them out.

"Wouldn't that be lovely?" Dean said, thinking that the last thing he'd want would be his dad coming back to haunt him.

Ew, no thank you on the zombie dad.

"Hopefully she'd understand when I shot her with rocksalt, otherwise that'd be an even bigger bitch to get rid of," she laughed, leaning against a dresser that held a gun and a flask on top.

That was the beauty of Alexis. No matter what came up, no matter when they left town, she always understood because she had been doing it all her life too. She was his hunting best friend, his school best friend, and just his plain best friend.

And damn it all to hell if he wasn't still trying to not fall in love with her.