Author's Note: Wow… I feel incredibly terrible for how long it has taken me to get this new update out. I'm sorry guys! Holidays have just passed and it's a new year! Let's hope I can keep on top of this now. I know I add an update and seem to disappear off the grid- but you all have my word that this story will come to a conclusion. It's not gonna be one of those stories that never makes it to the end. Forgive me of my slowness, but I promise this will happen.

Now, I know that the holidays are over, but I wish to continue moving this story along from where we left off. Meaning, I'd like to explore what has happened since Halloween and get a little Christmas going on between the two Winchesters. I am going to be doing a little bit of a time jump, however, so we can speed things along. There will also be point of view changes throughout. I hope you guys enjoy! And as always, leave a review with your thoughts and feedback. It's much appreciated.~


Wichita, Kansas; The Morgue.

"So, uh… here's my number if you happen to discover anything else."

Though his words sounded business-like enough, Dean was doing everything but the job. From the moment they entered the hospital and met the female coroner, he flashed her wide grin, added in a few flirtatious remarks and as he handed over the fake business card with his cell phone number listed on it, he mouthed out: Call me.

And Deana had to stand there and endure what was happening before her very eyes. What an asshole! Did he seriously believe she wouldn't see right through him? She could tell he was only trying to get under her skin. Unfortunately for her… it was working.

The doctor batted her eye lashes seductively as her voluptuously red painted lips perked into a coy grin. Ugh… she gave women such a bad name. Seriously, what was she even thinking? But more importantly, what was Dean even thinking? Sure, the coroner was kinda hot, Deana supposed as she eyed the woman flirting with her male counterpart. But she was bland and used big words Deana was sure that Dean didn't understand. Dull personality. Big words. You're getting desperate, Dean. She thought to herself with a roll of her eyes before clearing her throat obnoxiously to get the pair's attention.

"Ahem," she interjected, eyes burning into the back of Dean's head. "If we're done here, Agent, perhaps we should get a move on then?" Though it came out as a question, it was more of an implied demand. And Dean picked up on it rather quickly, for he glanced over his shoulder at her, eyes slightly narrowed in annoyance. It was this look alone that left Deana feeling a bit satisfied with herself.

Operation Cockblock: Success.


As the two left the morgue together—Dean a few feet ahead of Deana as he headed for the Impala, he had his jaw clenched tightly. This was the third time she had done this to him.

Now nearing the end of November—just a few weeks after the whole Halloween scene, the pair had never been the same. Although Dean held the woman who stared at the back of his head at this moment, as she slept that night, the following morning he made sure that there would be a change between them. He knew he had been growing to attached to her. And the fact was, she wasn't reciprocating the feelings he felt. Any attempt he did make was shot down. And so he gave up. What he felt for her never went away. But… he is a man. And he didn't want to wait around for something he knew would never happen. There was an ice block between the two now. Though he still slept in the same bed as her, he no longer held her. They made no progress with figuring out why Dean ended up in the wrong universe; instead, their attention had turned to what they knew best: hunting things. Killing monsters. The family business. And on each case, Dean would hit on any females that were around within the perimeter of their case. And each time, Deana managed to weasel her way in and kill the moment—further drifting them apart. She flat out rejected him. What more did she want from him?

It was moments such as now that he grew irritated with her. Digging within his suit pocket, he fished out the Impala's keys and unlocked the vehicle, getting behind the wheel as he waited around for her to get in on the passenger side.

The moment she sat down and shut the door, Dean pounced, turning his body to face her as he narrowed his eyes on her face. "You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?" He asked gruffly, his voice at a moderately loud pitch.

"We're working a gig, Dean," she stated flatly, staring straight ahead as she fidgeted with the hem of her blazer jacket, refusing to meet his heated gaze. "Quit trying to screw around. We're working a damn case. So get your head in the game—the head held by your neck. And quit dickin' around."

He said nothing to this, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Waiting a few moments, he eventually exhaled in frustration as he ignited the Impala to life and drove off in the direction of their hotel.

Fifteen minutes later.

Dean set the files on the hotel room's kitchen table, a beer in hand as the other began to loosen his tie. Since the car incident, he hadn't said a word to her. It bothered him to a degree that they had come this far. What started off as a closeness began to fizzle. And he knew he was part to blame. He wanted the space to clear his head of any thoughts of her, or them. She sensed this and now it seemed that the only thing they ever did nowadays was snap at one another. The fun times had come to an end as the bickering ensued.

After having a go at his tie, Dean sat at the table, taking a swig of his beer as he began to leaf through the files. He assumed Deana had locked herself in the bathroom. It was as he flipped through the second file in his pile that he heard the bathroom door unlock. A moment later, she was sitting in the chair beside him. Glancing over to her, he saw that she was wearing one of his shirts… again. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't enjoy seeing her wear his clothing. Licking his lips over, he spoke in a calm tone, "Listen, back in the car—"

"Shh." She shook her head, eyes meeting his as her blonde locks tousled about with her movements. "I'm… sorry. I keep getting in your way when you're looking for some fun." She paused, breathing in slowly as she continued. "I'm pushing you away. And I don't want that, Dean."

Something in her voice made him see just how sincere she was being. And if it wasn't her tone, then it was the look in her eyes as she spoke. He could see just how badly the tension between them was affecting not only himself, but her as well. He waited a pause before speaking; truthfully, he didn't know what to say. Being open about his feelings and serious situations involving himself just weren't his thing. So rather than saying anything, he slowly reached out and handed over his beer as a peace offering.

At first she just stared at the bottle with her brow perked in mild confusion. But moments later, her lips curved into a grin and she reached for the bottle as her digits wrapped around it and she brought it to her lips. After taking a sip, she scooted her chair closer to him, glancing over his shoulder at the file he was looking at.

"You know… I've been thinking since we left the morgue. This really sounds like the M.O. of a werewolf. The attacks occurring once a month. And you saw the slash markings in that guy's body. It fits the description." Her eyes scanned the file of the man they had just seen an hour ago at the morgue and Dean caught himself watching her face. This was the closest thing to a civil and pleasant conversation that they had in weeks. And… the way her eyes lit up when she spoke as though she was so sure of herself.

"You know, I'm thinking you might be right," he murmured, causing her to glance over to him as well. Their eyes locked and he found himself grinning slightly. And the smile she offered in return? A few weeks were far too long to go without witnessing that of her.


One week later.

Deana ran her fingers through the waves of her hair as she stared at her reflection in the mirror of the hotel bathroom. She was excited about finally leaving this place. As she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, she buttoned up the shirt she stole from Dean, thinking over the past week's events.

After much investigating, the two of them had come to believe that they knew who the perpetrator was. And it turns out they were right, just in the knick of time. Just before the full moon, they had located the middle-aged man who also happened to be a werewolf that had been ritually killing virgins each week of the full moon every month. It turns out he grew stronger with the characteristics that make up a werewolf each time he fed on living human organs. It was Deana who shot the lucky bullet that pierced the man in his chest as he was undergoing transformation.

And now here they were. Off to who-knows-where for whatever the hell case Dean had found for them now. But she didn't care. They were on speaking terms again. But more importantly… Dean promised her that after they handled their latest case, they'd go out and act normal for a night.

Staring in the mirror now, her grin faded slightly. She knew she had the looks. But the way she was dressed… was pretty much like every other day. And if they planned on going out—even if was to some bar for a night of drinks and relaxation, she wanted to change her look. Just for a night.

Poking her head out the bathroom door, she glanced around until her eyes landed on Dean's backside. He had been bent over, collecting their belongings as he placed all sorts of weapons and the few items of clothing that they owned into a bag that they took with them on the road. Staring at his rear end, she bit her lip to hide the smile trying to force its way through as her eyes locked on what she needed.

Quietly prancing up to him, she shoved her hand into his back pocket, causing him to jolt up in shock; as this happened, Deana pulled his wallet holding the fake credit cards from his pocket as she waved it in front of his face the moment he turned around to stare down at her. Oddly enough, his face had turned a light shade of pink.

"I hope you don't mind, but I kinda need this," she stated with a playful grin and an added wink before turning around as she finished, "I'll be back in an hour."


Listen, when all of this is over… maybe we could go out for a couple of drinks? Start fresh and make up for the time we've wasted on being pissed off at each other. What do ya say?

He watched her leave, confusion and curiosity swirling around him. What the hell actually happened? Licking his lips over, he wasn't even aware that his face has flushed slightly. He never expected her to be frisky like that with him… but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he kinda liked it. With a chuckle, he shook his head and finished packing their things up, wondering where the hell it was that she was going. And when he finished, he set the bag down and headed for the closet where his last article of clothing hung on a hanger; it was a new suit he had planned on using for the next time he decided to take on the role of a federal officer. But since he never had the chance to use it during the latest case they just closed…

A crooked grin took place on his face as he pulled the jacket from the hanger and began to change. He may have offered to get them drinks, but he never told her where exactly he planned on taking her. Minutes later, he found himself patting his suit down as he stared in the mirror. It wasn't his usual look, but… tonight would be an exception.

Normalcy wasn't something they could often have the chance of experiencing. And given the fact that things hadn't been alright between the two of them for a few weeks now, he wanted to share one normal night with her.

With one final glance in the mirror, he teased the tips of his hair until they stood on end just the way he liked it. He then left the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out his busted flip phone as his digits worked to dial numbers.

"Hi there. I'd like to make a reservation for two…"


Shopping. Such a foreign concept for the woman. Luckily for her, she had workers within the mall store that helped guide and coerce her into buying expensive taste in clothes. Overall, she was happy with what she eventually bought and wore out of the mall, having gotten her hair done in the process. Long blonde waves reached the top of her mini black dress.

As she parked the Impala, she opened the door and allowing her left leg out of the car first, exposing the three inch stilettos she had bought just for the occasion. Heels were a foreign concept for her, but she managed well enough.

With her fingers wrapped around the key chain ring, she dangled them with sudden nervousness before taking a deep breath and heading straight for the hotel door. Slowly, she reached out and turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked as usual. As she peered in first, she entered the room a moment later, her eyes locking on Dean who had been sitting on the bed. Immediately she broke into a wide smile upon seeing him.

He glanced up to her and she could see the sudden change in his demeanor. He smiled right back at her, sitting up straighter before standing and slinging their bag over his shoulder.

"Wow… you look…"

"Save it, Winchester," her smile quickly turned into a smirk. He didn't have to even say the words. The expression on his face and his reaction towards her was all she needed, causing her to let out a little laugh as she tilted her head downward, eyes glancing to the ground almost bashfully as the genuine smile returned. "I know, I know… it's just a bar. But you said normal. And I've seen normal girls wear getups like this, so…"

She glanced up and caught Dean staring at her with a goofy smile on his face, head tilted slightly to the side. "Who said we were going to a bar?"

Deana locked eyes with him, a curious brow slowly raised in question. "Wh… where then?"


Sitting across from her, he sipped at the wine glass he held in his grasp, his eyes crinkled in laughter because of something she had said. The pair were talking and enjoying one another, just like old times. It's crazy what a month of alienation could do to people. He… missed this. Even now as he stared at her while she sipped at her own wine, he felt that special way he felt for her. Try as he might, trying to stop feeling for her was like trying to stop breathing… he couldn't.

"Our lives suck," she announced out of the blue. "I mean, have you ever just sat back and really thought about it?" Her finger began to trace along the rim of her glass as she stared at the liquid content inside of it. "We've died… dealt with bullshit all our lives. We kill and hunt for a living, Dean. And it all sucks." She smiled sadly, changing the air and direction of their conversation.

His smile slowly faded as he listened to her, suddenly setting down his glass as he forked at the pasta in the plate in front of him. "It hasn't all been bad," he started off slowly. "Sure, we've been through some serious shit… but you have your sister and I have my brother." Pausing for a moment, he cleared his throat before continuing in a softer tone, "And we found each other."

She glanced up to him as he said that, her brows furrowed together as her eyes searched his in question. Watching her for a moment, he cleared his throat a second time, leaning forward in his seat before continuing. "You're alright. When you're not being a big pain in the ass and blocking me every time I'm trying to make a move on someone."

Of course, ruining the moment was something he just had to do. He realized he was beginning to sound like some sap. And knowing where she stood, he couldn't have that. They just got back on good terms this past week and he didn't want to lose that again. However, what he didn't realize was that he had used a poor choice of words.

Deana's eyes had narrowed the moment he finished speaking. Having finished the last bite of her own pasta, she pushed the plated away from her, sitting more rigid as she whispered, "Well, maybe if you'd stop wasting your time on all of these sluts, I wouldn't feel the need to be such a pain in the ass and intervene."

It was the way she said it and how her mood shifted that caught his attention. Watching her and hearing her out, he could immediately detect the underlying jealousy in her tone. And despite the situation he realized that he had just put himself in, he laughed. Naturally, she began to glare because of this, causing him to laugh even more.

"Deana, you're just something else, aren't you?" More laughter ensued and he could see just how annoyed she was growing by the moment. But the fact that he only continued to laugh after this only fueled her annoyance to such great lengths. "I don't know why anything concerning other women matters to you."

Her eyes had narrowed into slits while he laughed. Suddenly, she grabbed for a cutting knife that had been left untouched on her napkin beside her plate, swinging her arm forward as she stabbed it into the table, lodging it in there pretty deep to the point where it stood upright on its own. Without another word, she stood from the table, strutting off.

With shocked and widened eyes, Dean stared at the knife before glancing around and seeing other eyes on him. Licking his lips over, the laughter had come to a halt as he stood up, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. Figuring it would be enough to cover the cost for their meal as well as a tip, he dropped a hundred dollar bill onto the table, leaving the area.

Exiting the restaurant, he found her waiting by the passenger door of the Impala, refusing to meet his eyes.

Great. He thought to himself, sighing as he unlocked the vehicle and slipped in behind the wheel.


The ride was full of silence. Dean never said anything as he drove off aimlessly, leaving Wichita, Kansas as he drove along the interstate. Eventually he called it quits for the night, ending up in Newton, Kansas. Pulling up into a parking lot of a nicer hotel than what he'd normally pay for—as a means of amends for everything going sour tonight, he parked and left the vehicle as he went off to pay for a room. When he returned, he held the keys to their new temporary home and knocked on the window of the side of the car she sat on. She glanced up, appearing to have let go of the anger she held towards him earlier on.

After exiting the car, the pair made it into the hotel room. Dean watched as Deana left him in silence, heading straight for the shower. Thirty minutes later, entered the main living area, holding the dress and heels she had worn within her arms. The moment she stepped out, they locked eyes and she quickly averted her gaze.

Having had enough of the silence, Dean stood up from the armchair he had been sitting and waiting for her in. "I don't know what I did wrong… and you're confusing the hell out of me," he started, walking over to her as she set the dress and heels into a dresser drawer and turned around, only to jump at how close he was to her.

"Dean, I—"

"No. Shut up," he placed a finger to her lips, shaking his head as he gazed into her matching emerald hues. "There are times where I feel like we're hitting it off. And the moment I try something, you shoot me down. You've rejected me and pushed me away. Yet you want me to be around you all of the time and to give you my full attention."

She remained silent, eyes wide and unsure of what to say as he spoke. However, she didn't need to say anything because he continued.

"I've been outta Hell for what? A couple of months now? I haven't gotten any action or touched another woman besides you—and I haven't even really touched you," he stated matter-of-factly, brows furrowed now. "Either you're blind or you're one hell of an actress, Deana." He shook his head now, deciding there was no point in finishing what was on his mind. She was just like him. Getting through to a Winchester—a stubborn one at that, was futile. Taking a step away, he was caught by surprise when she suddenly reached down for his wrist to stop him.

"Damnit, Dean!" She hissed, now stepping up to him. Her head tilted back as she glared up at him, her fingers claiming his chin as she forced him to pay attention to her. "You don't even belong in this world. This should have never happened… The things I feel shouldn't be happening," she whispered, swallowing hard as she finally began to admit to things. "You know how we both are. This would never end well. One day, we'll be forced to say goodbye."

The words she spewed out began to help Dean reach his moment of clarity. It was now that he began to understand that what he felt was a mutual thing. Except, where he was accepting it for what it was, she was trying to fight it while also trying to maintain some sort of hold on him.


She hated opening up. She hated admitting to things. But damn that man! Pressing and pressing on until she was driven to this point. She was tired of fighting this. Tired of being frightened of losing him at any moment because she pushed and pulled him around like a Tug-of-War rope.

And even though she was finally admitting to things… she knew wasn't even doing it correctly. Speaking about her feelings was foreign to her. So she said as much as she could, leaving implications that she knew he would catch on.

Just as her lips parted to add onto what she last said, she was taken by surprise as he reached for her face at that moment, framing her cheeks. Before she knew it, his lips were on hers. At first thought, she believed he had been forcing a kiss on him. But… that wasn't the case. The moment their lips met, she responded immediately. Standing on her toes, she suddenly leaned into him, her hands on his neck, sliding up and around him. Before long, she was lifted by him. Her legs wrapped around his waist in ease, as their lips danced with one another.

How she ended up on her back against the mattress was all a haze to her. She had been too busy with her fingers getting lost within his hair. His tongue flicked against hers and she returned the gesture. His hands left her face, framing the contour of her body as they began to explore. At some point he rolled his hips against hers; a soft moan escaped her lips and she moved beneath his weight.

All worries and the will to fight everything had left her the moment he kissed her. And all she wanted was for this to never end.


His lips moved away from hers, slowly brushing along the side of her neck heatedly as he firmly pressed his lips against her. His tongue slid against her as he reached between them and began to undo the buttons on her shirt.

However, before he even managed to get a button open, he paused, lifting his head to look down at her as he hovered. This was new for him; he never took a moment to ask for permission. He was the kind of guy to go on and do it. But… she was different. Something about her was so different than any other woman he'd been with.

The moment their eyes locked, her chest rose and he heard her sigh softly. Her lips curved into a small smile as she propped herself up by her elbows as she raised a brow in question. "Why… why'd you stop?

Just as he prepared to speak, he froze, seeing something out of the corner of his eyes. Glancing away from her face, he almost groaned the moment he realized the angel Castiel had been standing a few feet away, his head cocked to the side with his brows furrowed together as he tried to make sense of what he was witnessing. Groaning a second time, he dropped his forehead down against Deana's, closing his eyes as he muttered, "Please let this be a hallucination."

He glanced up once more—Deana did the same, curious as to why Dean was acting that way, and sure enough, Castiel was right there.

"Hello, Dean."