"The look on her face was priceless," Sam laughed, pushing the door to the hotel room open.

Scarlett entered behind him, flipping her blonde hair away from her face as she joined her friend in laughter. "Two thousand years old and she didn't know by now that vampires aren't the only invincible creatures out there? Come on."

"But still…" he shook his head at her, kicking the door shut. "When you pulled the blade out of your neck… and she tried to drink your blood…"

"Wait a second!" a voice called out from well beyond the door and upon visually searching the room, they found Dean standing out on the balcony. "A vampire tried to drink your blood?"

She nodded, but then waved him off. "Tried being the operative word. The wound closed up pretty fast. Caught her off-guard. I didn't really get to see her total reaction because Sammy here deprived me."

"Hey." He held up his hands in mock defense. "I cut her head off. Next time, let me know if you want to delay decapitation, okay?"

"Deal," she answered with a slight chuckle. "So what did you do while we were gone, Winchester? Hire a hooker?"

Dean's face grew stern uncharacteristically. "Hey, Sam? Can you give us a few minutes?" He held his breath in anticipation, but not of his brother's guaranteed yes. More so for Scarlett's reaction.

Sam nodded and glanced down at the blonde. "You gonna be okay?"

She chewed it over for a moment. "Physically or emotionally?"

"Both."

"Yeah, I'll be alright," Scarlett decided quickly.

"I'm gonna go call Bobby and give him an update. I'll be back in twenty," Sam informed them, grabbing his laptop and heading for the door. Scarlett's attention diverted to the bathroom, where she was headed to wash her blood-caked hands, Sam caught his brother's attention and mouthed, "Don't be a dick."

Sarcastically, Dean saluted him and the younger Winchester rolled his eyes as he pulled the door shut behind him. "So…" he cleared his throat awkwardly as the water began to flow from the faucet. "How did the bar go?"

"Really, Dean?" she laughed bitterly, watching him carefully in the mirror as he leaned against the doorframe. "You're really going to do this?"

"Do what?" he asked her as she shut off the water and began to dry her hands on the towels behind her.

"Make small talk," she retorted quickly, folding her dried hands over her chest.

The hunter used the arm pressed against the door to rub a hand through his hair. "I, uh…"

"You say the most hurtful, venomous things you can possibly say to me and then, after I save your ass, you can't even admit to me that you're wrong. Instead, you tell me you can't trust me." She shook her head at him angrily and her eyes dropped to the marble floor. "I didn't even want an apology, Dean. I just wanted you to acknowledge that I'm not as bad as you think I am because despite what you think, I am human. I do have feelings and I'm not emotionally invincible." She looked up at him expectantly, but when he finally opened his mouth, Scarlett pushed past him and back into the room. "Save it. I'd rather hear silence than another one of your snappy comebacks."

"Scarlett…" His rough hand wrapped around her forearm and the force of her pull in the opposite direction, jerked her body back towards him. "Wait."

Her hardened eyes locked on his. "What?"

He faltered for a moment, caught off guard by her overt animosity. "I'm sorry."

Scarlett did a double-take. "Come again?"

"I said I'm sorry," Dean repeated in a tone that was much softer than she'd grown accustomed to. "I was wrong."

"Hold on a second." She pulled her arm out of his grasp and backpedaled. "You just said that you were sorry and admitted you were wrong?" The blonde asked him to which he nodded. "I have to get Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away from her, walking towards the veranda. "Can you not cheapen the moment?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she laughed, following him with a few quick strides. "Sarcasm is my way of coping with surprise."

"So…" Dean gripped the white iron railing, his fingers curling around the ornate metal. He looked over at her, his deep emerald eyes falling on her face. "We good?"

Scarlett nodded slowly, looking out over the pool. "Yeah, we're good."

"Good," he agreed with a nod of his own and noticed the grin that had cracked her face. "What?"

"I'm just wondering…" She shook her head in amazement, her honey-colored hair cascading down her back. "What brought you to this grand epiphany?"

Dean slowly reached into his brown leather jacket and retrieved a book from its hidden pocket. Turning towards Scarlett, he held out the worn tan journal she quickly recognized as her own. "I might have done some investigating of my own. You know… out of curiosity."

"Out of curiosity, huh?" She smiled knowingly. "Well, I can't say that I blame you. I mean, the journal of the two-hundred and seventy six year old daughter of God has to be an interesting read."

"If it makes any difference at all, I didn't get past the two loose pages," Dean admitted. "After that, I didn't need to read anymore."

She nodded, looking back into the horizon before them again. She was savoring the moment, a short time of peace between her and the older of the Winchester brothers next to her. They rarely could stand being in the same room together, but for the first time, as she stood beside Dean Winchester, Scarlett Lucas felt as though she understood him. And more likely than not, it was because she'd read his father's journal.

So while Dean had spewed insults in her direction that had burned her to the very core, deep down, Scarlett knew it was worth it.

"I have a confession to make," she announced suddenly, chewing on her lip in a way that greatly intrigued him.

He winced uncomfortably. "You're better off finding a priest. I'm not exactly a moral compass for ideal behavior."

"Not that kind of confession, Dean," she snorted, looking back in his direction. "Don't get too excited."

He let out a relieved laugh. "Lay it on me."

"I wanted you to read it," she admitted. "Well, either you or Sam. I told Bobby that in the case something should happen to me, one of you boys would know where it was."

"I feel a lot better then," he chortled, pulling on the railing as he leaned back. "And for what it's worth, I know I'm not the most… open of people. I've told Sam a thousand times that if you keep things to yourself, they'll eat you alive and I know I have some aversion to my own advice. I'm actually kind of relieved that you read my dad's journal. No secrets. No surprises."

Scarlett's eyebrows shot to the roof in response. "I should pull my gun on you and accuse you of being a shapeshifter, you know that?"

"I think we've had enough excitement for one day," he let out a deep laugh that reminded her vaguely of gravel. "So what's our plan of action now?"

"I figure we'll stay and extra day and leave in the morning," the blonde replied with a bounce of her shoulders. "We don't have a case as of yet and I think after tonight's excitement, we deserve a little rest. Whatever Sam finds can wait until morning."

"I like the sound of that," Dean smirked with satisfaction. "Maybe we'll get a case somewhere worth losing a couple of days for a change."

"Why, you didn't like New Orleans? I thought it'd be right up your alley, with all the legal prostitution and drinking…"

"I take offense to that!" Dean shot back with the slightest hint of amusement. "How dare you assume I would pay for the company of a woman!"

"Because you just have the greatest of personalities," she retorted, arching an eyebrow in response.

But just as Dean was about to reply with a sharp response, the familiar opening guitar chords of his ringtone cut through the air. Wasting no time, he pulled it from his outer left pocket and flipped it open. "Whatcha find, Sammy?"

"Actually, it found us," Sam's voice crackled over the speaker. "I had Dad's phone on me and it rang."

Dean paused for a minute and his eyes caught the woman's stare opposite him. "What's the case?"

"One student turned up dead on the Rutgers University campus and one's currently hospitalized," Sam began, reading from his notes. "The police reported she said that she saw a girl with a violin crying in the auditorium. When she went over to see if the girl was okay, she attacked her then vanished."

"What's the damage?"

"She has lacerations on her neck, face, and chest," he replied. "Guess what caused them?"

"Violin bow," Scarlett stated immediately. "How quaint."

Dean snorted. "What's the guy's name?"

There was the audible shuffling of papers before Sam turned his attention back to the phone. "George Stauffer, Dean of the Mason Gross School of the Arts. Ring any bells?"

His brother tilted his head in thought. "You said he's at Rutgers?" He continued to try and recall where he knew the name from. "Wait, I think Dad and I helped a guy out up in New York with that name. At a college… Hunter College."

"Yeah, I think that's it…" More papers were being tossed about before they settled. "You helped him out with a poltergeist?"

"Definitely him," Dean decided with certainty. "Guess he transferred. What did you tell him?"

"I said that we'd leave tomorrow after we finished up our case here," his brother answered.

"Good, I'll call him when we hit the road tomorrow. You coming back now?"

"Yeah," Sam snapped his laptop shut. "I'm heading upstairs now."

"Wait," Scarlett interred and Dean eyed her skeptically. "Leave your laptop at the desk."

There was a moment of hesitation on the younger Winchester's end. "Why?"

"Because Dean got to go to a bar and drink, but you and I went to a bar and all we did was kill some vampires," she stated nonchalantly. "I haven't been in this city for almost seventy years. I want to go to a freaking bar."

She looked over at Dean expectantly. He instantly bobbed his head. "So, uh… Sam, we'll meet you downstairs."

After meeting Sam in the lobby, the trio walked to the bar on the corner. However, Scarlett went in separately, betting Dean a hundred bucks she could con some bar rat into paying for all three of their drinks.

And like any red-blooded male, Dean took the challenge. After all, he'd either win a hundred bucks or have free drinks for the night.

But an hour later, Sam spotted his increasingly unhappy brother sitting by himself at the corner of the bar and watched as he slammed back a shot glass filled with a violet liquid. Wincing, he approached him slowly. "Uh oh."

Dean shuddered, the mixture of Malibu rum, triple sec, Blue Curacao, and cranberry juice burning his esophagus as it slid down his throat. "What?"

"You don't drink Purple Nurples unless something is severely pissing you off," his younger brother explained as he sat perpendicular to him on a barstool. "So what is it?"

Dean's emerald eyes shot upward and then over at Sam. "Nothing."

But Sam had seen where his brother's eyes had traveled before they landed on him. He let out a slight chuckle and rubbed his jaw. "I get it now."

Dean downed another shot glass of the purple concoction and cringed. "Get what?"

Sam's gaze wandered down the length of the counter and settled on two patrons. One was a man, about six feet tall with peroxide blonde spikes in a black leather jacket and shredded jeans. His only distinguishing feature was a skull and bones tattoo on the side of his neck.

The other was a woman in a pair of slightly feminized combat boots that made her appear to be a few inches taller than her natural five feet, seven inches tall and straight caramel hair that fell just above the small of her back.

He watched with great interest as the young woman flipped her hair, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach her honey-colored eyes.

"You know it's just for the bet, right?"

Dean took a swig of beer from his bottle and then began to slowly pick away at the label. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

His younger brother scoffed, "Yeah… okay, Dean."

Dean twisted his head to the side, still staring at the amber bottle. "Sammy…"

"Wait a second," Sam cut him off, squinting at his brother. "You're not pissed off because she's flirting with someone, Dean. You're pissed because it's not you."

"Now that's just stupid."

"Is it stupid because it's so out there?" Sam asked him, turning away from them. "Or is it stupid because you don't want to admit to yourself that there's a woman that actually gets under your skin?"

The barstool ground against the linoleum floor as he pushed it back and stood, reaching into his pocket. After fishing out enough money to cover the bill, he threw it on the table and walked out the door, not even giving the scene unfolding behind him a second glance.

The blonde who had previously been oblivious to the conversation at the counter suddenly became very interested in Dean's absence. She held up a finger to excuse herself from the man and then glided over to Sam. "He was watching me like he was still angry," she spoke to him, pausing to take a sip of her beer. "Did I do something wrong… again?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Scarlett. I think he's just realizing what he hasn't done in his life, what he doesn't have, you know? This whole apocalypse thing has made him…"

"Retrospective?" she offered.

"Something like that. You remind him of what he's never been able to find." After Scarlett shrugged, he further explained, "A woman who knows and understands our lifestyle. One that accepts it."

She nodded and leaned her elbows against the counter.

Sam looked over at her. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Scarlett affirmed, taking a long drink from her bottle. "I just feel bad for him, Sam. I know he'd be pissed at me for even thinking that. But I know where he's coming from."

"I try to tell him that he's better off sometimes…" Sam explained. "Almost lucky, luckier than me, anyway."

The bottle made a loud clinking noise as she placed it down on the table. "How can you say such a thing?"

"Because of our job, Dean's never going to find the love of his life, only to lose her," Sam responded and then sighed heavily. "Even if we can win."

"Jessica?" she asked, which he nodded to confirm. Silently, she sat down beside him and slid her left hand over his, grasping it gently. "Sammy, I'm sorry."

His eyes dropped to the counter as Scarlett studied him carefully. For the first time, she not only saw everything, but felt it too. No matter how tall he grew or how much he looked like a man, deep down, Sam Winchester would always be the child who felt guilty over the death of his mother, the young college student who blamed himself for his girlfriend's demise.

Killing Azazel had satisfied his need for retribution, but not his desire to be made whole again.

"Sam, listen to me," Scarlett whispered to him softly. "Jess is in a better place now… her and your mother both are. I promise," she added and mustered her best smile. "Of all the people who have ever spoken those words to you, you know I'm the only one who knows for sure."

His chocolate brown orbs flickered up at her. No matter how weak it was, Sam could see the smile present in her eyes. And all he could do was sit there in silence.

"Now listen to me," the caramel blonde told him and jerked her head towards the leather-clad guy at the other end of the counter. "Blondie over there must have left the peroxide on too long and it bleached his brain."

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched. "Why do you say that?"

"He thinks he's gonna get some tonight," she laughed.

"Clearly, he has no idea that you'll eat him alive before it ever gets to that point," he snorted.

"Hey!" Scarlett exclaimed in protest, bumping him with her shoulder. "I'm not that bad." Sam shot her a look. "Alright, alright. Maybe I am. BUT… I was good enough that he thinks you're my brother and we're on a road trip together." Pressing her hands against the black wood, she pushed off the counter and stood up. "So he'll pay for whatever you order while I'm gone."

As she began to walk away, Sam grabbed a hold of her slender arm. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To talk to your brother," Scarlett replied and as his grip released, she smoothed out the sleeve.

The taller Winchester sucked in his breath sharply, turning back to the bar. "Good luck with that. Dean's an emotional bear trap."

Scarlett shook her head and pushed through the door. "Believe me, I understand him more than you know."

Sam was wrong. Scarlett could go off and drink herself into oblivion. Or find the left hand of her Father's right hand or whatever it was for all he cared…

Which Dean Winchester was certain was very little.

Yes, he could admit that they were very similar, but he and the blonde were destined for nothing. He was irrevocably broken, damaged goods. Why would any woman want a relationship with him, especially one with eternity to wait around for her perfect man?

Sure, she was drop-dead gorgeous and interested in the same things he was. In fact, in Dean's eyes, he'd never met a more perfect woman in his life. And maybe, if their situation were different, he wouldn't have minded wasting some of her time.

But with so few days left before their chance at Lucifer passed them by, he couldn't do that to her. Not anymore. Not after everything they'd gone through.

A loud knock sounded on the door of the motel room, causing Dean to instinctively reach for the Colt 911 on his nightstand.

"Dean," a feminine voice followed the hollow sound. "It's me."

He continued to hold his gun as he stuck a hand into his duffel bag in search of salt and after retrieving it, poured a line in front of the doorframe.

Dropping the box onto the floor, he rightened himself and pulled open the door, pointing the firearm at her.

The hazel-eyed hunter stared at him in slight shock for a moment, never faced down by Dean before, and then noticed the salt line at her feet. Scarlett nodded once and held up her hands in plain view before walking right through it and into the room.

Immediately, Dean dropped his gun and shut the door behind her. "What? Done hanging out with your boyfriend already?"

"Dean Winchester, that is not fair," she returned, wounded by his words. "You were the one that agreed to the bet."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, sinking down to the bed closest to the door, "Sorry, sorry."

Scarlett chose to gloss over the awkward moment. "Your brother is down at the bar, running up Peroxide Boy's tab. Care to help?"

"Nah." Dean shook her off and placed the 911 on the wooden table between the beds. "I'm done for the night. I'll give you the hundred bucks tomorrow."

Her eyebrow arched instinctively and she whipped out her own handgun. "Who are you and what the hell have you done with Dean?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean put his hands up in surrender. "Scarlett, it's me."

"Prove it!" she snapped back, "I've only told you and Sam my prophecy. What is it?"

"Shit," he mumbled. "Do you need the exact wording? Because I don't think I remem-"

"Say it!" she cut him off sharply. "Or so help me, Father, I will shoot you!"

"Okay, okay! Your soulmate is the left hand of the right hand of God," he replied quickly. "Just put the damn gun down."

The blonde lowered her weapon and exhaled a sigh of relief. "Sorry."

"I pulled a gun on you, I guess the least you could do was return the favor."

"Now that we've established we're each ourselves, what is wrong with you?"

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Dean, you're constantly telling Sam that he can't hide things from you…"

"That was different."

"Really? Why?" she challenged him, hands on her hips. "Because it's me and not your brother?"

"I protect Sam by keeping things to myself, Scarlett, things that no one, not even you, should be burdened with."

She studied him for a moment. "Like what? Memories of your mom, your dad… Hell?"

He looked away from her. "I said I don't want to talk about it."

"I've lived my whole unburdened by others," she told him and sat on the bed opposite him. "It'd make me feel better."

"It'd make you feel better?" He arched an eyebrow at her, his normal demeanor returning slightly. "Are you kidding me?"

She shrugged. "I'd feel more like a normal person. It'd be nice to have someone else's problems to work on."

Dean thought it over for a moment then hesitantly agreed. "But you say a word to…"

"I won't."

"Fine." He sat there for about three minutes in silence. When he finally decided to speak, he couldn't bare to look at her. "I never loved a woman enough to care about losing her. And as hard as this is to believe, it actually bothers me."

Scarlett processed this for a second or two. "Is that why you were moody back at the bar? Me and Bleach Head reminded you of that?" Dean nodded in silence. "What about Cassie?"

"Got her out of my system after the second time around," he explained, pressing his lips together into a thin line to avoid smirking and coming off like a total jerk. "The hard to get routine actually works, you know."

"Hasn't there been anyone else?"

"Aside from her, never…" he trailed off and let his words disappear into the room. "And there's never going to be."

"Hey, hey," Scarlett spoke to him softly and his gaze traveled back to her level. "Don't say that. It's not true."

"Scarlett, look at me." He threw his arms outward. "I'm not relationship material. I go through women like McDonalds goes through oil. And that's never going to change."

Her eyes lightened to a golden tone. "You don't know that…"

"Yes, I do," Dean replied, his gravely voice rising in volume. "I get that you can write, speak, and read every language in existence and that there are things you know about the universe that would have made Einstein's head spin. But, damn it, Scarlett…" He reached up and ran his hands through his hair in frustration, the olive green fabric covering his upper body pulling and rising ever so slightly. "You don't know everything."

But Scarlett Lucas wasn't listening. Something other than Dean Winchester had captured her attention.

Her head tilted to the side in sheer amazement as her eyes were fixated on his skin. "I get it now."

"Have you been listening to a word I was saying?" He growled, rolling his eyes at her.

"No, not that, Dean," Scarlett answered him with bewilderment, slowly rising to her feet.

With the slightest hint of reservation, the lithe blonde took two steps towards him and place a hand on his left bicep, partially hidden by his sleeve.

Dean watched her intently as she gently placed the pads of her fingertips against his skin, pushing the fabric upwards to reveal his scar.

Her warm touch nearly sent chills down the length of his spine, but he managed to hold them off. His emerald eyes were fixated on the contact. "What is it?" he asked in a rough whisper.

She turned her head towards him and looked up at his face with slightly glazed over eyes. "Dean, look…" Scarlett held up her hand and pressed her palm against the marked arm, the outline of the raised skin framing her fingers. Then she removed it to hold in front of his face. "Left hand."

Suddenly everything became perfectly clear to the hunter.

His green eyes passed from her outstretched flesh to lock on her golden-colored gaze.

Time passed.

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours. And neither would have known the difference.

As if of their own accord, Dean's hands reached up and grasped onto her upper arms. He pulled her towards him, their lips crashing together urgently, and the sheer force causing him to fall backwards, taking her with him as they melted into the bed.

A/N: So… Merry Christmas… was this not the best present EVER?!?

If you recall, in Chapter 13's spoilers, I wrote that Dean's drink of choice never means anything good (ie: his bad mood) and that Scarlett would make a discovery that alters Dean's outlook on life and religion, while completely altering her own existence. Well, this was the major game changer!

Also, despite my immense desire to write him as such, Dean has never been shirtless in a single chapter, nor has he been wearing a tank top. The only time he was really ever shirtless was when they were all in Bobby's panic room, BUT he threw off his shirt beyond the door and her view.

This was deliberate… all of it was. I'm surprised no one put it together!

I'm going to keep this one relatively short because it's 1:30 in the morning and I have to get up early tomorrow to head out on a cruise. I'm heading to Nassau, Bahamas to swim with the dolphins, St. Thomas, Puerto Rico, and Turks and Caicos. Now, I probably won't have internet until sometime after New Year's, most likely the second, so you all have to leave me holiday presents in the form of reviews to come home to!

Seriously, if this chapter doesn't get you to leave me reviews, I have no idea WHAT will!

And in advanced, Happy New Year!

SHOUT OUT TIME!

WWESupernatural102292 – So glad you liked it!

Jess-Tyson – Yes, her death would be sad. ESPECIALLY, knowing what you do now! And thanks for the good luck, still waiting to hear back on some of my grades!

Nehasupnfan – Oh, I hope that finals went well for you. I posted the last chapter right before I knew mine were about to hit! And hey… writing fanfics brings some semblance of sanity and normalcy to my life too! I'm glad you like Scarlett, she reflects my personality in a lot of ways, especially her use of sarcasm as a coping mechanism. I think this chapter, for sure, marks a major turning point in his view of her.

Superloudean – Thanks! I didn't know how the journal would go over, but it seems to be a big hit!

Mahlia – Ahh, bitchface Sammy. Such fond memories! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well, as it kind of marks a new chapter in their relationship. And, well, their sexual tension. Haha.

Light The Dark – Oh, well… all good things must come to an end, but I strongly believe the wait was worth it with this one! Your praise just makes me so happy and I'm thrilled you're addicted! Oh and yeah, Ollie is a fave of mine. But I had a Dean dream the other night, so we're all good again.

TinyCamilli – I know, I know… I'm evil. But I think this was worth the wait!

Lemonwedges4 – Haha, well… these DVDs have been keeping me occupied on vacation at night. Especially considering the fact we drove twenty three hours to Florida. That was not fun. But the looks I got from my parents while laughing hysterically during Supernatural episodes were really funny.

Midnight LeAnn – Stupid!Dean should be a new category of Dean itself! Although, there'd be a lot of it!

JulietaGabbana – Dean does get himself into some sticky predicaments. I think it was evident that Dean felt ridiculously dumb after reading her will. And it's exactly what you said… it really got the wheels turning in his head and by the end of Chapter 14, it all hit him at once. I will admit, this one was a little more difficult to write than most. I've actually had the bar scene and everything that followed written out since before I even posted the story here. But it was the whole scene preceding it that really proved a challenge. How do you write an apologetic Dean without getting too mushy and away from his character? I didn't want to write Schmoop, but I didn't want to write a heartless Dean going through all the motions, you know? I hope it came across well! As for the episodes, I would suggest watchmissedepisodes(dot)com. That's what got me through before I learned all about a little thing called torrents! And South Africa sounds lovely, I really must visit some time! I'm going to work on the Portuguese when I return from Puerto Rico… right now, I'm in a Spanish kind of mindset! Hope you had a GREAT Christmas!

Aria DeLoncray – Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it… welcome!

Segment time!

Cutting Room Floor – I was going to have Scarlett say some line after realizing that the scar on Dean's arm meant that he was her soulmate like "I've been waiting over two hundred fifty years for you." But that's so Edward Cullen… and so unlike Scarlett Lucas.

Spoilers – I'll give you guys three, since it's Christmas and all. First off, in heading to Rutgers, Sam's going to return for an extended period of time to a place in life he hasn't been in over five years, one that Dean hasn't ever experienced. And that includes college parties. Secondly, in addition to integrating themselves into campus life, they're going to have to integrate themselves into the Mason Gross program in a way neither Sam, nor Dean is really prepared for. And Dean's really not going to be happy with which particular celebrities hail from the Garden State. Yet, before they can even get back into the Impala, there's something that all three hunters need to discuss… and it's the little matter of Scarlett and Dean's activities of the previous night and what it means for all of them.

I'm so excited to start work on the next few chapters, especially the next one! It's going to be juicy as hell!

It's really going to be fun for me to write the Winchesters into the Rutgers campuses, as Rutgers is the school I attend. Believe me, I've known that this is where they were going for a while, so I've been making observations and taking notes around the campus.

Anyway… Happy New Year to you all! Can't wait for 2010!!!!

Lots of love and wishes for a happy and healthy new year!

Danielle