Hi, guys! :) Here's the new chapter! Happy reading :)

The moon is full, shining my way as I sneak to the back of the barn. Jody took the front, and I am waiting for her signal so we can storm in. It's quiet, a light gust of wind shaking the branches in the nearby trees from time to time. Crickets hide around, their screechy song filling the night's air.

Then I feel it. Someone is behind me, sneaking and being almost as stealthy as me. I glue myself to the barn's wall, exposing my back. The tension in my muscles is ready to burst, but I patiently wait for the attacker to approach me. To be in my range so I can kick his ass and finish this hunt. A smile is playing on my lips as adrenalin pumps through me. My grip on the machete tightens. I'm ready to strike.

The figure finally is right behind me as I can feel it reaching for me. The moon hides behind a cloud as everything goes pitch black. I suppress a curse as I whirl around and aim for the vampire lurking behind me. But my arm is blocked midair, the figure gripping me. We struggle silently and I realize it's not a vampire who attacked me, but a man. He is strong, fast, clearly knows what he is doing. There is something strangely familiar about the way he moves. But I'm better. Years of training with the Winchesters, dealing with bigger and stronger opponents with ease are on my side. My injured leg protests with every move, but I know how to ignore pain. I manage to tackle him on the ground. Before he can react, I'm on top of him, straddling his chest, and I can feel the stitches on my leg tear, causing a huff of pain to escape my lips. I'm ready for a final strike, raising my hand.

The cloud passes and the moon shines again. I see his face. A set of amazing and stunned green eyes stare back at me. Eyes I know well.

"Dean?" I choke out in surprise and release him.

I glare at him. After two years, that is how we meet. On a hunt, by accident. What are the chances for both of us to end up on the same case... I shake my head as I rise to my feet and silently raise my finger to my lips. His jaw tightens, but he nods.

Suppressing the mixture of emotions in my chest, I concentrate on the hunt. I can analyze every single emotion surging through me later. The last thing I need is to get myself killed because I was distracted by Dean fucking Winchester.

Even with four hunters on them, the nest gives quite a resistance. It is less quick and more bloody than anticipated. But we manage, as always. Heads are rolling around our feet as we head for the cars. I cast Jody a look, wondering if she set this whole thing up. If she made it possible to run into each other.

Sam helps Dean to the car as I silently observe, suppressing the raging storm of emotions inside me. I haven't spoken a word since I almost decapitated Dean behind the barn. Even after he threw himself in front of me, saving my ass. Even after I heard the sheer panic in his voice calling my name because right behind me was a vampire ready to kill me. Even after he is seriously injured. The horror of the possibility of losing him grips me tight in its claws, but I force myself to stay calm. We managed to stop the bleeding, but he is going to need some serious stitching. Jody and Sam eye me cautiously.

"What?" I bark, raising my brow.

"You're awfully quiet," Jody tilts her head, but I ignore her silent question.

"We're going to the bar. It's closer than the Bunker," I say to Sam as he nods, "Don't fall behind. He needs stitches."

I turn on my heel and head for my car, Jody following me closely behind.

"You all right?" she asks as we get in, and I shift into gear.

"I'm fine," I grit my teeth and speed down the road, pushing the car to its limits.

A couple of hours later, we're all fine. Dean is all stitched up, and he and Sam are in their room at the motel. I'm at the bar, my leg wound stitched again. I'm alone, I sent Alex back home with Jody and the last customers are long gone. I'm just cleaning the last of the glasses behind the bar, an open whiskey bottle next to me.

I suppress the urge to throw something for the mere satisfaction of hearing it crashing into thousand pieces. I need a smoke so badly it hurts. Instead, I take a huge sip from the whiskey. After wanting to feel something just this afternoon, now all these emotions are spiraling me out of control. And I don't like it. At all.

Seeing Dean after all this time is making me... I don't even know anymore. All I know is I'm mad at him for showing out of nowhere. I'm angry he pushed me away two years ago, that he never let me explain, never reached back after all those texts and calls. I'm mad he just threw me out of his life. Like I was garbage, something needless, something he didn't want anymore. But most of all, I am mad at myself for caring so much, for still not being over him. For still loving him as much as when I sacrificed myself for him, for everyone I cared about. I hate him because deep down, I understand him, I know why he reacted the way he did.

I might have realized it really late, but I know now. I know the sheer pain and panic seeing the one you love getting hurt, the possibility of his death creeping onto you as he bleeds out in front of you. This numbing all-consuming fear he'll die and you'd never be able to...

With a huff, I take another swig from the bottle. I am trying to shake off all these thoughts out of my mind. After all, Dean is fine, alive and breathing, and okay. Nothing else matters. Especially my feelings for him.

The front door opens and I curse at myself for not locking it up.

"We're fucking closed!" I rage at the newcomer without even looking in their direction.

"I know," the familiar gruff voice makes me snap my head in his direction.

"Dean," I sigh and rub my temples, "You need something?"

"I... I.. ugh.." he scratches the back of his neck.

I roll my eyes and open a fresh bottle of beer, sliding it across the bar towards him.

He cautiously approaches, his face twists in pain as he sits in front of me.

"You're an idiot," I state and take a sip from my bottle.

His look is so confused, I chuckle.

"For throwing yourself in front of me."

" He was gonna kill you."

"Not if I killed him first."

"Braeden..."

He looks at me, his eyes boring into mine. I feel as though he can see deep down my very soul, warm tingle having nothing to do with the booze, but with his very presence, spreads through me.

"What?"

"I... I..." it is strange to see him so uncertain, so hesitant, "I know I'm probably too late, but... well, two years too late, but... can we have that conversation?"

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