Our leads dried up faster than a puddle in the middle of the desert. The crime scenes were too old and tampered with to prove helpful. The one witness not already in jail either lost her nerve or had a mental break. Sam said it was like talking to a brick wall. She refused to say anything about murdering her husband, simply letting the feds ship her away. Dean and I had snooped in every closet and asked every person in the resort, but the place was clean as a whistle.

Even Sam was beyond stumped with this case, but Dean continued to insist he could feel it in his gut. We sat poolside most days, sipping cold drinks and pretending to eavesdrop on the conversations around us. We had four days left on our stay, yet all we could do was wait for something to drop in our laps.

We cut up and laughed, two old friends finally reacquainted. When he wasn't bothering the hell out of me, I felt like our souls connected in a unique way I had never experienced before. Words meant more coming from him, soothing me as much as he riled me. The smallest brush of his fingertips electrocuted me more than a passionate kiss. He seemed able to read me like a book. I couldn't hide anything from him, whether it be a secret or emotions. My soul was insatiable, craving him more than ever. I tried to soak up his presence like my skin soaking the rays of sunlight. The days were never long enough, ending before I was ready.

I kicked off the bottom of the pool, pushing my wet hair back after breaching the water's surface. Dean grabbed my ankle as I attempted to climb out, dragging me back underwater. Under the reflection of his shit-eating grin, I swam behind him to his back. Striking quickly, I used my whole weight to shove him under before he suspected it. Placing my feet on his shoulders, I kicked him deeper before making my escape.

Never surprised by my tactics, he was quick to recover. I lost sight of his form in the water as a group of kids splashed between us. Without notice, I was lifted into the air, a surprised yelp escaping me as Dean caught me in his arms. Effectively trapped and unable to escape, I started to protest, not liking the possibility of what he could do next.

He teased, promising he wouldn't do anything and asking if I trusted him. When I vehemently said no, he simply shrugged before propelling me forward through the air. My scream overlapped the sound of his laughing before I crashed into the water a few feet away. Coming up sputtering and feigning anger, his laugh was infectious and I couldn't even pretend to be angry with him.

Once again, I went to climb out of the pool and this time he didn't bother me. After grabbing my towel, I perched on the edge. He swam over, leaning on the warm concrete beside me to keep himself afloat. Starting to dry my hair, I noticed the increasing number of staff outside moving furniture and seeming to coordinate some kind of event.

"Is there something going on tonight?" I asked Dean, making eye contact with the hotel manager from across the way.

"Do I look like an information brochure to you?" he quipped. I shoved his face lightly with my hand, pushing him back into the water.

"Mr. and Mrs. Winchester," the manager greeted us, having walked over to where I was sitting. "I'm glad to see you're enjoying the amenities more," he said in a gentil manner, hands clasped in front of him. Unable to remember his name, I asked about the ongoing preparations. "We host a formal reception once a month with live music. It's extremely popular among the guests," he explained. "Will the two of you be attending?"

I glanced at Dean, still shaking his hair out from when I had pushed him. "We hadn't really talked about it yet," he answered, catching my eye.

"Of course. Well, there is a formal shop on the second-floor terrace if you find yourselves in need. We hope you'll join us tonight." He extended a friendly hand to Dean, bending at the waist. They clasped hands briefly before a junior worker came to steal him away.

"Dean…" I started to beg as soon as the manager was out of ear shot.

He groaned, no doubt anticipating what I was going to ask. "It's not really our thing." Grabbing my legs, he pulled himself closer so my knees were against his chest.

"What about 'when in Rome' and all that? Maybe we could even catch a lead while everyone is distracted." He crossed his arms over my thighs, resting his head on them. His expression was blank as I pouted down at him. I couldn't remember the last time I had worn a formal gown, even a simple dress. Two years I had lived the nitty, gritty, dirty hunter life alongside him. And suddenly my heart wanted one thing: to dress myself up and pretend I was something other than what I was. "Please," I whined, running my fingers through his hair in an attempt to appease him.

He was silent for a moment, apple green eyes softly calculating something unknown to me. "I'll think about it," was all he promised.

I twisted my mouth in annoyance, knowing he had already made up his mind. I sighed heavily, expelling the silly dream with it. I wouldn't succeed in changing his decision and only end up making him angry. I nodded softly to him.

A guest around our age called out to Dean, asking if he wanted to join a guy's only game of water volleyball before either of us could say anything to the other. I chuckled softly when I saw the excitement on his face. I encouraged him to play, telling him I was going to head back to the room for a nap and shower before dinner.

The alarm clock on the bedside table annoyingly woke me from my sun induced slumber. Not remembering setting it, I groggily smacked the button to shut it up. Pushing my hair away from my face, I called out for Dean. He didn't answer, leading me to assume he was still out.

Groaning, I grudgingly rolled out of the warm bed to start getting ready for dinner. I walked past the closet on my way to the bathroom, almost ignoring the fact the doors had been left open. Mildly suspicious, I took a few steps back to stand in front of it. A black garment bag that didn't belong to us hung inside, a sticky note stuck to the front.

'See you at 6:30. -D' was written in a familiar font.

With equal parts of caution and repressed hope, I slowly undid the zipper. Inside was a vibrant red, floor length dress made of a sturdy material that reminded me of Old Hollywood. The top was an off the shoulder style with an extra ruffle of fabric to make arm holes. The shape appeared slightly form fitting with a small flare at the bottom of the skirt that transitioned into a modest train. Starting below the zipper, a line of ruffles cascaded to the floor, an attractive statement piece to the otherwise simple design. A smile broke out on my face as I gently touched the material. Glancing at the clock, I would have just enough time to get ready.

I sharply parted my hair to the left, giving my natural curls an exaggerated look. The right side I pinned flat against my head with a few bobby pins, pulling everything to flow across my left shoulder. Some mascara, eyeshadow, and winged eyeliner added to the refined elegance I was aiming for. A pair of heels in the bottom of the bag completed the look.

Slipping into the dress, I sized myself up in the mirror before turning away. If I stared any longer, I knew I would talk myself out of it. Feigning confidence, I strode from the room.

The hotel staff had dressed in fancy butler's outfits and were strategically placed to corral guests toward the staircase for a grand entrance. Perched at the top, I could see people mingling in fancy clothes as the band set up their instruments. The lighting kept me from seeing people's faces, but I assumed Dean was there somewhere; perhaps at the buffet table.

Dropping my gaze, I gingerly picked up my skirt and focused on each footfall. The last thing I wanted to do was tumble down the granite stairs. These stilettos were harder to walk in than I remembered. Upon reaching the bottom, I only looked up after smoothing out the front of the dress.

Dean stood a few feet in front of me, a hopelessly adorable, stunned look on his face. He had donned a dark royal blue suit with a matching tie and grey vest. The color complemented his complexion, the sea of freckles on his face more prominent than normal. Recovering well, his eyes softened into an intense gaze as the corners of his mouth turned upward slightly. My heart gave a dull thump at how handsome he looked, simply standing there.

Suddenly self-conscious, I started to blush, fixing a stray curl next to my ear. "This was stupid of me, wasn't it?" I tried to joke, glancing at him through my lashes. He was dazzling the room while I felt like a pig dressed in pearls.

"Absolutely not," he breathed, stepping to me. He pulled my hand away from my face, holding it in his. "You're beautiful," he promised, squeezing it gently. The truth of the words were written across his face.

"You don't look so bad yourself," I managed to say without my voice trembling. I grabbed the lapels of his jacket, making sure it was buttoned well and his tie was straight. All the while, I felt his gaze on me. Our proximity stole my breath away as I looked up to meet his eyes.

The first notes of an electric guitar interrupted our next move as the band started. A decent cover band, they chose to play a classic rock song to begin. As soon as Dean recognized it, I knew the moment was gone. I let him pull me closer to the stage where others had started to congregate for the concert.

We danced, ate, drank, and talked the night away while keeping tabs on the movements of the guests. While I drowned in the pure bliss of a fun night, I was also painfully aware we were here on a job. And I had a monster to thank for the experience.

I had lost Dean to the buffet table for a fourth time when the notes of a slow song sang out. I gracefully left the dance floor, passing every other couple as they joined hands. Swaying by myself while sipping champagne, the singer performed his own version of Aerosmith's 'I Don't Want To Miss A Thing'.

As the chorus started, my glass was pulled from my hand. Dean spun me away from the spot I was guarding and onto the floor. A little surprised as his hand slipped to my waist, I asked, "I thought you were hungry?"

He acted insulted as he closed the distance between us. "And miss this kickass song? I don't think so." One of his hands fell to my lower back, heat flooding into me despite the heavy fabric of my dress. The pressure was gentle but firm, keeping our bodies closely entwined.

"But it's a slow song," I pointed out, something he was usually against.

We started moving in a small, slow circle, him leading the way. "Hey, don't hate on Aerosmith, okay? They wrote it for that movie his daughter was in with the asteroid and the Die Hard guy."

I could only laugh, leaning into him as the song droned on. I leaned my head on his shoulder, enjoying his warmth and the scent of cologne as he hummed in my ear. He only stopped when he had something to say.

"This week has been nice; with you," he spoke softly. "Hell was no picnic, but I've started to feel like normal might finally be possible again." I didn't raise my head as I listened, knowing he was embarrassed enough. I could see the color rising over the white collar of his shirt. "I don't know if that makes sense, but thank you," he finished.

Movement at the edge of my vision stopped me from responding. Craning to see over Dean's shoulder, I watched two bodies stealthily slip to a side door clearly marked for only staff. "Two people, near the door," I told him, picking up my head to watch them.

Without hesitation, he whipped towards the direction I had gestured to. "Let's go," was all he said. I was hyper aware of the fact that my hand was still wrapped in his.

They had managed to leave through the door unseen, but we followed behind carefully. On the other side was a well-lit hallway lined with dozens of doors. Holding a finger to his lips, Dean quietly checked the doorhandles on one side.

I heard the distinct click of an unlocked door as he wiggled another handle. He waited half a second before pulling it open. There were several audible gasps as I stretched to see around him. Inside the broom closet was a middle-aged couple in various stages of undress, thoroughly shocked at the sight of us.

Dean fumbled with his words, just as surprised. Grabbing his arm, I said, "Honey, I told you I saw someone go in there. I know of another place down the hall." Tugging lightly, he came away with me while giving the man a hasty thumbs up. We didn't stop until we passed out the doorway on the opposite end of the hall and into an unoccupied conference room.

Unable to keep quiet, I started laughing at the comical situation. "You should have seen your face," I cried, leaning against the wall as the laughing fit consumed me. Dean started to laugh with me and soon we were crying messes, leaning next to each other.

"Do you think there's any food left?" he asked, supporting me as leaned over to undo my shoes.

I shook my head. "I doubt it."

"Damn," he lamented, stealing my shoes away. He waved me off when I tried to take them.

The walk back to the room was quiet between us, too quiet. With every step, a lump rose in my throat, preventing any words from escaping. What I couldn't place my finger on was why it felt like something had changed. My best friend seemed different now, the lights reflecting off him in a new way that made him hard to look at. I almost couldn't bear to glance at him without my heart beating strangely inside my chest. Did he see me in the same light he always had? Or was there a reason he opened his mouth to speak each time our eyes met before shutting it?

Like the stroke of midnight, the threshold of our room shattered whatever alternate reality we had been in for the past few hours. I no longer felt extraordinarily beautiful as I hung the red dress back on its hanger and shook out my hair. We went through the motions of perpetual roommates, moving around each other as we prepared for bed separately.

I climbed into our shared bed, noticing his cold back turned to me. Neither of us spoke as I turned the light off, effectively ending our night. Tomorrow we would check out, leaving this place far behind. Instead, I sleeplessly tossed and turned all night. No position was comfortable; the temperature either too hot or too cold. What few minutes of sleep I managed were filled with hyper realistic and oddly specific dreams of the man next to me that disturbed me to my core. Dean must have been sleeping better than me, never moving a muscle.

At the first hint of dawn, I gratefully slipped out of bed and left the room. Few people were awake so early as I padded around the hotel. I convinced myself to eat breakfast despite the nausea I felt, grabbing a cup of strong black tea for the caffeine. Wandering outside, I found a secluded table promising me a respite from people.

I watched the sun climb over the lip of the canyon, bathing the surrounding desert. Pulling my legs up into the chair, I huddled in the slight chill of the morning. I didn't know how long I sat there, staring at nothing, letting my mind run blank.

My solitude was eventually interrupted. "There you are," Dean called from over my shoulder, already pulling up a chair. "I almost couldn't find you." I didn't respond, merely taking another sip of my now cold tea. "You're not avoiding me, are you?" he asked, realizing I hadn't said anything.

"Nope."

"Good." After another silent moment, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I found one more thing we need to take a look at before leaving," he enticed me.

I skeptically cut my eyes at him, unsure of his antics. "And what's that?"

"Overheard some staff talking about a utility shack on the edge of the property; thought it was worth a look." He shrugged, opening his clasped hands.

Despite myself, I was tempted to go with him. "Yeah, alright then. Lead the way." I unfolded myself, stretching my stiff joints. He smiled slyly as I skipped a step to keep up with his long stride.

The shack in question lay at the end of a poorly maintained trail cutting through overgrown brush. It was in pitiful condition, parts of the exterior rotting away with cracked windows. Immediately obvious it wasn't currently in use, I began to wonder how Dean could have possibly found it. His steps were true as we followed the path to the dilapidated door.

Gingerly pushing against it, the rusty hinges squeaked as I went for a look inside. Hands tied behind him and crudely laid out across the dirt floor was Dean, minus his plaid overshirt. His eyes grew as large as mine the second he saw me.

"Behind you!" he shouted.

I barely thought to turn when something connected with my temple.