A few hours later, the Impala pulled back into the salvage yard, and Dean and Sam exited the vehicle, Sam looking a little uncomfortable as Dean grabbed the back handle of the car.

"I don't get it," Sam said, annoyed. "You two could easily go to Alicia's room—and you'd have a lot more privacy than the back of your car."

"Yeah, but we'd have to get past Bobby," Dean replied. "The man looks like he wants to bring out every means of torture he knows every time I just look at Allie, so I don't even want to think about what he'd do if he caught us doing," he shrugged, "other stuff. You remember how he reacted when he caught us in her bedroom last month."

"And what am I supposed to tell him when he sees me coming in alone?" Sam asked.

"Make something up," Dean replied, shrugging. "Or better yet, don't go inside until we're done." Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up a hand. "Look, take a walk around the place. Just stay away from the house—and give us a half hour, tops, okay." He motioned for Sam to leave. "Three's a crowd, Sam." Sam opened his mouth, but Dean raised his eyebrows. The younger Winchester scowled, but he turned and marched off as Dean smirked, opening the car door and got in.

The hunter barely closed the door behind him and he turned to face Alicia, who was sitting on the other side, leaning sideways against the backseat, smiling. He opened his mouth to say something, but the young woman suddenly threw herself onto him, kissing him passionately.

Dean gave a muffled grunt, temporarily caught off guard, but quickly recovered and grinned as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him as she straddled his lap. She tugged and pulled his jacket down his arms, and Dean shrugged out of it, tossing it over the front seat. His shirt soon followed, and the young woman eyed his bare chest appreciatively.

"I know you got this for protection," Alicia replied as she lightly brushed her fingers over the anti-possession tattoo inked under his left collarbone, causing Dean to reflexively shudder under her touch, "but it looks so sexy."

Dean smirked. "The artwork or the canvas?"

"Both," Alica replied as she leaned over and kissed him. Dean cradled her head in his hands, returning the kiss with fervor. After a few moments he moved his hands to her shoulders, never breaking their kiss, and gently tugged her unbuttoned plaid shirt down her arms, tossing it aside. He then moved his hands to the waist, gently pulling her tank top out of the waistband of her jeans. The two hunters pulled back, Alicia raising her arms, as Dean pulled her shirt off and tossed it on top of her other one. He glanced down appreciatively at her chest, covered by a lacy black bra, her brass ankh dangling right above her breasts.

The hunter leaned forward and kissed her, sliding his hands around her waist, his fingers brushing over the scarred skin on her back where her re-inked tattoo was. She moaned softly against his mouth, deepening the kiss as he moved his hands up her body, pulling her closer to him. Their bare skin touched, sending shivers through the two hunters' bodies. Dean reached up to quickly unclasp her bra, running his hands all over her bare back as he moved his mouth to her neck, sucking hard on the spot below her ear.

Alicia suddenly pulled back, looking at him as if she was waking up from a nap. She looked around, confused. "What the—?" She glanced down, and her eyes widened as she looked up at Dean, then she quickly scrambled off Dean's lap, quickly moving to the other side of the backseat. "What are we doing?"

"Uh," Dean asked slowly as he sat up straighter, "what you wanted."

"What I wanted?" Alicia asked. "When did I say—" She paused and closed her eyes, remembering. "Wait, did I really say about half an hour ago in front of Sam that you and I should test drive the backseat when we get back?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean replied. "Most uncomfortable I've seen Sam since I slipped itching powder in his shorts."

"Why the hell did you say yes?" Alicia asked incredulously, reaching around and clasping her bra back in place.

"Why wouldn't I say yes to a hot chick throwing herself at me?" Dean replied.

"I was not throwing myself at you," Alicia retorted, grabbing her tank top and shirt where Dean had tossed them.

"So, what, I just imagined you jumping on me the moment I got in and tearing my shirt off?" Dean replied, annoyed.

"No, of course not," Alicia answered, "but it doesn't mean I actually wanted to."

Dean looked at her incredulously, then snorted as he reached for his shirt and shrugged into it. "You know, Allie, I've been really patient and understanding this past month, but lately you're acting like a freakin' yo-yo. I don't know from day to day if I'm going to be dealing with Allie the Horny Chick or Allie the Prude Chick."

"And that's my fault?!" Alicia protested as she quickly put her tank top back on.

"Well, I sure as hell don't see anyone pulling your strings," Dean retorted, "and you can't blame being infected anymore, so why don't you stop making up excuses and just make up your damn mind!"

Alicia stared at him for a few moments, then set her jew as she turned away from Dean, looking straight ahead, her face expressionless. Her eyes suddenly glowed purple, and the air around the young woman shimmered briefly before she vanished, leaving Dean alone. For a moment, the young man looked stunned, but he quickly shook it off as he grabbed his jacket.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered as he opened the car door and exited the vehicle. "Hate it when she does that." He slammed the door shut, marching toward the house as he shrugged into his jacket, rounding a corner of junk, almost bumping into his brother. "What the—what the hell are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked. "I thought you and Alicia would be—"

"Well, we're not, Poindexter," Dean interrupted. Sam tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "She teleported."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"I don't know. She didn't exactly tell me before she left."

"What did you do?"

"Me?" Dean asked incredulously. "Why the hell is it my fault?" Sam gave him a look as he folded his arms. "Look, she's the one with the freakin' mood swings."

"Dean, she's a woman. They're programmed to have mood swings." He shifted uncomfortably. "It isn't that, um, you know…time of the month?"

"She's cured, Sam, and the full moon's over for the month, remember?" Sam shook his head, and Dean finally realized what his brother was really asking. He suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. "Oh, that." He shook his head. "No, this goes way beyond some premenstrual crap. It's like she's freakin' Jekyll and Hyde right now."

"That usually comes with the premenstrual crap," Sam snarked with a smirk. "It lasts about a week, and you better get used to it, because it happens every month."

"Well, this has been going on for a month, Sam, and I'm not going to get used to her mixed signals where she can't keep her hands off me one moment, then the next she's acting like a freakin' nun. If that's what it means to be with a girl longterm, count me out."

Sam straightened up, looking serious. "Really, Dean. Are you kidding?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding, Sam?"

Sam snorted mirthlessly. "You have a good thing going with her, and you're just gonna throw it away because you're being an impatient idiot?"

Dean frowned, looking offended. "What the hell is that supposed to mean ?"

"Did you ever stop and think about why she's acting that way?"

"Really?" Dean asked angrily. "Give me one good reason for anyone to treat anyone like that, Sam."

Sam just stared at him, then scoffed. "How about for her entire life she's had to keep people at arm's length because she doesn't want to trust the wrong person and end up dead? Or maybe she knows your reputation with women and doesn't want to be just another notch in your belt? Or perhaps it's because she's lost her parents—people she cared about—and she's scared to get close to someone else she cares about and lose them too? Or maybe it's something completely different, which you would know if you'd actually talk to her instead of bitching about how frustrated you are because you haven't had sex in over a month."

Dean just stared at his brother, not sure whether he should be offended or impressed by Sam's response. "Wow," he finally said. "Didn't know you felt that strongly about our…situation."

Sam sighed, annoyed. "Look, if you're that…frustrated, why don't you watch your Japanese anime or something?" Dean glanced sideways, like he was going to pout. "You already tried, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. "Couldn't even watch five minutes of it."

"What happened?" Dean opened his mouth, but Sam quickly stopped him. "The, uh, the abridged version, please. I don't need a bunch of details."

"I don't know," Dean replied. "It just…wasn't doing anything for me. I," he shrugged, "I kept thinking about her."

Sam tilted his head. "Wait, let me get this straight: you were watching porn, but you kept fantasizing about Alicia?" Dean shrugged, and Sam appeared amused. "You know what this means."

"Yeah, she's ruined me," Dean muttered, looking disgusted.

"No, it means you're growing up." Sam's smile faded, and he took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. "Look, Dean, I get your frustrations, I do, but it sounds like you want something more from Alicia than just a one night stand." Dean looked at him with a hard stare but stayed quiet. "If that's the case, then you have got to talk to her."

"I hate the talking thing," Dean mumbled. "I'm not a chick."

"I know," Sam replied, "and you can continue to hate the talking thing, but if you don't make an effort to try it every once in a while, you're gonna always be frustrated— and alone." He turned and headed off toward the house, leaving Dean to think about Sam's words.


Later that night, while Bobby, Sam, and John stayed downstairs, Dean approached Alicia's closed bedroom door. He had a loaded plastic shopping bag in one hand, and a couple of unopened beer bottles in the other. He inhaled, then slowly breathed out before reaching up and knocking on the door.

"Allie?" Nothing. "Can I come in?" No reply. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, then turned the knob and slowly opened the door, cautiously poking his head in. The room was dimly lit by candles scattered about, and Alicia sat at her desk. She had changed into her usual night shorts and tank top, her hair pulled away from her face, an ancient-looking book on one side, mumbling softly to herself. "Allie?" He noticed the small bowls and some vials and bags beside the other, and Dean's eyebrows furrowed as he walked in. "Allie, what are you doing?"

"Solving our problem," Alicia replied without looking up.

"What problem?" Dean asked slowly.

"Me," Alicia said as she started opening some of the vials and adding some of their contents to a bigger bowl in front of her. "Look, I know the past two weeks I've been pissing you off with my behavior, so I figured this is the best solution to the situation so we don't end up killing each other."

"And by 'solution', you mean—?"

"I mean a spell that suppresses emotions in a person so they stop acting a certain way. I'll cast it on myself, and everything'll be fine."

Dean set his jaw before he tossed everything on her bed and marched over to the young woman. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her up, turning her to face him. "You are not doing that spell."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Weren't you the one telling me earlier to 'make up my damn mind'? Well, guess what, Dean: this is me making up my mind."

"Oh, yeah," Dean replied sarcastically. "Making up your mind by taking the easy way out."

"Well, it's sure as hell easier than talking with you."

Dean opened his mouth, but he couldn't refute that. "So, what, you think some freakin' spell is going to fix all this with no consequences whatsoever?"

"I don't know," Alicia replied, frustrated, "but if you got a better solution, I'd really like to know, because I'm not seeing one here."

"I actually do," Dean replied. He walked over to the bed and picked up the beer bottles, putting them on the nightstand. He opened the plastic bag and pulled out a foil pie pan covered in a plastic lid, along with two plastic forks.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "Beer and pie?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah, I know it's not some fancy dinner," Dean replied as he sat on the bed, "but it's chocolate cream." He motioned for her to join him. The young woman just stared at him. "Look, I'll behave, and we can even do the talking thing." The young woman raised an eyebrow. "I promise I won't yell or anything. Trust me."

"But can you trust me?" Alicia asked.

"I'll risk it," Dean replied with a small smile. "Just don't teleport again, okay?" Alicia looked unsure, but she walked over and sat on the other side of her bed, keeping as far away from Dean as possible. He handed her one of the forks before passing her a beer bottle. He positioned his bottle with the lip of the cap on the corner of her nightstand, but when he raised his hand Alicia grabbed his wrist and held tight.

"Don't you dare," she threatened gently.

"Bobby doesn't mind us—"

"My furniture, my room, my rules, Dean. And do I look like my uncle?"

Dean pretended to contemplate her question. "Maybe if you grow a beard," he suggested.

Alicia, smiling, let go of his wrist and held out her hand. "Bottle." Dean handed her his bottle, and the young woman put her hand on the side and made a small flicking motion with her fingers. The cap suddenly popped off and she gave it back to him before doing the same with her own.

"Thanks," Dean replied, taking a swig before putting his bottle on the nightstand and turning his attention to the pie. He took off the lid and put the pie down between him and Alicia before digging into the pastry and taking a big bite, his cheeks swollen with pie. "So, let's cut to the chase. What gives?"

"What?" Alicia asked, confused.

Dean chewed a bit before swallowing. "You these past two weeks. What gives?"

Alicia just stared at him, still not completely used to his bluntness. "I don't know." Dean gave her a look. "I really don't, Dean."

"Not the time for secrets, Allie."

"I'm not being secretive, Dean."

"Then at least be honest. Was any of it real?"

"What do you want me to say, Dean? Yes, my feelings, all of it was real, okay, and I was able to deal with it just fine at first, but everything got dialed up to a hundred and I feel like I've been on a freakin' rollercoaster for the past two weeks." Dean just stared at her, causing her to feel self-conscious. She looked away, drinking from her bottle.

"So," Dean said slowly after a few moments, "hormones?"

Alicia jerked her head in his direction. "Really? You think this whole thing is because of some damn PMS?"

"Uh, well—"

Alicia glared at him, pointing a finger at him. "If I was getting premenstrual, I'd be researching the most painful ways to make you suffer, not throwing myself at you like a dog in heat."

Dean swallowed nervously, staring at her with fear in his eyes, knowing she was serious. "It was Sam's idea."

Alicia stared at him, then scoffed as she looked away. "I can't lose control, Dean."

"That's not a bad thing, Allie."

"The last time I lost control, I ripped my father's heart out."

Dean paused. It was starting to make a little sense. "Well," he said jokingly, "you don't have to worry about doing that any longer." Alicia gave him a look, and his smile faded. "Sorry." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, so, you have no idea why this is happening?" Alicia shook her head. "But you said those feelings are real?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going to just throw myself at someone because I think they're attractive."

"You did two days after we met, remember?"

"Primal urges from being a werewolf, but those are gone now."

"I still don't see the problem, Allie. We both know what we want, so why not just go for it?"

"Because I'm not ready, okay?" Dean just stared at her, and she quickly looked away embarrassed. She gathered her courage, took in a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "Look, I was raised to keep people at arm's length, having to hide who I really am from practically everyone—civilians and hunters—because I'm a witch. I've never had any friends, because we couldn't trust people not to be demons, and talking to Dad and Bobby—and then John—was never going to happen, because they wouldn't understand. Then the whole werewolf thing happened, and I had to keep people even further away. Dean, I've lost my parents, and you and Sam are the first real friends I've ever had that I've truly been able to trust. I just don't want to lose that, too."

Dean looked a little sympathetic. "That makes sense." He exhaled sharply. "So, you think if we," he made a motion with his hand, "did anything, things are gonna turn sour?"

Alicia shrugged. "Maybe. Look, if we're being honest here, I've never—" She stopped when she saw Dean's slightly amused expression. "What?"

"You think I didn't know that already?" Dean asked. "I mean, between all the secrets and stuff, and having Bobby as your family, it isn't hard to figure out you're still," he cleared his throat, "virtuous."

"I thought I was prudish."

Dean winced. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's okay. And for the record, Bobby has nothing to do with my…self-control. I've had plenty of opportunities to walk on the wild side."

Dean tilted his head, intrigued. "Really?"

"What, you thought you were the first guy I've ever wanted to sleep with?"

Dean snorted, hiding his disappointment. "No, of course not." He paused. "So, why didn't you?"

"Because I couldn't be honest with them about who I was, and I know that sounds stupid, but that's important to me. If I'm going to be close to someone, I need to be able to trust that person completely—and myself."

Dean couldn't argue with that; it made more sense than he actually cared to admit. "Is that all you need?"

"How about time?" Alicia requested. Dean raised an eyebrow, and the young woman stared straight ahead. "Dean, I know I've been frustrating you lately, and you've been more than patient. I'm just asking you to give me more time…let me figure out what's going on so I can trust myself." Dean just stared at her. "If that's not something you don't feel you can or want to do, then I'll understand." She felt shifting on the mattress and looked over to see Dean had moved the pie and bottle to her nightstand and scooted closer to her. He cradled her face in his hands, staring her straight in the eyes.

"It's been frustrating as hell," he admitted, "but something tells me it'll be worth it." He kissed her gently. "Take all the time you need."

"And what about you?"

"I'll take all the cold showers I need," Dean replied. "And no more spells, okay?" Alicia nodded, and Dean leaned over and kissed her. As he pulled away, he saw a dark mark on her neck under her ear and grinned. "Oh, please tell me that's the first hickey you've ever gotten."

"Guilty," Alicia replied.

Dean looked almost proud, then a little worried. "What about Bobby?"

"Bobby can bitch and moan all he wants," Alicia replied, "but he's gonna have to get used to this."

"And what if he tries to, you know, kill me…again?"

"Don't worry, Dean," Alicia replied, patting his cheek in a mock gesture, "I'll protect you."

Dean didn't look amused. "Thanks." He leaned over and grabbed the pie. "You gonna eat some pie or not?" Still smiling, Alicia used her fork and dug into the pie, scooping out a big piece and holding it out to Dean, who raised an eyebrow. Alicia prodded him, and Dean sighed before accepting it. Without pausing, he dug around in the pie with his own fork, returning the gesture.

"Good pie," Alicia said before taking a sip from her bottle.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, smiling. "Good pie." The two hunters stared at each other for a few moments as they sat in the dimly lit room before focusing their attention on eating the pie and drinking beer in silence, knowing that—for the moment—nothing more needed to be said.

(End of Chapter 2)