Dean wanted pie. No. He needed pie. It was nearing 6 PM and he was likely to die if he did not get pie in the next 60 minutes.

Thankfully, they'd made it past border patrol without incident, and Dean could see hope of food on the near horizon.

The Happy Landing was a nicer restaurant than they typically frequented, in a larger city than they usually visited. But all signs on this hunt pointed to Windsor, Ontario. So they'd crossed the border - miraculously making it through without anything being searched and confiscated - and parked the Impala at the little bakery by the airport.

It was a dank, dismal day in late September and Dean was regretting picking up this job. The pleasant smell of baked goods brightened his mood, but only slightly.

Their waitress was young, notably hot, and a little distant. She had cropped, wavy brown hair and giant blue eyes. While most of the servers had on uniforms, she wore a pale blue, oversized t-shirt and a pair of dark green corduroy pants with white floury handprints on the back pockets and the upper thighs. She wore no name tag, but introduced herself as Sophie.

"What'll you have?" She asked, returning to the counter after giving them a few minutes to look over menus.

Dean and Sam relayed their orders, but the waitress didn't write anything on the pad tucked into her waistband. She stared blankly into space as Dean asked, for the third time, what pie they had available.

Then suddenly she was back with them.

Her eyes refocused and she quickly took in the confused and irate expressions on her customers' faces.

"Did I just stop paying attention for a minute?" Sophie asked.

"Uh huh," Dean responded, setting his jaw to avoid snapping at her. He shot an aggravated glance to his brother, looking for sympathy. But Sam just gestured at the heavy silver bracelet around Sophie's wrist - printed in red, block capital letters with the word "EPILEPSY."

"I am so sorry," Sophie explained quickly, "I have a seizure disorder. And someone called in sick today so I have been awake for…"

She trailed off.

"I have apparently been awake for too long to do math. And fatigue is a trigger for me. So…if you wouldn't mind…could you just repeat what you wanted?"

Dean wanted to be upset. But those giant blue eyes, focused now, and the gentle clink of the medical ID bracelet took the anger right out of him. Man, she was gorgeous.

"What kind of pie do you have?" He asked.

"Apple, pumpkin, peach, lemon meringue, key lime, chocolate silk, and cranberry pear," she said quickly, "But the peach is not great this time of year."
"Did you just…tell me something on your menu…that you are theoretically trying to convince me to order form…is not great?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Sophie admitted, tucking her pencil behind her ear and sheepishly avoiding eye contact, "I bake the pies. And I think being honest about the pies is important."

"Ah, so you're the baker," Dean said, looking her up and down.

"Yep."

"That explains the clothes," Sam said.

"And the being awake since god knows when," Dean added.

"Exactly. The pear cranberry is objectively the best pie we have. But if you dislike either pears or cranberries or if you are allergic to nuts the pumpkin is also really good. Key lime too. But it's pretty awful out for key lime pie if you ask me," Sophie's voice was clipped and precise, decidedly not the voice Dean and Sam had grown to expect from a diner waitress.

"We do also have cheesecakes that are also really good. But that isn't technically pie so…"

She scribbled down their order and disappeared. The meal passed uneventfully. And the cranberry pear pie was, as promised, fantastic. When Sophie brought the bill, Dean asked for a recommendation on where to stay.

"Well do you want nice or do you want cheap and are you okay with crossing the border?" She asked.

"Cheap. Canada only," Dean clarified.

"Stonecroft," Sophie replied, "It's a little mom and pop place. They just renovated too so it's clean. Usually pretty cheap and always quiet this time of year. I just wanted to thank you both so much for your patience. I wasn't great with people before and now since…"

She trailed off suddenly.

"Since?" Sam prodded.

"Oh you don't want to hear about it," Sophie said, taking their credit card.

She glanced at it - not a fake for once in their lives - and paused.

"Actually maybe you do," she said as she ran the card, "Can you meet me out back in just a minute?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a concerned glance, but eventually Dean nodded and Sophie handed over their receipt and disappeared into the kitchen once again.