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29 January 2007 @ 11:41 pm
I Can't Quit You Prologue-Chapter Two  
Don't mind me, just cleaning up my journal so reposting stuff here. Just carry on with your business.

Title: I Can't Quit You
Author: xxmiss_nyxiexx
Pairing: Dean/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers up to Season Four but not this early in the plot. There will be later on and in the sequel.




She was sitting behind the counter of the local diner when they drove into town. It was early in the morning, and the night sky was fading away slowly, going from light purple to blue. He walked into the diner, an air of nobility surrounding him. The tinkling of the bell above the door made her look up from the 'Rolling Stone' magazine that she was flipping through, to be met with chocolate brown eyes, set on a hardened face. The skin rough from the weather, and traces of the many cuts and bruises that had once been carved into the skin were fading away. The newest ones stood out, pale and healing, against his badly tanned skin. He was a large man, muscular and bulky, clad in stonewashed jeans and a leather jacket. Steel toed boots were on his feet and he wore many layers beneath his jacket.

She smiled as best as she could, although her instincts told her to bolt out the door. Just turn around and run as fast as her legs could carry her. Run until she collapsed from the pain the lack of oxygen caused in her chest, and even then she would pick herself up and run or crawl or drag herself along, just keep moving. This man frightened her, and he always would.
He placed his hand on the counter, leaning onto it. His eyes were tired, although the rest of his body was alert and cautious, the muscles in his neck tense and his jaw working away continually. His hand was inches away from hers. She wanted to jab a fork into it, maybe distract him, but instead she calmed herself and groped around the shelves beneath the counter with her other hand. A slight relief washed over her when her hand closed around the handle of a knife, just in case.

"I was wondering where the nearest gas station is" then he added "I just moved into the big Victorian house"

She knew the place. The Old Malone house. His voice was gruff and hoarse. Like he did a lot of shouting and yelling. It was also deep and rumbling, like a car's engine. It just added to the fear inspiring look he gave off. She raised a shaking finger, directing him towards a road that led away from the diner

"J-just go straight down that road. You can't m-miss it" she tried to keep her voice as calm and polite as possible. But a stutter or two had escaped from her lips. She hoped he hadn't noticed.

The stranger nodded and thanked her "Oh I need a cup of coffee too. I've been driving all night y'know" she nodded and attempted a smile.

She was sure it looked like a queasy grimace from the way she felt. He returned her smile with one of his own. If you could call it a smile that is. All he had done was curve the tips of his lips upwards, it didn't reach his eyes, it wasn't genuine. She continued smiling as she turned around and took in a deep breath to steady herself. She poured him his coffee and he was handing it to him the back of her hand brushed against his palm.

They were rough and covered with healing blisters. She could feel the calluses, the same ones her Papa had from handling his guns. The same ones she had.

"You live here long?" the stranger asked her.

"Yup. All my life" she replied.

"What can you tell me about the house I'm moving into?"

"Some say it's haunted. Personally, I think it's a load of BS, something people say just to have something to talk about" she kept her hands busy by wiping down the counter even though she already had, and adjusting the cups behind her.

"Why do they say that?" he took a sip from her coffee and looked up at her from over the tip of his mug with inquiring eyes.

She didn't know if she should tell him the whole story. She knew the local legend by heart, her brothers used to read it to her before she went to bed in an attempt to scare her. Attempts that failed miserably because she always ended up turning the tables and scaring them. This wasn't exactly hard to do since they lived right across the street from the big yellow Victorian house that brought the chills to anyone who walked past it.

Back when she actually hung out with any girls, they used to play Truth or Dare, and sometime or the other, one of the girls would dare her to break into the house, or ding dong ditch it. And she would stroll right up to the front door, her head held high, and do whatever it was they had dared to her to do. The most recent dare she had done was spend the night in one of the bedrooms which caused her to become something of a freak, and gave her the status of a social reject. That was five years ago.

Ever since then she had tended to hang out with the guys in her year, and quite a few of her older brothers' friends, which (much to her delight) annoyed them immensely. It wasn’t a very difficult transition for her to make, after all she had grown up with five brothers, but she did occasionally wonder what was wrong with her whenever Jean Emers glared at her or whenever Karen Somer came up to her and asked her why she had blisters all over her hands or why she never wore any make up.

"Well, a couple years ago, I'd say about…fifty…a family lived there. The Malones. They were real weird, pale as hell, freaked the shit outta most people. And they had these black eyes, scary looking. They never ate, and they never aged. Well, at least that's what they say. Hard to tell what the truth is, y'know how things get with these stories." He nodded keeping his eyes glued to her face. To tell you the truth it frightened her, a lot. But she pressed on, regardless.

"Well anyway, they never ate so people started saying they were vampires and someone swore they saw fangs or whatever. And then they died. Well not really, they disappeared. And y'know vampires are supposed to be immortal or something. So everyone got real scared and then these bizarre deaths started turning up" her throat went dry and she had to take in a deep breath before continuing "Well anyway, ever since then people have been saying that they still live there in the cellar or the attic in coffins coming out to eat every couple of years, or their spirits still haunt the house or something. I'm not really sure"

He had stared at her intently this whole time, he seemed to be genuinely interested. "And you don’t believe any of it?"

"Well, of course not!"

He nodded, still searching at her face intently from over his mug. She shifted uncomfortably and he dropped his gaze to his coffee, as if suddenly becoming aware of how uncomfortable he was making her. Then he looked up and smiled that chilling smile again.

"Thank you. Well, I best be off. How much do I owe you?"

She shook her head "It’s on the house"

His eyebrows pulled together "Are you sure? I really don't th-" she cut him off.

"My dad owns the place. I'm sure he won't mind if I give away a cup of coffee" she smiled a small enchanting smile.

"Okay then" he said, putting away his wallet. He stood up to leave but when his hand closed around the doorknob she finally mustered the courage to call out to him.

"Hey mister, what’s your name?" He turned and smiled, a genuine heartfelt smile. His eyes lit up and his whole face warmed and she dismissed her previous thoughts and fears of this man as silly. As soon as she saw him smile an actual smile all her fears went away, just like that.

"It's John. John Winchester" then he turned and drove his car away from the diner, away from her and left her standing there feeling foolish for being afraid of John Winchester.





John Winchester parked his car in the drive through of his new house. It was a big Victorian thing, yellow and white. His former wife, Mary, would have loved it. His heart ached at the memory of her and he tried to push the thought out of his head.

He woke his eldest son, Dean, by opening the passenger door, and sticking his arms out to catch him before he hit the pavement. Dean sat up, looking groggy and rubbing his eyes. That boy could sleep. His younger son, Sam, was a lighter sleeper. He started to wake up the second his father pulled into the driveway. He kicked the back of his older brother's chair.

"Gross Dean you were drooling" he exclaimed. Dean scowled.

"Shut up Sammy" Dean replied, wiping some drool from his cheek.

"Don't. Call. Me. Sammy" Sam said through gritted teeth, giving Dean a venomous glare through the mirror and kicking the back his seat again. Dean just smirked in an extremely irritating way.

"Sam, you're going to get mud from your shoes on the interior" John warned his youngest son "And Dean, stop picking on your brother"

Dean stiffened, and nodded at a direct order from his father "Yes sir" he replied in a hard voice.

It wasn't long before the two of them were helping their father unload the few bags they had into the house. They kept all their furniture in warehouses when they were on the road, until John decided some case required more attention and they would just call the movers and have them ship all of it to a house that John always managed to find and buy spur of the moment.

The house was pretty big, but he had gotten it cheap. Probably because of the story that girl at the diner had told him. She was a looker. Dean probably would stare at her, mouth wide open. Just because John was still mourning for his late wife didn't mean he couldn't notice other girls.

Someone had nailed the doors that led to the cellar and the attic shut, John decided he would look into that as soon as he got the time. Right now he had more pressing matters to deal with. Like the fact that there was a demon in the city, a few miles away from the hick town they were staying in, that was possessing the criminals at the prison and making them escape. So far the demon had let out about 20 criminals. And not shoplifting teenagers but actual criminals, murderers. And it had to stop.

The three of them dragged themselves up to their rooms and immediately dozed off into sweet delicious sleep. They were exhausted and deserved a long night's rest.

Dean was the last to wake up, as usual. He woke to the sweet delicious smell of...pie! He immediately hopped out of his bed and glanced sideways to see that Sammy's bed was all made up and neat. The nerd. The little bastard would probably eat all the pie before Dean got there. He sprinted down the stairs at record speed and barreled into the kitchen.

The first thing that caught his attention was a big pie in the middle of the kitchen table. There were three pieces already cut out of it and he could see the delicious blueberry filling oozing out of it and onto the pan.

He wondered which fatass ate two pieces.

The smell wafted into his nostrils and he breathed it in. His stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten since last night. It smelled better than any pie he'd smelled before. And he'd smelled a lot of pies in his day. He had a feeling it would be the best pie he'd ever eaten and that feeling got stronger when he saw the way his father and his brother were stuffing it into their mouths.

Dean threw himself into the chair beside Sammy and plucked a fork off the table, not noticing the empty plate beside it. He dug the fork into the pie crust and put the forkful into his mouth.
The pie crust fell apart in his mouth and the blueberry melted onto his tongue. The flavor spread into every crevice of his mouth. It really was the best pie he had ever had.

He let out a little "Mmm" of approval and slid into the chair, his whole body relaxing,

"Glad you like it" said a voice from behind him. The voice was deep and husky, making it difficult for him to tell whether the speaker was male or female. He would bet female.

His whole body immediately tensed and he sat up quickly, his senses sharpening.

He heard a bark of laughter behind him. It was loud and gruff, not at all helping with his gender identification. The laugh gave him goose bumps and his stomach knotted. It was a weird feeling that he had never experienced before.

He wondered whether it was a sign of danger. His father always told him to trust his instincts although this wasn't necessarily a bad feeling. It was just…different.

A hand reached over his shoulder and plucked the fork out of his hand. The arm attached to it was slender, tanned and well toned. A woman's, unless it was a gay guy which would explain why it was completely hair free and so delicate.

The hand another clean fork into its place and then disappeared behind him. The place she/he touched him was tingly and the knot in his stomach tightened. Dean put the fork down and savored the rest of the pie, ignoring the feeling. After all, if his father had let this person in so that meant it was safe.

A girl about his age plopped down into the chair in front of him. Fortunately he wasn't holding his fork because he was sure he would've dropped it.

She had flaming red hair that glinted where the sun hit it. It was tied up in a loose ponytail that threatened to fall apart and there were already a couple of strands that had come loose and they framed her oval face. Her eyes were almond shaped and wide. They were a dazzling color that seemed to sparkle. Like she had two emerald stones set into her eye sockets, the prettiest emeralds in the world. They seemed to brighten when they saw him but that could have been a trick of the light.

Her eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes that gave the effect that she was wearing eyeliner. Her tanned skin had a healthy glow to it and he got the feeling that if he touched it, it would feel cool and smooth, like porcelain. And she looked delicate enough to be a porcelain doll. Although she gave the impression that she was not to be messed with.

Her nose was splashed with light freckles that stood out clearly against her tanned skin. Her cheek bones were high and there were freckles there too. Her cheeks were a dark, rosy color that contrasted with her skin. Her lips were plump and shaped perfectly shaped and made Dean what it would feel like to have them pressed against his own.

He tore his gaze away from her beautiful face to scan over the rest of his body, or what he could see of it anyway. She was dressed in a tank top, and he could see part of her bra. She had an impressive bust, not big enough that it needed its own zip code or anything but then again she was only fourteen, if his age assessment was correct.

Her bare arms were well toned, she didn't have bulging muscles or anything but she was pretty buff. He got the feeling she did a lot of physical activity. Probably something out in the sun–like swimming or volleyball–he guessed from her tan. His mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Did you make this?" his father asked. Dean glanced sideways at his father to see that his plate was now pie free and all that was left of it was crumbs. He stood up to put the plate away in the sink.
"No" she snorted "I can't cook" Too bad Dean thought. "It's Mrs. Mcdonalds from up the road. She sends me pie all the time. Her son has a farm and he sends her blueberries and she has nothing else to do with them." Once again, her voice gave him goose bumps. Nice goose bumps.

She turned to Dean and smiled. He was still watching his father rinse the plate so he didn't notice. She rolled her eyes and pushed her plate towards him.

"Like pie?" she asked him, arching one of her dark eyebrows. He smirked.

"That's not the only thing I like in this room" she rolled her eyes and Sam groaned from beside him. Dean stepped on his foot and Sam yelped in pain.

"I hope you're talking about the furniture Dean" His father said firmly, giving him a stern look.

"Do you want the pie or not?" she asked crossly, her face dripping with annoyance.

"Sure" Dean nodded.

She smiled, showing her perfect white teeth and her expression or annoyance disappeared. She got up and bent over to cut him a piece, giving him a clear view down her shirt.

Unfortunately, a sports bra covered anything he would be interested in seeing but the knot in his stomach tightened and the fantasies that one peek gave him probably gave him enough sins to cross out all of his good deeds for the next five years. She sat back down after she placed the piece onto his plate but he went on staring at her chest.

A slight frown appeared on her delicate face and she put her finger under his chin, tilting his head upwards. He raised his eyes to meet hers and his breath got caught in his throat. Her bright, emerald green eyes softened and smiled at him. His eyes widened slightly and his heart flew to his throat and pounded loudly in his ears. He was afraid she would hear.

They stared at each other for several second, but to Dean it felt like years. And he could go on staring, saying nothing, doing nothing, just looking into the emeralds that were in front of him. But all good things must come to an end. John coughed loudly, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen onto the room.

"Eyes up" she breathed out, tearing her gaze away from him and pulling her hand away quickly, she looked slightly embarrassed.

"Well, I should get going" she said, standing up. A smile returning to her face. Dean didn't want her to go he wanted her to stay with him.

"My dad and my brothers will be back soon and they'll be in a bad mood if they don't find any food"

"I thought you said you don't cook." Dean said as he picked up some crumbs from Sam's plate with his finger. The real reason was because he did want to make eye contact with her again because he was sure he's beg her to stay and then she'd think he was a psycho and never come back again. And he wanted to see her again.

"We've got enough casseroles and meatloafs to last a year" she laughed lightly "All I have to do is pop them in the microwave" she grinned and Dean couldn't help but peek up at her between his eyelashes and crack a smile.

"Anyway just call if you need anything. I'm right across the street. Oh, and Dean?" how did she know his name? When she said it his heart did a little backflip behind his ribcage and the knot in his stomach that had been diminishing slowly appeared again.

"Yeah?" he managed. His voice sounded a little strange though. He looked up from his plate completely to be met with those shocking green eyes that he could get lost in within a couple of seconds. The emeralds smiled at him.

"I'm George" she said in that husky voice of hers that gave him nice goose bumps. Then she turned and disappeared down the hall.

Damn did that woman have a fine ass. And her legs were long and toned. He wanted to run his hands over her thighs, hold her fine ass in his hands and fuck the shit out of her. This was his fantasy, a fantasy he was determined to make reality.

"Who was that?" Dean demanded, his voice still sounding strange.

"Why do always stare at girls butts and boobs Dean?" Same asked, looking at him with wide curious eyes.

"Someday when you become a man you'll understand" Sam raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"That was George Reynolds. She lives across the street and her dad owns the diner. She told me the story of this house. Says its haunted" John smirked, amused and Sam's eyes widened.

"We're living in a haunted house?" John nodded and Sam's eyes turned fearful.

"According to local legend we are. Dean, I want you to get close to her. I have a feeling she isn't telling us everything she knows. I've put you two in school and I made sure you're in all her classes" Dean nodded.

"Yes sir" He had no problem with that. No problem at all.


George Reynolds hurried down the hall. The house gave her the creeps and she had every reason to get out as quickly as she could. This had been her mother's murder scene after all. Even though the police called it an accident but she knew that it was murder, her mother lived around farms all her life. There was no way she could just fall out of a perfectly good tree while picking an apple. No way in hell.

She looked around her. It was an ordinary hallway, nothing strange about it. But she felt…wrong being here. She couldn't explain it but it felt unnatural. She knew the house like the back of her hand from the many times she had been dared to explore it as a young girl.

Something in the living room made her stop. It was a framed picture of a pretty woman holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. She has blonde hair and her features were pretty and well defined. Was this their mother? If so what happened to her?

She wanted to ask but it wasn't any of her business and it would be rude. There was another photograph of John and Dean and Sam. They were on a hunting trip of some kind. Dean looked about eight so that would make Sam four. Huge smiles were plastered on the faces as they looked into the camera lens. They looked happy.

She walked into the room and picked up the photograph. She inspected it closely and couldn't help but smile at the innocent faces grinning up at her.

There was another picture. A younger John, she guessed. He had his arm around a younger version of the woman in the photograph. She put the photo in her hand down and picked up the other one. She held it next to the photo of the woman and compared. Definitely the same woman.

"That was my wife" said a sad voice from behind her. George was startled so badly that she jumped and the photo clattered to the floor. She turned to find John Winchester standing there, head bent down, staring down at the photo sadly, his eyes full of pain.

She bent down to pick up the photo and put it back in its place. Then she straightened up and found him looking at her intently. It was rather frightening.

"What happened?" she asked sincerely. She didn't want to ask but the curiosity was killing her.

"She died in a fire, when Dean was four" She got the nagging feeling he wasn't telling her everything she pushed it away though. If he didn't want to tell her it was his decision. He had every right, besides, it was probably difficult to talk about.

"I'm sorry" she said softly, touching his arm lightly. Their eyes met and suddenly every fiber in her being was aching with his pain, with his loss. She could tell, just by looking at him, that he loved her very much. It must have been so difficult on him.

Poor Dean and Sam. Growing up without a mother must have been tough. At least she had a mother growing up. Up until last month that is. She wanted to throw her arms around him, comfort him, and cradle this huge burly stranger in her arms until every speck of pain was gone. She would even take it from him. She just couldn't stand to see someone suffering like this. The sadness she could feel beneath her fingertips was so powerful she didn't even think it was natural.

"I should be the one saying sorry" John said with a small attempted smile. He was trying to lighten the mood so she tried to. She smiled weakly.

"That's okay. I don't like pity anyway" he laughed, an empty meaningless laugh that was noise in her ears.

She noticed she was still touching his arm so she withdrew her hand quickly. He patted her on the shoulder. It was uncomfortable for her, it made her feel like she was five again. But she said nothing.

"George, why are the attic and cellar nailed shut?" Her face became solemn and she glanced up, then glanced down, then back at him.

"Two kids tried to spend the night here. They were dared to. They didn't return in the morning so they called the police and came in looking for them." Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

"They found one in the attic, and the other one in the cellar. All that was left of them was their brains and their hearts" Her tone was serious.

"What did they do with the remains?"

"That's the worst part. They had to clear the place before they could…clean it up. And when they went back, one of the brains was missing and one of the hearts was missing too. They cremated what they found but a lot of people say that their mother still has them in her room somewhere. No one really talks to her much cause all she does is burst into tears."

"When was this?" She wondered why he was asking so many questions. He was probably just curious…seeing as it was his house and all. They always were. But it still bothered her. He seemed genuinely interested and his tone was…serious like he's done this kind of thing before. Like he actually…believed all of this ghost stuff. She pushed these thoughts out of her head.

"Five years ago" John nodded. George noticed something in his eyes, something she didn't like. But she wasn't really one to judge people before she knew everything. And she was certain that she didn’t know everything there was to know about the Winchesters. She was far from it.

"Thank you. For the pie too. Dean really likes it" she smiled.

"I could tell" Dean. Just the sound of his name made it hard for her to breathe. She was attractive, she knew that, and her brothers made sure they pointed it out to her regularly. A lot of guys hit on her and usually, she would just tell them to fuck off. This was the first time she actually ever wanted a guy to hit on her. She didn't even mind when he was staring down her shirt, she knew her bra covered everything up anyway, but she didn't want to come off as a slut. And was she sick or something? Why did her heart keep knotting and her heart keeping doing back flips? It was really starting to piss her off. She would check her temperature as soon as she got home.

And when he looked into her eyes, she felt like she would suffocate, but she didn't want to look away. She didn't think she was capable of doing so. She just wanted to stare into those beautiful hazel eyes of his and just stay that way. The weirdest thing was even though she wasn't breathing; hear heart was still pounding loudly in her ears. She was half afraid someone would hear her.
John smiled again "You know the way out right?" she nodded and he headed back to the kitchen.
"Time to clean the guns boys" she overhead him say. Dean and Sam both groaned and she smiled to herself.

She knew that cleaning guns was a long and tiresome process. Her father had taught her as soon as she was old enough to carry a stick. Her mother never approved of it. She didn't want her exposed to guns and violence at such a young age, but her father didn't care.

He let her watch R rated movies when she was only eight, he taught her how to play every sport known to mankind, he taught her how to throw a punch so she wouldn't end up hurting her fist. He took her hunting when her brothers didn't want to go, and he would yell at her brothers if they wouldn't let her join their game of football. He taught her everything she knew about cars, about guns, about sports. Basically, he taught her everything she knew about anything.

She hurried out the door, checking her watch and cursed herself when she saw that she only had half an hour left. She began sprinting. She stood on her front porch, fumbling with her keys. Before she stepped into her house, she crossed herself hurriedly with trembling hands.

That night, when Dean was undressing for bed, he looked out his window and saw that he had the best view he could wish for. He could see straight into George Reynolds' bedroom. George. What kind of name was that for a girl? Maybe it was short for Georgia or something.

It was empty when he first looked so he carried on with what he was doing, slightly disappointed, but when he looked up for the second time she was walking in through the door. She was holding a pile of books in her arms and she dumped them onto her bed.

Dean lowered himself onto his bed and watched as she closed her door. He grabbed a book off his nightstand that he was supposed to read and used his thumb to mark a page. Just in case anyone came in, or, more importantly, in case she noticed she was being watched.

She pulled her shirt off and for every piece of her flesh that was revealed Dean's heart thudded louder and louder, and beat faster and faster until he was sure he was having some sort of heart attack. She released her hair from the ponytail it was tied up in and it tumbled down to her shoulders in thick red waves.

She walked somewhere away from the window, disappearing from his line of vision. He cursed the architects for not making the windows wider, then he thanked them all over again when she appeared again, wearing plaid boxers that hugged her ass just the right way, making his heart stop for a second. He smirked, ignoring his heart.

She brushed aside all her hair to one shoulder and reached to her back and her hand hovered over her bra clasp and Dean found himself grinning widely. Suddenly she stiffened and her whole body became tense. Dean immediately sensed something was wrong and held up the book in front of his face, opened to a random page. He became curious of how fast his heart was beating, and how it had suddenly flown up to his throat, and how his stomach had suddenly knotted tightly. Was he sick or something?

He closed the book after a couple of minutes and, much to his disappointment, he found that she had closed the blinds. Dean sighed and put the book away.





The town was completely still the next morning. Not a mouse stirred as dawn approached. However, there was a force disturbing this peaceful state in the Reynolds household. George Reynolds was getting dressed. Her attire of choice was a sports bra, tank top thrown over it and a pair of leggings, perfect for jogging. She snuck down the stairs, her feet barely touching the ground. She had always been good at sneaking, ever since she was a child. She was built for it. Her nimble body moved swiftly, cutting the air, making as little sound as possible. Her feet moved quickly and she was fast enough to make a run for it if she got caught by some stroke of bad luck. Her weight made it easy for her not to make a sound as she walked and you had to strain your ears to hear anything.

She pulled on a pair of sneakers that her eldest brother had got her last year. She knew her house like the back of her hand, she knew which stairs creaked when you applied a certain amount of pressure on them, she even knew which cupboards in the kitchen screeched when you opened them. She tip-toed through the elaborate archway in the kitchen that led to the dining room, it cast a dark shadow over her face and she looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide, the moonlight shining in from the window lighting up her face, her eyes glowed like emeralds placed against a black canvas, lights shining on them alone. Her features were cast over by shadows, the tip of her nose shining brightly against the rest of her face, the tips of her eyelashes were white and her freckles stood out clearly against her skin.

Another thing she had learned on her many days spent alone in the large house, was that the door made a slight creaking sound when you opened it, and the keys made a clanking sound. It was rather annoying. She also knew that the window in the dining room, facing the archway, was the quietest. She made her way to this window and eased it open. Her sharp ears detected the slight whooshing sound made by the wind as it replaced the area the window pane was. She pushed herself up and landed onto the soft grass that coated their backyard. She closed the window and grabbed a jacket out of her father's tool shed. She slung it over her shoulders and took off, her feet pounding hard on the ground, the wind blowing hard on her face, making her eyes water and her face sting. Her hair fanned out behind her and moved with the wind. She breathed in through her nose, the ice cold air entering her nose and she enjoyed the sharp jab of pain in her chest that came with each breath she took.

Dean stood behind his window as he watched George emerge from behind her house. Her fiery red hair whipped around her and her chest rose up and down as she breathed. As she got nearer to the corner Dean made the impulse decision to follow her. He pulled on jeans and a shirt and pounded down the stairs. Both his brother and his father were light sleepers, but they wouldn't be woken up by just that. He hurried out the door and ran in the direction he saw her go. When he rounded the corner he couldn't find anyone and a sense of panic hit him. What if something happened to her? Dean didn't know why he was worried, he had only met her yesterday, but his heart still knotted with worry and he began to search frantically for her. Eventually her husky voice drifted out from one of the alleys and he hurried to it.

"OK so what've you got?" a male voice he didn't recognize said.

"Video of the game last night. Sorry you missed it" she said, Dean could smell smoke.

"Yeah well, I picked the wrong day to get fucking arrested eh?" the guy sounded British. She laughed.

"Want one?" he asked her.

"No thanks. I'd rather die of old age than of lung cancer." Dean tried to picture her old but he couldn't do it.

"Could've fooled me"

"Shut the fuck up"

"So what do we make of the new kid?" Dean's heart fluttered. She was talking about him.

"Dunno. Haven't freaking met 'im have I?" she sighed.

"He doesn't seem like the jock type"

"Well that settles it doesn't it?" there was sarcasm in his voice.

"My point is that he's different. Not like that dick Russell from last year" Dean smiled to himself.

"But I can tell he's only got one thing on his mind, and I'm talking about the downstairs one" the Brit snorted.

"What he hit on you?" he sounded like it was something that wouldn't happen in a million years, Dean found that pretty hard to comprehend.

"What's that supposed to mean?" her tone sounded dangerous.

"Well, look at you. You aren't exactly Miss America" Dean's brow furrowed. Did this guy need glasses or something?

"Well obviously the rest of the male population in this fucking town disagrees. Besides you've got your eyes set on Kaitlin Malkis anyway. You wouldn't notice anyone else if you fucking tried" she sounded slightly offended and it made Dean angry as hell.

"I do not. OK look you're hot and all but you aren't my type" Dean shook his head. This guy was unbelievable.

"You aren't exactly on the top of my most eligible bachelors list either"

"Why not? The new kid catch your eye or something?" Dean strained his ears even more and his heart thudded loudly in anticipation.

"Of course not. I only just met him you fucking dick." There was something in her voice. Frustration, obviously, but there was also something else he couldn't put his finger on.

"Well then what's wrong with me?" the guy demanded.

"Dude, your hair is a different color every day and you've gotten arrested more times than I can count. Not to mention all your piercings. How do you think anyone's gonna manage kissing you with a ring getting in the way?" Dean grinned, but there was the whole arresting thing. He knew that he would get arrested in his career.

"You don't mean that" he said playfully.

"Maybe, maybe not"

"You're a bitch"

"You're an ass"

"Whore"

"Dick"

"Ok I'm outta words"

"I've got a couple more things I could say to you" she retorted. Dean could hear the smirk in her voice.

"I repeat. You are a bitch. Anyway I gotta get going. My dad's knickers are going to get in a twist if he doesn't find me in my room again"

"You tell him about your most recent stint in the fuckhouse?"

"You kidding me? I'd be skinned alive"

"Don't your parents need to get notified or whatever bullshit? You're still a minor"

"Well yeah, but I've got connections. You tell your dad about when you got suspended last year?"

"No, but getting suspended is different than getting arrested Erin"

"Yeah well, suspension is the first step to getting arrested. You have to take baby steps you know" she snorted.

"Got to hell"

"I am poppet" Hearing him call her that made Dean's stomach burn.

"No arguing there. Gotta go, my shift starts soon" Dean hurried into the nearest alley, pressing himself against the wall, concealing himself in the shadows.

She ran past him and he could smell her shampoo as her hair passed his nose. He leaned in, eyes closing in pleasure but came to his senses quickly and his eyes flew open. He waited until he was sure she was far enough that he would be able to easily follow her. It was very still and the only sound other than her feet slamming onto the pavement was the rustling of the trees and the quiet whooshing of the wind. He slipped out of the alley and jogged as quietly as he could. It was so quiet he felt like they were the only the two people left on Earth.

He could hear every sound she made. Her feet pounding on the ground, the wind whistling through her hair, her sharp intakes of breath. The sweat gleamed on her skin and she kept her head high, making her hair fan out behind her, and he would get a whiff of her shampoo every then and again. He sighed with pleasure. As their houses came into view, he hid in some bushes and waited for her to disappear behind her house. He went back to his room and undressed again, climbing back into his bed.


George took a shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water running down her body. She wondered if Dean was watching her now. If he even knew that his bathroom had a view into hers. She'd have to have some blinds put in or something. She wasn’t that desperate. She wondered what he had overheard. Did he think she smoked? She certainly hoped not. She'd have to introduce him to Erin sometime, have a little fun. She had a feeling that if he had overheard the cracks Erin had made about her. Was he angry? Would he beat Erin up the second he saw him? She hoped so, the dick deserved it.

She tied her up into a loose ponytail, same as yesterday, and wore a pair of jeans with another tank top. An AC/DC one to be exact. She thundered down the stairs, purposefully making the most noise she could possibly make to inform everyone that she was awake.

"Get your asses out of bed you lazy bunch of dipshits" She hollered as she stepped into the kitchen to be met with her father who had an eyebrow raised at her. She smirked and cupped his face in his hands.

"Except for my daddy that is. Because you're no lazy dipshit are you?" her father waved her hands away and she laughed, dancing out of his reach.

"You're a terrible daughter George do you know that?" he said smiling slightly.

"I'm honored to be your terrible daughter dear father" she said, using a British accent, and bowing low.

"Erin teach you how to talk like that?" she shrugged.

"You pick up things. One of the only things you can learn from that British dickhead" he laughed.

"I can tell how fond you are of him" she grinned.

"You're working today right?" she nodded.

"Yep. You know I'm considering asking for a raise. My boss is a real ass who doesn't pay me zilch"

"Well, I hear that your boss is also your father who gives you an allowance every week"

"Yes but I deserve some form of payment dad. I mean seriously I work my ass off and I've got nothing to show for it"

"What if I raise your allowance?" she looked thoughtful.

"By how much?"

"Ten bucks"

"Twelve"

"Eleven"

"Fifteen"

"Done" They shook hands on it.

"Look I'm gonna get going" She took her father's toast out of the toaster and placed it on a plate and took out a jar of jam and balanced it on the plate pushing it towards him.

"You'll drop in later" It was more of a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah. I'm curious to meet our new neighbors" she smiled and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She had a couple of books, a notebook she drew in and her drawing supplies, but more importantly she had a Swiss knife she took with her wherever she went tucked in the front pocket. She slipped on her sneakers and exited the house.

The diner wasn't too far and she liked walking, the scenery was pretty enjoyable actually. She raised her head to look at the beautiful house that faced her own. Sam waved at her from the living room window. And she grinned, waving back. She raised a hand, shielding her eyes from the blazing sunlight. She could faintly see Dean's outline through the window. She waved, not knowing if he could see it or not.

She entered the store, the little bell tinkling above her. The sign was turned to closed so she flipped it over. The store opened at 6:00 AM every day, she checked her watch and saw that she was only half an hour late. That was actually a record for her.

"You're late George!" Harry Mason was one of the guys who worked with her. He worked in the kitchen to be more specific.

"Sorry Harry. I was asking the boss for a raise."

"You need to get paid before you can ask for a raise"

"Yeah well. I got fifteen dollars added to my allowance"

"You must be the richest kid in town" she snorted and put on her apron, stuffing her bag underneath the counter,

"Please. That's Jean Emers you're talking about. You know her parents got her an effing car because she got a B in Science? She doesn't even fucking drive yet. If I get a godforsaken B all I get is an extra piece of pie, and my dad asking why I didn't get a fucking A" Harry chortled.

He was a round man, with a large potbelly and a red face. He had a double chin and his fat cheeks wobbled when he talked. He had small, beady black eyes that were bright and friendly. He had a thick beard that was a snowy white color even though he was only in his late thirties. He went into shock when he was younger which turned his hair snow white. No one knew exactly what caused it and frankly no one asked, but they knew it was something bad.

"Think the new people will be dropping by?" She sighed and cocked an eyebrow.

"A: They have names and B: I don't know. Just because I gave them some pie doesn't mean we've become Barney's big happy family"

"Alright then-wait-what are their names?"

"John, Dean and Sam Winchester"

"And which one have you got your eye on?" she frowned.

"You've been talking to Erin" her eyes narrowed.

"I don't talk to everyone who works here George. Just you and a couple of other people"

"Well, technically Erin doesn't work here. He's employed here." Harry laughed again.

She sat on the counter, facing the back of the store where there was a window in which she could see the kitchens.

"Anyway I don't have my eye on any of them"

"Fine. Let me rephrase. Which one of them is closest to your age?"

"Thank you. And Dean is exactly my age"

"Oh, so he'll be coming to school with you?" She hadn't thought of that before and the thought made her smile.

"Yeah he will"

"Mhm" Harry said, turning back to the stove.

"What mhm?" She demanded.

"Nothing mhm"

"No no that mhm meant something"

"The mhm did not mean anything"

"Yes it did!" Harry sighed.

"There's no point in arguing with you George. You know I know that"

"I know that you know that I know that, but I don't know that you know that I know that you know that I know that" Harry's eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed together, his face twisted with confusion.

"Hey George try saying that ten times fast" Dean's voice said from behind her.

She jumped off the counter and spun around, a wide grin cutting across her face, her eyes lighting up with happiness.

"Dean!" he laughed.

"Hey George. What's up?"

"She's trying to give me a heart attack" Harry called from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, batting her hands.

"Ignore him" Dean smiled.

"Well, I don't wanna be victim to your magic heart attack causing powers so I'll do what you say"

"Shut up" she said, smiling and punching his arm playfully.

Dean's eyes trailed down to her shirt and she was just about to tell him to raise his eyes when his eyes lit up and he smiled widely.

"You listen to AC/DC?"

"I've got all their albums"

"Me too!"

"Awesome" they smiled at each other and stayed that way for a few seconds before Harry broke the silence.

"Mhm" George yelled in frustration.

"I hate you Harry!" He laughed.

"Thanks for the memo. You're kinda late though dontchya think?" She turned around and growled at him, Dean laughed.

"Obviously the mhm thing is something I missed" she spun around to face Dean again.

"Tell me, did that mhm sound like an mhm that means something?"

"Uh…yeah?" she turned around to face Harry.

"Ha!" he rolled his eyes and turned away from them.

"So what can I get you?" she asked Dean, taking out a pen and pad.

"Coffee"

"To go?" he nodded.

"My dad get's kinda cranky, and Sammy's gonna end up just fucking like him" she laughed.

"So what, you're the special one in the family?" she turned and started to make him his coffee.

"If you want me to be" she rolled her eyes, and then shook her head remembering he couldn't see her eyes.

"Do your cheesy lines every actually work?" she turned and pushed the coffee towards him.

"You know it." He winked

"Thanks." He added, picking up the coffee.

"You're welcome Deanykins." She said in a high pitched baby voice, batting her eyelashes at him. His eyes narrowed and he raised an eyebrow.

"Does that ever work?" she smirked.

"It wasn't supposed to" she leaned across and tapped his nose lightly with her finger. His mouth twisted into a smirk she rolled her eyes and jumped up onto the counter next to him, dangling her legs over the side.

"So how was that book?" his brow furrowed.

"What?"

"The book you were reading last night?"

"Oh that one. Uh…it was okay. I haven't finished it yet" she smiled and nodded.

"Really? And do you always read upside down? Or were you just trying something new?"

"Wha-Oh uh I was just trying to see if I could read a whole page upside down"

"Uh-huh and did you?" He shook his head and gave her a sheepish laugh.

"No." She nodded again.

"Why were you looking into my room anyway?" he cocked an eyebrow and she shrugged, trying to not give herself away.

"I was changing and I noticed I could see into your room, and you just happened to be reading. If you don't like it get some blinds."

"No no I'm fine with it" she raised an eyebrow.

"So…you want me to look into your room?"

"What? No I didn't say that." She smirked and pinched his cheek.

"Awe I'm just messing with you" He brought his hand up to wave her away but she jumped out of his reach sticking her tongue out and he laughed as she leaned against the wall.

"Why don't you guys drop by for lunch? My dad wants to meet y'all" Dean got out of the stool and she realized with a pang of sadness that he was going to leave.

"Sure I'll let my dad know" she smiled and waved as he walked out the door. He winked back at her and before she could come up with a smart answer she walked out the door.

"Young love is so innocent" Harry said, a smile on his face. She yelled in frustration and threw a towel at him.

"Shut up!" He ducked out of the way of the towel, laughing heartily.

"Jackass" she muttered under her breath.


"Hey dad, wuddya say we have dinner at that diner?" Dean said as he walked into the kitchen where his dad was spilled over a bunch of books and his journal. John looked up.

"Why? So you can harass that girl again?" Dean frowned.

"I'm not harassing anyone. She asked me if we could because apparently her dad's pretty curious about us. Wants to see who'd actually live in this house." John narrowed his eyes, studying Dean's face then he shrugged.

"Fine" He turned back to his books. Dean put his coffee on the table and went to find something to do.

Sammy was in the living room, reading a book. Dean stood behind and plucked the book out of his hands and examined the cover.

"What the fuck is this?" Dean asked. Sam pouted and yanked it out of his brother's hands.

"It's a book Dean. Not that you would know what that is."

"And why the shit are you reading a book?" Sam sighed.

"I need to catch up with the curriculum here Dean. You should be doing the same too." Dean snorted.

"Don't waste your breath Sam." Sam sighed and went back to reading his book.

Dean groaned with boredom and went outside. He walked around, kicking stones aside and looking down at his feet. He was bored as hell. He wanted to go back to the diner, have some fun with George, he really did enjoy her company and he got the feeling she enjoyed his, but he didn't want to look like some stalker pervert either. He sighed and turned back around, deciding to go take a nap.

He was shook awake roughly by his father.

"Dean. C'mon we're going to eat" Dean rubs his eyes, looking groggy. He yawned.

"Whazgoinon?" he asked.

"We. Are. Going. To. Eat." Sam said loudly in his ear.

Dean's eyes flew open and he jumped off of the couch he had been napping on.

"Jesus Sammy you didn't have to do that!"

"You weren't waking up" he said, shrugging, as if it justified it.

"Alright, alright come on you two" John said, steering them out to the car.

The car ride was silent compared to others they've had. Just a little argument about the radio between Dean and John but that was something expected.

The three of them stepped into the diner. The bell above them tinkled merrily and they were met with the sounds of many people chatting with each other.

Dean spotted her almost immediately, she looked frustrated and she was talking to an old couple. She had a pen and a pad and she seemed to be taking their orders, she was chewing on the end of the pen and had her other hand on her hip, jutted out to one side.

"Look Mr. Mackey, it comes in one size and one freaking size only. Six inches. We don't have any bigger bread. Unless you want me to spread the mayo on an invisible slice of bread in the air."

"No don't you get snappy with me young lady. No foul language." She groaned.

"Back in Philly they used to have it in eight different sizes you know" The old lady said from next to him.

"Well, this isn't Philly now is it? Do you want the goddamn sandwich or not?"

"Now missy" she hung her head back in frustration and groaned.

"Food is not damned by God. It's a blessing that God gave us and we should be thankful for it."

"I don't really give a shit" both of the old people's faces became shocked and she sucked in a deep breath before storming off into a door.

Seconds later a big man with a potbelly and a red face appeared and talked to the couple in a quiet voice with her standing behind him, her arms crossed, hip jutted out to one side, chin sticking out.

"Someone's angry" Sam said in a sing song voice before skipping over to a table. Dean smiled to himself and followed him.

"Please tell me you guys aren't from Philly" she said when she got to their table.

"I've had it with the Mackeys and their goddamn Philly sandwiches" Dean laughed at her angry face and then regretted it immediately when she sent him a murderous glare.

"We're from Lawrence" Sam said smiling.

"Cool. Excellent. So what can I get you guys?" she jotted down their orders and then stuck the pen behind her ear.

"Coming right up" she winked and turned around walking off, skipping ever so slightly.

Dean watched her leave, a glazed look on his face, and Sam snickered from beside him.

"Dean and George sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love then comes marriage then comes baby sitting in a carriage. Hey Dean, if you and George have a kid will you name him Sam?"

"Sam. Do me a favor and grow up" Dean snarled at him.

"Even if you get a girl you can call her Samantha and then she'll be Sam. Like George. George isn't George's real name is it?" Dean shrugged.

"It could be. You never know." Sam frowned. He didn't like not knowing something. That's why he was such a nerd.

"Look, I'll ask her when she comes back okay?" Sam nodded.

"Fine"

"Don't pout. I'll buy you a cookie" Sam muttered to himself and John laughed, ruffling his head.

George came back, laden with their plates and set them down in front of each person.

"That was fast" She shrugged.

"I told him it was top priority" she winked.

"Anything to get the Mackeys sandwiches to them as late as possible."

"Hey George, is George your real name?" Sam asked her, his mouth full spraying chewed bits of food everywhere.

"Don’t talk with your mouth full Sam" John said warningly and Sam swallowed. She smiled.

"George is short for Georgina, but it isn't my first name."

"What is it then?"

"My middle name"

"What's your first name?" Dean asked.

"Irene" (she pronounced it E-R-ENNE rolling her tongue on the R)

"My dad's part French" she said in response to their weird looks.

"Anyway just go on calling me George I don't like Irene. Too…French" John and Dean laughed.

"I don't get it" Sam said, a confused look on his face.

"Don't fret about it Sam." She said.

"Move over" she said, shooing Dean to one side. She plopped down next to him and plucked a French fry off his plate.

"I'm gonna report you to your boss" Dean said, eyeing her.

"Go ahead. It's not like he can fire me"

"Wuddya mean?"

"I volunteer to work here. Soon as things settle down I'm gonna get an actual job. One that pays."

"What do you mean settle down?"

"My mom died last month" she said in a quiet voice, looking at her shoes.

"My dad's pretty beat up about it you know? I wanted to help him as best as I could. Figured I could take some of his work load off him or something" she smiled and shook her hair out of her eyes.

"M'sorry" Dean said. She shrugged.

"S'okay. You didn't know. Thing is I like working here. It's fun. Plus my dad just upped my allowance so I guess it's okay. For now anyway" Dean nodded.


They heard the tinkling off the door and she looked up suddenly. Her father stood there, torn jeans and plaid shirt, looking like he did all the time. He spotted them and walked over.

"Harassing the customers are you George?" he asked with a teasing smile. She shrugged.

"I do what I can"

George's father was a large man, muscles bulging out from beneath the shirt and the muscles in his neck tense. He had the same eyes, the same hair, even the same freckles. They would be identical if it wasn't for the age difference and the fact that she was a girl and he was a guy. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up.

"I'm George's father. You must be our new neighbors. George been good to ya I presume? Girl needs to get out more. Spends all her time with that Brit." He shook his head. Dean's stomach burned with anger at the mention of that guy, but he did what he could do cover it up. He shook Dean's hand first.

"I'm Dean" he said.

"Hello Dean" her father said, merriment twinkling in his eyes, but there was something else. Something, odd. Dean cursed the Reynolds and their eyes.

He shook Sam's hand and then John stood up and they shook hands.

"John Winchester"

"Castiel Reynolds"