Title: Just One
Summary: Risa wants to have a quiet drink by herself and Dean has a burning need to meet the woman his future self had a fling with. Set after S5. Complete.
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: 'Supernatural' was created by Eric Kripke. No disrespect is intended.
Notes: I made up Risa's last name.


Just one drink. Maybe two. That was her goal.

At the end of a hard day, Risa wanted to relax. It had been a hard day, too. She'd finished up a tough job by herself, a job that was the toughest she'd ever done. She avoided thinking about the reason she'd come to this point, however. Not yet. Not until later, when she was in her motel room alone and she could cry for the friend she'd just had to release into death.

Over the months of searching for her friend, she'd fallen into amateur ghost hunting, learned those things were real and sometimes dangerous, then quickly moved on to much more difficult jobs that challenged her intellectually and physically. All the while, she'd searched for her missing friend, uncertain what had happened to her, yet knowing it wasn't good. Gradually, she'd come to realize the signs pointed to demonic possession.

Risa had jumped into the life and was learning quickly that there were more things out there than she'd ever imagined. There weren't just one class of demons, there were several and she'd been lucky enough to catch the right people at the right time to teach her what she needed to know. There were people in the world that needed help and Risa wanted to give that aid. It seemed a worthy goal.

Besides, there was no turning back now from the path she'd set herself upon. Normal life was no longer in her grasp. Risa wouldn't be able to return to the hum-drum of normality no matter how she tried. This life, the things she'd discovered, burned in her mind. She couldn't just sit back knowing those things she knew. It wasn't possible.

Getting out of her car, she went into the local bar. She'd found it to be nice and quiet most nights, perfect for her self-imposed two drink maximum. It wasn't wise, in her opinion, to get shit-faced when hunting things that were possibly smarter than you.

It was nearly empty at this hour, too late for the after-work drinkers and too early for the serious late-night social crowd. Risa'd hit it directly in the middle and could relax awhile in peace without some drunken yahoo hitting on her.

Just one night without that would be heaven.

She ordered a Jack and Coke to start and a beer for after, guzzling down the first drink until there was only ice left in the glass. Now ready to nurse that beer, she glanced around her, gaze settling on the man beside her. He was drinking with the steady concentration of someone in the pursuit of becoming unapologetically soused. There were several bottles and shot glasses spread out in front of him.

Wow, she thought, and he's not falling over yet? That's some tolerance.

"Tough day," she inquired with a little friendly smile.

He paused in the act of raising his bottle, looked at her a beat out of the corner of his eye before raising both brows and looking at her face on. "You have no idea."

His hair needed combing and he obviously hadn't shaved before coming out for the night, stubble darkening the lean line of his jaw. His gaze was remarkably clear and steady for the amount of alcohol he looked to have ingested. Risa let her glance lower, flicking along him. He was in a suit, a beige coat over it. The coat was wrinkled. When she looked back at his face, he turned away and returned to his pursuit of drunkenness.

She felt some of the tension in her back and shoulders release and sighed a little. Well, she thought, at least he's not hitting on me.

He made a noise very nearly like a snort of laughter, head bowing a fraction, and said, "So…. What's a woman like you -"

"Doing in a bar like this," Risa finished for him, casting a sidelong glance at him, then quirking a brow. He didn't appear to be serious in that line, saying it in a way that suggested he knew she was expecting it. "Try again. I heard that pick-up line long before I was even legal."

Well shaped lips twitched a little with suppressed amusement. He took a drink from his beer. "You don't care for the clichéd approach."

"It's tired and old. I was hoping for something fresh, exciting, and that I haven't heard before."

"Perhaps you should give me some examples to steer clear from?"

She smiled, her mood lightening, wondering what kind of game he was playing. This was certainly a different approach thus far. "Okay. Is it hot in here, or is it just you?"

"Mmm. Atrocious."

"You know what would look good on you? Me."

"Even worse," he agreed.

"How about this one? You should be arrested, because baby, you stole my heart."

His chuckle was warm. "We may be in Tennessee, but you're the only ten I see," he suggested.

Risa let her smile widen into a grin. "Not bad, but I think it's only useful if you're actually in Tennessee."

He frowned. "We're not in Tennessee? I must have taken a wrong turn."

Dipping one finger in the watery remains of her Jack and Coke, Risa reached over and touched it to his shirt. "Oh, we should get you out of those wet clothes. You could catch cold and we wouldn't want that to happen."

"Inventive."

"Hardly. But baby, this could be our last night on earth."

At that one, he did smile and nod. "It is…vaguely desperate sounding."

"Vaguely? It's completely desperate and unoriginal." Risa shook her head. "And then there's the sorry old, 'we've got a connection' line. A connection? Really?"

"Perhaps there is a connection."

"When angels drink beer in a dive like this, maybe I'll consider the possibility of real 'connections'." Risa used air quotes on the word, thinking that angels drinking beer would be as likely as pigs flying.

"How do you know angels don't drink beer?" There was a spark of interest and amusement in his eyes.

"Well, I don't, but how likely would it be that a heavenly being would come to earth just for the purpose of drinking a beer? And choose to do so in a place like this? You must admit this is hardly a classy place."

"Maybe the anonymity appeals. Maybe the angel acquired a taste both for it and places like this while watching over some human soul. Maybe that heavenly being isn't as straight-laced as you might think him to be."

"I'm not having a theological discussion in a bar. I'm sorry, but there are limits. Catch me on another day and we'll do the whole debate over it." She dragged the bowl of pretzels over and munched a few. "So…we were on pick-up lines. Here's my personal favorite: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

"Ridiculous question. Of course falling from heaven hurts, whether one is referring to the physical or spiritual act of falling."

She turned a little. His vibrant blue eyes were serious. "You've given that one some thought."

"More than you can know." He drained his bottle and set it down. "Would the direct approach be better?"

"You can try it."

"Well then." He turned, leaning over and putting his mouth to her ear. Up close, his voice was gruff. "Let's go back to your room and have the sort of wild, uninhibited sex most humans only fantasize about."

The way he said the suggestion made her stomach clench, as though his hands and mouth were already moving over her body in intimate caress. She swallowed hard. This man wasn't her type, she knew it. Risa tended towards a more…working class man. "As enticing as that offer is, I don't do that sort of thing."

His fingers raised, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yes, you do, Risa, but only with men who meet your strict standards of approval."

She froze. "How do you know my name?"

There was a flicker of confusion in his eyes and then he sighed as though realizing his mistake. "You didn't introduce yourself yet."

"No, I didn't. So, how did you know my name and why do you think I do that sort of thing?"

His glance turned back to his empty beer bottle.

"What makes you think you meet my standards anyway?"

He smiled, another enigmatic tug of his lips.

"You not answering questions now?"

"Only answering the ones with answers you need to know."

"I think I need to know how you knew my name."

"I think you don't."

"You'd be wrong."

"I'm not often wrong." It wasn't said in a conceited way, merely as if it were a fact, like 'the sky is blue'.

"Really. What, are you psychic?"

"Sure. Shall we adjourn to your room now? Or have I not intrigued you enough?"

"Like I'm going anywhere alone with you. And as for the psychic bit, I've seen stranger things."

"I believe you have. As to your standards, I'm not the average man."

"No kidding," was her dry response.

"Not usually, no."

"This has to be the strangest conversation."

"I suspect you've have stranger. Now, shall we go to your room?"

Risa again had the strangest feeling that he didn't really want to go to her room, that he was saying it because he knew she expected it. "Why are you so hot to get me alone?"

Confusion again flashed in the depths of those pretty eyes. "I was certain the reason was obvious."

"You're a serial killer who wants to hack me into tiny bits?"

He seemed horrified by that, drawing back and sitting up straighter. "I can certainly think of better things to do with a woman than kill her or maim her."

Risa laughed and shook her head. "I won't leave with you, but I will buy you another beer. What's your name?"


He didn't really want to go back to her room with her, but Castiel knew he should be trying to get her there. It was how this particular human mating ritual went. He'd watched Dean go through it several times.

He watched her as they talked. Just one night, he thought. That's what he needed. One night away from all of them. Downtime, that was what Dean called it.

"Castiel," he told her in answer to her question. "My friends call me Cas."

"That's an unusual name."

"It's…typical of my family." They returned to the game of pick-up lines, Cas going down the list of the ones he'd heard Dean use. She was at ease now. He was glad to see his months with Dean and Sam had left him able to somewhat carry on a casual conversation with people other then the two of them. He'd learned a lot from both of them and from Bobby as well.

Unfortunately none of what he'd learned enabled him to better run heaven. He knew what needed to be done, he simply couldn't enact those changes. Angels really weren't fond of change, preferring things to remain as they'd been, yet with heaven in an uproar and Michael gone…someone had to restore order. Someone had to lay down the law and they were fighting him every step of the way.

Occasionally, he wished he'd never gotten this promotion.

Occasionally, he even wished for those days when he'd been cut off, facing the terrifying loss of everything he'd ever known with only Dean, Sam, and Bobby.

Occasionally, Castiel wanted what would never be again: the sheer innocence and naivety he'd had when he'd pulled Dean Winchester from hell. Those days were gone and he was older and wiser in ways he'd never expected.

Risa drank down the last of her beer and excused herself, heading towards the women's restroom at the back of the bar. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to hear Dean's voice saying his name.

Pleasure in seeing Dean still alive, still well, and still himself colored his voice. He hadn't had much time to glance in on Dean since leaving him. It would have been nice if he'd had time to talk with him like they sometimes had done. There wasn't even time now, as he could feel his brethren getting closer and closer in their search for him. They didn't like that he'd taken off when they were in the middle of arguing a point.

Soon he'd have to leave, but for just one moment at least, he could reconnect with a friend.


Just one minute, Dean decided. One minute would be all he needed to actually meet the woman he'd thought Zachariah had made up. He couldn't believe the woman, Risa, was real. She was though. He'd seen her on the job. He'd seen her efficiently take care of Meg, which was a surprise. Meg must have been getting cocky. Either that or she'd been distracted. Or it was another game where Meg pretended she was long gone and would suddenly reappear another day to bite him and Sam both on the ass.

He shook his head and sighed. It had been frighteningly easy to slip back into the life and the old patterns, the only difference being that Sam, while still Sam, reminded Dean a lot of how he'd been that night long ago when he'd rousted Sam out to go after their dad. Devil-may-care, live for the moment. While Dean himself…. He still wanted a happy life. It just wasn't going to happen with a civilian.

Sam had known that. He'd known because he'd been there; been through the realization.

He'd also known something was gunning for Dean and had come to protect him, to help him - and Lisa and Ben. He'd come, unwilling to stay hidden when there was a chance Dean would die. He'd reached them in time to keep Lisa and Ben from being killed, but that moment had destroyed the last remnant of anything Dean had had with Lisa.

Dean had refused to leave with Sam while Lisa and Ben were in the hospital, choosing to sit by them until they were released, holding their hands, attempting to comfort as he'd been comforted, but Lisa had cut him off from their lives with a coldness that had surprised him. Lisa wasn't cold. He knew she wasn't. She'd hugged him, kissed him, and held him in the days after that battle. She'd comforted him, but when it became apparent that the danger was far from over, all warmth had left her. Lisa wanted no part of terror that might never end. She wanted to forget, to have the safety of anonymity that he couldn't ever have.

It had become apparent that he'd never really known her. She wasn't what he'd thought she was. Lisa was simply another civilian who thought she understood hunting and what he'd been through , but understood nothing at all. When it came right down to it, she couldn't handle that bad things knew his name and those same bad things might come after her and Ben to get at him. It was the same story he'd had before, only it had been longer coming with her.

They'd been falling apart from the second he'd arrived back in their lives, a future that was never meant to be permanent.

Ben had understood. Strange how a kid could understand so much, yet he'd taken it all in and asked Dean to call him sometimes. He wanted to know Dean was still out there, protecting all he could. It was a promise Dean made with the full intent of keeping it. Sometimes, he wondered if Ben thought of him like a superhero.

Walking away from them hurt, but he knew it'd hurt them all far more to stay.

Dean still didn't know the full story behind Sam's resurrection. There was still a lot they needed to talk about and he knew they eventually would. For now, they still worked as a team.

He followed Risa to a bar, waiting for her to go inside.

After taking down her license plate number, Dean broke into her car and looked around, taking a few notes. She had weapons and a couple bags of clothes in her trunk and the backseat had an admirable litter of fast food containers, maps, and magazines. The cooler held Starbuck's bottled coffee drinks and flavored bottled water along with some packages of lunchmeat, a bag of kaiser rolls, and a half eaten chocolate bar. He snagged a few Cheetos from the bag and put it back, then locked her car back up. Time to head in and meet Ms. Risa Adams.

The bar was a mid-Western dive. The bar itself was long and narrow, to the right of the door. On the left of the door, curving around to the back of the large room were booths and tables, a nice ample seating area. He could smell hot grease and fresh French fries, along with the tang of spilled beer somewhere in the room. It was a comforting smell and Dean turned his attention to the people he saw there.

Surely that wasn't…. It was. Castiel sat at the bar, a line of empty beer bottles and shot glasses in front of him.

Dean stepped over to him. "Cas?"

"Dean!" Castiel turned, delight in his voice.

"What are you doing here? I thought you went back upstairs."

He glanced left, then right, and leaned towards Dean a fraction. "I'm on vacation. No one knows I'm here."

"You're…." He shook his head, trying to make sense of that. Vacation? Since when would Castiel take a vacation? "Angels don't take vacations."

"God's not supposed to either, but he did."

Dean could hear the panic and tension that seeped into Castiel's voice. "Let me guess. Being the new sheriff isn't all you thought it'd be."

Cas grabbed his jacket in both hands. "The only thing I don't understand is why he didn't leave sooner. Dean, they're like squabbling children. I see it now, from the vantage point of management. Each change I implement must be argued, protested, and ignored until I implement more changes to bring about that change that must also be argued, protested, and ignored. It's circular. I haven't managed to do a single thing to restore order. I'm in hell. Angel hell. I understand more now why Zachariah was the way he was. Management must be ruthless and without leniency to maintain control. I'm…contemplating Gabriel's extreme method of coping. He did well with it."

He had no desire to get entangled in heavenly management issues. "Right. I followed a woman in here. Slim, dark hair?"

Castiel's sigh seemed to come from the very depths of the earth itself. "I'm guessing you mean Risa." He released Dean's jacket.

"I do." He didn't ask how Cas knew. Probably read his mind, just like old times.

Lifting his bottle, he pointed the tip towards the back of the bar. "She went through the door with the 'W' on it. We've been exchanging pick-up lines. She has pronounced all of yours to be heinous and desperate. I believe she liked mine however, though she declined to leave with me."

"Did you want to leave with her?" And what sort of pick-up lines had Castiel come up with? Smooth wasn't exactly his middle name.

"Not really." He tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. "This is a short diversion. I've no time to dally with a human female, nor would I. They're searching for me. I can hear them calling, getting closer. Were I to indulge in such truly human behavior, I'd likely be caught with my pants down and then where would I be? Aside from with my pants down, I mean."

"In the fine company of some of America's past presidents?"

"I tell you, Dean, they all have their own ideas of what I should do and they've no compunction with sharing those ideas. Constantly sharing those ideas. I turn around and there's another angel with an idea he'd like me to consider. Or she'd like me to consider. And that's after they've finished protesting and complaining."

"You're a popular guy, Cas."

He rolled his eyes. "Your definition of popular needs to be tweaked." He sighed again, this time without as much high drama. "So what are you doing here? Besides looking for Risa? I thought you were settling with the woman Lisa." He tapped his bottle on the bar. "Those rhyme. Risa. Lisa."

"How long have you been sitting here drinking?"

"I'm not intoxicated. I'm simply…weary of responsibility."

"Oh. Well…." Dean shrugged. "Didn't quite work out. She wasn't what I thought she was and apparently, I wasn't what she thought either. Ben, though…. The kid's still great. Not mine, but great. I don't know, Cas. I just couldn't do it. Things came looking for me and how could I ask Lisa to live with that, you know? When the bad things all know your name and what you look like, it's hard to start a new life with a civilian."

"You're back hunting…." He frowned, head tilting to one side. "How is Sam alive?" He blinked several times, then answered his own question. "Of course. If He could bring me back, I've no doubt he could bring Sam from the prison if He chose. He is Sam?"

"No lie."

"Interesting. Another mystery to unravel if I ever have the time…." His gaze darted upwards, the panicked expression returning. Cas put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm glad you're well, Dean. I'll be in touch."

He was unsurprised when Castiel disappeared, sighing and taking the barstool he'd vacated. Dean ordered a beer and waited for Risa to come back from the restroom.


"So what bad pick-up lines are you going to try on me," Risa began to the man who'd replaced the previous one beside her. It was a fair assumption, as he was looking at her like he knew her. In Risa's experience, men who did that assumed she was an easy conquest.

He chuckled, shook his head and turned to face her. "None. I, uh, saw you earlier tonight. You were at Crestwicke mansion." He held out a hand. "I'm Dean."

She eyed him a long moment and just as he started to pull that hand back, his genial smile fading, she placed her hand in his and shook it. "Risa, and I didn't see you there." She'd thought she was alone with the demon. What had this man seen exactly?

"Impressive work you did. Usually that level of demon has a thing for throwing people around the room."

She tried to pull away, but he gripped her hand, not tight exactly, just firm enough that she couldn't pull free. How did he know? "Let go of me…Dean."

"It's okay. I'm a hunter, too." He glanced about the bar. "Thought you might be interested in talking." Now he let go. "The life can get lonely. We cultivate allies where and when we can. You never know when you'll need one."

"Is that a threat," she asked, running her gaze over him. He was tall with a strong, muscular build, and handsome, something in his eyes making him seem far older than she thought he was. This man had seen a lot of pain. It was the same look she'd noticed in the eyes of career soldiers who'd seen hard combat not once, but several times.

That smile returned, very appealing in it's warmth. She wasn't a teenager susceptible to the charming gestures of smooth men, but her heart quickened at the sight. "God, no. I saw how well you handled yourself. I don't mess with a woman who can lay me low like I saw you do to that demon."

He didn't even bother lowering his voice when he said it. Curious. "You're not even concerned anyone's listening, are you?"

Dean took a drink, shook his head, and gestured around the room at large. "Nine out of ten of these people here would think we're referring to some asshole who bothered you."

"And the other one?"

"Might believe, but just might think we're discussing some role playing game." He tapped his bottle on the bar. "Look, Risa, I just want to talk, make sure you know there are others like you out there, making the world better for civilians. Now, there's an empty booth over there in the corner. I'm gonna go over, order myself a late dinner before the kitchen closes. If you're interested in talking to someone doing the same job you are, come on over. I'll buy you a meal. If not, been nice meeting you." Taking a folded piece of paper from his pocket, he set it beside her hand. "Here's my number. If you get a job that's too big, call me. I'll help if I can." Dean clinked his bottle against hers, took a swig, and walked away.

Risa sat for long minutes, observing him as he did exactly what he said he would. He took off his jacket, played with his phone a few minutes, then reached for the single sheet menu. Opening the paper he'd left, she stared at the number, then added it to her phone just in case. She got up, taking her beer with her, and headed for his table.

It wouldn't hurt to have just one evening of conversation, would it? He seemed nice enough, though she knew nice could easily be an act. It wasn't like she'd leave with the guy. Besides, he was right. The life was lonely. It'd be nice to have someone she could call an ally.


She had that freaked out look of a relatively new hunter. Dean remembered his own surprise when he'd realized there were more hunters out there than he'd thought. It was normal.

He meant what he told her. He wasn't going to hit on her - especially after Cas had already used his best and worst lines on her. He really did want to talk, to find out just who she was and see why Zachariah had included her in that glimpse of the supposed future.

Geez, he thought. I really am an adult. When did that happen? Not too long ago he would have hit on her within five minutes, yet now he thought he'd have some conversation with her first and if the opportunity never came, he'd be okay with that.

Maybe the future Zach had shown him had been real and maybe it hadn't. It had real elements that he thought could have happened and others that seemed false to him - more attempts to sway him. Zach's burst of temper after made it likely. Besides, he'd discovered enough info in her car to easily track her down for more 'chance' meetings at well-spaced intervals.

He sent a text to Sam, explaining where he was, and as he was about to order, Risa slid into the booth across from him. Dean looked up at the server. "Cheeseburger and fries and the lady can have whatever she wants."

"The same." When the woman had gone, Risa crossed her arms on the table. "You're not screwing with me, are you? Because if you are," her tone became syrupy and excessively sweet, "I will bust your balls."

"I don't doubt that, sweetheart. No screwing here."

As they waited for their food to come, the made small talk of nothing in particular, but one their burgers were in front of them, they returned to shop talk.

Risa squirted a good puddle of ketchup into her basket of fries. "Okay, so what were you doing at Crestwicke?"

"Following that demon you dispatched. She hurt a couple friends of mine once, thought I'd get in some payback."

"Hurt?"

"Killed. Well, she set her hellhounds loose and their deaths were…." He swallowed hard. Even after all this time thinking about how Jo and Ellen had died affected him. "You took care of her in a far more merciful fashion than I would have once I'd trapped her."

Risa looked down at the table. "The woman she was in was a friend of mine."

"I know what that's like."

"We worked in the same office, ate lunch together, went shopping together. I think I was her only real friend. She didn't have a family, only me trying to draw her out of her shell. She'd been raped in the parking garage one night and I was the one who found her. She dressed very…conservatively after that until she just showed up different one day. She walked in and I think the jaw of every man in the building dropped. Hair down, tight clothes, heels…things she never wore. Michelle never dressed like that. She was too afraid to. That afternoon she disappeared."

It was just like Meg to take a girl like that as a host and make her suffer. "You were tracking her."

"I have some know-how." She smiled. "And an old college friend who's now a P.I."

"Nice to have friends."

"It is." Her smile faded. "Did you see the mess she was in, Dean?"

He had. Burn marks on her body that wept pus and blood, marks on her arms that he thought were self-inflicted. Had Risa noticed? Her friend, Michelle, had tried to kill herself. He suspected that had been when Meg had taken her. The burn marks were probably the ones left when Cas had used her to leave the ring of holy fire. "Yeah. Most demons leave their hosts torn up." Dean snorted. "Most things that take over humans leave them bad."

"Is there any creature that doesn't?"

Dean watched her a moment. "I know an angel who's been pretty decent to his vessel, but demons don't usually care about playing nice. They have their pick of hosts. Angels aren't so lucky. Their vessels are special bloodlines."

"Angels?" She paused with a French fry halfway to her mouth. "You mean actual angels?"

"Sure do. You got demons, you got the opposite side of the coin, too." He wiped his mouth, took a drink. "You've met one, by the way."

"I have?"

"Yup. That guy that was sitting by you earlier?" He waited.

Her nod was cautious. "The guy in the suit with the pick-up lines?"

"His name is Castiel."

"That's what he said."

"Cas for short. He's a good guy, good angel. A little stressed at present, but…"

"He drank a beer. Lots of beers."

"He does that. I'm not sure if he really likes it, but he drinks it."

She appeared to be speechless at that, lips parted. Finally, she dabbed another fry in ketchup and nodded. "That would be why he found my declaration so amusing."

"Declaration?"

Risa seemed embarrassed now, a hint of rosy color upon her cheeks. "We were talking about pick-up lines and I mentioned the old 'baby, we have a connection' one. He said maybe there were connections and I replied that 'when angels drink beer in a dive like this, I'll consider the possibility of real 'connections'. He found that funny."

He smiled, recalling that the line was the one his future self had used on her. "I think there can be connections between people. There are some you immediately like and trust and others you can develop that relationship with. Connections isn't that far out, Risa."

She ate a few more fries. "How did you get into this line of work, Dean?"

"It's a family thing. Only work I really know. Dad did it, mom did it, grandparents…. It's in the blood."

"Was it hard growing up knowing those things are real?"

"When you're confronted with it up close and personal, you're better off when you know it's truth rather than denying that scary thing could be real. I'd rather look it in the eye and know it's name or what it could be than have no idea what's there." He didn't really answer the question.

They continued talking until Risa glanced at her watch. "Well, Dean, it was nice meeting you."

"Going so soon?"

She opened the bag she had with her, drew out an index card and pen and wrote something on it. Setting it face down, she slid it across the table to him. "Here's my number." Her lips curved in a smile. "If you get a job that's too big, call me. I'll help if I can." His own words tossed at him.

"I do believe you'd be of assistance if you chose to be, Risa." He touched the card with his fingertips.

Her hand moved, covered his for a moment. "I won't say goodbye. Somehow, I think we'll meet again." She squeezed his hand and walked away.

This wasn't a woman afraid of the life. That much he'd found out. This was a woman going into it with eyes wide open, wanting to help people. She knew the risks, the troubles, and had no illusions. Risa Adams was every woman who'd ever succeeded in hunting.

A woman like that….

Just one day he might make a move.


He was genuine. Risa was pleased to discover that, if a little startled by some of the things he told her. Angels? Really? It made sense though and she found she wasn't as surprised as she might have been.

In a quick decision, she wrote her name and number on one of the index cards she carried with her. Risa didn't expect him to call, but there, just one moment with her hand on his, she thought she might buy into the whole connections thing.

For split second, she'd felt she could trust him implicitly; that she'd even met him before somewhere. It was strange and bizarre and Risa walked from the bar hoping that someday, she run into Dean Winchester again.

And maybe, just one conversation could become a whole helluva lot more.

Smiling, she got into her car and left.