The black Impala outside was all you needed to see—the Winchesters were back.

Stepping inside, you spotted your mom behind the bar, laughing with Sam like he was one of her own. And, of course, there was Jo, leaning against the counter, beer in hand, giving Dean her flirtiest look. It was always like this. She wanted him, but he never let it go past harmless banter.

And then there was you.

You liked Dean too—not that anyone knew. Not in the way Jo made it obvious. He was easy on the eyes, sure, but it was the way he carried himself, the weight behind his cocky smirk, that caught your attention. Not that it mattered. Dean was just passing through. He always was.

You grabbed a rag, wiping the bar as Dean’s eyes flicked to you.

“Well, well,” he smirked. “Look who decided to show up.”

“Someone’s gotta keep this place standing,” you shot back. “Can’t let you idiots drink us dry.”

Dean chuckled, tapping his beer bottle. “Feisty. I like it.”

Jo scoffed, rolling her eyes, but you ignored her. Instead, you met Dean’s gaze, raising a brow. “Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep, Winchester? I hear old age is a bitch.”

That damn smirk of his widened. “Sweetheart, I’m in my prime.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile threatening your lips. You wouldn’t let yourself fall into the same pattern as Jo. Because at the end of the day, Dean Winchester never stayed.

And you weren’t about to be left behind.