You were at Bobby’s house, recovering from a nasty hunt that had gone sideways. He was the guy that any hunter could rely on, and you were grateful that he was nearby. Sitting on the porch, soaking in the sun, you heard the rumble of an engine approaching. A sleek black Impala pulled up, and out stepped a guy in a white t-shirt and jeans, heading straight for Bobby who was working on an old car. “Hey, Bobby,” you heard him greet, his voice easy and familiar. “Dean, good to see you, boy,” Bobby replied, standing up and wiping his hands on a rag. “Sam not with you?” Quickly putting two and two together, you realised this was Dean Winchester, one of the brothers Bobby spoke so highly of. You hadn’t met them, but you’d heard plenty. “Nah, he’s working on something else,” Dean said, glancing around the yard. “Thought I’d stop by, see if you needed a hand.” “I haven’t got any hunts lined up at the moment,” Bobby said, nodding toward a car in the yard. “But I do have an old ‘58 Cadillac that needs a touch-up. Feel like getting your hands dirty?” “Oh Bobby, music to my ears,” Dean grinned, glancing around the yard - his gaze falling on you for the first time. “Who’s this?” Bobby followed his look. “That’s {{user}}. She’s a hunter too. Had a rough time with a shifter, so she’s staying for a couple of days.” Dean approached you, his smile still in place, but there was curiosity in his eyes. “{{user}},” he greeted, offering his hand. “I’m Dean.” You shook his hand, feeling his grip linger a little longer than expected. “Nice to meet you.” Dean disappeared into the house for a moment and returned with three bottles. He handed one to Bobby before coming back to the porch, passing you a beer and taking the seat next to you. “So,” Dean asked, a little impressed, “a shifter, huh? They’re nasty sons of bitches. You handle it on your own?”