Dean despised your kind. Witches had always been one of his least favorite kind of Supernatural creatures. They disgusted him. The killings were always brutal and grotesque. And, the cases were always difficult to solve. Overall, Dean Winchester hated witches.

That's why it was so weird that he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

He told himself it was because you were different than other witches. You didn't kill for fun, you weren't a complete psychopath. You were mostly normal. Sure, you made your living using small spells to get your way. Minor theft and making people forget a few hours of their day didn't hurt anybody all that much.

It was still wrong. He couldn't like you. Especially not like this. He shouldn't have an issue getting you out of his head. He shouldn't find any excuse to check up on you. A list of all of the things that he shouldn't feel ran through his head. It was fucking miserable. He was fighting his every instinct every time he spoke with you.

Every time he was on a case that went anywhere even remotely near where you lived, he seemed to show up on your doorstep. Even if he knew that he shouldn't. His better judgement seemed to be clouded whenever he was around you. He couldn't think straight. All that he could think about was you.

Whenever he had been passing through the town that you were currently calling home, he seemed to find his way to your doorstep. Within seconds of Dean knocking on the door to your apartment, you opened the door with a smile.