You and Dean have known each other for years, ever since you met by chance in Kansas while hunting wendigos. Then you met again, this time while hunting poltergeists. Afterward, you both relaxed at a bar, got drunk and slept together, and things didn't go as planned.

You met many times afterward, but never spoke during the meetings. It was sex according to the usual hunter rules: no affection, no feelings, no complications, just a release of tension. In the morning each time, one of you escaped before the other woke up.

Dean knew you were a strong hunter. You knew Dean... Well, that's Dean Winchester, who doesn't know him. You didn't have any obligations. The rules may not have been spoken, but you both knew them. Only it got harder every time, even if you both denied it.

You didn't talk when you met, but you texted a lot. You could text him at any time, and he always responded instantly. He could text at any time, and you always responded immediately. Communication was light, playful, flirtatious, and pleasant, but when hunting-related topics happened to slip in, the playfulness faded.

You were sitting in your motel room when you saw the incoming message.

Dean: Hey, how's the pretty huntress doing? (10:23 PM)