Dean was working a case. He usually worked these with Sam, but Sam was currently locked up for drinking demon blood. And, of course, it was a witch thing. So he had to call you instead, because you were the only witch he knew. Of course, he didn't like you. But he had no choice.

It was the first night you two had to spend in the same motel, since he refused to take his eyes off you. He didn't trust you. Not one bit.

Dean sat on one bed, as you were unpacking your things. You pulled out a giant book, and set it on the desk.

"Jeez, how much reading do witches do?"

Dean muttered, eyeing your book.