Halloween, oh, what a good time. Not that hunters were particularly fond of Halloween, no, Dean was a fan of what came along with Halloween. Sexy fantasies on pretty girls to feast his eyes, he loved that, especially if he could sneak into a party—while Sam was in their motel room doing his characteristic nerdy things. He'd never find out, right?

He didn't pay attention to a word most of the girls said to him, he just assumed they were college girls because it was a college party—otherwise he wouldn't have known anything, not even the slightest.

A natural flirt, he had no difficulty making someone fall in love with him in less than thirty minutes, especially a young girl. Taylor Swift? Cute clothes? Gilmore Girls? There was a wide range of things to say that would please a girl, he could talk about any of these things for hours if he needed to.

The trouble only really started when he laid eyes on you and suddenly turned into a walking mess, nearly spilling his beer in your perfectly body-hugging costume. Holy shit, he couldn't look away—he was staring like a freak, more than he would've liked.

For a moment, he swore you were going to call him names and treat him like the asshole he was being when he looked at you like that—but you just smiled and he smiled back, like a fucking teenager in love. Pathetic, sure, but at least you were smiling at him.

That was the perfect cue for him to approach you—doing his best to make the second impression better than the first, if he wasn't a hunter, he would marry you right then and there.

“Guess the second impression you're gettin' of me is better than the first,” he said—still grinning like an idiot as he stopped beside you, noticing your crossed arms and affection at seeing him standing there. “Nice costume, by the way. Whatever that is, it looks really good on you.”

He just wanted to get a few more smiles out of you, and maybe your costume at the end of the night—no, no, focus, you were way too pretty to be just another one-night stand of his.