The beer bottle felt cool against your lips as you took a sip, surveying the run-down bar. The liquid slid straight down, cooling you down from the heat of the place. The bar was packed, filled with college students, small groups of friends, and lonely singles. It was what Dean probably considered the perfect place.

"Damn, we need to remember this place," Dean exclaimed, knocking back the rest of his beer. "The beer is cheap and cold, and there's plenty of...fish to chose from."

Winking at you, he slid from the booth, leaving you and Sam to watch as he strode up to the bartender. And of course, he had to stand right next to the prettiest blonde in the entire place. "How does he do it?" You asked your best bud, Sam. setting your empty beer bottle down. "How can he love these places so much, and find the energy to pick up a woman almost every time?"

Sam just shrugged. "Beats me. I'd rather be back at the bunker."

You had to agree. Your bed at the bunker was calling your name with its memory foam topper and soft sheets. But then again, anything would be better than this smoke-filled joint with creepy guys eyeing you.

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, dropping a beer in front of you. "While I was up there talking to Kristie, I saw this guy checking you out."

"And?" You asked, thinking here you went again. For some reason, Dean had taken it into his head that he needed to set you up with some random man. It had started a couple of weeks ago, and it was driving you crazy.

Dean clinked his beer bottle with yours. "Well, we know that Sammy here is hopeless. He'll probably head back to the hotel tonight and spend it researching a new case. Me? Kristie already gave me her room number. But why can't you have a little fun too? And that man, well he looks like he's ready to have a fun time with you."

You looked over to where Dean had gestured. Sure enough, a guy was standing off to the side of the bar, his gaze fixated on your chest. He had greasy dark hair, brushed back from his face. His flannel shirt was buttoned too low, and his jeans fit him a little too snug. Not your type at all.

"Um, no thank you," you answered, drowning the last of the beer. "Sam? Shall we go find ourselves a new case?"

Sam nodded, and just as you slid out of the booth, Dean reached over, grasping your wrist. "Y/N, this life isn't all about hunting. You need to have some fun too."

You glanced back over at the towering lumberjack who looked as if he hadn't bathed in a week. "Nope, not my kind of fun. Thanks though."

You left the bar, walking beside Sam on the short distance back to the hotel. "But seriously Y/N," he spoke up minutes later. "Just because we're hunters doesn't mean you can't find someone. Me? I agree with Dean, it could be hopeless. But you...you can have it all."

You thought about the man you had dreamed about having it all with. The hunting life right alongside the normal. Both intermixing together. It had been your dream for such a long time, but it seemed to grow smaller and smaller with each visit to another nameless bar. "Thanks, Sam. But I'm not sure it's for me either."

It was another run-down bar a week later. Another ice-cold beer in your hand, loud country music blaring from the jukebox. Dean was up at the bar, flirting with the petite little redhead sitting up there. Sam had opted to stay back at the hotel, leaving you sitting at the table, watching everyone else.

Dean turned toward's you, lifting his beer bottle when the redhead left for the bathroom. He nodded his head towards the end of the bar, where a man sat sipping a glass of wine. Dean winked your way like he was sending you some sort of secret message. And you knew exactly what it was. He was trying to set you up again. This time with a man drinking wine and wearing a salmon-colored polo and khaki pants. His blonde hair was so gelled perfectly in place that you weren't sure a hurricane would be able to move a strand. He was checking his watch every minute or so, and you shook your head at Dean. No way would you pick this guy.

Dean rolled his eyes, before turning back to the bar, and you turned your attention to your beer, knowing you should have stayed back with Sam.

Instead of watching the bar scene, you turned your attention to the view outside your window. The cars passing by, the couples meeting up before making their way inside. Wishing for a moment that you had someone sitting with you. To share a beer with, to laugh at the drunk group of college boys attempting to play pool.

"Is this seat taken?" A man asked, and you looked up to see the polo man standing by your table. He had his glass of wine in one hand, your favorite beer in the other. He was handsome, but not your type at all.

"Sorry, was just getting ready to leave," you told him, standing up and grabbing your coat. "The table's all yours."

You could see Dean glaring at you as you left, but you didn't care. You hated being set up with men, especially ones that you weren't interested in.

"Come on Y/N, it will be fun, I swear," Dean pleaded with you, and you finally gave in. Another town, another monster taken care of. And he wanted to celebrate at another nameless bar.

Sam stayed back once again, and you ended up sitting at another table, nursing another beer while Dean surveyed the entire place. "Not as busy as I expected," he mussed, his eyes skimming over the people at the bar. "Still, there's a couple of prospects. Need a refill?"

You nodded, and he headed to the bar, waving the bartender down. You peered around, wondering who Dean was going to try to set you up with tonight. There were the usual, the habitual drinkers who hugged the shadows. Then the college students, pretending to be better at pool than they were. A couple of lonely people at the bar, and then...

"Y/N?" Your name was called, and you glanced up to see a handsome man standing beside you, two bottles of beer in his hands. He was tall, nearly as tall as Dean. He was lean, but not too skinny, with dark brown wavy hair and grey eyes. He was dressed simply in a henley and a dark pair of jeans.

"Yeah," you answered carefully, wondering if you had met him before.

"I don't usually do this," he spoke softly, a southern twang evident in his whiskey smooth voice. "But your friend over there said you could use some company?"

You could see Dean at the bar, chatting up a plump dark-haired college student. For a moment you thought about sending him on his way and heading back to the hotel. But he seemed nice, and you were lonely for real companionship. "Want to sit down?" You offered, pointing to the seat across from you.

He smiled, relieved that you took him up on his offer, and in a way, you were too. He handed one of the beers over, and you took a sip, letting yourself be open to the chance at something new.

Time passed, and you were having a blast. Trevor was nice and polite, but funny and sexy at the same time. You quickly found out that he had gone to college in Georgia, but was living here in Kansas, working as a vet.

"And you? What do you do for a living?" He asked you, signaling for another round of beer. Just behind him, you could see Dean sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, the dark-haired girl long gone. He had a scowl on his face, probably because he didn't score.

"I uh...I travel a lot," you hedged.

"I'd like to travel," he smiled. "Listen, I'll be right back. Then maybe we can talk about our next move."

He winked at you before heading back towards the bathroom. Smiling, you sat back in the chair, realizing that maybe Dean's foolhardy matchmaking had finally paid off. "How's it going?" Dean asked, taking the seat Trevor had just left, plopping down. He had a deep frown on his face, his mood sour.

"Surprisingly well," you admitted. "Thank you, Dean."

"Great. That's just great," he muttered, tossing back what was left of his whiskey.

You were surprised at his attitude. "Dean, I thought you would be happy. After all, you've been working so hard lately to set me up."

"Not for some random dude who just wants to get in your pants," he muttered, his hand gripping the glass so tight you thought he might crack it.

"Dean," you admonished. "Trevor seems like a nice guy. And you're the one who pushed him my way."

Dean's jaw clenched. "Yeah, but that's because I...well,"

"Spit it out," You insisted, knowing that Trevor would be back any moment.

"I kept sending guys your way so you would see that maybe I wasn't that bad of a choice after all," he blurted out, and it was not what you had expected at all.

Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "Say that again. Slowly."

He rolled his eyes. "Look, I've always been attracted to you. And I wasn't sure you felt the same. So I thought if you saw all these stupid, annoying men, you would realize that maybe the one jerk you knew wasn't that bad after all. And you'd turn to me."

"First of all, you're not a jerk," you insisted. "And second of all, why didn't you just say something?"

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "It killed me tonight. Seeing you with him, all happy. I wanted that smile directed at me."

"What about all those women?" You asked.

"Nothing ever happened," he assured you. "I tried using them to forget about you. But Y/N, I dream about you. Because it's always you. Nobody else."

His words melted your heart. Standing up, you grabbed his hand, ready to pull him out of the bar and back to your room. "What's going on?" Trevor asked, and you felt a moment of sadness for the guy.

"Early morning tomorrow," you called over your shoulder, before pushing the door open and pulling Dean through. Before you could climb into the Impala, Dean was pushing your back against it, his breath warm against your skin.

"Wait," you stopped him. "One more question."

He rolled his eyes but waited. "So why Trevor? You said you picked stupid, annoying men. What was so wrong with him?"

"I saw his phone. The man's already married. The asshole," he answered before his lips were against yours, and thoughts of all other men were gone from your mind.