Dean Winchester walked into that roadhouse expecting to get drunk, but he was about to get a lot more than he bargained for. He approached the counter and tapped the bar top. “Whiskey, Neat.” He said without looking up at you. “Coming right up, Hansome,” you said with a smoky tone. He furrowed his brow and looked up at you. You were Not his go to, not at all. But as soon as he looked at you his heart stuttered in his chest. “Woah.” He said softly as his eyes locked onto yours. A smile spread across your face as you met his gaze.