Chapter Two

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Dean opens his eyes to find himself looking up at a ceiling that does not belong in Bobby's, but this is familiar. He's back in her room. The bed too soft beneath him, too warm with the sun on his skin. He turns in the bed, seeking her out at his side but the bed is empty next to him, he hums a little and lifts his head.

"Sofia" he greets seeing her, she turns to face him, a smile stretching her lips.

"So you figured it out" she teases a little standing from the small couch, he hums climbing out of the bed. Seeing her again, now after finding out just who she is. He doesn't feel like he should be here. He shouldn't be looking at her. He moves away from her slightly, still wrapping his head around this, that she is actually real. She doesn't approach him, seeing his need for space, he turns to face her though.

"You're something else" he admits watching her sit on the bed, she cocks her head. "The work you do...." she waves him off.

"It's nothing" she comments. He smiles. This woman really is something else. He leans against the door frame, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. The morning sun warming her cheeks, her hair pulled back onto the back of her hair, loose and escaping. She really is a picture.

"It's something to someone" he argues, she shrugs and then smirks.

"Same can be said about what you do" she points out, he rolls his eyes a little. "How many lives have you saved, Dean Winchester?" she asks him.

"Not to boast" he starts. "But we did stop the apocalypse"

"Well..." she starts jumping up and padding towards him till she stands in front of him. He breaths in deeply. Takes in her scent. Some of it is perfume, but it's light, hinted at. The rest is her. She smells like coconuts and sunshine and the beach. "On behalf of humanity," she smiles at him. "Thank you" he searches her eyes and notes how sincere and warm they are. She strokes his cheek and he sighs leaning into the touch. "Thank you" she repeats warmer, her lips brushing over his. He closes his eyes and then kisses her back. Soft. Tender. Her fingers curl into the front of his shirt as he hums against her lips. He's kissed girls before, he's kissed plenty of girls before, but this one, this one girl, this kiss, her kisses. There is something so much more to them. He raises a hand to her face and presses a little harder into the kiss, a little deeper, she smirks against his lips and then she pulls away, she smiles at him before heading back to bed. Dean touches his lips as he turns to look out the window beside him. The view is spectacular still.

"Where is this?" he asks her. "Where are we?"

"Malibu" she answers, he snorts.

"Of course it is" he glances back at her. "Barbie" he teases, she snorts.

"Tony's actual nickname for me" she points out lounging on the bedding. He smiles a little before he lets it fall.

"Is this really you?" he asks her, she tilts her head slightly. "Or is this all in my head?"

"Does it matter?" she counters, he nods sharply.

"Yes," he answers. "Yes, it matters...." she sighs and sits up, pulling her legs under her to sit cross-legged.

"Fine" she looks to him. "Sofia is not here, I'm not really her" she admits. "I am part of her soul" she adds. "The part yours touched, I am resonating with you, but no...I am not her" he looks away from her and clenches his jaw.

"So she doesn't know..." he starts.

"No," she tells him. "No, she doesn't have dreams...or hallucinations..." He jerks a little when she touches his shoulder, he turns slightly to look at her. "These dreams keep the bad ones away" she points out, reminds him. "Do you wish for me to stop?" he clenches his jaw and shakes his head once. She reaches up and touches his face, curls her hand around his cheek.

"Please" he whispers. Embarrassed that he is admitting that he needs these dreams, that he can't go back to having the nightmares. That he will take fake her over them. She leans closer to him, nudges his nose.

"I'll be here, sweetie" she assures him quietly. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers. "Maybe if you found her, talked to her....spent time with her, maybe something would...blossom"

"How?" he asks her. "In what world would a woman like her ever even look at me?" she looks to him sadly. "What do I have to offer her?"

"Why do you have to offer her anything?" she asks him. "What if she was chosen for you because of what she can give you?" Dean turns to her. "Men always think they have to be the ones to bring something to a relationship, but women are just as capable...have just as much to offer" she scolds slightly. "She could be just what you need" she whispers softly, and then when he pulls back and blinks he's waking in his bed back at Bobby's. A familiar ceiling above him. He lets out a breath and lifts his hands to rub at his face.

"You okay?" Sam asks from the doorway, Dean grunts in answer before lowering his hands turning to get up. He sighs leaning on his knees, his eyes closing, phantom fingers on his cheeks, her fingers. He has to find her. To talk to her at least. He needs to know there is nothing there, if there is nothing there then he can walk away. He can let this all go. He can let her go.

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