This early update is just for CountessSia who is in desperate need of comfort!fic because of horrible circumstances that demand all the love she wants from friends – like me! Happy to oblige; hope you enjoy the chapter hon.

PS: We don't own Charmed. Otherwise I'd be doing Drew Fuller right about now. Guh.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Perfect Mate

We're like night and day - White and black
But what we have is a perfect match
When I say this - You say that
But love comes easy 'cause opposites attract

A Perfect Match – A-Teens

Sam

I lay in bed, confused as to exactly what had happened. One moment we were all over each other, and then Sharika runs out, claiming that she needed to call David.

I shrugged it off. She must just feel obliged to call her friend, nothing really different of her. Oh well, it's nothing I can't persuade her out of.

I got out of bed and pulled on my boxers, and then walked out of the bedroom. I saw Shar hunched over the telephone, dialing a number. I slowly walked up behind her and stroked her neck on one side while kissing the other. "Can't your call wait?" I asked her in a whisper. I continued kissing her, moving around her neck and shoulder.

"No Sam," she said in a squeaky voice. I guessed that my method was starting to work.

"Come on," I said as my hand brushed down her stomach.

She shivered at my touch. Then she just seemed to stop and adjust herself. "Not now Sam!" With surprising strength in one hand she pushed me away. "I'm – what I mean to say is that – well Lauren and – Hi David! It's about time you answered."

Oh, Lauren.

Right, well now I knew exactly what was going on. She must have freaked out Sharika when she said "Fucking Sam, someone you met five days ago" or something. And I also knew what I had to do.

I went back into the bedroom, and pulled on my clean clothes. I walked out, glancing at Sharika who was talking animatedly to her long lost friend, then slammed the door shut behind me.

Lauren started this mess, she's going to end it…

I opened the door to my brother's motel room without knocking and barged in. "Lauren, I need to speak to y–" And there they were, Lauren sitting on my brother's lap, him with his hands all over her. It was almost a repeat of what we, Sharika and I, saw the first night we met. Except this was much tamer, not by much, and they were on a lounge and not pressed up against the wall. "I'll, uh, come back later."

I turned away from the scene, not the least bit embarrassed by what I saw. I've walked in on my brother many times over the years. In fact, when I was thirteen I walked in on my brother receiving a blow job in the Impala by the girl who cleaned the pool at the motel we were staying at. Not a pleasant sight to me, but it had helped me build up a strong immunity to walking in, and one time even ice skating in, on my brother and his many partners.

"SAM, WAIT UP!"

Lauren

Oh, God. Oh God. That did not just happen. No, no WAY.

THE SECOND TIME?! THE SECOND TIME I'D KISSED DEAN – well, okay, third if you count that dream I had where he kissed me – I don't because it was JUST A DREAM – it wasn't like it was – I was just – helping him – the – there was – ARGH!

I have to convince Sam that it wasn't the way it looked. Dean and I – there was, the –

I sprinted after Sam and let myself into the motel room, only to see him heading into the bedroom, and Sharika standing in the kitchen talking all chirpily into the phone. It wouldn't be her Dad then – Sharika doesn't do chirpy with her Dad, she's more inclined to be serious and almost frustrated. I wonder who – no time, no time, I need to – Sam – Dean –

I followed Sam into the bedroom, sending an over-wide grin at Sharika on my way past, like I was saying 'nothing up with me, nothing at all, nada' – and not convincingly. If triple negatives are ever. It's one way to tell if a person is lying, if they use a triple negative. Of course, if they were a good liar you'd never catch them making that mistake.

"Sam!" I said, affecting a bubbly carefree atmosphere. "You needed to see me?" Maybe if I just pretend it didn't happen, that nothing is different, then he won't bring it up.

Yeah…that's likely to happen. Really, really likely Lauren. Really. Besides – nothing IS different. Nothing at all.

Sam frowned, and motioned to me to close the door, which I did.

What's up his ass?

"So, what's up your ass?" I asked him, feeling annoyed vibes flow my way. They were definitely aimed at me. Oh God – was it because of the – the NOT Dean and me kiss? But why would he be –

"Remember what you said to Shar yesterday? While you two were fighting?"

I nodded. "Sure! Well, okay, not really. Which bit? There were a lot of bits. I mean, it could be the bit about the bit about the bit where I was like, nuhhr Miss Perfect, and blah, blah, stuff and things. Which bit? There were a lot of bits!" I kept repeating myself, as I always did when trying to cover up the fact that I am nervous, or awkward. Not that I was – I mean, what did I have to be nervous about? I mean, not that I was nervous or awkward. I don't have anything to be –

"The bit about me."

"OHhhh…right. Yeah, about that – I didn't mean it! I mean, you know, I was just, you know, and there was – I didn't mean it." And I didn't. It was just a whole load of frustration, and a bit of jealousy, plus you know, the blinding rage taking over me at the time. I couldn't give a fuck if Sharika and Sam were fucking. Well, okay, I did in the way that it affected Shar, but otherwise I didn't like to stick my nose into places where it is definitely unneeded and unwanted. That area certainly qualifies as a 'keep your nose out of it' area. By far.

"Yeah," Sam said, waving away my garbled apology type thing. "She took it to heart."

"I noticed, I mean, I did get slammed against a wall." I rolled my eyes, and felt the twinge in my back again. I wonder if I have many bruises. The way it feels all stiff and nuhhr, I don't doubt it. I could get Shar to look for me – but then she'd feel all guilty and try to force her icky healing potion on me. And I don't need to be fussed over. I'll check it out later, like in a mirror or something, by myself. You know…when Dean was holding my side, it didn't – NOT GOING THERE!

"No, today. Today she blew me off, when I was –"

"Sammy, I do not want to hear about your sex-capades! Okay? Dude, total over-share."

Sam just looked at me strangely, and shook his head a little, like he was saying 'what'? Don't give me that Sam, I can feel the frustration, confusion and unresolved sexual stress in you. So don't try and give me that look, 'cause I am not falling for it. "No, when I –" he paused, and flushed a little. "Look, she just sort of ran away from me."

"Maybe you have bad B.O." I raised my eyebrows at him. No, it's not that. He actually smells kind of nice. Kind of like Sharika. Like…fruit? How…strange.

He ignored me, continuing, "And I know it's about you – because she told me so."

I glared at him, shocked and a little irritable. "Sharika's been bitching about me?" I asked, horrified. Well, she does have good reason…though I didn't bitch about her…then again, who can I bitch about her to? No one.

"No, she didn't say it specifically; it was kind of a slip up. So will you just talk to her? Because she won't listen to me about this."

"You want me…to talk Sharika…into having sex with you?"

"I know she wants to, it's just that thought getting in the way." Sam himself was a little confused about what he wanted here. Sure, he wanted to get laid by the chick he loves, but he was also worried about her etcetera, etcetera. Worried about what she's feeling. You know, the usual crap those two go through. Is this what practicing my empath skills are going to entail? Trying to figure out everyone else's tangled and twisted emotional paths?

Hmm… I think I can live with it. If you put it more in the perspective of a puzzle to be solved, at my leisure, then I can't really get annoyed at it – see it as an inconvenience. A nuisance. If I think of it more as a fun activity that will also help me evolve as an empath, I can handle this everyday stuff. I might need a little help with the…you know…evil, and perversion and stuff. But otherwise…

"Says who?" I asked grumpily, and like a wake up call from a higher being that likes to meddle in these kinds of things, my empath abilities kicked on and I got all the squigglies Sharika was feeling. I guess I should be trying to initiate it myself, but at the moment it's got a life of its own. And if it answers my questions without all that inarticulate babble, that doesn't really explain how a person is really feeling, I think I can deal. In fact, I might prefer it. She was all nervous, and she wanted Sam, but on the other hand, there was this kind of barricade that stopped her from doing it. It seemed like she was confused – well not really confused, just held back by…her parents? What the hell? I guess it's her cultural beliefs and stuff, just like I'm supposed to be all Catholic and holier-than-thou and not even think impure thoughts. She feels that…her parents would be disappointed in her because of Sam? And what they've been doing? Sharika doesn't want to disappoint her parents – I get that. But, wouldn't they just want her to be happy? And I mean, it's not like she's 'living in sin' or anything. They are engaged. Yeah…it was confusing me too. However, I still got the sudden urge to jump Sam's bones. Not fun, considering what I'd just – what he's just seen – "Oookay… never mind that. Just go talk to her yourself. I mean, you're her fiancé, you guys can talk about anything, right?" I grinned at him confidently, simply trying to get out of the task he had set me.

"Look, you started it." No go, obviously. Stupid, not able to be manipulated Sam… "The only other person who knows about me and Sharika is Dean; I doubt she'd appreciate me telling him." Oh, yeah, but she'd appreciate you telling me dumbwad. Pfft. Sam smiled. "Besides, it seemed as though he had his hands full."

My eyes widened. "But – the – you – FINE!" Why am I so easy to manipulate? People can just jerk me which ever way they want me, within days of knowing me. Exhibit A, Sam, and his using me to pimp Sharika out. Exhibit B, Dean, make me nervous or angry, and I'll fall into whatever he wishes.

I stormed out of the room, heading straight for where Sharika was still talking on the phone to whomever she was talking to on the phone with the phone to her ear and the talking and the listening – WHY AM I STILL BABBLING AND REPEATING MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC?!

I heard the door to the motel room open, and caught a glimpse of Sam as he left me to sort out his 'problem'. Asshole.

"Sharika, why aren't you fucking Sam?" I asked crankily, standing in front of her, my hands on my hips. I tapped my foot on the tiles, as she looked up at me, a horrified expression on her face.

I heard the guy she was talking to even through the phone lines, and considering how far away I was. "Did I just hear what I thought I heard?"

Sharika's eyes widened. "David –" she started, before I grabbed the phone and said into it –

"Yes, David, you did. I am in a mucking, and I need Sharika to help me." I held the phone away from Sharika, holding her back with one arm as she struggled against me to grab for it.

"A mucking?" David asked, his English accent (reminder: when not pimping out Shar, melt about David's sexy accent) making his confusion even more evident. I don't blame him really; I don't even know what I'm saying.

"A mucking, what the hell?" Sharika whispered, and made a grab for the phone.

"Yes, a mucking. Haven't you ever heard of that Aussie expression?" Ha…if I said this to another Australian, they'd probably give me the same confused and strange look Sharika was giving me now. "In other words, I am in a mess, or I have a problem. So, Sharika will talk to you later. Buh-bye now."

I hung up the phone before she could reply.

"Lauren!" Sharika growled, and glared at me. "How could you just –"

"Sharika, why aren't you fucking Sam?" I interjected, and raised my eyebrows at her.

"Is that what you two were talking about in there?" Sharika asked, staring at me incredulously. Stupid empathy – no, don't think about it like that. Take this opportunity to practice. Okay, breathe in, breathe out…

Sharika is feeling…angry – well only slightly, so let's pass it off as annoyed. That Sam and I were talking about that. She is feeling…ashamed of herself. Because…as I said, well, she screwed a guy that she'd known – what? Six days now? And she was feeling guilty because of the way she'd reacted with Sam.

And, yet again she was feeling the whole, 'Sam deserves someone better than me, who has less issues and nuhhr'… crap like that.

"Um, yes," I said simply. She looked at me, nodding her head slightly and indicating with her hands that she was waiting for me to expand. I just waited, looking back at her. When I finally cracked I said – "Well, why aren't you? Not that I don't already know, because yeah, but still, you should say it so then you can get all your feelings out, and I can play the whole comforting, supportive friend role – you know how much I love to do that."

Sharika sighed. "Because you're right Lauren. I met him five days ago –"

"Six now," I interrupted cheerily.

"Technically we met them at night, so it won't exactly be six days until tonight, so it's still five days. Anyways – this is just moving way too fast. I mean, it's –" Sharika stammered, and then trailed off. She fidgeted with the telephone cord, which I'd placed back on its hook. "I can't believe I'm actually having this conversation with you."

"Look," I said, feeling ashamed of myself too, and not just through her. I mean, Sam was right. I had set Sharika down this thought path and made her all non-believer-y in the whole Sam, love issue. Well, not an unbeliever, just kind of… Weird about it. Hence the new no sex policy and the nervousness and – I'm just repeating myself again. I can not still be all hyper about the – Dean – me – thing. The thing. Okay, I still am. "It's not true. What I said before. You and Sam, you're like, one of those perfect couples, that everything falls into place for. I mean, it feels like you've known him for years, right? And you do know him. Don't disregard your own feelings because of something stupid I said in anger. It's ridiculous."

"But it's true."

"That you met him five days ago? So what? Some people meet and one day later they elope together. They have an instant bond. So do you and Sam. Time is irrelevant in love. And anyway, you know you're going to end up with him, so why wait, when you have already indulged? And you technically won't be violating your cultural beliefs, because you're only going to be with one man your whole life. Sam." I believed in what I was saying completely. I didn't need to see the visions – I could feel their love, all the time. I guess that's one bad thing about this empathy – knowing how everyone feels before they do, but knowing that they need to figure it out for themselves, and that no matter what you say they're just going to go their own way and make their own mistakes and choices. And you just have to stand there and watch, even though you know what the best course of action is.

Well that, and the fact that my own emotions were still just as jumbled as ever. Even as an empath I couldn't untangle my own feelings.

"Yeah, but that's supposed to happen after I'm married, not before. I didn't even know him twenty four hours before I – and we weren't even engaged."

"You think you're a slut, don't you?" I asked bluntly. God. This is all we needed. The virginal, all innocent, sweet Sharika thinking she's a hardcore skank. It's almost laughable.

She looked away from me, staring at the wall. Ugh.

"You aren't. Look, this is just going around in circles. I can't really say anything that will magically put everything to rights. Just think – you never thought there was anything wrong with it – because there isn't – until I said that. And I renounce it, it was true, but I didn't mean it the way it came out, because it doesn't apply to you and Sam. I only said it because I was pissed. So, I'm going to go, let you seep in your own angst-y juices for a while, then send Sammy over. Talk to him about it."

I stood up and left the room. Opening the door to outside, I saw Sam jerking away from the door and trying to look inconspicuous. So much for the stewing. I shook my head and patted him on the chest, passing him as I did so. "It's your turn Romeo," I said, and left them to it.

Sharika

"You know, for someone who is as experienced in hunting as yourself, you really suck at hiding," I told Sam when he walked into the motel casually three minutes after Lauren left. "I saw the top of your head through the window while you were waiting to make your entrance."

"Oh," was all he said. He glanced out the window, almost as if to make sure that no one else was standing there, then he strode to the couch and sat down, a serious expression playing on his face.

"You asked Lauren for help?" I asked Sam, feeling greatly amused that my fiancé asked my best friend to help him to get me to sleep with him. I mean, how ridiculous was it?! Something one might witness in The O.C. but not something that would be done in real life, or so I thought. One day, when this entire Demon thing is over, I will tease him about it so much.

"The only other person I could talk to would be Dean, and he was busy the last time I saw him." He replied, his eyebrows raised and his mouth in a half smile. "And you'll never guess what with."

"What's that look for?" I wanted to know. "What was he doing?"

"He was kissing Lauren."

"OH! No wonder she was acting so weirdly before…I knew they liked each other, I wish they'd just get together already," I blabbered over the topic we've already discussed many times, trying my best to avoid the uncomfortable topic. An awkward pause settled over us. "So, what exactly did you tell Lauren?" I bit my inner cheek to stop myself from laughing. I just can't believe Sam went to Lauren, Lauren! But then again, she would be the one person I'd listen to. And I doubt that Dean would have any good advice to offer Sam in this situation since he has been in less serious relationships then Sam has.

"I just said that what she told you, in spite, got to you, and that you blew me off today." He replied, he moved up his seat, leaning forwards and placed his hands in between his legs, now intent on going through this conversation. "Why did you?"

Damn, I was hoping that he wouldn't ask this question. Although it would be the only one on his mind, I didn't blame him though. I was hot one moment and then totally cold the next, it'd confuse anyone. It'd even had confused me, when I pushed him away from the hug.

I guess I was just reacting badly to the situation. I'm not used to communicating my issues, rather, just store it up and let it go in small amounts. I have to learn how to express myself, and I'm lucky that I have Sam to help me through it. He knows how I'm feeling, sometimes even before I do, and he will call me on it. He'd try to get me to release my feelings, and not in a forcible or patronizing or condescending way. He was patient, and to the point. Which is exactly what I needed.

"It didn't matter to you much when we first started our relationship," he added. I was a bit surprised, I expected for him to be angry, I would be…well not angry just annoyed. He had a right to be. He wasn't. Not a bit. I don't know why I was surprised though. I did almost back out when we were first physically expressing our love, he didn't try to coerce me back into doing it. He was patient and sensitive to my feelings, over his own.

"Well, this is going to sound so stupid, but, when we started, it was all fine and dandy, then my mind just sort of threw a big red stop sign, I kept thinking about what Lauren said, and how true it was. We did just meet a few days ago. And then my mind replayed the part about me not following family beliefs, and how everyone would be disappointed in me and, well you get where I'm going with this." I looked at the floor, trying my best to steer clear of his facial expression. I just couldn't take his eyes penetrating my head, seeing my thoughts, now.

"Stop thinking about everyone else and think about yourself, Sharika, I love you and if you feel that you're really not ready to have sex anymore then I won't force you into it. Don't think that the only thing I want from you is sex. The only thing I want is you, just as you are. But just tell me, how do you feel? Forget about your parents, and the expectations people have of you, forget about everyone, even me, and think about what you want," Sam's voice suggested, he was getting passionate about this. It only showed how much he cared about me.

What did I feel?

I didn't want to stop showing him that I loved him. I wanted to partake in those aspects of the relationship just as much as he did. But at the same time I didn't want to move so rapidly. Sam and I moved through so many phases in our relationship so quickly, from the first kiss to my…well our first time to moving in together and then getting engaged. I hardly had time to breathe. It was all done so quickly that we didn't get to celebrate what our love has achieved. We didn't take the time to realize how special and how important each phase was as we just passed them. I just wanted to take a step back and relax. We were just a little too zealous in our relationship.

"No, it's not that I want to stop all together," I could feel my face heating up in embarrassment. "It's just that, we moved through our relationship so hastily, from the first kiss to getting engaged. We were too caught up in the moment I guess. But everything moved so fast and we rushed through everything which we should have seen as pivotal landmarks in our relationship, and taken time out to celebrate them, but we practically blew right through them …" I trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

A thoughtful silence passed as each of us tried to think of a solution to our problem.

"Okay, what if we were to slow it down a little bit, maybe start from the beginning?" I heard Sam ask, breaking the quiet atmosphere.

"What do you mean?" I questioned him, not understanding what he getting at. How could we slow things down? We were already engaged and I didn't want to post-pone the wedding longer just because of this. It'd take years to get married and I don't want us to be one of those couples that are forever engaged.

I then heard footsteps leading away from me. I looked up to see Sam fidgeting with the CD player which was situated by the racks glued on clumsily to the wall to my right. Suddenly a Kiss From A Rose by Seal, my favorite song, played softly and romantically throughout the motel room. Sam walked up to me, bowed down and stretched out his arm, offering me to take it. "Dance, Ms Mesba?"

"This is so lame," I grinned as I got up to accept his offer to dance. I held onto his offered hand with one hand, and the other resting on his back. I leant into him, resting my head against his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart soothing me, feeling more content then I had felt since, I can't even remember when.

"Come on, help me out here," Sam smiled at me. "I'm trying to sweep you off your feet." He fell into step perfectly as we slow danced in the room.

"You don't need to," I responded.

"Why?" he questioned me, giving me a curious look.

"Cause you already have."

Lauren

I went back to my motel room, fully intent on sorting the whole – you know – kiss thing out with Dean, only to find him sprawled face down on the bed, dead to the world. How…well…

It should probably not have made me feel relieved, but it did. It really did.

I shrugged, and tiptoeing around the clothes covering the floor, I went over to my bag and got out the recipe I'd been meaning to try for – how many years now? Six? Since I was sixteen, in any case. It was hidden inside the inner pocket of a pair of pants I never wore, except in the most extreme circumstances. They were black leather. Let's just leave it at that.

It was still unscarred from my travels, except for the lines where it had been folded over and over – I unfolded it as I headed over to another suitcase. Way down in the bottom was a small case containing five medium sized bottles, filled with a mixture of liquids and powders. Holding it under one arm, I scanned the piece of paper with instructions on it as I headed back to the kitchen.

How to Bake a Perfect Companion

(We do not discriminate against sexual preference)

Ingredients:

WARNING: many of these ingredients are only for purchase at recognized paranormal enterprises

NOTIFICATION: Flour, water and salt are not included. Everything else is.

For the base –

2 cups of plain flour

1 cup of water

1 tsp of salt

½ tsp of human essence

For gender –

Male

2 tbsp Essence of Male – fresh or dried

¼ tsp Powdered Masculinity

Female

2 tbsp Essence of Female – fresh or dried

¼ tsp Powdered Femininity

Added items:

Magical pheromones – to give your creation that extra zap! (WARNING: Use with caution, these pheromones are very strong)

Spirit of Muscle Tone – (for males, unless that is how you desire your feminine creation) (of course, you can write down 'well-muscled' in your description slips, but this gives tells the recipe exactly how muscled you want your creation to be, depending on how much you use – instructions on bottle.)

As to the qualities that you desire in your perfect mate:

Simply add slips of paper containing the attributes that you wish your creation to possess (written on the paper).

Method:

Preheat the oven to 220 degrees Celsius, and lightly grease an oven tray.

Mix the base, adding the water to the flour and salt, then sprinkle the human essence on top of the dough, and mix in a large bowl.

Depending on which sex you desire your creation to be, add the required ingredients. This is the time to add any other ingredients, if you so wish.

Pull the dough out onto a lightly floured board, and knead, until all ingredients are well combined.

Pull off a little bit of the dough, about one sixth of the full mixture. Make a rough mound with the majority, and then create a hole in the centre of the dough, not going through all the way to the board.

Inside the hole, place your chosen qualities, reciting them out loud as each goes in. When the last attribute is inside, cover the hole up with the left over dough. WARNING: Make sure all the paper is hidden inside the dough, otherwise it could catch on fire.

Place the mound onto your greased tray and before you put it into the oven, say this spell over it;

A perfect (wo)man I summon now,

Another way I don't know how,

To last from this here time unto the next light,

Somewhere out there is Mr(s). Right.

After you have said the spell, put the tray into the oven and leave to cook for 15 minutes. When you come back, and open the door, remember to stand back – the effects are immediate.

Well, this doesn't seem all that hard… I thought to myself, opening the box containing all the ingredients needed to make 'the perfect companion'. I've certainly baked more difficult soufflés…

I grinned to myself, and grabbed the flour, salt and measuring spoons from the cupboard. On my way past, I switched the oven onto 220 degrees Celsius, and filled up one cup of water. Who knew when Thom gave me this thing, I'd actually be desperate enough to use it? Thom…I haven't thought about him for ages…

Thom was a guy I'd fallen in with while Sharika was away in England. He was openly Wiccan – and he was actually magical, unlike many devotes out there. He'd noticed my empath abilities straight away, and I'd started hanging out with him more and more, until we had a relationship almost like mine and Sharika's. Except that, well, Sharika and I have never made out…and Thom and I definitely did. He'd left though, his mum had a job that required them to travel all over the world – as a parting present, he'd given me the Perfect Companion kit (containing large quantities of the gender choice items, human essence, the magical pheromones, muscle tone and slips of paper) – we'd actually made it together as a joke.

I was going to give him my virginity.

Of course, that didn't turn out all that well; his mum had interrupted just as I had started proposing the notion to him. Looking back now, it seems kind of ridiculous – 'giving' someone your virginity as a parting gift. I mean, it's just…and he was leaving… I would have ended up regretting it, I knew that now. Thom and I were friends – best friends with benefits, but still friends. I didn't love him like I want to love someone before I 'give' myself to them. Instead, I gave him a gemstone the size of his fist, that was his favorite color – green – and I'd spelled our image in it. Every time he chanted 'green as my eyes, blue as yours' he'd be able to see us. (My eyes are green-ish, and his were the most vibrant, powerful, knee-trembling blue I have ever encountered. It was just a thing we had going between us, like a codeword, a secret saying. And whenever someone was jealous, or envious, he'd say 'green as your eyes' to me and laugh and I'd say 'blue as yours' whenever someone was sad, or melancholy.)

He'd said he loved me, just before he got into his car. I never saw him again.

I paused over missing the salt, flour and water. I wonder, what happened to him? Then I smiled, and went back to my mixing. I'm sure he's living out a happy, magical, Thom-like existence. Okay, next add the human essence, sprinkling it over the top.

I did so, then the next step – adding the dried Essence of Male, and Powdered Masculinity. I added a handful of magical pheromones, then picked up the muscle tone, lingering. On the one hand, I did adore abs and the like…but on the other, a man doesn't need all those things to make him perfect. He can have one of those strong bodies, with the muscles lying beneath the skin; concealing his natural strength…he doesn't need to be a cardboard cut-out man or have the muscle tone of a wrestler to turn me on.

God, now I really want to make this guy.

I discarded the Spirit of Muscle Tone, and pulled the dough out onto a board I'd already floured. Kneading it like bread, I read over the recipe again. Okay, next I needed to write down all the qualities I wanted in a guy.

I picked up a pen and the slips of paper. My hand poised over the blank piece of paper. Um…right…

What did I want in a guy?

Okay...I want a guy who's strong, in that protective, heroic kind of way – sacrificial almost, like they'd give their lives for others. Those unspeakably saintly guys had always given me pleasant stomach clenches. Guys who give up everything for others, make me wish I was in danger…well almost…

But he can't be preachy. He has to be…cynical. And funny. Sarcastically so. And he doesn't mention how much he gives up for others. He's strong and emotionally silent – emotionally crippled – because guys like that make me itch to help them. If they are perfect, they are boring. He can't be the strong silent type though, he has to talk a lot, and be comfortable around practically anyone and in any situation – god knows, when you're dealing with me, you have to be prepared for anything.

Okay….what else…

He needs to be sweet, but not overly so, just in those little things that no one else but me would realize. He has to be kind – but not passive. He has to be able to hold his own in a fight. He has to be passionate about things, and have opinions. He has to be a bad boy – rebellious and naughty and able to speak his mind, in fact, hardly ever able to keep his mouth shut, even in the worst of situations he tries to make light of everything.

But when things really are important to him emotionally, he's able to tell me, able to share what's on his mind because –

I blinked down at the papers. My hand as well as my mind had been very busy in writing everything down – what was I trying to write here, a novel? Okay, no more personality stuff, I need physical. Physical is just as important as everything else.

Okay, um… taller than me, obviously. About, six foot? I didn't want a Sasquatch, no offence to Sammy. This guy had to be in kissable reach.

Okay, broad shoulders, but not humongous…undefined muscles in the stomach, but they are obviously there. Strong arms. Tanned skin. Dark, maybe dirty blonde hair. Okay, eyes, eyes…hazel green. I love green eyes…but somehow, hazel green just seemed to fit my perfect guy more than fully green. He has to be a really great kisser…and have a big – well, you know.

He wouldn't be 'perfect' otherwise, I thought, grinning to myself and finally stuffing the slips of paper into the valley I'd made in my dough mound. Placing the last bit of dough on top, I checked for any bits of paper sticking out – there weren't any. I turned around and opened the door to the oven. Warm air billowed out at me, and sweat immediately sprung up on my upper lip.

Wait…I'm forgetting something…Oh, shite! I almost laughed as I remembered what I'd almost forgotten – the spell.

Bending down I muttered to the dough mound – "A perfect man I summon now, another way I don't know how, to last from this here time unto the next light, somewhere out there is Mr. Right." Thom and I had adapted the spell from a Charmed episode – Prince Charmed. Thom didn't think it would work, but I'd told him about Sharika's experimentation with spells like that, and he'd given in. After I'd kissed him. It was an easy way to get my way with Thom, I'd realized. I slipped my creation inside the oven and stepped back, glancing at where I'd left my phone on the table. Okay, all I needed to do was pull the oven door open fifteen minutes from now. That's easy enough to remember.

I hovered in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess I'd made and glancing continuously at my phone and the oven. I didn't open the door though – there was a magical process at work here, I did not want to fuck it up. I winced – recalling the time I'd interrupted Sharika in the middle of making a vanquishing potion. That hadn't been pretty – and she was still snippy at me, even after I'd grown her eyebrows back for her….

Getting really bored I experimented with the James Blunt song You're Beautiful, seeing how high I could possibly go with the words.

"You touched my heart you touched my soul. You changed my life and all my goals. And love is blind and that I knew when, my heart was blinded by you. I've kissed your lips and held your head. Shared your dreams and shared your bed. I know you well, I know your smell. I've been addicted to you. Goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend. You have been the one. You have been the one for me."

It was funny – I sounded pretty much like a cat dying. Laughing, I just started to sing normally, then glanced back down at my phone.

Oh my god! It's ready!

I breathed in deeply, grinned, closed my eyes, and opened the oven door, remembering to step to the side, and pull my face away.

Out of the oven swirled a golden light, which smelled vaguely of bread, and a familiar masculine scent that I couldn't quite place. The golden light hovered a couple of feet away before sinking closer to the floor and coalescing into a human shape. The shape solidified, and became the skin tone of a body that spent just the right amount of time in the sunshine.

It was also very naked, and had its back turned towards me as it stood up. Oh, oh, oh…NICE. VERY, VERY – OHhhh… Shoulders and buttocks and back and buttocks and thighs and buttocks and calves and buttocks and Achilles tendons…and buttocks… Did I mention his ASS? I am officially puddle of woman on the floor.

Something very familiar about my creation's body shape and posture registered in my mind, and I cocked my head to the side, trying to place where –

My 'perfect companion' turned around. Looking at me with smoldering, hazel green eyes, his perfect lips parted in the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen, his dark blonde hair mussed above his wide forehead and perfectly arched brows was an exact, perfect replica –

Of Dean.

Dean

Wha…? What the hell is that? I wondered, my head briefly rising just above the pillows, so I could hear properly.

"You touched my heart you touched my soul. You changed my life and all my goals. And love is blind and that I knew when, my heart was blinded by you. I've kissed your lips and held your head. Shared your dreams and shared your bed. I know you well, I know your smell. I've been addicted to you. Goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend. You have been the one. You have been the one for me."

It sounds like a cat dying, I thought, and turned my head away from the sound, trying to bury my head under the pillows again. A cat dying a torturous, horrible, death, involving knives and forks and other cats singing to it –

It's just Lauren, I realized, as I heard her laugh to herself, and then start to sing normally, and not like she was trying to murder her vocal chords.

My mind started to drift off again.

Lauren

OHhhh… Oh no. No, no. This can not be right. No, no, NO, I kept repeating over and over in my head as I looked at the naked Dean clone in front of me. How the – no, he isn't –

And then he started to come towards me.

I backed away, my hands in front of me. My elbow knocked the glass of water on the counter that I'd been sipping while I waited for my creation to be finished baking, and it tipped over, the glass staying on the bench, but the water pooling onto the floor. I hardly noticed. "No – no – just – don't move –"

"Why?" he asked, not listening to a single garbled word coming out of my mouth. He kept coming towards me. He was as single minded as the real Dean – I recalled the tissue incident, my heart jumping into my throat. Then again… Despite everything, some things were looking up, namely –

Lauren, keep your eyes above belt level! Now is NOT the time to be –

"Be-because – the – there's – and then – um – halt! Stop! Stay! About-face?"

He still didn't – and I hadn't looked where I was going, so I backed myself into a corner of the kitchen, right up against the bench. I felt as a tiny, trapped mouse must when cornered by a hungry cat – except, no mouse is fighting with themselves on the issue of whether or not they WANT to be eaten by the cat –

Okay, don't panic – don't panic – I started to sidle along it, my hands bracing me as I leant up against the hard surface of the bench, keeping my eyes trained on the intense features of his face, rather than the very tantalizing contours of his body.

How the hell did this happen? HOW? I went to make a perfect man, and I end up making a guy that looks exactly like Dean?! Why me? I don't even like Dean like that, let alone think he's the perfect guy, I mean, what the hell?

He was getting closer by the second. I wasn't moving fast eno-

Suddenly he slipped on some of the water I'd spilled on the floor. Out of pure instinct I grabbed to stop him from falling; his hands seized my upper arms, mine his and I steadied him. When he was immobile again, I realized that –

Oh damn…my eyes glazed over. How many pheromones did I use…?

He looked down at me, as I stared up into his familiar face. It was exactly like Dean's, right down to the tiny, almost invisible freckles across his nose. His hazel eyes were still smoldering with inner fire, and I discovered that hey! – creations can also feel emotions. Very, very strong – very heated – very overwhelming –

I moaned involuntarily, and my eyes closed as I succumbed to the combination of pheromones, his emotions, and very-hot-very-naked-guy syndrome.

He even smelled like Dean.

My eyes flicked open again as his hands moved from my upper arms to my waist, pulling me flat against him. I was only wearing shorts and a tank top. There was a lot of skin on skin going on here –

My head fell back on my neck, suddenly too heavy for me to hold up. "Uhnn – dun do that…" I muttered, struggling to protest as his thumbs stroked my sides. My hands clenched on his biceps. His very, very nice –

He was holding me up as I lost control of my legs – he held my weight with his hands as though I was no heavier than a feather, and my back bent over them. Due to our height differences I could still see his face. He was smiling down at me, a gentle, yet self-congratulatory smile that turned my bones to even more mush.

No – no – I can't –

And then he kissed me, and I lost all my remaining control.

My hands slid into his hair, and I pulled his head even closer to mine, deepening the kiss, slanting my head to the side so I could get better access, my eyes snapping closed again.

Oh God…he even tastes like Dean…

And then I stopped thinking.

His hands slid up, and up, under my tank, gliding across my skin and making it tingle, and burn. OHhhhh… My hands wandered down from his hair, smoothing across his neck muscles, down to his shoulders which I grabbed onto – trying not to collapse on the ground due to the intense sensations literally pouring from him into me, and from me to all over my body.

Heat. Heat everywhere. It burns, it scorches, it singes, it blazes, it glows, it swallows everything in its wake – its making me –

I heard someone panting as though they were in pain – and realized it was me as he removed his mouth from mine and began to kiss down my neck. I wasn't in pain. Or was I? I had never had this much – and pain is half pleasure, pleasure is half pain. And he was –

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. And not in a bad way – like with my asthma. It was – just – who needs to breathe?

"What the hell?!" a familiar voice intruded in on my mind haze.

Could this possibly get any wor-?

"Kyle!? Lauren?!"

Ok, I guess it can.

Sam

Shar walked out ahead in front of me, entering Dean and Lauren's motel room, I walked in behind her closing the door behind me. We worked out all our issues, and took everything slowly and romantically this time, instead of passionately like we usually did. Just like the first time we made love. And we couldn't be happier now. Shar was practically glowing.

As I turned around I saw a sight which I never again would want to set my eyes upon as long as I lived.

Dean, naked, and Lauren held up against the bench by my brother's arms…

I glanced down at Sharika, willing my eyes away from the scene. She was as shocked as I was. Her mouth agape, and her expression confused and dismayed.

"Kyle!? Lauren?!" Sharika yelled, glanced across the room. My eyes followed her eyes path; it led to the bedroom doorway where Dean was currently standing in.

What the hell!?

Lauren

I pushed against replica Dean's shoulder, and looked over it to see the real Dean, plus Sam and Sharika standing in the living room. "Uh…" was the extent of my witty repertoire as the three of them stared at the very naked body still nuzzling my neck. In my defense, I was still in the grip of those magical pheromones. Maybe a handful was a mite too many… "Um…" I pushed my creation off me and stepped around him. Maybe they would keep thinking it was Kyle…if they didn't see his face and then – have to get away from these pheromones – I CAN'T THINK. "I can explain…"

The Dean replica followed me around, placing his hands on my waist again and pulling my back against his stomach. He placed his chin on top of my head.

His features were now plain for everyone to see.

"SHAPESHIFTER!" Dean and Sam yelled simultaneously, and guns appeared like lightning in their hands, aiming straight for my creation's head.

"NO!" I screamed. "DON'T!" Dean and Sam faltered, staring at me from the doorway. Sharika was just standing there looking confused. "Uh…" Dean replica's hands started gliding around my stomach, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. My mind went hazy again, and I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Dean, Sam, Sharika – meet my…uh…meet my…"

"Her Perfect Mate," Dean's voice came from behind me and the real Dean stared at it. Oh, this is getting confusing… The Dean I made can be CD (Clone Dean), and the Dean made by conventional means by John and Mary Winchester can be RD (Real Dean).

"Heh…this all has a perfectly reasonable explanation…" I said, trying to get their attention away from that 'perfect mate' comment. I mean, they would take it the wrong way. They'd think that I made a Dean replica on purpose, when it was all really just a very freakish coincidence.

"She made me to her exact specifications of her perfect male companion. I think she chose well, don't you?"

I choked. "Well, you see – I didn't – that is – you see – he isn't – I mean, he's not supposed to –"

"Look so much like Dean that he could be his twin?"

"That," I answered Sharika. "Heh…in any case…"

"Lauren, please tell me that you didn't use that box that Thomas gave you?"

"Funny story that…" I said, trailing off as CD started tonguing my neck again. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to block out both the situation, and the fact that Sharika, Sam and Dean (RD) were witnessing it. "Stop that!" I snapped, swatting him with the back of my hand on his forehead.

"You don't want me to," he said, and kept doing it. I guess I forgot to give him limitations…

Sharika

I stared in horror at the imitation Dean as he started to rub the sides of Laurens waist.

Oh my god…Why are you even surprised? It's Lauren.

She told me about this perfect man, man dough thing ages ago. A friend of her gave it to her while I was in England. Thom, or Thomas, or Tom, something like that. He left before I had a chance to meet him. I just didn't really believe her, I mean, make a perfect man out of flour, water, and salt! I know they did it on Charmed, but I did not think such a thing was possible.

I can't believe she decided to make this in the middle of our Demon hunt! What was it's purpose, to entertain herself for a measly five hours (from my general knowledge this clone would only last until midnight, when the clock strikes twelve he will transform into a lump with burnt pieces of paper inside it)! And why would she want to entertain herself with a fake when she could have the real version? Scared probably? In denial about it? I can see it now, I'll be in my house, like five months pregnant, talking about baby clothes to Lauren, and then out of nowhere she'll shout out 'OH MY GOD I'M IN LOVE WITH DEAN!', then expect everyone else to be shocked at this sudden revelation.

But it could be that she just felt lonely and was desperately in need of some company, overly-friendly company, where she could do or say as she pleased and not suffer the ramifications of it.

A pang of guilt surged through my body. I guess I've been spending so much time with Sam that I haven't paid much attention to my best friend.

That'll change from now on, because I'm going to kill her! There won't be a best friend to pay attention to anymore! WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE THINKING!? Doesn't she know how dangerous it was for her to be around him, and this was WITHOUT the pheromones. She'd probably loose her virginity to a meal by the time he'd turned back.

Even though I was the youngest in the group, I felt like the oldest with Lauren around. She was always getting into trouble like this, and getting herself into jams which she couldn't get herself out of. Like the time when she was trying to pat guard dogs through a wire fence when the rusty zipper on her jacket got caught in the wiring. She pulled as hard as she could, and that is fairly hard, on her sleeve to unbind herself when the entire section of fence fell down. The dogs seized this opportunity to practice the training they received on Lauren. They ran after her and literally chased her up a tree, like a cat. She had to call me on my cell phone to help get her out. I had to call animal control and Lauren had to get a job to pay to repair the fence to avoid any pricey lawsuits of the owner of said fence.

I get that she might be feeling lonely but there was no need to CREATE A MAN OUT OF DOUGH!

Once again, WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE THINKING?!

"You're right, don't stop, go on just as you please," Lauren moaned.

I looked away from the scene since I had planned to keep my breakfast down, which I was barely able to do. A sour taste filled my mouth as Lauren began panting, moaning and whimpering as the clone turned her around and started to –

Wait, whimpering, Lauren does not whimper. Ever.

"Lauren, how much pheromones did you put in him? Aren't you supposed to put in like a pinch or two?" I asked her.

"A ha-ah-ndful!" She said, her eyes closed and her own body now reciprocating.

Gross. Mental note: remember to ALWAYS knock on Lauren's bedroom door, no matter how urgent your message is.

"Dude, get her away from you – the fake you," Sam ordered Dean. He backed away slowly, all the while staring in horror at the two figures now pressed up against one another and hands – ew, I'm going to have nightmares about this. He, just as much as I, did not want to go near Lauren and her mate. It was worse for him though, he was not only seeing Lauren's reactions to certain touches and movements, but he was also watching a clone, a clone of his brother that was in the final state of undress, performing the actions that encouraged those responses.

"If only I had a camera right now, I could have made thousands from the amateur porn video," Dean commented sarcastically. He cautiously approached the busy couple, as not to get affected by the pheromones.

"Dean, it'll only affect females, so it won't have any effect on you. Just drag her away from it," I told him.

Dean nodded, but still ambled his way over to them non-the-less. He suddenly struck, grabbing Lauren's waist and forcibly yanking her away form her playmate and onto the couch.

"OW!" Lauren shouted, rubbing her waist. Is it just me, or were their tears in her eyes? How hard did Dean jerk her? "What was that for?"

"To get you away from the clone you made of me," Dean replied without missing a beat in annoyed tones. "You know, if you wanted me so badly you could've just asked and I –"

"Shut UP!" Lauren yelled. "He does not look like YOU!"

"Yes he does, exactly the same," Sam argued, eying the now amused imitation of Dean, who had its arms crossed on its chest and wearing a rather large grin on its face.

"No he doesn't!" Lauren continued to fight back stubbornly.

"Lauren we get that you didn't purposely make a Dean, you just put in your likes and what you wanted from your perfect mate, and that turned out to be similar to the features Dean has. That is not the issue right now, the issue we should all be focusing on is the large, naked man in the kitchen!" I said, trying to get everyone's concentration back onto the problem at hand instead of trivial matters.

"He is rather large, isn't he? I made him that way," Lauren grinned, as she stared at the appendage clone Dean carried between his legs. "If Clone Dean is anything like the real Dean, I'm telling you Shar, you got together with the wrong brother."

I ignored her statement as she was still faintly influenced by the pheromones. "Okay, can we get rid of him?"

"No, I want to keep him Sharika. Can't we keep him, please?" Lauren asked sweetly. Her eyes widened, still wet from when Dean had thrown her. She looked almost like a kicked puppy.

I didn't buy her act for a second. "Lauren, we aren't talking about a stray puppy. We are talking about a man made out of water, salt and flour. A man who has the power to get any female within a two meter radius to render herself helpless and swoon over him." Exactly the reason as to why I stood back the entire time. There was no way I want to be doting over Clone Dean, especially when he was in that…condition.

"She's right, he's just going to cause us trouble," Sam agreed with me.

"Well, he's not going to go away till midnight, you guys could do the same," Lauren said. Her eyes became slightly confused. "That is, you can leave now and not return until midnight, please. Now, now?"

"I'm not leaving you alone with that," Dean fought. He stood solidly between Lauren and the fake, almost as if making himself a barrier between them. "I know me, and if that thing," he said thing with a mixture of repulsion and fascination, "is anything like me, we are not leaving you alone, until midnight, when it will be gone – according to the two of you. How did you even make it?"

Lauren opened her mouth to retort when sharp knocks came from the door out of the motel room. "Sharika?" A deep, male voice with an English accent asked through the door. "Are you there?"

"Yeah, I am. I'll be there in a minute!" I answered the voice, who I recognized as David. I swiftly waved my hands at the clone, then pointed to Dean and Sam, then pointed to the bedroom. They nodded, and seized the fake, dragging him to the bedroom. The clone didn't put up much of a fight.

"Hey David," I greeted as I opened the door.

David looked down at me. "Your face is flushed, what's wrong?" he asked me in concern.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Okay," he said, not quite believing me. "I asked the guy at the reception where I'd be able to find you, since no one answered your motel room. And he directed me here." David walked into the room, taking a look around. "Hey Lauren, Sam."

Sam? I spun around and saw that Sam was now in the room. Dean and Clone Dean were nowhere in sight. Thank God. Sam smiled tensely and nodded in David's direction whereas Lauren responded with an overly cheerful, "Hey Gorgeous, what's news?"

"Nothing interesting." David said, obviously deciding to roll with Lauren's greeting.

"Sorry about last time," Lauren apologized. "With the whole, kicking you in the ribs and calling you a rapist thing. No bad feelings, right?"

"None at all, you were just trying to protect your friend," David said, grinning. "Although your method could still use a bit of work."

"True that. I hurt my foot." She frowned down at the leg she'd stuck out in front of her on saying this, pointing her toes and scrutinizing the foot from all angles.

"I only fractured one of my ribs," David replied with the familiar boyish grin I've become accustomed to. It suddenly hit me how much I missed seeing that.

"Yeah right, I saw you and Sharika walking away to the restaurant," Lauren exhaled as if to prove a point. She looked at him, as though daring him to contradict her.

"Didn't it ever occur to anyone why I was leaning so hard on Sharika?" David asked, an incredulous look on his face. "Especially considering the height difference." David turned to me. "Shortie!" I instinctively whacked him playfully on the arm.

"Then show me your bandages," Lauren challenged.

"Fine!" David agreed, just like I knew he would. He could never turn down an opportunity to show off. He took off his shirt and threw it on my head. He then proceeded to take off the final clothing he had on over the belt, a skivvy, and proudly bared his bandaged covered injury to the room.

My eyes looked over the bandages, and the rest of his chest. He had better, and more defined abs then he had when he was a teen. Not as much as Sam, so he couldn't reign as the best, but it was pretty close.

"Oh, I'm so sorry now," Lauren said, not looking sorry at all as she ogled David's chest. "I feel so very, very bad…" She laughed as David pulled his skivvy over his head and grabbed his shirt from my hands before he was once again fully clothed.

"Shar?" I looked up across the room to see Dean, the real one I think since he was wearing clothes, and calling me. "Can you help me now with this little problem I have?"

"Sure," I replied. I quickly walked towards him and shut the door behind be after telling David to sit down.

"Here," Dean passed me a rope. "We're going to tie this bastard up."