Another excuse for Dean whumpage and a little guilty Sam and of course, some brotherly moments. Pre-Stanford, Sam's around 18 and Dean's around 22. Bar brawl and chaos ensues xxx

Reviews make me smile. Now don't you want that? Don't you want a girl to smile?

(sammy eyes) please review at the bottom...

Ding dong.

A light clicked in Dean's head as she walked into the bar, swinging her hips. He watched as she leant over the bar, and pulled a bottle towards her. Her short blonde hair fell in front of her face as she laughed at the bartender's joke. Her laugh was nothing short of a cackle, but still it made Dean smile.

He watched as she moved to a small table to the left of the bar, her hips still swinging.

She sat down, and took a swig of her beer before pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Boy, it's sad when a girl has to revert to her phone for company, thought Dean, I should go help her…

"Don't wait up Sammy." He said as he picked up his beer and moved towards her.

Sam looked up from his paper and rolled his eyes as he saw the broad that Dean had got his eye on this time. Blonde curly hair, same as last week's. Dean was sure developing a type.

"Hello there," Said Dean, putting on his patented victory smirk as he approached her, her face lighting up as she saw the handsome man set down his beer.

"You look lonely. Mind if I take a seat?"

"Not at all" She pushed the stool away from her with a stilettoed foot, allowing Dean to slip into it.

"So…" she said, smiling at him as he chugged his beer.

"So…" he repeated, his eyes twinkling, "I'm Dean"

"Alexis"

"Nice to meet you, Alexis. You know that is a beautiful name. Just like the lady."

She raised her eyebrows and took a sip from her drink but Dean could have sworn he saw her blush.

"So, what brings you here? I mean, it's kind of a dump for a classy lady like you."

"Well, maybe I like dumps. You never know who you might meet " She winked at him.

Dude, did she just wink at me!?

"Well, that is ironic. So do I. I'm sure that's one of many things we have in common…" he raised his eyebrows and let the Winchester charms settle before fully making his move.

"Hmm." She laughed to herself.

"So what do you do, Dean?"

"You'll see" he replied as sharp as a tack.

She coughed.

"Well, I'll need to know your prospects. Girls round here can't just go off with anyone you know. You could be some kind of psycho…" she said, moving her hands up and down the neck of her bottle.

Dean chuckled. This was what Sam needed to learn. The art of flirting.

"Ha, I'm not a psycho…" he leant in and whispered into her ear, "But you could say I'm a bit of an animal"

She bit her lip, as he withdrew and she beamed.

"Is that so? Well, I might just have to see that for myself."

She walked away towards the hat stand in the corner of the bar, and Dean turned to a incredulous Sam, giving his younger brother a thumbs up. Dean was on fire tonight.

He heard raised voices and turned to see his new acquaintance having what seemed like a rather heated argument with the bartender.

"I can do what the hell I like!" she stated bluntly, moving away but was forced to turn back as the man grabbed her by the arm.

"Get off me!" she tried to wrestle herself free but the bartender obviously didn't suffer fools gladly. Ever the knight in shining armour, Dean stepped in.

"Let her go."

The bartender turned to him, and Dean began to regret his actions. This dude was making Conan the Barbarian look safe.

"Says who?" the man asked, standing up to his full height.

Dean was determined not to be phased.

"I say. C'mon, dude, what sort of man are ya?"

Dean had obviously touched a nerve.

"Is this him?" the bartender demanded at Alexis. She looked at the floor.

"Is this him?" he shook her by the arm that was still clamped in his hand.

She nodded.

He threw her away and walked to Dean.

"So, you're the guy that thinks its funny to chat up another man's girl?"

Dean blinked, and shook his head.

"Another man's gi-? Sorry, last time I looked a woman was not a, ahem, man's possession."

The man laughed, hollowly.

"Don't you tell me how to look after my girl…" He warned, clenching his fists and unclenching them again, telling Dean that now was probably not the time to pursue the topic.

As always, Dean threw caution to the wind and ignored.

"Hey, she's gotta mind of her own. And FYI, I didn't know she was your girl,"

Dean turned to walk away, back to Sam, but was pulled back by a very heavy arm on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you" said Dean, winding his head round to look over his shoulder.

The man laughed, chucking the cloth laying on his shoulder into the corner.

"Why not?" he asked, cocking his head to one side, challenging Dean.

"Cos now I can do this"

Dean grabbed the man's arm and twisted it behind his back.

"Charlie, leave it." Alexis cried from the corner. Fight after fight, and she wasn't even going out with him anymore. When would he get the idea that she didn't want him. She just wanted to have fun again.

"Yeah, Charlie, leave it." Dean whispered, through gritted teeth before pushing the man away and walking over to Sam.

"Get your coat, Sam, we're going."

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He picked it up, and grabbed his new satchel. Dean had bought it him as a present when Sam had shown him the acceptance letter. Stanford. Sam had done good, real good. Dean's heart had fallen but one sight of his little brother's hopeful face had buried that feeling and all he could do was be happy for him. He knew telling Sam how he felt would do nothing but estrange him and that would kill him. Dean could lose anything, but losing his family would be the last thing he'd ever do. He just couldn't live without them.

"Who'd have thought it? The trash can take itself out" shouted Charlie, as Dean and Sam made for the door.

Dean stopped and turned on his heel, anger forcing him to clench his jaw.

"Wanna say that again?" he hollered, Sam observing as the bar went silent, all drinkers turning to watch as Dean and the bartender continued their conflict.

"Yeah, it looks like the trash, that being you, can take out itself" Charlie spat back, watching as Dean laughed.

"Oh you're a poet Charlie." He strode over to the large man, and looked him square in the eyes (granted he had to stand on tip toes, and Dean wasn't exactly short).

"You know, poets are tortured souls, aren't they?" he looked around at the other punters. "Well, whats your poison, Charlie boy? Did mama not love you? Not give ya enough hugs?" He cocked his head to the side in mock sympathy.

"She loved me…" he nodded suggestively, smirked and walked through the sniggering crowd.

Sam exhaled, unable to quite believe how daring Dean was.

"You son of a bitch!"

Dean stopped again.

"That's my mom you're talking about, there." He said, not turning to face the bulky bartender. He couldn't let him see how white he had become, rage blazing in his eyes. This guy just didn't go down easy.

"Yeah, I am! And if you want my comeback, you best go get it off her face!" Charlie shouted, so satisfied with himself and looking around for praise.

Dean clenched his fists, and instead of focussing on Sam's soothing tones, trying to calm him down, he jumped onto the tables and before Charlie knew what was happening Dean had jumped onto his shoulders and forced him to the floor.

Dean sat on him, punching every inch of his face.

"Don't. You. Ever. Talk. About. My. Mother. In. That. Way." he gasped in between punches.

He got up and stood, wiping a hand across his face. He sighed and offered a hand to the man lying upon his back, blood poring from his nose. Dean shouldn't have got that angry, but any thought of his mother made him that way. He took after his father in that respect.

Charlie smacked the hand away and got to his feet. Dean shrugged and finally made to walk out of this joint.

Luckily, he was getting pretty used to his hunter instincts and so was able to tell when a huge, burly guy was about to take him down when his back was turned.

He whirled around and planted the hardest whack upon the bartender's jaw, so much so that it almost made Dean himself stagger back. He watched as Charlie fell, it was almost Matrix style. Dean walked over to him.

"You better think twice next time you try to pull one over on a guy when his back is turned" he drew back his fist, ready for one last reminder that the Winchester's were not to be messed with, but stopped at the sound of his brother's voice.

"Dean! Just leave it now. Let's just get outta here, man.." Sam was almost pleading with his older brother, and now Dean felt a little guilty for letting his fury get the better of him.

He sighed again, and let his arm fall to his side once more.

"'Kay, Sammy…let's…"

He didn't see as Charlie ran his hand into his pocket and pulled out a blade. He didn't see as Charlie raised his arm but he sure as hell felt it when that arm was forced into his back. He sure as hell felt the blade that accompanied it too.

He swayed where he stood and fell, Sam catching him as he ran to his brother's aid.

"Dean!"

"Shoulda let me get him, Smmy!" he closed his eyes, and Sam's heart plummeted as he felt his brother's body go lax. The warmth that was running into his clothes assured him that his brother was losing blood, and far too fast.

"Call 911" Sam shouted into the crowd. Nothing happened.

"CALL 911" Sam shouted into the stunned silence, and this time he heard the scuffling as people got out their phones and dialled.

He didn't hear the rest though. That was all a daze. That was all a daze because Sam didn't know anything past his brother at this point. Dean was what mattered now, and Sam was sure he was about to lose him. All because of a stupid bar fight. That Dean had been winning.

Sam growled at himself, stroking Dean's hair with a bloodied hand as he lay his brother's form onto his lap.

This was Sam's fault. He had been worried, afraid of confrontation, and now, his brother was lying, dying, in his arms.

Oh. Sam. Why did you distract him?!