"Who is that?"

Sally looked up. "Hmm?" She followed her friend Zoe's gaze, to where a guy was sitting against the wall. "Oh, him? New guy, I don't know."

"What's his name?"

Sally frowned slightly. "Dean something."

Zoe smiled appreciatively. "He's hot."

Sally snorted. "I guess."

"No, he is. You should go talk to him."

Sally looked horrified. "Are you kidding? I'd look like a complete idiot. Besides, he probably doesn't even know my name."

"I'd go now, if I were you…" Zoe said, shrugging. She nodded in the direction of the cheerleaders, who were all nodding toward him and giggling. Okay, so Sally did have to admit, he was pretty attractive. But still.

"He's not my type," Sally said, trying to end the conversation. And it was true; Sally didn't really do the whole "bad boy" thing.

Zoe snorted. "That's what you always say."

"I just don't feel like it today, Zoe."

Zoe leaned in next to her. "I bet he'd ask you out."

"Then you must be stupider than I thought," Sally said. "There's no way he'd ever—"

Zoe cut her off. "Let's make a bet, then—I'll give you fifty bucks if you go over and talk to him and he asks you out. Twenty if you just go and talk to him."

Sally took a breath. "Zoe, you don't even have fifty bucks."

"Not right now, no." Zoe grinned. "But I can get you all the money you need—"

"Zoe, we've had this conversation. No counterfeit money."

Zoe shrugged. "Suit yourself. I swear I will give you fifty dollars, though."

"I don't know, Zoe…"

Zoe could sense that she was winning. "Come on, Sal," she coaxed. "It'll be fine…you'll get twenty bucks just for talking to him…"

Sally stood up shakily. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Zoe cheered. "Yes! Now go get him!"

"Um…hi,"

Dean looked up. A small girl about a year younger than him was standing in front of him, clutching a textbook to her chest. She had long, straight brown hair and hazel colored eyes.

He grinned at her. "Hi."

She smiled slightly, but it was a nervous smile. "Um, I'm—"

"Sally Fern. I know. I'm Dean Winchester."

"I know."

He grinned again, and Sally gingerly sat down next to him. She purposely avoided looking up at Zoe, who was surely laughing at her.

She took a deep breath. "So…"

"Got any plans for tonight?"

Sally looked up, startled. "What did you say?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, I just thinking, if you didn't have any plans…"

Sally shook her head. "No, I don't have any plans today." Stupid, stupid. Now it sounds like you have no life.

He winked. "Pick you up at eight." He kissed her on the cheek and left her sitting there, slightly startled and very confused.

"Dean, stop slamming the doors!"

Sam stood in the doorway, glaring at him. Dean rolled his eyes.

"I'm trying to do my homework," Sam continued. "And I can't focus with you banging everything around—"

"Seriously, Sam? You're fourteen, and you still care about homework?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing," he grumbled, and continued looking through the closet.

"What are you even looking for?" Sam demanded.

"My clothes. I've been wearing the same ones for the past five days and I have a date tonight—"

"Under Dad's bed."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"The clothes. They're under Dad's bed." Sam crossed his arms. "Honestly, I don't get why you don't just ask for help every once and a while."

Dean ignored the last comment. "Thanks, Sammy."

Before Dean went to their father's room, Sam reached out and grabbed his brother's arm. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna bring her home?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Why?"

"Well…" Sam hesitated for a second. "Just don't be loud, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was reading the last time you brought a girl home. You guys were really loud. It was distracting."

Dean snickered. "Yeah, okay, Sammy."

Sally tore her eyes from the window to look over at her mother. "What time is it?"

"Seven forty-nine." Her mother put her book down. "Sally, that's the third time in the past five minutes you've asked. I understand that you're excited for your date, but calm down. It's not even eight yet."

"I'm not excited, Mom. I'm nervous."

Her mother tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean, honey?"

"I don't know, he's just… It's complicated."

Her mother nodded. There were a few more minutes of silence before her father walked in.

"I understand that he's eighteen."

Sally looked up. "What?"

"Your date. He's eighteen," her father clarified.

"Yeah…"

"And you're seventeen."

Thanks for stating the obvious, Dad. I know how old I am.

"Which means that you're still not a legal adult." Uh-oh. "Even though he is. So I don't want you two to—"

"Oh my God, Dad!" Sally shrieked, finally understanding what her father was getting at. "No way! This is our first date, oh my God!"

He held his hands up in surrender. "I'm your dad; I have to say these things."

Sally huffed and looked back out the window. "What time is it?"

"You're a half an hour late."

Dean stared at her. She was wearing a red blouse (which fit her very well, if he did say so himself) and jeans. Her hair was up in a bun on top of her head. She wore no makeup, but looked gorgeous anyway.

"Sorry, sweetheart." He kissed her on the cheek. Someone cleared their throat from behind them. It must have been her mother. Sally jumped away immediately.

"And you are...?" Sally's mother said.

"Winchester. Dean Winchester." Dean held out his hand, which she took slowly. He guessed that he wasn't exactly an overprotective parent's dream—messy hair, ripped clothes, leather jacket and boots.

Sally's father gave him the whole rant ("You better have her home by midnight, boy,") and Sally said her goodbyes to her parents. When they got to his car, she stopped. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. This is my car." Technically not a lie. Yeah, so it was his dad's car. But he was allowed to use it tonight, so it was going to be his for now.

She nodded. "Okay. Sure. Whatever."

He opened the passenger door. "After you, princess."

She got in, and Dean closed the door behind her. He got in and started the engine. "So, where to?" She said.

He shrugged. "I was thinking we could go see a drive-in or something."

Sally nodded. "Okay."

This is going so terribly, she thought to herself. They were hardly even talking!

When they finally pulled up to the drive-in theater, Sally tried to break the silence. "So where did you live before you moved here?"

"Lots of places."

Well, that was a dead end.

"Have you ever had sex?"

Oh, God, WHAT? Did she just say that? Yeah, sure, she was thinking it, but oh God…

He broke out into a grin. "Why?"

She dropped her head into her hands. "I have no idea. I didn't mean to say that."

"But you were thinking it."

If at all possible, which she didn't think it was, her face turned redder. "I guess I was just curious…"

"Have you? Ever had sex, I mean?" Dean asked.

Sally's face burned. "No. I'm seventeen."

"And I'm eighteen," Dean said, shrugging. "You mean you've actually never had sex?"

"No, I haven't! And I don't plan to until I'm—mmmph!" She wasn't able to finish her sentence because Dean had closed the gap between them is less than a second, his lips crashing against hers. She gasped against him, and he took it as an opportunity to insert his tongue, exploring her mouth. She grabbed onto the collar of his jacket and their tongues mangled together. Dean's hands found their way up to her hair, where they yanked it out of its bun, her long brown hair spilling down around her shoulders.

Dean leaned in more so he was basically lying on top of her in the bench seat of the car, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in closer. He began to tug at the buttons on her blouse when she suddenly jerked her head away. "Dean…" she panted. "I—I can't."

He looked at her, eyes heavy with desire. "Why not?"

"Because I'm seventeen years old, and a virgin—"

"Sweetheart, I don't care," He began trailing kisses down her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

She squeezed her eyes shut and moaned. "Dean…"

"Trust me, Sally," he said.

It took all her willpower to push him away. "No, I can't do this. Not here…not in your car…"

He grinned back at her. "My place?"

"Well, definitely not mine," she scoffed.

He chuckled. "Fine. Just so you know, though, I have a fourteen year-old brother who's on my case about everything, so we can't be too loud tonight."

"That's okay," Sally said breathlessly. He pulled away from her and she straightened her top, re-buttoning the top buttons that had come undone.

"You don't need to do that, you know," Dean commented.

Sally huffed. "I'm not just going to sit here the whole car ride to your house with my shirt half unbuttoned."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't feel like letting the whole world see my bra."

"You almost had sex with me at a drive-in but have a problem with your shirt being unbuttoned?" Dean said. She felt her face redden, but didn't say anything. He shrugged. "Women."

They didn't make it to his bedroom. As soon as they were in the house, Sally was up against the wall. "Dean," she moaned.

"Sweetheart, I'm going to fuck you so hard," he whispered into her ear, and she gasped.

Sally closed her eyes as he kissed her neck. She had one leg wrapped around him and her shirt was completely open, revealing her plain white bra. He began to kiss down lower, closer to her breasts. Her hands were fisted in his hair.

"Dean?"

Dean and Sally both froze. "Shit," he hissed against her.

A fourteen year-old boy with shaggy brown hair was standing in the doorway. Dean turned around and shot him an "I'm going to kill you" look.

"Oh, Jesus," the boy moaned. "Dean, I said not to—"

"You said not to be loud, which we weren't," Dean said, slowly detangling himself from Sally, who held her blouse closed with one hand, her face bright red.

"I'm going to go to my room and try not to throw up in the process," the boy announced. "How about you fucking warn me next time, Dean?"

"Watch your language!" Dean yelled after him.

"Blow me, Dean!" The boy yelled back.

"I'm going to tell Dad you said that!"

"Then I'm going to tell him you fucked an underage girl against a wall!" The boy stomped up the stairs.

"I'm an adult, Sammy, he can't do anything!" Dean turned back to Sally. "Sorry, that was Sam, my brother."

"I assumed."

He smirked, and, without another word, scooped her up wedding-style and carried her to his bedroom.

Sam knew.

He might've been the little brother, but he was fourteen years old and he knew. Knew all about sex, had girlfriends.

This, however, was ridiculous.

He sat in his room, trying to read, and trying to ignore the moans and groans and thumps coming from the room over. He held his head in his hands.

"Dean, I swear to God…" He muttered under his breath. He opened the door to his room and walked over to Dean's room.

"God, Dean," the girl moaned through the door.

"Oh, you like that?" Dean said. "You like it, sweetheart?"

Sam covered his mouth to keep from vomiting. He raised his hand to the door and pounded on it with his fist. "Dean!"

"What, Sam?" Dean yelled.

"Be quiet!"

"Goddamn it, Sam, leave me alone!"

Sam huffed. "You promised you wouldn't be loud." He checked his watch. Twelve thirty-seven. "Oh, and Dean?"

"What?"

"I don't know what time you're supposed to have her home by, but it's past twelve thirty—"

"It's what?" This was followed by "oh shit" and "goddamn it" and "my parents are going to kill me."

The door opened and Dean was standing in the doorway, wearing only his pants. The girl was sitting on the bed, wrapped in sheets. "Sammy, I'm going to take her home, okay?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Whatever." He turned around and walked back to his room, closing the door behind her. Maybe now, he could finally read in peace.

"He kind of cute, you know."

"Hmm?"

"Your brother," Sally said as she clasped her bra. "He's kind of adorable."

Dean stared at her, horrified.

"Relax, Dean," she giggled. "I just mean that I like him."

"You'd probably like him more if he wasn't interrupting our sex every five minutes," Dean said, pulling his shirt over his head.

Sally giggled again, then got serious. "My parents are going to kill me. Ground me for life."

Dean looked away. "I'm sorry, Sally."

She sighed, running a hand through her soft hair. "It's all right. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine." She got the kind of expression on her face that one gets when one has a revelation of some sort. "I'm not a virgin anymore," she said softly.

He glanced over at her, expecting her to be sad, but she was smiling. "What?" He said.

She shook her head. "I don't want to go home."

"I don't want you to leave either, sweetheart, but we already broke your curfew," Dean said. "As much as I want you to stay…" He threw his hands up.

She nodded. "I know."

As they rode in the car on the way to her house, he looked over at her. She caught him watching, and she smiled slightly. "What is it?"

He shook his head slightly. "I…we just had sex, twice, and I don't know anything about you."

"Like what?"

"Well, like your favorite color."

She thought for a moment before smiling at him. "Blue."

They pulled up to Sally's house fifteen minutes later, and Dean leaned over and kissed Sally lightly. "I love you, Sally," he said softly.

"I love you too, Dean," she said.

Dean blinked in surprise. "You're wearing my jacket."

She blushed slightly. "Yeah, sorry. I was cold."

He smiled. "It's fine, it looks good on you." He glanced at to door to her house. "Do you want me to walk you up?"

She shook her head. "No, I get the feeling that it'll be worse for both of us if you're there when I show up late."

Dean nodded. "I'll see you on Monday."

She smiled. "See you on Monday."

She got out of the car and walked up to her house. Dean watched her as she stepped inside and closed the door, and the lights flicked on.

Dean tried not to think about how much trouble she would get for this.

John Winchester stepped inside his house to find Dean missing.

"He was taking his date home," Sam said.

"Why was his date here?"

"Oh…you know…" Sam said vaguely.

"What were they doing?"

"…date stuff."

John did not seem very impressed by his younger son's answers.

There was only one thing left to do.

John sat down in the big recliner chair and waited for his son to come home.