Dean had ditched her for the night, so she didn't even have to sneak out of the skeezy motel room where their father abandoned them. Not that Dean would have stopped her from going to the party. He probably would have tagged along and ended up sleeping with a couple of her classmates. He'd been like that since he hit puberty. Sam was well and truly sick of all the giggling girls that knew what her brother's dick looked like.
She didn't get the appeal of stripping down to nothing and panting over somebody. But for the last couple of months she'd gotten it into her head that there had to be something to it. Why else would her brother have spent the last five years pursuing it with such single mindedness?
She picked a kid in her class named Ben. He was smart, athletic, and a strange mix of shy and cocky. Sam could run figurative circles around her classmates academically and literal circles around them on track or field. That, added to her height, and she was an intimidating prospect for any teenage boy. Ben wasn't deterred by her sharp wit or towering height. He flattered and teased her. The attention was nice. So she'd picked him to try out this sex thing.
She found the party itself as pointless as the usual social gatherings she was forced to endure. Ben was easy to separate from the crowd. If she'd learned anything from her brother and father, it was how to manipulate people. A few hand picked sentences and Ben was suggesting they go for a drive.
Sam felt like the condom was burning a hole in her pocket as she walked to the car. Her stomach flipped nervously. She wiped her palms on her jeans, hiding the motion when Ben's back was turned to open the door for her. At least she'd picked a gentleman.
He pulled over on some random back road. Sam had to wonder how many girls he'd brought here before. Or maybe she was his first and his friends had told him about the spot. For all she knew, her brother told Ben about this spot, unaware of Ben's intentions. If Dean'd had any inkling about what she was planning he'd have killed her.
Ben leaned across the seat and kissed her. Her first impression was how wet it was. His mouth mashed uncomfortably against hers. Then his tongue invaded her mouth. It was like drinking your own saliva after having spit it out.
Nothing she'd seen had prepared her for this. The teenagers macking in the hallways of the high school seemed so into this process. Sucking at each others' faces. Swapping gum from one partner to the other. The movies showed make-out sessions with swelling music and glamorous lighting. She hadn't expected fireworks, she wasn't that naive. But she hadn't expected to be grossed out either.
The radio accompanied the sloppy sound of their kissing, the music tinny through the old beat up speakers. Sam dredged up everything she'd ever heard Dean say about kissing. She put her hand to Ben's face, cupping his cheek and jaw in her palm and took control. It slowly got better. She could almost ignore the sour taste of cheap beer that lingered on his tongue, the smell of smoke from the party that clung to their clothes, the heavy humidity that came into her lungs from his exhaled breaths.
Ben pawed at her body. His hands roaming over her as if he had some kind of right. He clutched at her breasts and pulled at her clothes. Sam pulled away and stripped. It was time to move this thing along.
Ben's eyes lit up. "Hell, yeah." He stripped. He was just as awkward at removing his own clothes as he had been at touching her. She figured it had to be the excitement, or something to do with the blood that should be feeding his brain being re-tasked lower in his anatomy. He was usually a well coordinated kid.
She was left waiting as he struggled with his jeans in the confined space. Left to consider exactly what was going on and how she was naked before him. She was too skinny to be attractive, all hard angles and jutting bones. Dean was the one that had made out like a bandit in the gene pool. Men had started to notice Sam a while back, and if Ben was any indicator, she was hot enough to get a man hard. But Dean was at a completely different level. The saying 'women want to screw him and men want to be him' didn't apply to Dean. The men wanted to screw him too.
Sam dragged her pants up from the floor. She reached into the pocket for the condom and was disconcerted to see that her hand was trembling. She watched that tremor in fascination. It had to be the adrenalin running through her system. She helped fight some of the most dangerous monsters in existence, and if she'd batted an eye it hadn't been because she'd lost her nerve. Surely she wasn't afraid of the completely ordinary teenage boy next to her.
Ben finally parted company with the last of his clothes. He gathered the sprawl of his limbs and moved toward her across the back seat. She held out the condom like a shield. Her relief when he grabbed it and turned his attention away from her was a bad sign. This whole idea had been poorly conceived. She didn't have anything to prove, she didn't have to do this. But she'd gotten this far, it seemed a little dumb to stop now. It wasn't like she'd avoid sex forever. She was going to try it eventually.
Ben got the condom on and turned back to Sam. She stared at his penis for a long moment. She hadn't seen one since she'd forced Dean to show her the difference between girls and boys when they were little.
She and Ben fumbled their way into some kind of position to accomplish their goal, but not before Sam elbowed him in the ribs and his forehead hit her lip. He took himself in his hand, lined himself up, then pushed. It hurt.
Sam scrambled backwards away from the pain. "Hang on," she panted. She'd broken bones, twisted and dislocated joints, once she'd even been stabbed. This pain was different from all of those. It felt like someone was trying to rip apart her insides like cold salt water taffy.
"C'mon baby," Ben wheedled. He pushed again.
"Stop." Sam pushed at his chest. Apparently, she was being too polite because Ben continued to try to shove his way in. Like hell she had to put up with this. Sam twisted. She bucked her hips and dumped him into the footwell. "I said stop." She was done with this whole horrible experience. Whatever the appeal, she didn't get it and after this she had no intention to.
Ben cursed as she tumbled from the car. She collected her clothes and dressed, letting the sound of his voice wash past her. His bitter tirade wasn't worth the effort to listen to. Fully clothed, she walked away.
Considering the time of year, it really wasn't too bad of a night for a walk. And she was in for a walk. Unless she was much mistaken, she was about seven miles from town. She wasn't likely to be mistaken, one of the many skills their father had imparted upon them from his military days was navigation. He'd hammered it into them until they could find their way even if they'd never seen the terrain before. She could have done with a jacket, but as long as she kept moving she'd be comfortable.
She only made it about a mile and a half when the headlights caught her. It wouldn't be Ben, he'd have taken a different road to go home. She stuck out a thumb, not really expecting the car to stop. She didn't know what odd hour of the morning it was, she'd forgotten her watch in the motel room. Whatever the time, anybody picking up a stranger at this hour, even an innocent looking girl like her, was an idiot.
To her surprise, the car slowed and pulled up alongside her. For a brief moment she sincerely hoped it was a kidnapper. She could use a good fight right about now. When she looked in the rolled down window, Dean looked back at her.
"Awesome," she grumbled. The whole night had been a fiasco. She'd been stupid to try to force the experience and she really hadn't wanted to share her folly with her brother. She had no idea how he'd found her, resourceful bastard. On top of it all, she was pretty sure she was bleeding into her panties.
She didn't wait for his jaunty taunt, she just walked around their father's classic 1967 Chevy Impala and climbed into the passenger seat. Dean held his peace, which Sam considered a small miracle in a night otherwise full of disappointment.
She stared out the window, watching the silhouettes of trees roll past. She could feel Dean cast glances her way. His concern ate away at her anger. It chipped away at the wall she'd built to keep out the misery caused by her miscalculation.
Ben's curses drifted from her memory. She may have ignored them, but that didn't mean she hadn't heard them. Slut. Tease. Bitch. The implication that she wasn't any good. As if he hadn't been part of the problem. His ridicule was contradictory. A slut by definition wasn't a tease. A slut was easy, a sure thing. And sure, Sam could be a bitch, but he'd earned it. He was the one that wasn't any good. The one that had ruined everything.
The car slowed. Dean pulled over onto the gravel shoulder of this road to nowhere.
His hands closed over Sam and pulled her across the bench seat and into his arms. She realized she was crying. Big, fat tears running hot down her cheeks. She hid her face in his chest and pulled her knees up into her body as far as Dean's rib cage and hip would allow. She hid the tears, the shame, her disenchantment with something that was supposed to be meaningful and amazing.
Dean simply held her and let her cry. His arms were tight around her, yet gentle. He smelled of their dad's hand-me-down leather jacket and smoke from whatever bar he'd been in. Under that was the smell of cheap motel soap and some scent she associated uniquely with Dean. She didn't feel dirty and exploited in Dean's arms, she felt loved.
The knot in her stomach eased. Her legs relaxed out into a more comfortable position.
"Did he hurt you?" Dean asked. His voice was tightly controlled and she knew Ben's immediate well being rested on her response.
"He's an ass, not suicidal," she snapped. It stung that he still didn't think she could take care of herself. Their dad obviously shared the opinion or he wouldn't have left Dean to look after her.
She felt Dean pull back, angling for a glimpse of her face. She looked up at him as defiantly as she could, considering her eyes were still red and puffy from crying. His expression was pure worry, as if she were the most important thing on the planet.
He put his hand to her face and smoothed away the tension he found there. It was what he'd done when she'd had nightmares as a kid. She closed her eyes and let him. His thumb worked across her forehead, then over her eyebrows. Down her nose, onto her cheek. She relaxed under his touch.
"You deserve better, Sammy. You deserve someone who will be respectful and gentle. Someone you actually care about." His voice was a low rumble. It had dropped a few years back. She'd still been young enough to crawl into his lap and ask for stories. She remembered leaning back against him and letting his voice vibrate through her chest and into her lungs. She'd savored those moments, settled in the safe haven of his embrace.
Dean's hand settled against her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. It was disconcerting to be the center of his attention. Sometimes it was as if she didn't even exist for all the attention he paid. Other times, like this, it was like they were the only two people in the world.
Dean bowed his head and his lips brushed hers. It was gentle, almost chaste. But the contact sent lightening racing along her nerves. His breathing was calm and steady, mingling with her own. This sharing of breath and soft kissing felt more intimate than Ben's latex wrapped dick shoving at her cunt.
This, this was what she'd expected. This is what had been missing from her aborted attempt to lose her virginity.
Dean pulled back. His heart drummed against her hands. He looked away from her and out the window. He barely moved, but he'd pulled away as completely as if he'd left the car. Sam was confused and hurt by the rejection and retreated to her own side of the car.
Dean gripped the wheel, his knuckles blanching white against the black leather. He released his grip, opened the door and climbed out. She stayed in the car, waiting him out. She didn't want him to ruin this. Didn't want to go back to thinking what an imbecile she'd been. Didn't want to feel like one of Dean's easy conquests that he left scattered to the four winds.
Dean stayed out there, leaning against the car. His arms were crossed and his chin dipped so low it almost rested against his chest.
Finally Sam crawled over the seat and scrambled out the driver's door.
"Were you careful?" he asked.
She nodded. "We almost didn't get far enough for it to matter." She really didn't want to tell him anything, but for some reason this seemed important to add.
"You bleeding? You need to go to the store?"
Sam flushed. "Dean."
Dean threw up his hands as he turned to face her. "You're not the first virgin I've ever met."
Sam's cheeks burned. She nodded reluctantly. "I've got what I need at the motel."
Dean looked like he was going to be sick. "I'm gonna kill him."
Sam approached Dean cautiously. She wasn't sure of her reception. Didn't know if their kiss would change anything that was between them. She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing the leather of Dean's jacket. Their father's jacket.
Their dad would kill them if he found out about any of this.
"Don't tell Dad," she whispered.
Dean took a deep breath and nodded. He patted her shoulder. "Get in the car, kiddo. Let's get you cleaned up."