Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the Characters of Ridley C. James Brotherhood AU, I'm just borrowing them.
Warnings: Cussing... violence... blood.
Notes: Just and exploration into the Brotherhood realm, and I needed a story that would get me there.
Enjoy:
"I told you this would be awesome didn't I Winchester?" Quinton Wilder shouted over the insanely loud techno music of the hotspot nightclub.
Sam shook his head back and forth as he followed his acquaintance down the steps and further into the large smoky room.
People were scattered everywhere, back up against walls making out while others expended some energy on the active dance floor. Arms were flailing everywhere as the two young men made their way to the bar, taking the bar seats the moment they were vacant.
"So," Quinton gestured to the bustling room. "What do you think?"
Sam studied Quinton for a moment; he'd met the kid a week ago at Pastor Jim Murphy's church. The guy had insisted on sitting in between Dean and Sam, all the while Caleb Reaves watched what he later described as a 'guy crush'.
By a strange string of bad luck, Sam had run into Quinton several times in the small town that was located just a few miles from Jim's farmhouse. Dean and Caleb had sealed his fate when they agreed that Sam should take Quinton up on his offer to hang out.
Now he was here, a loud, crowded, smoke filled nightclub filled with drunken idiots, instead of at a quiet library where he could be helping his dad and Mackland Ames with their new hunt.
"I've seen better," Sam admitted as he glanced at the couples grinding up against each other.
Quinton deflated at the response. "Well I can see that you're really trying to be open minded Winchester," Quinton told him sharply. "You win for party-pooper of the evening."
Sam let out a breath and turned to his friend. "Fine, this is me being open minded. What should we do now?"
Quinton smiled and slapped Sam playfully on the shoulder. "Now, we drink."
Sam turned towards the taps to see a male bartender smiling at them. "What'll it be boys?"
"Uh… beer," Sam decided.
The bartender raised an eyebrow. "You're ID?"
Sam fished in his back pocket for the fake ID his brother had bullied him into getting, even though he was still a good four years shy of twenty-one. He pulled out the plastic card with is picture on it and showed it to the bartender the fake information.
"Alright Mr. Bartlett," the man accepted and turned to Quinton to see his. "What kind of beer can I get you?"
Sam glanced at Quinton who seemed particularly unaware of the many different selections they could choose from. Sam decided to play it cool and shrugged, "Surprise me."
Quinton slapped down a twenty and picked up the two cold, brown bottles. "Keep the change." He turned to his new friend and smiled. "Smooth Winchester, and here I thought this wasn't your scene."
Sam allowed himself to smile, knowing his brother and Caleb would be proud of this advancement. "Hanging out with my brother has its ups and downs. Just don't get wasted, I don't have the urge to die tonight."
The two hovered by the bar while they nursed their drinks, taking in the atmosphere as well as the strong strobe lights.
Sam let his eyes wander, once in a while landing on women much older than he. They would smile, and either wink or blow a kiss whereas he'd smile in return while hoping that his face wasn't turning red. His attention was pulled from the group of women when he could sense a presence standing beside him.
Quinton was speaking to some guy in a leather jacket, and Sam tried to hold back a look of disappointment. His new friend slapped a fifty dollar bill in the guy's hand, the guy giving him a baggy full of white pills in exchange.
The guy walked away and Quinton walked over to Sam.
"What the hell man?" Sam asked while glaring at Quinton. "You're a druggie?"
Quinton glared back and shook his head. "You have to be addicted to be a druggie man, I do this shit rarely… tonight seemed like a good night to do it."
Sam rolled his eyes and worked his jaw. "Whatever, I'm going home." Sam turned to leave but a hand caught him by the forearm.
"Come on Sam. Hey, I'll promise you that I won't do them tonight okay?" Quinton pulled the drugs from his pocket. "You can even hold them so you know I won't okay?"
Sam sighed, but agreed, stuffing the white pills in his jacket.
"What's your name cutie," a blonde girl with a rack that would have his big brother drooling asked with a toothy-smile.
"Sam," he introduced, putting his hand out to shake hers.
She glanced down at his hand and giggled. "Cute." The girl grabbed Sam by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him out towards the dance floor.
The song changed and the girl began swaying her hips back and forth, shaking her head animatedly with the music.
"Don't I get to know your name?" Sam asked as the girl pulled him closer to her.
"Gracie," she supplied lustfully. She then threaded her manicured fingernails into his jacket and up his shirt. "Mm, flat stomach."
Sam and Gracie spent the next hour getting better acquainted. It wasn't until Sam's buddy Quinton came and tapped on his shoulder that pulled him back into reality.
"Hey man, it's getting late, we need to head out before my parents and your brother comes looking for our asses." Quinton smiled at Gracie and waved until she blew him off completely to grind up against Sam.
Sam pulled Gracie from him and looked down at her. "I have to go…"
"But Sammy," she pouted at him. "We've had so much fun; we could go back to my place and…"
"Look, how about I give you my number and we can go out another time," Sam offered.
Grace quickly looked around the room and her eyes suddenly went wide. "Oh shit!"
"What?" Sam turned halfway just in time to get a hard fist in his jaw. He teetered to the side but slammed into Quinton and managed to stay upright.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing talking to my girl?"
The guy was huge, and definitely drunk as a skunk, the alcohol was so strong Sam turned his head and wanted to cover his nose.
"I didn't know," Sam stuttered. He looked to the girl who had chosen to stand behind said-boyfriend. "Look we're leaving." Sam turned with Quinton and started walking towards the exit.
"Damn right," the guy slurred and harshly pushed Sam forward.
Sam quickly turned back around and pushed the guy back. "Chill out."
"Come on Sam," Quinton begged and tugged on Sam's sleeve. "Let's just go before he kills us."
"Little bitch thinks he can take on the Brad-Man."
Sam noticed a group of onlookers now coming to circle around the two. Sam was about to turn and walk away when he was pulled back and spun around.
"Where do you think you're going?" The guy's nostrils flared like a bull and Sam realized the guy probably weighed as much as one too.
Sam suddenly realized his beer bottle was still in his hand, and he could use it for protection if need be. "I'm sorry alright, just let me leave and you'll never see me again." That was, if the guy even remembered anything in the morning from his drunken theatrics.
"Yeah, go home to mommy, bitch," Brad slurred again and turned wrapping an arm around Gracie's neck and giving her a sloppy kiss on the mouth.
The young woman gave Sam an apologetic look as she shrugged her shoulders and was lead away from him.
"That's enough excitement for tonight," Quinton started. "Let's get out of here before more guys come try to beat our asses."
"I could have taken him," Sam said confidently, besides, his brother and father had taught him well enough.
Quinton looked Sam up and down then started laughing. "You keep telling yourself that, tiger."
The two left the nightclub and relished in the fresh night's air, it would begin raining soon.
The two rushed to Quinton's silver Porsche and climbed in, both reaching for their seatbelts before the car's windshield became blurry with fat raindrops.
"Drive slowly," Sam advised.
"Yes mother," Quinton mocked in a high voice. He reached over and turned on the radio as well as his windshield wipers.
"Admit it," Quinton said suddenly.
"Admit what?" Sam asked, turning his attention from the road.
"That you had fun tonight."
Sam tilted his head back and smiled. "Besides 'Brad-Man', I guess I had some fun," he acknowledged. "My brother is going to get a real kick out of that idiot."
"Will he?" Quinton implored.
"Oh yeah," Sam paused for a minute. "Only I'm going to tell him I kicked his ass."
Quinton laughed and hit the steering wheel with his palm. "We should totally do that again sometime. You, me, and all the drunken female companionship we can handle in one night."
Sam laughed and looked out at the dark road, then down at the radio. His smile disappeared with an, "Oh shit."
"What?" Quinton took in the panicked sound of Sam's curse.
"It's past 1:30 in the morning."
"I thought you said your brother would be cool with it…" Quinton said confusedly.
"He will, but my old man won't be too happy," Sam muttered.
Quinton winced. "Yeah, you're dad could probably eat me… and that scared the crap outta me."
The two eased into meaningless conversation as they continued their journey back to Jim's farmhouse.
It wasn't until Quinton spoke up, that Sam became alarmed.
"What the hell is that guy doing?"
Sam turned his head and looked out the rear window. There was a dark truck riding their tails, and its high beams were shining right through the back window and into Quinton's Porsche. "Go over to the side so they can pass us."
Quinton did so, but the truck refused to go around them. "He's not going around us Sam."
Sam's tension grew when the truck started honking erratically, and whoever it was begun flashing their high beams on and off. "Maybe you should pull over man."
Quinton looked at Sam incredulously. "So that crazy psycho can come and gut us with his knife, uh, I think not."
Quinton and Sam suddenly jerked forward when the truck tapped the back of the Porsche. "God dammit," Quinton cursed. "What the fuck." Quinton's voice began bordering a hyperventilation attack.
The truck tapped the Porsche once more and Quinton fought to keep the car under control. He jerked the wheel back towards him and the car shot off into the left lane, spinning uncontrollably as it did so.
The Porsche managed to spin until it found no purchase on the road and slid down into a ravine, only to be stopped by a large tree.
Glass sprayed out in every direction, and the undeniable crunch of folding metal filled the night and drowned out the rain for a few moments.
The sound of a truck riving its engine abruptly filled the air as it sped off into the night.
The rain just kept on falling.
TBC...