Sorry I didn't get a chance to do review replies, I was working on a spanish project last night and only got a few minutes on the internet. Thanks a bundle for all the reviews though, they really mean a lot - you guys rock!

CHAPTER 11
Blood, Sex, and Booze

"It's so unfair
I won't dare move, for the pain
She puts me through is what I need."

The gentle breeze sifted between the bushes and trees, making the whole forest shiver as one. My skin prickled up despite the sweat dripping off my forehead. I was freezing cold, but sweating like a pig all the same. And I knew why.

In the last month and a half since the holdup – still my secret – I had become a very good drug addict. Well, good enough at least. I suppose to a close eye, it'd be obvious. So it was a good thing no one was looking very close.

Calm was no longer good enough. It was the high I craved, needed as this point. I had gotten down a routine. Four pills in the morning and four in the afternoon/evening. My first period class was study hall and since I had no friends, I just read quietly, making it incredibly easy to hide my own drug induced high. I spoke very little to Dad or Dean, so they suspected nothing and even if they did, it was chalked down to typical morning weariness. That was good enough to get me through to the evening when I took four more pills after dinner, which depending on whether Dean grabbed dinner on his way home from work, could be anytime between five and six-thirty. And that was that. I often took three at lunch to hold off the headaches and anxiety I occasionally got. Withdrawal I supposed.

Which lead to my current predicament. I had known tonight was the night of the hunt so I taken my evening four earlier, almost immediately after getting home from school. And now, as it neared one, my body was starting to show its displeasure.

I'd never really suffered withdrawal before because during the time in which I would have gone through it, I was always asleep. I hadn't really known what to expect.

The one thing I hadn't done, wouldn't ever do despite having sunk so low, was to get high before a hunt. That was out of the question. Because the one thing I would never do would be to knowingly put Dean at risk. I couldn't very well watch his back while giggling hysterically at nothing, could I?

But, as my muscles were starting to fiercely ache and sweat dripped down my nose and my fingers danced endlessly in agitation, I had to admit this wasn't much better. I suppose I couldn't watch Dean's back while puking in a bush either, and the way I was feeling, that was where I was headed. If I was smart, I would have said I didn't feel good and stayed behind.

Hindsight is 20/20 after all.

I sniffled a couple times and pulled my gun, loaded with silver rounds, closer to my body. I could still make out Dean about fifty feet in front of me, but the quickening darkness was making that harder and harder. Perhaps I wasn't even really seeing him, maybe I only saw him because in my mind I knew he was there so my mind made up a shadow to be him.

I suddenly longed to call out to him. To have him come, worried. I longed for the days where he'd wrap his arm around my shoulder and give me one armed hug then wink, no matter how stupid my problem was. But not anymore. Not that I could right now anyway, he might wonder why I was sweating like I was stuck in a sauna.

It was only when my abs began to cramp, maybe an hour later, that I really began to worry. If our predictions were right, and they usually were, the werewolf would be heading in our general direction soon. Dad was somewhere on the other side of the forest, tracking and if needed herding – by means of a flashlight which a werewolf would naturally move away from – the werewolf towards us. As usual, Dean was the front lines, waiting to shoot as soon as he saw the big baddy and I was only back up defense. Normally I would have felt indignant about this, but now, feeling just a tad nauseous, I started to think that was probably a good idea.

There was a snap of a branch up ahead and the shadow I imagined to be Dean as well as myself both stiffened.

"Ready, Sammy?" a voice floated back to me. I wondered how Dean managed to whisper so quietly but still reach me. It was as if his voice had been delivered to me like mail, only open on each end, instead of floating through the air for all to hear. But we had a connection like that…or we did at one point, at least.

I swallowed thickly, nodded before realizing the pointlessness of such an action, then replied positively. Taking aim, I brought my gun up and try to stamp down on the foreboding feelings that were squirming in my stomach.

In one great moment that will forever remain stained in my memory, the werewolf, larger than I remembered from the last werewolf hunt we had almost a year ago, broke forth from the bushes and charged at Dean. Here it goes, I thought, not sure to what I was referring. The first shot missed by about an inch, over the creature's shoulder, but Dean's second shot went wild as a large, clawed hand raked the weapon out of his hands. I immediately ducked down to line up my sights, stamping down on the desire to call out to my brother. It was hard to get a clear shot without hitting Dean who was expertly ducking around the vicious claws swiping at him. He made a dive for his gun giving me a clear shot, but a new need presented it to me. I tried to hold off, just for a second to get off the shot, but it wasn't possible. I rolled to the side and puked, the sound buried underneath the wild howl of the werewolf.

As I focused on not falling into my own vomit and attempted to struggle back into position to fire, Dean cried out, not it pain but in the seconds before inevitable pain, but it was abruptly cut off by a gunshot. I threw myself back into my original position raising my gun quickly, not sure who shot or what was going on but knowing a lot had happened in my few seconds of absence.

The werewolf was lying on the ground, in the process of turning into human form in its final moments, while Dean was leaning against a tree, breathing heavily. He seemed unhurt other than a small cut on his cheek where a claw had likely nicked him. Standing behind him was Dad, gun hanging limply from one hand. Of course…he had arrived just in the nick of time just as any Hollywood hero would. Both of their eyes travelled from the now dead beast to me in perfect unison.

"Sam!" Dad barked while Dean's eyebrow's drew together in an unreadable expression. Dad stormed over to me.

"What on Earth were you doing over here?" I didn't know what to say. I couldn't very well say I was puking in the bushes could I?

"I-I-I…" I stammered uselessly.

"You nearly got Dean killed tonight!"

"Dad-" Dean spoke up. I wasn't sure if he was arguing the harshness of the statement, arguing that he could have handled himself, or that he was nowhere near dying at that point.

"Not now, Dean!" Dad snapped, silencing his perfect soldier. "I'm so disappointed in you." I felt as though someone had stabbed me right in the heart, but I tried to keep my expression neutral. Dad's nose suddenly wrinkled. "What is that smell?" he demanded in disgust before heading towards the car. I was surprised he could smell it all, the scent of werewolf blood was heavy in the air like a sick reminder of the murder we had committed. Murdering a murderer. That was still murder wasn't it? Jack Ruby was still imprisoned for the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald wasn't he? Dean retrieved his gun and followed Dad, giving me a quick pat on the shoulder on his way by.

Yawning widely, I followed after.

When we got home, about twenty minutes later, I instantly dropped onto my bed, the luminescent numbers reading 2:56 on my clock. God was I tired! Almost three in the morning…and I'd have to be up by seven for school. There was another hunt nearby, a restless spirit by the sounds of things, that Dad was leaving for in the morning while Dean and I stayed here. Then all three of us would probably leave town sometime next week.

Reaching under my mattress, I retrieved the bottle that had come to control my life. Over the last weeks, I had succeeded in finding several different drug dealers in different states to keep my supply up but I knew it wouldn't last much longer. Not only was my tolerance building, but each time gave me less results. Soon I'd either have to start taking more or switch to something stronger. Every drug dealer had insisted that I didn't know what I was missing out on and each time I denied their offer. After all, heroin, marijuana, all of that was drug abuse. I was just…experimenting.

I had the urge to down the whole bottle but resisted, instead popping three pills into my mouth, more for the sake of ending withdrawal than actually getting high. After all it was hard to enjoy a high when you were asleep.

Which I was, in less than seven minutes.

The sound of slamming lockers and the general chaos of afterschool flooded the hallway, making my head hurt. I dragged the books I would need for that nights homework and added the slam of my own locker to the rising noise.

As I slung my backpack over one shoulder, I massaged my temples with my other hand. Taking a right, I turned into the main lobby and headed for the exit, pushing through the masses of people. Even though my knee was healed, Dean had stuck to the routine of picking me up after school then going back to work. On my way out the door, someone grabbed my shoulder and called, "Hey, you!" Fighting my immediate instinct to break the arm on my shoulder, I turned around.

Before me was a short but busty girl with a large amount of make-up on her square face, the most noticeable being crimson lipstick on her plump lips. The hair that hung around her face was chocolate brown and was a mass of curls. I may be somewhat new here, but I knew this girl was popular just by looking at her.

Why she was talking to me was a total mystery.

"You're Sam, right?" she asked, cracking her gum loudly.

"Yeah." For some reason I sounded incredibly uninterested, which in reality, I was quite curious. Mind you, I was also eager to get home, and besides, Dean would flip if I took too long.

"Normally new people don't get invited, but there's something about you that I like." Yes, because having never met me before, you're a perfect judge of my character. "Me and a couple friends are having a party this weekend. 22 Terrace Street, nine o'clock. Be there."

"Yeah, definitely, thanks," I said. Not only was I trying to sound cool, like I fit in, but I surprised by how easily I could sound like I belonged. I also wasn't sure when exactly I started going to parties held by random people I'd never met before. Or when I started agreeing to go on such short whim without at least running it by Dean.

She nodded and began to walk away then stopped and turned again to face me. "I'm Ruth by the way." She didn't wait for a reply before leaving, the sounds of her chewing gum following after her.

"Dean, please!" I begged as he paced back in forth in front of me. I was sitting on the small couch in our living room, itching for some Vicodin, but not willing to go until I had my way. Dean was busy wearing tracks into the faded carpet.

"No," he growled again. What was that? The seventh time in maybe…the last minute? God was I tired! My eyes wandered to the wall clock behind him to see it was only 3:20. Drugs, I mentally moaned. I knew I should have waited until Dean got back from work before telling him about the party. But instead I was a moron and told him in the car as he dropped me off from school and he decided that scolding me took precedence over work and came in with me.

"Dean," I started again, fully aware I was whining.

"Sam, stop! Look we're supposed to be researching so when Dad gets back we're ready to roll."

"Dean-"

"Sam! Listen to me, I'm in charge here and I'm saying you can't go." My eyes widened with anger. Oh how I hated when someone pulled the 'I'm in charge here' card. I hated it with Dad and apparently that applied to Dean as well. He'd never pulled rank on me before. Because, despite our age difference, we were a team. Team as in working together. And I never tattled when he ran off to make out with some random chic. I never tattled when he skipped hunting duties for sex. But the one time I actually have a social life and he's suddenly turns into a Hunting Hitler!

"That's not fair!" I said indignantly as I rose to my feet.

"Life isn't fair! Besides, we both know you're ten times better at research than me! I'll never finish by myself!" I wouldn't fall for it. He was only flattering me to try and get me to agree. He didn't actually think that. We all knew Dean was the perfect soldier of the Winchester boys. He gets all the talent and I get none.

"Dean, you always go to parties and shit and I never tell on you," I furiously. "So if you think I'm just gonna sit here like an obedient puppy, you're wrong. I'm not a moron, Dean, I can make my own damn decisions." He looked quite shocked. Probably just because precious, naïve little Sammy swore.

"If the situation were different, I would let you go-" I didn't let him finish. He had crossed the line with one little word.

"Let me go? You would let me go? Well, fuck you because I'm going and good luck stopping me," I snarled before storming to my room.

TBC...

The combo of teenage hormones and drugs is a nasty one, eh?