Title: Come What May
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song. I don't. I'm just borrowing.
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's The Leaver's Dance. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.
Warnings: M/M kissage. It's minimal but it's there ;)

Come What May: Chapter Seven

Dean did not jog. He didn't workout at all. Hell, ghost hunting was plenty workout for him. So why the hell had he agreed to go jogging with Lucas? Why? He was huffing and heaving beside Lucas who casually glanced his way, smirking. The jackass. He was enjoying this torment. Why'd he have to befriend an athlete?

"So, how'd things go with Peyton the other day?"

"Good, I guess," he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders as they rounded the corner of Barney's Hardware, the main stretch coming into view. The café was just up the block. Thank God!

"Good, you guess?" Lucas questioned, slowing to a stop.

"She didn't want to talk about the thing with her mom so I didn't press." Dean leaned against the wall as Lucas stared at him.

"Well, what did you guys talk about?" he asked with a grin. "You were there an awfully long time."

"Dude, don't even go there. It wasn't like that," Dean said, wiping his forearm across his sweat soaked forehead. "We just… we talking about our non-relationship," Dean answered with an eye roll.

He'd never had someone to spill all his relationship problems to, but Lucas was like a stand-in brother. They had gotten close over his past few days back in Tree Hill. Peyton had been busy dividing her time between working at TRIC and spending her time with Ellie. It wasn't that he minded spending time with Lucas… it's just he wasn't as pretty to look at.

"What about it?"

"Lucas, man, when did you and Haley switch personalities?"

Lucas laughed. "I'm just curious."

"Yeah, that's Haley's excuse, too."

"You came back for Peyton. You can't blame us for being interested in the developments or in your case, the lack thereof."

"Hey, hey!" Dean interrupted, pointing his finger at Lucas. "I did not come back for Peyton." Lucas gave him a skeptical look. Dean relented, "Okay, I didn't come back solely for Peyton."

"Dean…?"

"Fine. Okay. Fine. So I came back for Peyton… well with the sole intent on seeing if a relationship was possible. There. Happy?"

Lucas nodded his head. "Yes, but I'm not going to do the Chicken Dance. Forget it."

"I didn't mean that you had to be that happy!" Dean snickered.

"Look, Dean, Peyton's one of a kind. If you're fortunate to have her look your way, you shouldn't screw it up," Lucas said, speaking of past experience. He'd had his chance with Peyton, but he'd blown it. They were friends now. That was enough. "There's so many guys that have come in and out of her life that haven't been worthy. Don't be another of those guys."

Dean detected some undertones there, but refused to question them. If Lucas and Peyton had a past, they would tell him. He doubted he had anything to worry about, though. Lucas knew how he felt about Peyton. He wouldn't go behind him and try to steal her away. Then again, how well did he know Lucas, anyway?

Lucas slapped Dean's arm. "Come on. We're almost to the café and the girls are waiting for us."

"Just for the record, I'm not doing this tomorrow," Dean said as he pushed himself away from the wall and began jogging behind Lucas, mumbling to himself all the way to the café.

---

"Come on. Get up," Peyton ordered, nudging Dean softly with her boot. The sofa was three feet behind him so she was perturbed as to why was he sprawled out in the middle of the floor.

"What?" he snapped, slowly coming out of his sleepy haze, his eyes searching around before lifting to land on Peyton. He took in the mini-skirt and the halter top and sucked in a breath. Did they have a date that he wasn't aware of? Or did she have a date that he wasn't aware of? He groaned as the thoughts manifested in his brain. Must his brain run away from him and conjure up the worst case scenario?

"We're going to a party," she announced, kicking him this time. Hard. "Up!"

A party. Oh.

Dean shook his head. "You're going to a party. I'm sleeping here," he mumbled, turning back over.

"Come on, Dean," Peyton begged. "Lucas and Haley are already there and they're waiting on the two of us."

Dean poked his head up to tell her, "Well, I certainly didn't tell them that I was going to a party so why did you?" It wasn't that he didn't want to go with her because he did. He had been back in town a week and he'd barely spent any time with her. He was annoyed at her for interrupting his very vivid dream in which he was a schoolboy and she was his schoolmarm and he'd been a very naughty boy…

He winced the moment her boot caught him in the side again. "Hello? Did you hear anything I just said?"

Dean rubbed his side as he said, "No! But I feel your boot every time you kick me!"

"Oh! Sorry," Peyton replied sheepishly, a blush creeping up her neck. "Anyway, as I was saying, Luke and Haley are each other's dates so you have to be mine. Unless you'd rather me take someone else. Chance Foster said I could just call him whenever I needed him." She let her words hang in the air, hoping that he'd catch the hint.

Dean flipped over onto his back, glaring up at the ceiling. There went his nap! He stared at the cracked ceiling tiles as he told Peyton, "I'll need to change first."

"Then get off your lazy ass and mosey into the bathroom. Who takes a nap at seven o'clock at night anyway?"

Dean scrambled to his feet, locking her in a heated gaze. "Hey, you weren't up at the crack of dawn working out with Lucas, okay?"

Peyton couldn't stifle a laugh. "You agreed to accompany Lucas on his morning workout?" she asked as Dean headed down the hallway for the bathroom.

"I assumed that his workout started later in the morning," he told her as he pulled off his shirt. "He didn't warn me that he worked out with the chickens." He tossed her the discarded scrap of clothing, smirking at her surprised expression. "Hold that for me, will ya?"

"Why? You plan on wearing this old smelly thing?" she asked as he disappeared into the bathroom. He closed the door behind himself but did not secure it. A small crack remained allowing her to see Dean standing in front of the sink.

The lingering smell of his cologne clung to his discarded shirt and soon reached Peyton's nostrils. She lifted it to her nose, intoxicated by the overwhelming scent of Dean.

She heard the water turn on in the bathroom and wondered if he was taking a shower. The minute the thoughts of Dean and water merged, her mind went to a bad place and she couldn't escape the flood of images that filled her brain. Great! Now she was going to be stuck thinking of Dean naked in a steamy shower for the remainder of the night. "Way to go, Peyton," she mumbled to herself.

"Huh?" Dean eased open the door, leaning against the doorjamb as he continued the task of brushing his teeth.

"What?"

"You were talking to me?"

Peyton spat out a quick, "No," her gaze shifting from him to the T-shirt clutched tightly against her chest. What was she planning to do? Bring it home with her as a keepsake? Quickly, she threw it back at him, watching as he tossed it over his shoulder where it landed flawlessly into the hamper behind him.

"Nice."

"Yeah, I thought so, too."

"Are you trying to impress me?"

"No!" Then, "Is it working?" Peyton slowly shook her head, laughing when Dean said, "Damn!"

Rolling her eyes, she told commanded, "Go and finish beautifying yourself so we can get to the party before everyone drinks all the alcohol!"

---

"So a house party, huh?" Dean asked, throwing his car into park

"Yes. Are you not familiar with the concept?" she snarked, pushing open the door as she told him, "You know, teenage rite of passage. No chaperones. Odious amounts of alcohol. Possible promiscuous sex."

"Really now?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised with mock interest as they slammed their doors shut at the exact same time. He didn't believe for a second that Peyton had brought him here with the intention of plying him with alcohol in order to have her way with him. Not that he would be one to complain if that was her ulterior motive.

"That was not an invitation."

Damn! "Pity. I was just getting in the party mood," he teased as they made their way up the drive to the main house. "So who's party is this?" The question hung in the air as the door was pulled open.

Peyton's eyes shot to the door as Bevin staggered in the doorway, liquid spilling from the plastic cup she held in her hand. "PEYTON!" Bevin declared rather loudly as she stepped forward, throwing her free arm around Peyton's neck. "I'm so glad that you came." Stepping back, she told Peyton, "I am… like… a lot drunk."

"I can tell. Did you leave anything left for everyone else to drink?" Peyton asked with a giggle as the party continued inside.

Bevin's eyes clouded as a hiccup escaped her mouth. "I think so. You know, this is all Tim's fault. We were playing a game… and he kept refilling my glass and now I'm all… and my head's spinning… and everything's SO LOUD." Peyton side glanced at Dean whose fingers were pressed to his ears.

"So. Very. Loud," Dean whined as Peyton shot him a glare.

"Come on. Let's go inside," Peyton said, leading Bevin into the house, Dean following behind.

"Who's the boy?" Bevin whispered not so quietly to Peyton.

"That's my friend Dean."

Bevin looked back at Dean, winking at him. "Dean pretty," she told Peyton.

"Yes. Dean very pretty," Peyton told her friend, leading her to a chair. "You stay there and I'll get you some water. Don't take any more drinks from Tim."

"'kay," Bevin said without argument

Peyton forcefully grabbed Dean's arm, placing him beside Bevin's chair. "Watch her," she ordered.

"Hey, I didn't come to babysit your drunk friends."

"No, you came as my date. Please?"

Dean sighed, then huffed, "Fine. Be a doll and bring me back a drink. I'll need it to deal with all these… high schoolers."

"Hey! I'm a high schooler."

"Yeah, but you don't count."

All of a sudden Bevin shot to her feet. "While you two continue to flirt, I'm gonna go throw up." With a hand to her mouth, Bevin ran off for the bathroom. After she was gone, Dean told Peyton, "I don't know about you, but I was not flirting."

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped. "You were, too. Don't even try to deny it." Peyton pointed to a swinging door behind her. "Kitchen's that way. Go get your own drink. I'm going to go check on Bevin."

"But…!"

"GO!"

Dean smirked as he watched her move across the room. As she knocked on the bathroom door that Bevin had disappeared behind, she smiled at him and he had to admit to himself that being in a house full of teenagers might not be so bad after all. Especially considering that he was more or less dating one of them.

And on that thought, Dean muttered to himself, "I need a drink," and began his trek to the kitchen.

---

Dean was scrunched up on the end of the rather large and comfortable sofa next to him that they call Dim.

It didn't take him long to realize why everyone called him Dim. The boy was just… dumb. Dean still had yet to decipher whether it was just a façade or not but he didn't think the boy had that many brain cells to pull off that kind of feat.

Across the room Peyton and Haley were dancing together, hips swaying, arms stretched high above their heads, moving in rhythm to the song blasting out of the speaker system. He tried not to follow the movements of Peyton's body, but he couldn't stop himself. He was fixated on her. But when she looked over at him, he diverted his attention to the artwork on the wall or the ceiling tiles, neither of which compared to watching Peyton.

Dean turned his attention to Tim who was watching the looks he and Peyton kept exchanging. He cleared his throat, smiling politely at Tim, hoping to avoid an awkward conversation.

Unfortunately, he wasn't that lucky.

"So you and Peyton, huh?" Dim asked rather giddily, wagging his eyebrows suggestively as he nudged Dean's arm.

Dean had to tamp down the urge not to knock Tim upside the head for even implying that he and Peyton were more than they happened to be. "Uh… no. We're just friends." God, he was getting annoyed with himself for continuing to insist that they were merely friends.

They weren't yet they were… it was a whole complicated thing that he refused to put too much thought into. Especially now.

"Yeah, right, man," Tim said, still giggling. "You know, me and Peyton had a thing once," Tim claimed, all serious in a valiant effort to lie his pants off.

"Oh, really?" Dean asked, sipping on his beer, not believing a word of this tale that Tim was beginning to tell.

Tim nodded as he put his index finger over his lips. "We keep that on the down low. Nathan's my home boy and he wouldn't appreciate knowing that."

Ah, Nathan. The one ex-boyfriend of Peyton's that he did know about. The others, though… they were a complete mystery. He would get her to tell him which Tree Hill boys were walking around with broken hearts. He just hoped that one of those hearts didn't belong to Lucas.

"That's very considerate of you, Tim."

All of a sudden a wave a confusion washed across Tim's face. "But you know, I knew Peyton was freakay but I didn't know she liked 'em so old. Maybe that's why she never kicked it with me," he said with a frown.

Oh, that he could not laugh. "You must've ruined her for the younger boys, Tim," Dean said, slapping Tim's arm as he rose to his feet. Dean quickly excused himself from his less than stellar conversation with Tim. He shook his head at the rousing game of Shit Faced being played out on the floor a few feet away as he moved toward the kitchen where he'd seen Peyton and Haley disappear moments ago.

In the kitchen Dean found Peyton and Haley sitting on the countertop, passing a bottle of Vodka back and forth between themselves. In front of them stood Lucas and Junk and at their feet sat Fergie and Skills, regaling everyone around them with their horrible, horrible singing voices.

They sang in unison: "… my loneliness is killing me and I must confess I still believe… (still believe)… if I'm not with you… I lose my mine… gimme a sign… hit me baby one more time!"

Lucas and Junk clapped and whistled as Haley cried out, "Hey, you messed up the lyric! It's mind, you freaks. Not mine."

"Oh, whatevah," Skills slurred.

"Yeah!" Fergie chimed in. "Who err you? The lyric police?"

Dean looked from one drunken teenager to the next, shaking his head. He was feeling his age now, noting that he was the oldest person in the room. Why had he let Peyton talk him into coming again? Oh, right. She hadn't done much talking. Her miniskirt had done all her talking for her. And boy what words it whispered to him.

He felt the need to smack himself upside the head to rid his brain of his less than innocent thoughts.

He ambled over to where Peyton was sitting, surprised when she put her arms around his neck, pulling him against her. Her legs soon followed, wrapping around his torso so that he was trapped in place. Not that it wasn't a bad place to be.

"You okay?" he asked concerned when she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I'm just a little drunk," she whispered in his ear.

"So I noticed." Great. His date was a lush. His brain stalled for a second on date, but he didn't have time right now to debate that slipup with his conscience.

"We should play a game!" Haley said excitedly from beside Peyton.

"No, we really shouldn't," Dean begged with a shake of his head even as Peyton asked him to help her down from the counter.

Once Peyton was on her feet beside him, Haley grabbed her hand and led her back into the living room.

Dean stood in the kitchen with the guys for a few moments longer, groaning when he heard Haley exclaim, "SPIN THE BOTTLE!"

---

Perhaps he'd made a wrong move when he'd followed Lucas and Junk into the living room. The second Haley laid eyes on him, she pulled him down beside her. The circle consisted of nearly twelve people, seven of which Dean did not know.

Oh, this was going to be loads and loads of fun!

Dean settled in between Haley and Peyton, Lucas and Junk on the other sides of him. "This is so reminiscent of fourth grade," he heard Lucas mutter from beside him.

If his dad and Sam could see him now…

As they game got underway, Dean kept his focus on Peyton. He knew she had drank a lot and if there was one thing he remembered about house parties, it was that with the games and pressure from peers that sometimes you consumed more than you thought. And hangovers, even at twenty-six, were not much fun.

He wasn't sure how much time has passed from when he'd sat down until the bottle had landed on him. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, staring at Lucas wide-eyed.

Haley giggled from beside him. "Go on," she nudged him. "Kiss the boy."

Dean leaned toward Lucas, whispering, "If your tongue comes anywhere near my mouth we will throw down!"

After a quick peck, Dean and Lucas both took a long swig from their beers as Peyton and Haley whined from beside them that their lip lock was so disappointing and that they wanted a do over. "That was a one-time show, ladies. You're not getting another one," Dean said as he spun the bottle.

As it slowed to a stop, pointed to Peyton, he gulped. They hadn't kissed since he'd been back and he certainly hadn't envisioned it being in a room full of strangers.

Dean leaned over Haley toward Peyton as she whispered, "You totally planned that."

"I did not," he insisted, even as he and Peyton smiled at each other, inching closer.

However, the moment was short-lived when as he was about to kiss her, Peyton began to gag. She then bolted to her feet and ran for the bathroom.

"Gee, Dean, I didn't think you were that bad of a kisser," Haley teased, winking at him before she left the circle to go check on Peyton.

Dean watched Haley's retreating figure, then turned his attention to the snickering Lucas and Junk, warning, "If you mutter a single fucking word, I'm gonna throw you both into that wall."

---

"My head hurts, Dean," Peyton whined as he pulled her out of the car, helping her to her feet.

"The aspirin's just wearing off. We're almost to the house and you can have some more," he calmed her as they made their way up the sidewalk that led to her house.

"Why'd I drink so much?" she mumbled. "Why'd you let me drink so much?"

"I didn't force those drinks down your throat."

"You were my date. You weren't supposed to let me get plastered," she told him as they climbed the steps to the porch. "The key's in my purse," she told him, thrusting her bag into his chest, sliding down the doorframe to plop onto the cold porch.

Dean dug her keys out of her purse and was in the process of pushing the key into the lock when she said, "And you weren't supposed to dance with Emma."

"You were dancing with Tim."

"It was Tim! No one should be jealous of Tim!"

"And besides, I was not dancing with Emma. She was dancing with me," Dean corrected Peyton as he pushed open the door.

Dean crouched down to Peyton's eye level as she said, "She's a slut, you know. But maybe you like sluts."

"You're drunk and not making any sense whatsoever."

"I make sense," she huffed as Dean pulled her into his arms to carry her into the house.

"Yeah, just not a lot of it."

"Hey… you're carrying me."

"Well, aren't you a sharp one," he quipped, stepping into the house, kicking the door closed behind himself.

Dean was proud of himself for making the walk upstairs without fail or falling down. Reaching Peyton's room, he laid her down on the bed, collapsing beside her to take off her boots. When he had finished that task, he looked up to find her smirking at him. "What's so funny? Did I take them off wrong or something?"

She leaned forward, asking in a seductive tone, "You gonna take off the rest of my clothes, too?"

He wondered where she'd summoned the courage to flirt with him since she'd barely had enough energy to breathe since they'd left the party. After she'd ran off for the bathroom, she'd spent a good half-hour retching.

Bevin had given her some aspirin and it'd helped her for a little while. Long enough for her to dance with Tim and annoy the hell out of him. Not to sound like an immature twit, it wasn't that she was dancing with Tim. It was how. He'd half expected her to throw Tim down on the floor and go at it right there.

When Emma sidled up to him and began dancing in front of him, he was still seething so he hadn't put up a fight. It was only when Peyton passed out from dizziness that his anger dissipated somewhat.

Dean shook his head, quickly pulling the blankets up to throw over her. "Go to sleep," he commanded.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Peyton questioned, sitting up as Dean ventured out into the hallway.

Sighing, Dean spun around, bracing his arms on either sides of the doorframe. "I'm going to the bathroom to find you some aspirin and a glass of water."

"And then…?"

"Then… I don't know."

"Would you stay? Tonight?"

"Peyton, I'm sure that's a good idea."

"Please?" she begged.

"Yeah. Okay," he caved, unable to say no to her, especially in her current state. Though, he was pretty sure what conclusions Lucas and Haley would jump to as they had done before.

"Really?"

"Yes. Just… lie down while I go get your aspirin."

Dean watched as Peyton laid back against her pillows, then moved across the hall to the bathroom. He rummaged through the drawers before opening the medicine cabinet, finally locating a near empty bottle of Tylenol.

It was as he was shutting the cabinet that a small, gold bottle caught his eye. "Oh, Peyton…," he sighed, staring at the small bottle.

He shut the cabinet door in a vain attempt to ignore the presence of the cocaine vial. As he fixed Peyton's glass of water he hoped against hope that it wasn't hers. Turning off the faucet, he grabbed the cup of water and the bottle of Tylenol to make his way back across the hallway to Peyton's room.

He found that Peyton was already asleep by the time he got there. He set the aspirin and water on her nightstand then flicked off the light and left the room.

Dean made sure that the downstairs lights were all turned off and that the door was locked before he retired back to Peyton's room. He stood in the doorway watching her sleep for the longest time before he finally pulled up a chair beside her, joining her in slumber.