Thank you to RoseCentury for notifying me to the error when I updated this chapter. If anyone has suggestions for other story ideas please let me know: I am running low myself. Hope you enjoy!
"How do I look?" Sam glances up from the book on the table. "Is it okay?" I ask nervously when he does not respond. Should I have worn something else instead of a white skirt, black top and denim jacket?
"No, you look fantastic," he shakes his head, "Do you have your knife because you'll need it to get rid of the boys." I laugh and show him where it is tucked away in a strap on my inner leg. I never go anywhere without it.
"The black tights with triangles printed on them itch and I reach down to scratch as Dean comes in. "Ready to go?" he asks, car keys in hand. We walk into the fading light. Bobby is working in his shop on a car and calls out to have a good time and be back before midnight.
My friend, Sasha, invited me to this party. She is my best friend-not that I have a surplus amount. I only see her when we stay at Bobby's place; right now Sam and I are enrolled in the public high school in Sioux Falls while Dad is working a case in Washington state.
When Dean pulls up I get out of the car and tug on the skirt. "Let me know if you want me to come back for you earlier," Dean calls through the window. "If not, then I'll be here at eleven thirty and if you're not waiting I'll leave you to walk back."
"Sure you will," I roll my eyes. If there is something I can always count on it is Dean never leaving me behind. I turn and wave, watching the Impala's taillights drive off.
"Who was that hottie that dropped you off? You should have invited him in." I turn to see Sasha. She looks so much better than I do in her skinny jeans and crop top.
"That was my brother, Dean."
"Oh, that's him? I couldn't tell who it was because his face was blinding me," she teases.
"Shut up," I grumble. Something I will never get used to is girls telling me how attractive my brothers are. I don't want to know that. We enter the house pounding with music. I forget my insecurities about being the quiet, awkward girl at school and follow Sasha's lead. I actually am enjoying myself. For a while I lose sight of my friend. When she pops up next to me a while later she looks different. Maybe it is the way she is slightly swaying or that her muscles are a bit more relaxed. She holds out a cup to me.
"Here, have some," she offers.
"No thank you," I decline.
"Come on, its really good," she persists.
"I don't want any."
Somebody else comes up and pushes a cup into my hand. "Everyone needs to try this." I sniff it. Alcohol. I hand the cup back. "Have you never had a drink before?" he slurs slightly.
"Of course I have." I am not a stranger to alcohol; I just don't like the taste. Dean says that when my taste buds mature I will enjoy it.
"Just have a little sip; you'll really like it."
"I do not want any," I repeat, turning to him. I don't even know who this person is.
Sasha whispers in my ear, "This is Sean's house. I don't want to be kicked out so have a little sip."
The whole room is staring at me. I don't want to let Sasha down. What kind of friend would I be? So I tip my head back and down the contents. People cheer.
Not to long after that I start to see things a bit differently. The lights are strange and I swear I am hearing colors. What was that stuff? I'll have to ask Dean when I get home. I giggle at the thought that I have had an adult drink that Dean or Dad haven't tried yet. I do not remember much after that, just snippets here and there. I think I was dancing on the table at one point. When I wake up it is with a pounding headache in the bathtub. Crawling over the side I make it to the toilet in time to throw up. What happened? How long was I out for? How did I get in here?
I fumble with my phone. Dialing the number I know by heart I hold it to my ear. After three rings there is a click. "Y/N, are you ready for me to come get you?" Dean asks, "Y/N, are you crying? What's the matter?"
"Dean, just hurry." My hand is shaking so violently I barely hear him yelling something at Sam and then him back on the line saying he's getting in the car.
"I'm on the way, just hold on a few minutes, sweetheart," he says before ending the call. The phone slips from my fingers and I bury my face in my hands. I allow myself five minutes before I wipe my face, check myself in the mirror and open the door. I weave through bodies looking for Sasha but she is nowhere to be found. Then I stand outside waiting for my brothers. The night air helps to alert me a little but I am still largely out of it.
Soon-but not soon enough-the Impala pulls up to the curb. Sam and Dean jump out and head in my direction. "What happened?" As Dean gently lifts my chin with concern in his eyes I break down. They slide to the ground and hold me. Between sobs I tell them what happened. Sam coaxes me to calm down. Dean stiffens and looks toward the door. "Come on," he pulls me to my feet and almost drags me into the house behind him. "Which one is Sean?" he asks. I scan the faces and point to the one talking loudly, liquid sloshing from his cup.
Dean leaves me in Sam's care. He marches up to and slams his fist into Sean's face. The force of the blow sends Sean reeling into a wall. Dean grips him by the collar and lands another hit. Hands weakly try to defend against the attacks. "Dean," I mutter. That one word stops him. His puts his face close until the two of them are nearly nose-to-nose. "If you ever do something like that again I will kill you." Leaving the host with that he takes me by the elbow with gentleness opposing the violence his hands just committed. Silence follows us out to the street.
Dean takes driver seat while Sam crawls in back, his arms protecting me and I am thankful for that. In this car and in Sam's arms nothing can get to me. Monday at school I will have to deal with the people from the party. I will have to talk to Sasha. I doubt I will be receiving another invitation to any party in the future. But right now I want to forget it all and go to sleep.
"I'm sorry, I..." I am not even sure what to say.
"Shush, it doesn't matter," Sam strokes my hair.
"We'll deal with what you did later," Dean says firmly then meets my eyes and his voice softens. "Right now I just want you to be okay."
"Okay," I whisper.