Chapter Sixteen- The Curb

Someone was shaking Dean awake. He grabbed the stranger's arms as his eyes flew open. Sam was above him, his eyes wide with fear.

Sam asked, "Where's Naomi?"

Dean craned his neck to look around his brother. He asked groggily, "She hasn't come back yet?"

Sam released Dean and stood back as Dean sat up. "I don't know. I just walked in a second ago and didn't see her in here."

Dean turned to their window, seeing the sky was now pitch black. It's late. She should have been back by now.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look and immediately jumped into action. Sam started gathering weapons while Dean rounded up his shoes. Dean fired questions at Sam, who replied equally rapidly.

"When did she leave?"

"Around seven."

"What direction did she head in?"

"She turned right. There's a door down the hall that points east towards the downtown area."

"What did she take with her?"

"Jacket and shoes. No keys, no phone." Dean looked up to find Sam holding Naomi's phone in his hand. Dean pressed his lips together, then continued to tie his boots.

"Dean, what if-"

"Sam, we'll find her. She can handle herself." He yanked his boot laces with finality. "She'll be fine."

Dean stood, facing Sam. From the way the bruise around Sam's eye was beginning to form, Dean could tell it would be good one. There was a silent understanding between them that all thoughts of their fight earlier were pushed aside. They had a bigger problem at hand and both were willing to focus on it instead. Dean stated as he stuck an arm through his leather jacket, "There really isn't anywhere for her to go around here within walking distance. I'll drive the Impala east in downtown. You head there west on foot in case she's in a building and we'll meet in the middle. 'kay?"

Sam nodded distractedly. "Yeah."

Dean softly grasped Sam's shoulder. "Sammy."

Sam met his brother's eyes. Dean assured, "We'll find her." After a moment, Sam nodded as he handed Dean a shotgun and stuffed the demon knife in the back of his pants. He repeated, "We'll find her."

The boys split, Dean driving one way and Sam walking the other. As Dean drove away, he glanced in his rearview mirror, watching his brother's figure shrink. With a sigh, he focused on the road in front of him. We'll find her.

Thirty minutes later, Dean agitatedly tapped his thumb against the steering wheel as he scanned the sidewalk on either side of the downtown strip. He was at the point where he considered praying for help finding her, but soon dismissed it. If anything, God is the reason for this mess.

The Impala's headlights gave enough light to see the general outline of the buildings lining the street, but Dean had to squint to see anything beyond that. He had his windows down, listening to hear something that would lead him to her. Dean could recall the sound of her screams a few nights ago and hoped he wouldn't hear them again.

As he drove down the strip, he began to recognize a few of the buildings he passed. Realizing the bar was a few blocks away, Dean pressed his foot down on the gas a little harder. The bar will be open now. Maybe Tiffany has seen her.

As he pulled up to the bar, he noticed the windows were dark. His heart sank. He craned his neck to see inside. Seeing no sign of anyone, he turned away. The fear of not finding her that was gripping his stomach seemed to clench a little harder.

Then, he saw her.

Under a street light ahead, Naomi was sitting on the curb, leaning against the wooden pole the light hung from.

Dean released a sigh of relief, freeing the steering wheel from his white knuckled grip. He dropped his head for a moment, then ran his fingers through his hair and down his face. She's okay.

He got out of the Impala and walked slowly up to her. He called out, "Hey."

Naomi looked up at Dean and grinned. She slurred, "Hey, stranger."

Eyeing the case of beer on one side of her and the three empty bottles on the other, Dean raised his eyebrows at her. "Didn't know Mother Teresa was a beer kind of girl."

Naomi emptied what was left of the contents of the bottle in her hand. She tossed it behind her and giggled, "I didn't either. I've never drank this much before."

Dean crouched down next to her, inspecting her as she held another bottle up to the light, the brown glass glittering on her cheeks. Besides being white girl wasted, she didn't have a scratch on her.

Dean tucked a strand of hair out of her face. He said softly, "You know, you gave me a scare when you weren't in the room when I woke up."

Naomi swayed a little as she flipped the cap off the bottle. She smiled sheepishly, "You were worried about me?"

Dean gently took the bottle from her, holding eye contact with her as he took a sip. He could feel the smirk he wore as his lips pressed against the bottle.

Then, he remembered Sam. The smirk turned down as he moved to face the street, resting his elbows on his knees. He pulled his phone out and began dialing, mumbling, "Well, Sam and I were both worried."

Naomi scooted closer to Dean. "How worried were you?"

A smile returned to Dean's face. He glanced at her, noticing how her knee was pressed against his. The smell of vanilla overcame him again and he slid his phone back in his pocket. "Pretty worried. We didn't know if you were okay."

Naomi grinned as she leaned close enough to whisper, "I like thinking of you worried about me."

Dean struggled to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry. "You do?"

"Mmm hm." She still hadn't moved her knee and she was staring at his lips.

Something nagged in the back of his mind. Sam. Sam still thought Naomi was gone. Sam was out looking for the girl he kissed back at the motel room. Dean's jaw instinctively tightened.

He sighed, as he looked away from Naomi, "Look, Naomi. I saw you and Sam…you know, back at the motel."

Naomi's smile fell and her shoulders sank. She looked pitiful and Dean never missed a smile so much as he did hers. She said, "I wish you didn't."

Dean felt his own shoulders fall. "Oh."

Feeling something warm slide into his hand, Dean looked down. Small fingers laced through his, seeming almost to be swallowed up. Dean drew a small circle on the back of her palm before he met her gaze.

She was smiling up at him. "I wanted it to be you, Dean."

Dean started, "But Sam-"

Naomi interrupted, putting a hand under Dean's jaw and a thumb against his lips. "Dean. Forget about Sam."

Dean stared down at her blue eyes for a moment, thinking he had heard her wrong. Since they first met, Dean knew Sam had eyes on her. He figured the feelings had been reciprocated. They always were with girls past.

This time was different though. She chose him. She chose him over Sam, the brother who always did the right thing and who put others before himself. Dean always considered himself the wrong pick, but she chose him. Over Sam.

As if releasing a rubberband, Dean slid his hands around her jaw and pressed his lips against hers, every thought of Sam gone.

Dean had kissed a lot of women in his lifetime. He'd had bad kisses and he'd had good ones. He'd had shy, sweet kisses and he'd had hard, sloppy kisses. This kiss, however, was a whole new ballgame: it was hungry.

Dean craved one kiss after another, each one leaving him feeling less sated than the last. She tasted like the sweetness of freedom and rebellion. She was more than a conquest, beyond a challenge. She was something more and Dean wanted more of whatever that was.

Naomi grabbed the collar of his shirt and twisted it around her fist, yanking him closer. Her other hand grabbed his hair, sending a shiver down his spine. A quiet moan from Naomi sent him over the edge.

He wrapped his arms under her, lifting her onto his lap. Her legs clinged to him and her hands snaked over his neck and hair, pulling their heads even closer. He stood, bringing her with him as he began to walk towards the car. Naomi broke the kiss and breathed, "No. The bar" before continuing the kiss.

Dean obeyed, walking towards the bar door and leaning against it. Naomi's hand left him only long enough to turn the doorknob behind her and open the door.

It was Dean's turn to break the kiss. "Wait. How did you-?"

She grinned. "How do you think I got the beer, Winchester?"

Dean smiled as he kissed her neck. He whispered huskily against her skin, "You're a downright criminal."

Naomi placed her hands under his jaw, forcing him to look up at her. Her eyes glittered with mischief. "Just shut up and kiss me."

Dean obliged as he shoved the door closed behind them. The bar was dark, but enough moonlight shone through the windows for Dean to find his way. His boots clomped against the hardwood floor as he headed for the pool table across the room. He hardly sat Naomi down on the table before she yanked his jacket off of him and dropped it to the floor.

Dean slid his hands around her waist, letting his fingers slip under her shirt and brush her skin. He didn't let his hands leave the warmth of her skin as he slid them up, taking her shirt with them. She raised her hands above her head and let the shirt drop to the floor. Dean's lips found her neck again as Naomi's body arched against his, his hands roaming. She sighed, "The bedroom is by the bar."

Dean glanced at the closed door by the liquor wall, then met Naomi's eyes. The desire he felt shredding him apart was reflected in her eyes. He replied with a smirk, "Let's check it out" as he picked her up again and carried her into the room.

The bedroom was simple, furnished only with a bed and a dresser, a matching mirror standing in the corner. As Dean made his way into the room, he tripped over the rug in the middle of the floor and half-fell onto the bed. Naomi met his eyes and the two broke out in laughter.

After the laughter died down, Naomi hooked her fingers in Dean's belt loops and yanked Dean down on her, making him straddle her. She said, as he kissed her neck again, "I've wanted this since I first saw you."

Dean smiled against her neck. "Took you long enough to come around."

Naomi shoved him playfully in his chest, then kissed his smirk with a smirk of her own. As she gently bit his lip, leading him to lie down on her, she whispered, "Let's do this."

Dean watched Naomi as she pulled off his shirt and worked on his belt. She looked stunning, the moonlight seeming to make her skin glow. He wanted her almost more than he could bear and the fact she wanted him too felt like a dream. But, like every dream, one always has to wake up.

Dean felt the reality of the situation seem to clear the fog he was in. Naomi was under him, beautiful…but drunk. He wasn't a stranger to drunk hook-ups, but to add Naomi to that list seemed low. She didn't deserve to be another check on the list. He didn't want her to be.

He pulled away from her enough for Naomi to notice. She stopped undoing the belt. "What is it, Dean?"

"Naomi, we can't do this."

She laughed, as she pulled the belt out of the loops, "Oh, I think we can."

He grabbed her wrists, causing her to pause again. "No, we can't. I can't. Not while you're like this."

Naomi shrugged. "So? Why should that matter to you?"

"Because this is special. You're special. I want this to be different, something we both want."

Naomi sat up, trying to kiss him, but Dean leaned out of her reach. She stated, "Dean. I want to do this."

"You're drunk. I don't want you to regret this in the morning."

Naomi smiled again as she leaned in, pulling his hand to the clasps of her bra strap. "Dean, I could never regret being with you."

Dean clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. He worked his jaw, struggling to find every ounce of strength he knew he'd need. Naomi lied back down and ran her fingers along his spine. He shivered. She cooed, "C'mon, Dean."

Dean lied against her, sliding his hands up her arms as he pressed them into the bed…then leaned back. "Naomi. I can't."

Naomi stared up at him, her eyes widening as tears began to brim them. She sniffed, "Do you not want me anymore? Did I do something wrong?"

Dean leaned over her, resting both hands under her jaw. "No, Naomi. God, no."

"Then, why don't you want to-?"

"I want to. I do. I really want to. I just want us both to be above water when we do this."

Naomi's lip quivered and Dean leaned in. "Naomi-"

He was cut off as Sam burst through the door, roaring, "Dean!"

Dean's head whipped towards his brother. He opened his mouth to explain when Naomi started screaming.

She shoved Dean off of her, yelling, "Sam! Sam, help me!"

Before Dean could react, Sam was lifting him off the bed and into the air. The younger brother threw Dean across the room, his head smacking against the wall.

Dean held his head as he stood, feeling blood stick to his fingers and hair. Sam had wrapped his jacket around Naomi, who had begun crying. She gulped for air and sobbed, "He wouldn't leave me alone! He kept trying to kiss me and I told him to go away and then he just grabbed me! He tore off my shirt and threw me onto the bed! I tried to scream, I tried to-!" She burst into another round of crying, muffled by Sam's chest.

Dean yelled, "What? Naomi! Why are you-?"

Sam bellowed, as he led Naomi out of the room, "Don't you talk to her! Don't even look at her!"

Dean followed them out into the bar, scooping up his shirt and pulling it on. "Sam, I don't know why she's saying that, but-"

Sam spun around and threw his weight behind his punch, hitting Dean in the jaw. Dean flew back, smacking into the pool table behind him. Before he could stand, Sam yanked him up by the front of his shirt, yanking the handful of Dean's shirt, so that he was nose-to-nose with him. Sam seethed, "Don't you dare start lying to me, Dean. Don't you dare."

Dean replied, his hands up in surrender, "Sam, I'm not! She wasn't acting like that before you came in! Something is going on-"

A resounding thud echoed in the empty bar as someone swung a baseball bat at Sam's head. Sam crumpled to the ground, revealing Naomi behind him spinning the bat in her hand.

Dean backed against the table, a hand out to ward her off. "Naomi! What do you think you're doing?"

Naomi popped her hip out to one side and rested the bat on her shoulder. She sighed, "Ah, Dean. I was hoping to do this after I got an eyeful of you in your birthday suit."

She swung the bat at him and he caught it. Without missing a beat, Naomi thrusted her knee into Dean's groin. Dean fell to the ground, struggling to breathe.

Naomi gave him a tight smile. "Not exactly what I had planned for those jewels of yours, but oh well." She reared back, raising the bat back in preparation to swing.

She winked. "Strike three. You're out."

Dean's world went black as he was knocked unconscious.