Hi everyone! I'm really pleased with how this chapter came out. Glad you're liking the story! Enjoy!
It was nearing one o'clock in the morning. Last call was at two. They were on their second of three bars. Dean had pocketed two people's watches and one guys wallet. He'd sell the watches at a pawn shop the next town over. Sam had won over a thousand dollars at poker and Dean had brought in six hundred playing pool. Sophie had to admit she was impressed.
Her head still hurt from the seizure earlier and, with no alcohol in her system and no pressing task distracting her, she was remembering just how deeply annoying people became when they were intoxicated.
She sat behind Sam, watching him count cards. She would never have brought it up, but he'd missed a couple great opportunities. Sophie chuckled to herself, maybe Sam wasn't quite as good at math as they thought. Then again, their reference population was a little different from hers.
She finished her sixth club soda and got to her feet, desperately needing to stretch her legs and also hoping to find a bathroom. Dean had read somewhere that dehydration could worsen seizures, so he'd been dutifully supplying her with a full glass of soda water every thirty minutes. She wasn't wearing her medical ID. Dean and Sam said it would be a sign of vulnerability that might encourage someone to try something untoward. She felt naked without it.
So far she'd gotten a lot of uncomfortably intimate glances, and a handful of uncomfortably intimate comments. But the outfit Dean had assembled was doing its job. No one had touched her except a female bartender who'd clapped her on the shoulder and congratulated her for being pregnant - clearly the only explanation for why she wasn't drinking - and one crying drunk college girl, who'd collapsed into Sophie's arms seeking solace after her boyfriend dumped her. Dean had just about bitten the poor kid's head off, but Sophie managed to convince him everything was fine. They'd left the last bar after that incident. And now they were seated at Big Arney's Snooker & Beer. Sophie still could not believe that was actually the name of the bar.
Sam caught her arm as Sophie went to find the restroom.
"No wandering off," he said.
"Wouldn't dream of it," she assured him.
"And Sophie," Sam pulled her in to whisper in her ear, "A reminder that if you are gone more than two minutes at this point I'm pretty sure Dean is coming to find you."
"I'd be genuinely offended if he didn't," Sophie patted Sam's shoulder and walked off.
The women's bathroom was expectedly dirty and poorly lit. An older woman with frighteningly orange-colored hair cried morosely - leaning against one of the stalls. Sophie remembered why she hated bars. She generally preferred to stay home and make sourdough. Sure, she'd gone out with friends in college at McGill, then in grad school at University of British Columbia, and once or twice with her colleagues back in Vancouver. The bars were nicer than this though, even when she was a broke undergrad. Everything here was vaguely sticky and the air smelled like stale cigarettes and rancid sugar.
As she came out of the bathroom stall Sophie found herself face to face with a large, heavily bearded man. He smelled like vodka and wore sunglasses in spite of the dim light.
"You got the wrong bathroom," she said, trying to move past him.
"I don't think I did," he replied, stepping to block her way and taking hold of her arm. He backed her against the sink, leaning down to get his face closer to hers. The crying woman in the corner didn't seem to notice.
"You know, even in that getup, you're awfully pretty," he slurred into her face.
Sophie used her free hand to search her pockets for the switchblade. She grasped it and tried to lock the knife open without drawing attention. Her fingers were still clumsy from the events that afternoon and she was slower than she should have been. She wanted her baseball bat. She wanted to chuck him on the ground with a hip toss. But her head was still fuzzy and the dozen scabs on her back were screaming at her as he pushed her against the hard cement counter. Sophie wasn't in fighting shape right now, and she knew it.
The big man didn't release her arm, but trailed his other hand down her face and over her breasts.
"We'll have to get this off of you, I think," he said, reaching for the hem of her shirt.
And then a beer bottle came down on the back of his head and he slumped to the ground.
"Dean," Sophie gasped as he stepped over the unconscious body and pulled her against his chest.
"You hurt?" He asked. Sophie shook her head.
"He touch you?"
"A little groping but nothing R rated," Sophie replied.
"Okay," Dean nodded and pulled back to look in her eyes, "We're going now."
"Yes, please," Sophie replied as he took her hand and pulled her towards the exit. A quick nod to Sam and he folded his hand, grabbed his cash from the dealer, and followed.
"We've got forty-five minutes until last call," Dean said as he tossed the keys to Sam and folded himself into the back seat beside Sophie.
"I'll hit the last place, drop you two off at the hotel first?" Sam offered as the car roared to life.
"Works for me," Dean said curtly. He had Sophie tucked protectively under his arm, his free hand methodically working her over and checking for injuries. All the unhealed scrapes from the afternoon remained, but there was nothing new.
"You sure you're okay?" He whispered.
"I'm shaken up, but I'll be fine," she assured him.
"This is all my fault," Dean began, but Sophie didn't let him finish. She kissed him instead. Guilt wasn't going to help anybody right now.
"Did you tell him to try and assault me?" Sophie asked. Dean just grunted and shook his head.
"Then see," Sophie assured him, "Not your fault at all."
"I really mean it this time, no leaving my sight," Dean said as Sophie rested her head against his chest.