"I won, Dean," Alec said. She rewet the washrag she'd been holding and wiped orange paint out of her long black hair.
The seventeen year old glared at his neighbor, who also happened to be his girlfriend at the time, and shook his head as he scrubbed a splotch of blue off his collarbone. "You lost, what're you talking about?"
"I'm talking about my twenty-two shots to your chest. You lost!"
"Well, I got you thirty times in your stomach, so you lost."
"No, I won."
"Nope, you didn't. I did."
"You lost, Alec, you could never beat me at paintball. Even if you tried, you know you'd just lose miserably. Kinda like you did today."
"You know what?" she said.
"I know quite a bit, thank you."
"You fail. P-H-A-L-E, fail!" He stared at her and she laughed. "What?"
"Did you just... nevermind." He shook his head and threw the rag at her face. She shrieked and he took off across the yard. She caught up quickly and tackled him. She rolled him over and pinned his arms over his head. He reversed the move and pinned her own arms down. "You spelled 'fail' wrong."
"Yes, I know. I did it on purpose, genius."
"Of course, you did."
"I'm surprised you even know how to spell 'fail'. Although, you are failing English, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised."
"Are you making fun of me, Alec Anderson?"
"Did I stutter, Dean Winchester?"
He grinned fiendishly and kissed her forehead. "God, I love it when you're being a smartass."
"I know." She leaned her head up and met his lips with hers, softly at first, then more suggestively. She freed her arms from his grasp and ran her hands over his arms.
"Wait," he said, "Sammy's inside."
"So, let's go over to my place. Mom's not home."
He gritted his teeth and exhaled sharply. It was tempting. Very tempting. But he didn't think his dad would appreciate it much. "I can't, Alec."
She kissed him again and gripped his beltloops. "Sorry I brought it up. I didn't mean to do that to you."
He pressed his lips to hers one more time and rolled over onto his back.
"Dammit!" John yelled, "Dean, the car won't start, you take care of it."
"Why can't you do it?" Dean asked.
"I'm too frustrated with it. It's like it has a mind of it's own. It only works for you!"
Dean laughed and Alec stood up. "Lemme do it this time, Dean."
Dean's eyes widened and he jumped up. "Oh, no. No, no, no. You aren't touching that car!"
"Girls can't fix cars."
She crossed her arms. "Sexist. Girls live in the same society men do. Run by power-hungry politicians, who live in the past when a woman's place was in the kitchen. They're too afraid that we may end up with a female president. We can do almost anything men can, and you all still look down on us. Look at the queen of England! She's a great ruler, and no one's sexist against her. So, why should the rest of us have to deal with some lame guy's stupid-ass idea to treat women like chickenshit?"
Dean's jaw dropped and she raised her eyebrows. "Okay, you can fix the car."
"Thank you." She walked past a stunned John and popped the hood on the Impala. She started cracking up after a moment and pulled a dead squirrel out of the engine. "I think this might be your problem," she informed him, trying to keep a straight face, "John, what did that poor squirrel ever do to you?"
John shook his head and slapped the dead animal to the side of the road as Alec broke out laughing. "Don't make fun of me," he growled.
"Sorry, sir, I'm sorry, it's just so funny!"
Dean's face paled and he stared out into the street.
"Dean?" John said, "What's wrong, son?"
"Dad, please tell me you have a sawed-off with you?" Dean said. John and Alec turned around, but saw nothing.
"Dean, I don't see anything," John said.
Alec touched Dean's arm. "Talk to me, Dean, we don't see it."
"How can you not see that?!" He was breathing hard and he thought he was going to pass out. Standing no more than two feet in front of him was the corpse of a young girl, about seventeen years old. Her skin was whiter than a sheet, and her head was tilted to the right, hanging on a small set of nerves. The inside of her throat was completely exposed, and blood was pouring down the front of her clothes. Her mouth was moving, but all that was coming out were strangled chokes. But suddenly, her head flopped upright, her mouth closed sharply, and she ran at Dean. He fell back onto the grass and she disappeared.
"Dean," John and Alec said, kneeling next to him.
"Are you okay, son?" John asked.
Dean looked at them and at the place where the girl had been, panting.
"Dean." Alec patted his cheek. "Dean, focus, what happened?"
He shook his head. "I don't... I don't know..."
A/N So, this turned out better than I thought it would. Anywho, please R&R.