This fic is dedicated to all the wonderful girls working on Winchester Single Shots. You know who you are :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I'm just playing :P
Summary: It was the last night John would ever let his sons go out alone. Sam 13, Dean 17. Hurt!Sam Hurt!Dean
The Last Night
Friday 7.00 pm
"Please, Dad! All my friends are going, they'll think I'm a loser if I don't go!" Sam begged, his hazel eyes wide and pleading. Dean rolled his eyes at the tone lacing the words. He had known that Sam wanted to go to the stupid school dance, but he hadn't known that he had wanted to go this badly.
Looking over to his father, Dean watched in anticipation to see what John's reaction would be. His dark eyes had taken on a stormy sheen and Dean knew that it wasn't going to end well.
"No, Sam! For the last time, you're not going!"
"But that's not fair! You never let me go to anything! Please!" Sam reiterated, the puppy-dog look replacing the one of anger. "Please…"
Sighing quietly as he stood off to the side, knowing full well the only way Sam would be allowed to go to the dance was if he drove him, stayed the entire time, and drove him home. Only, he didn't think that it would go over very well with Sammy. The dropping off and picking up part would be fine, but Dean was pretty sure that the younger Winchester would not like him to be mingling with all his friends. So, as usual, he would be confined to the car for a couple of hours. Great…
"Dad," Dean spoke up, his voice strong and carrying well. Both the other Winchester's looked over at the word, confusion marring their faces. He fought the urge to roll his eyes again as they continued to stare. "Look, if Sammy…" he ignored the glare he knew was being thrown his way from his younger brother as he continued to speak to his dad. "If Sammy really wants ta go, I'll take him. I'll stay and keep an eye on him too, if ya want."
At his words, Dean could literally see the wheels turning in his father's head. At seventeen, Dean knew that his dad trusted him with a lot of things and looking after Sam was one of those things. Sam would probably hate him for weeks to come for even suggesting that he would come, but he would get over it, eventually.
There was no answer from the young hunter and Dean glanced over at his brother, to see smoldering hazel eyes glaring at him. Great, he was taking it harder than what Dean had originally anticipated.
"Yeah," came the begrudging reply from the thirteen-year-old. "I guess that'll be okay…But I don't see why I can't go without Dean! I'm old enough to go to a school dance by myself, Dad!"
"Don't start with me, Sam!" Their dad yelled back, anger rising greatly. "I'm your father and you'll do as I say! Just be thankful that your brother is going to take you, otherwise you wouldn't be going, full stop!"
Sam returned with another bout of anger-fuelled words. Dean just couldn't see why his dad and brother couldn't get along like they once had. They spent more time arguing than anything else and Dean had a feeling that in years to come, their differences were going to result in something no one wanted to experience.
Fed up with the escalating voices, Dean stepped out of the living room of their latest 'home' and walked into the bedroom he and his brother shared.
The bedroom was small and consisted of two single beds, a dresser and two bedside tables which housed ugly puke green lamps. Pale yellow duvets covered the beds, complete with matching pillowcases. The room was pretty ugly, even by their standards, with gray wallpaper with an ugly yellow rose pattern, but at least the beds were somewhat comfortable.
To the side of the room was another door, which lead into a small bathroom. That was the one thing Dean loved about the small apartment they were renting. There was a main bathroom that their dad used and a small, basic en-suite for him and Sam.
Walking into the en-suite, Dean opened up the mirrored medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of pills. Popping the lid, he palmed three and put the bottle back in the cupboard before reaching for the glass of water sitting on the edge of the basin.
Throwing the pills into the back of his mouth, Dean washed them down with the water, hoping like hell that they would help with the headache that was forming behind his eyes. A quick glance at his watch showed just after seven, and knowing that the dance started at eight, decided to have a quick shower before Sammy wanted the damn thing to spend half an hour doing his girly stuff.
Smirking at the thought, he turned on the faucet and let it heat up before stripping off the ragged jeans and black shirt and stepped under the jets of hot water, letting it hit his still-sore body from the last hunt.
Ten minutes later, Dean was sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard and flipping through the latest car magazine he could find when Sam strode into the room, an angry look still plastered on his face.
"What?" Dean smiled innocently at his brother. "At least you get to go now." He could pretty much see the argument starting to form in his brother's head and held up a hand to stop him before he could start on his latest rant.
"Don't worry, Sammy. I won't go in and embarrass you in front of all your friends. I'll park the car across the road and wait in the car while you have fun with all your geeky friends."
A satisfied smirk possessed his lips as the anger was suddenly replaced with confusion and then embarrassment.
"S'rry, Dean." The words were quiet, quiet enough that Dean had to ask Sam to repeat them. Dean nodded, accepting the apology. He knew that he probably shouldn't, but Sam said and did a lot of things in anger without meaning to. He just didn't think things through before acting on them. In a lot of ways, Sammy was just like their dad.
After a few tense minutes of silence, Sam broke the reverie-like situation with a statement that he was going to have a shower and disappeared into the small bathroom. At his brother's retreating back, Dean teased: "Don't take too long doing all your girly stuff, Samantha!"
A single finger was the only response and Dean laughed, returning to his magazine and the page featuring the busty blonde leaning against the gorgeous '72 Plymouth Barracuda.
Lost in the magazine of hot chicks and sweet rides, Dean didn't even realize what the time was until Dad shouted though the closed bedroom door, saying that they'd better hurry up or be late. Checking his watch and seeing that it was a quarter to eight, Dean swore and threw the magazine on the bedside table, standing and making his way over to the bathroom door.
He pounded his fist on the door a few times before yelling out that it was a quarter to eight and that Sam'd better hurry up or he'd be late. A few quick and muffled curses floated through the wooden door and Dean smiled, leaning against the wall and fingering the car keys in his jacket pocket.
In a record three minutes, both brothers were ready to go. Dean said goodbye to their father, who stated a few rules including 'I want you home by twelve' and 'Dean, be good!' Dean just laughed and waved as he ushered Sam out the door and towards the Impala.
Once in the car, Dean slipped the key in the ignition and smiled as the V8 engine purred away. Pressing play on the stereo, the sounds of Metallica blared from the speakers as he pulled out from the curb. Although the music was playing exceedingly loud, the elder Winchester didn't miss the quiet 'thanks' that came from the passenger seat.
It was another ten minutes before they arrived at the hall the school had hired out for the night for the dance. Dean parked across the road – as promised – and as Sammy got out the car, hit pause on the stereo and rolled down the window, motioning for him to come closer.
"I want you to be careful, okay? I'm doing you a favor, not coming in, but you gotta promise me not to be reckless. I've got my 'cell on me if you need me and I want you to be back out here by twelve thirty so that we've got plenty of time to get home."
Sam nodded in understanding and Dean reached up and messed up his kid brother's hair, knowing that it pissed him off.
"Dean!" came the agitated reply as predicted. "I promise I'll be good. Thanks, Dean."
"No problem, kiddo. Now, go have some fun." With that, Sam grinned and walked across the road to the hall, where several groups of teenagers from their school were gathered. Dean watched Sam stride up to one particularly large one and be engulfed by a group of guys, laughing.
Damn, he hadn't known that Sammy was so popular. A grin settled on Dean's face as he saw Sam look back at him, throwing up a hand in the universal sign for 'I'm good.'
Settling back in the seat, Dean turned the music back on and let Metallica blast through the speakers once more. Pulling out a magazine from the duffle on the backseat, he used the streetlight and the fading sunlight to read as he flicked through the thin pages. Maybe, just maybe, tonight wouldn't be too bad.
Looking up from the magazine, Dean frowned before shaking his head and returning to stare at the seriously gorgeous babe plastered across the center pages. Another smile lit his face until the same sound as before caught his hearing again.
Eyes widening, Dean opened the glove box and grabbed the gun he kept there in case of emergency. Checking the clip, he loaded the gun and tucked it into the waste band of his jeans at the small of his back, letting his shirt and jacket conceal the weapon.
He flipped open his cell phone, dialing Dad's number and hearing the call being answered, didn't care if it was actually his dad or voicemail, began to speak.
"Dad. Something's happened at the dance. Sam's in trouble. Call you when I can."
Flipping the phone shut and shoving it in his pocket, Dean locked the Impala and raced over to the hall, just as the screams started.
Author Notes: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. This is a different kind of fic than what I normally write, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. The next chapter will be posted on Wednesday. I'm hoping to post a chapter every two days. I hope that suits everyone. Also, this chapter has been un-beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading.