Dean jogged up the front steps of the house, unconsciously in time with the music of Kryptonite which was blaring through the speakers and pouring out across the lawn. It was summer in the mid-West, and the lack of a beachfront did not impede a weekend house party.

Dean wound his way through the revelers dancing and hanging out on the front porch; the crowd was pretty tame, but that wasn't surprising considering the geeks Sam usually hung out with. He let himself in the front door scanning the room as he entered. Dean was surprised when an adult approached him almost immediately and asked him to identify himself. Of course Sam would attend a chaperoned party…

Dean put on his best "big brother" face with a dash of "slightly worried" and a side of "I'm not going to do anything illegal in your house" and held out his hand. "Dean Winchester. I'm just looking for my brother, Sam. There's been a family emergency and we need to go home." With his free hand Dean gestured through the door and back to the street. "Our Dad's waiting in the car."

The man on door duty looked instantly sympathetic. "Is there anything I can do, son?"

"No, sir…thanks. If you can just tell me where Sam is, I'll go grab him."

The dad looked around the living room. "I'm pretty sure he's in the basement. Some of the boys were playing the games down there. You head downstairs and I'll check the backyard just in case he decided to head out there." The dad led Dean to the top of the basement stairs and then continued through the kitchen and out the back door.

Dean walked down the stairs into a large, furnished game room. There was a large crowd of boys seated on and around some well worn couches intently focused on the game on the large screen in front of them. Dean quickly scanned the group for his nerd of a little brother and was surprised not to see him there. Dean walked around the crowd as they groaned in unison; it appeared that the dragon was the victor this day. There was some scrambling over the game controllers as Dean moved further into the basement.

Aside from the gamers, the basement appeared deserted. Dean walked further into the large room to make a quick scan. The far end of the basement was shrouded in gloom, but Dean could make out some figures entwined on a couch past the pool table that had been abandoned for more modern amusements. He was about to turn and go back upstairs to see if Sam had left the gamers and join the group in the yard when the girl disengaged herself long enough to tug the boy's shirt over his head and exclaim, "Oh Sam, you have such strong shoulders!"

Oh crap.

For his part, Sam just ducked his head and mumbled something about doing a lot of pushups.

Dean shook his head. I thought I taught him better than that. Disappointing.

But the girl wasn't disappointed by Sam's reply. In fact, it didn't seem to interest her much at all. She seemed to have a very clear idea of where she wanted this encounter to go. She'd already maneuvered herself into Sam's lap and wasn't shy at all about exploring with her hands now that she'd gotten his shirt off.

And really,… really …if they had any time at all, Dean would disappear into the crowd, talk the dad upstairs into giving him a beer and let that eager brunette finish what she'd started. However, chances were good that what had Dad wound up wasn't a monster, but local law enforcement, and if Dean didn't get back to the car with Sam almost immediately John Winchester would be the one crashing this party. "Bull in a china shop" didn't even begin to cover the disaster that would be even if they were leaving town immediately, which it seemed that they were. The embarrassment of being interrupted by your brother didn't measure in any way against being literally dragged out of the house by your dad. Not that Sam would see that. Not that Dean would blame him.

"Ah…I hate to break this up…really, I do…" Dean approached the couch.

"What? Dean?" Sam's expression ricocheted between the dumbfounded daze of being caught up in the attention of the girl, the distress from the embarrassment of being interrupted, and the disappointment of understanding that the night had come to an immediate end.

The girl on Sam's lap gave a little squeak of alarm and peered toward the stairway across the room. "Is my Daddy coming down here?"

"He is if he doesn't find Sam in the backyard." The girl's rosebud mouth formed a perfect "o" of distress. She scooted backwards off of Sam's lap and pulled on his hands to help him off of the couch. They stood like that for a moment, unwilling to release each other. Sam rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and she tipped her face up to him grinning impishly.

"We have to go, Sam. Dad's outside."

Dean could read the fight in Sam's face as the younger boy turned and glared. He got it; he really did. If anyone had interrupted him with a girl as cute as this one with her brown curls and dimpled cheeks when he was barely seventeen there would've been hell to pay; but messing with Dad on a night like this had its own price, and it simply wasn't worth it.

"Sam. It's time to go." Dean put everything into his face, willing Sam to understand that this wasn't "Dad's mad you broke curfew" but "we've got some shit do deal with and it's time to GO".

Sam dropped his gaze, defeated. His friend still clung to his hands, grin wavering as she picked up on the tension between the brothers. "Is everything okay, Sam?" she asked worriedly.

He nodded. "Family emergency."

Satisfied that Sam would follow, Dean turned back toward the stairs. The girl, who hadn't appeared at all shy before, softly asked, "Can you at least say good-bye?" Dean turned back to hustle Sam along – they didn't have time for a Hallmark moment with Dad chomping at the bit out on the curb. He was surprised when a moment later Sam scooped up his enthusiastic companion and soundly kissed her.

That's my boy!

Dean turned away not wanting to be inappropriately voyeuristic. A giggle from the girl a few moments later seemed to indicate that the proceedings were finished so Dean glanced back. "Sam. Shirt." He pointed at the couch where Sam's discarded t-shirt lay.

Sam scooped it up and started to pull an arm through as he walked toward Dean. Dean slapped his arm down. "Not yet."


"Not yet," Dean repeated. Sam gave him a quizzical look, but continued his attempt to put his shirt on.

Dean grabbed the shirt out of Sam's right hand and shoved it into his left as he continued to move both of them across the basement. "Sorry guys," he announced as he pushed Sam directly in front of the couch holding the game players. "Coming through…" There was some cursing and yelling as they walked in front of the tv which Dean ignored and Sam was oblivious to as he gazed back toward the lovely brunette in her short shorts and gleaming white tennis shoes who waved at him with another grin. Sam waved back. The gamers not actually involved with playing noted the slightly, mussed girl and Sam's shirtless appearance. It didn't take them long to put two and two together. It didn't hurt to build Sam's reputation even if they were about to see the back end of this one-horse town.

Satisfied, Dean said, "Now you can put on your shirt. Better do it before her "Daddy" sees you."

Hours later, Dean stepped out of the dingy motel room where they'd finally stopped. Sam was crouched on the edge of the sidewalk near the Impala. Not much had been said, yet, but a storm was brewing. Very often Sam conveniently overlooked the forces that moved their lives, the things that motivated their father; but even Sam could sense that last night was different. Sam would've raised hell if they'd taken off when school was in session, but he wasn't ready to draw that line over a girl. Not yet. But that didn't mean the ache wasn't there.

Dean approached and dropped down to sit on the sidewalk next to Sam. He had a beer for himself but passed a soda over to Sam.

"Starting a little early, aren't you?" Sam asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Dean waved a hand at the barely visible horizon. "Technically it's still last night. This is last call." Dean responded matter-of-factly.

Sam huffed a little laugh, but ignored the bottle of soda he rolled between his hands. Dean let the moment stretch out before he asked, "What was her name?"

This time Sam sighed and Dean could feel Sam's shoulders sag against his. "It doesn't matter."

"It does, Sam." Sam glanced over to see if he was being baited or if Dean was serious. "What was her name?" Dean asked again.

Sam looked away and squinted into the rising sun. "Her name was Lucy."

"She seemed very…" what Dean was going to say was energeticenthusiastic,…HORNY, but his memory flashed back to the way Lucy held Sam's hands, the way she grinned at him, the way she balanced on her toes when she waved good-bye. "She seemed sweet."

Sam relaxed against Dean. "She was sweet." Sam smiled sideways at Dean then looked bashfully at the blacktop near their feet. "She was round in all the right places…"

Dean laughed and leaned hard against Sam making him lean to the left. "Aw, c'mon Sam…too easy! I'm trying to be good but you're giving me too much to work with…"

Sam chuckled, a genuine chuckle as he shrugged and pushed back against Dean. "Well she was."

"That was some kiss you laid on her." Dean waggled his eyebrows appreciatively. Sam blushed a furious red. "That's the way to do it, Sammy! Seize the day!"

Dean took another swig of his beer, and Sam cracked open his soda. Dean started to sing softly, "Ain't no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed. We were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed…" Sam punched Dean in the leg, but Dean just laughed. Dean let the silence stretch out again knowing that Sam would fill it soon with faltering descriptions of an apple-cheeked yet aggressive girl. It surprised him to realize it was exactly what he wanted to hear.