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Words: 8,085 Sam x Reader Warnings: language (duh), violent scenarios--reader discretion is advised A/N: Part 2 is here and it is a LONG one. This is part of a series. Read Part 1 here first!

Your name: submit What is this?

“What about this one?” your sister asked, holding up a shirt.

You made a face. “No way.”

She sighed at you. “Seriously? Ugh. Are you being difficult on purpose?” she asked, digging through your closet. “Why do you even still have these clothes if you will never wear them?”

“We’re just going to a bar! It’s not a frickin’ red carpet event!” you countered.

She pointed to the shirt she had just dropped onto the continuously growing ‘no’ pile on your bed. “That? No celebrity in their right mind would wear that on the red carpet.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment. “…Maybe Lady Gaga. It’s a casual shirt!”

You laughed. “It is still a no…”

You heard her gasp suddenly and she whirled around with an excited smile on her face. “This. This, this, this!” she said.

“Your eyes will look amaaaazing with this. The color is going to pop. And wear it with those skinny jeans, and that little black motorcycle jacket you have—and these boots!” She grinned at you, nodding eagerly. “Seriously, the jeans show off your butt and this shirt which actually fits you properly is going to accentuate your waist. Trust me. It’s gonna be hot.”

You chewed your bottom lip. You did like that motorcycle jacket… and that shirt did bring out your eyes… but—“Can’t I just wear one of my—”

She interrupted you “—if the next word you say is flannels, I am going to smack you.” Your sister’s cell phone beeped and she hastily looked at the screen before clearing and locking it again. You thought you saw a vague smile on her face.

“Who’s that?” you asked, searching through your closet for your jacket.

“Oh, no one. Just a friend from back home,” she said, waving it off. “Alright. But really. No flannels.”

This only made you laugh and smile guiltily. “Okay! Okay, you win. God. Am I that predictable?” you asked, snatching the shirt from her hands.

“Uhh, yes. That’s why I’m helping you,” she called after you as you went into the bathroom. “Hurry up and get ready! I’m gonna go see what the boys are doing. I’ll see you out front!”

You fixed your hair and make-up and threw on the clothes your sister had suggested and took a look in the mirror. And you had to hand it to her—you liked the way you looked… But still, half of you was dreading going out because you knew it would mean you had to spend an entire evening feeling like your heart was ripped out every time Sam and your sister did something “couple-y.” The other half of you really needed a goddamn drink and a distraction… It seemed like every time you weren’t purposely distracting yourself, your mind wandered back to Sam’s fingers brushing yours as he handed you your coffee, or the way he had so sweetly jumped up to get it for you, sleep still in his eyes. Usually you could talk yourself out of thinking there was meaning in those little moments, but you couldn’t talk yourself out of the way he had been looking at you when you tumbled down on top of him, and how suddenly one of his hands had floated to your lower back and stayed there—you had both been frozen, suspended. God, why am I doing this to myself?! Turning it over and over in your mind wasn’t going to change the fact that he was with someone else. You forced out an exhale, checked your reflection one more time and headed out to the front of the bunker to see if everyone was ready to go.

You weren’t sure why, but you were a little nervous. There were so few occasions when you put on anything other than jeans and a t-shirt or a flannel, or your comfy clothes around the bunker. You stepped into the front room a little hesitantly and Dean was the first one to notice you.

“Y/N, holy shit,” he said, his face cracking into a boyish grin. His green eyes crinkled in a smile. “I mean, you always look good but damn.” You felt your cheeks turning red and covered your face with your hands, laughing at Dean.

“Stop! Shut up!” you protested through nervous laughter. “I don’t deal well with compliments!”

Your sister let out a wolf whistle at you and smiled excitedly. “You look awesome! Do you like it?”

You nodded a little shyly, your cheeks still burning. “I do, actually,” you said, looking down at your boots.

“I told you that you’d look hot. Babe, doesn’t she look hot?!” she said, nudging Sam with an elbow. He had simply been staring at you with a slightly peculiar expression on his face, but this jolted him out of his trance.

“Huh? Yeah. Y/N, you look… you look amazing,” he said. You caught his eyes and he managed to give you a small smile. Your cheeks burned hotter.

Dean could feel some shift in his brother’s mood and he worried that your sister would feel it too. He cleared his throat. “Well, shit. Can I call dibs on you tonight? Forget the hot bartender,” he joked, giving you a wink.

You rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. “In your dreams, Winchester,” you said playfully.

“Well, actually, sometimes yes...”

“Dean!” you scolded him, your face turning red again. He laughed heartily and your sister gave you a satisfied look. Sam simply looked on, unusually quiet.

Shortly thereafter, you all piled into the Impala and headed to the bar. It was a Friday night, so it was sure to be reasonably busy, and you weren’t surprised to see that the parking lot was almost full. To your sister’s disappointment, ‘the hot bartender’ wasn’t working, which you assured her was perfectly fine… you weren’t just going to throw yourself at someone because they were reasonably attractive and happened to be right in front of you.

You started with a few rounds of pool against Dean, trying to ignore your sister being all over Sam as they watched and sipped their drinks. “You lose again, Dean. Cough it up,” you said, holding your hand out for the $20 he had bet you. “Don’t worry. I’ll just use it to buy us all some drinks,” you said, grinning at him. You turned around to shoot a triumphant look at Sam, who always loved to see Dean lose, but your sister was just leaning in to kiss him, her arms around his neck, and your stomach lurched. You quickly looked away and handed your pool cue to Dean. “So, drinks,” you said, and you hurried away.

You came back with a tray of beers and some shots of whiskey and set it down on the table.

“Losers first,” you said cheekily, handing Dean a shot.

He shot you a half-serious glare. “Oh, I let you win. To make up for knocking you on your ass earlier today.” You flicked him off and grabbed a shot of whiskey.

“Alright. Everyone drink—”

You sister shook her head. “Hell no. You know I don’t drink whiskey,” she said, turning back to her beer.

“You party pooper,” you said playfully. “Fine. Me, Dean, and Sam then.” You held your shot glass up in a toast. “Here’s to those who wish us well, and all the rest can go to hell.”

“Cheers to that,” Dean agreed heartily, and you all drank. After you took your shot, you reached over and threw back the one meant for your sister. The action wasn’t lost on Sam… and Dean caught your eyes and raised his eyebrows at you as you also grabbed a beer off the tray.

“…What?” you asked in an undertone.

“You okay?” he asked hesitantly.

“Fine. Why?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and held up his free hand. “Nothin’. Nevermind!”

The music changed and your sister jumped up off her stool. “Oh, I love this song! Come on, babe!” and she pulled Sam out onto the dance floor.

Dean watched your gaze follow the two of them and then you turned back to the high-top table and focused on putting a serious dent in your beer. “Hey. Take it easy, hot rod,” he said. “What are you doing? Trying to get wasted? Slow it down,” he said with a gruff laugh, shaking his head at you.

“And what if I am?” you asked him.

Dean studied your face for a moment, his brow furrowed. “Y/N…”

You knew that tone and averted your eyes, looking down at the glass in your hands. “I’m not talking about this, especially not here, and not right now,” you said.

Dean sighed heavily. “Come on. Just—try and have some fun tonight, okay? Want to play darts?”

You chewed your bottom lip for a moment and then nodded. “Sure. Right after I grab another drink,” you said, and you downed what was left in your glass. Dean frowned at you, but only watched as you headed up to the bar.

You were waiting for the bartender to get to you when the guy next to you looked your way. You pretended not to notice.

“Hey,” he said. You turned and gave him a quick, tight smile. “Haven’t seen you in here before. I don’t think,” he said. You just raised your eyebrows at him but didn’t say anything. You could feel him checking you out but you again pretended not to notice. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“That’s alright,” you said. “I’m just here with some friends.”

He laughed lightly. “Well, come on. I can still buy you a drink,” he argued. “Please. It’s just one drink.”

“…Fine. Sure. Why not,” you said. “Thanks.” Mostly you just wanted to shut him up.

He smiled at you. “What are you drinking?” he asked, putting a finger up to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Whiskey and coke.”

“Sounds good. I’m Brian,” he said, holding out a hand. You accepted it and shook it briefly.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you. So, are you from around here?” he asked. You watched as the bartender poured your drinks and wished he would hurry up.

“Not exactly,” you said, trying to give him as little of a response as you could without being outrightly rude.

“What’s that mean?” he asked. Okay… this guy was not giving up.

Thankfully the bartender brought over your drink and you gratefully took it, giving Brian one last tight smile. “Well, thanks for this… my friend is waiting for me so—”

“Oh—well, let him wait,” he said, smiling at you, trying to lay on the charm.

You ignored it. “Thanks again,” you said, and you turned and headed back to Dean.

Dean had seen the whole interaction from across the bar. He and Sam had a tendency to keep a close eye on you and your sister when you were out at the townie bars. Some of the locals could be a little unsavory. “Did you make a new friend up there?”

You rolled your eyes. “He insisted on buying me a drink… so eventually I let him and then I bailed,” you said with a shrug. “Ready? Who’s going first?”

“Mmm. You can go first,” Dean said. He looked over your shoulder in the direction of the bar and could see that the guy was still watching you. Dean purposely stepped between his gaze and you as you lined up with the dart board. Note to self: Keep an eye on that guy, Dean thought.

You shot really well the first round and let out some loud cheers of enjoyment as you went and retrieved your darts, giving Dean a sassy look.

“Alright, don’t get too cocky,” Dean said. “I think in about 15 minutes those shots and that beer are gonna hit you and your aim is going out the window.”

You sipped at your drink. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Dean…”

Well—he was right. You were feeling pretty tipsy as you wrapped up the first game. Dean had beat you, but only barely. You pouted at him. “You’re a cheater,” you accused.

“No, I’m just mostly sober. Alright, why don’t we sit down and have some water,” Dean suggested.

“How about we don’t,” you said, giving him a sassy look and getting up, your empty drink glass in your hand. He gently touched your sleeve and gave you a long look.

“What?” you demanded. Dean sighed.

He shook his head at you. “What do you want? Wait here, and I’ll go up and get it.”

You grinned widely at him. “Two shots,” you said.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you. “Two shots? One for you and one for me?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Both for me. And a beer.”

“Y/N…”

You scoffed. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Dean! Fine, if you won’t get it, I’ll go get it myself—”

“Stop—God! Just wait here. I’ll go get your damn drinks. But you need to slow down. I am NOT gonna let you anywhere near Baby if you might puke,” he said vehemently. “And we do not want you drinking yourself into oblivion.” Actually, that’s kind of exactly what I want, you thought.

You watched him disappear into the crowd toward the bar again. A moment later, Sam and your sister reappeared. She fanned herself with her hand and sat down on the stool beside you.

“Sooooo,” she said.

You shrugged. “So?”

She laughed at you. “Any prospects?”

Sam’s eyes snapped over to your face. You shrugged. “Nope.”

“Well, have you actually talked to anyone?” she pressed.

“I talked to some guy at the bar who bought me a drink,” you said. Sam shifted his weight a little anxiously. “And then I ran away,” you said, giving your sister a wide satisfied smile. She laughed but shook her head at you.

“You might be hopeless, you know that?” she said. One song ended and another started with some familiar twanging chords. Her face lit up.

You shook your head fast. “No!”

“Pleeeeease,” she said, grabbing your arm. “Please, please, pleaaaaase. Come dance! One song!”

“You know I don’t dance,” you countered.

“You have to! It’s like an unwritten rule that we have to dance to this song.” She put on her best pleading puppy eyes and a laugh bubbled up from you.

“Oh my God… You’re the worst!” you said, laughing.

“Pleeeeease, sis! Come on! Live a little!”

“Oh my God… FINE!” you relented.

“YES!” she jumped up, gave Sam a peck on the cheek and grabbed your hand. “We’ll be back,” she said grinning.

“Just give me a second—here comes Dean with more drinks,” you said. “You’re lucky I’m half-drunk right now. Sober me never would have agreed to this,” you teased her. Sam felt his brow furrow reflexively, but neither you nor your sister noticed.

“You like it,” she retorted. “If it weren’t for me, you’d never have any fun.”

Dean was back and you grabbed a shot off the tray. “Oh, thank god. More courage juice,” you said downing it, and then you let your sister drag you out onto the dance floor. Sam and Dean watched the two of you head out, happily bouncing around and singing. Dean shook his head and laughed a low gruff laugh. Sam’s brow was wrinkled with concern. “Well, this is probably going to lead to trouble,” Dean said, sipping at his beer. Sam swallowed hard.

“Yeah… what’s up with Y/N?” Sam asked after a long moment.

Dean shrugged and pulled a face, the corners of his mouth pressed down.

“She just—she seems like she’s making a pretty good effort to get drunk,” Sam said.

“Seems like she is succeeding,” Dean replied. “Maybe you should ask her about it. That’s out of my jurisdiction.” He sipped his beer again and watched the turmoil in his brother’s eyes.

The song ended and you laughed as your sister threw an arm around you. She fanned herself with her hand again. “It’s hot. Let’s get some air,” she said, and the two of you headed outside and breathed in the cool night air. You looked up at the stars, innumerable, and sighed. You noticed it was a little difficult to keep them from looking like they were spinning. You sister was checking her phone, sitting on a concrete bollard, swinging her feet. She looked back at you and smiled.

“Thanks for dancing with me. That was fun.”

You nodded, leaning back against the wall to steady yourself, and staring out over the parking lot. “It was.” You heaved in a deep breath. A comfortable silence stretched between you for a long moment.

“So, uhh… Dean was being pretty flirty with you earlier,” she said. You snapped around to look at her and she raised her eyebrows at you.

“The definition of ‘Dean’ is flirty,” you said with a laugh.

She cocked her head at you. “Well… maybe. You ever think about—”

You busted out laughing. “You can’t be serious! Oh my God! Let me stop you right there. No! Absolutely not!"

“Why not?!” she exclaimed. “I mean, he’s hot, he’s funny, smart, and totally available—you two seem to have a good time together! And he obviously cares about you.”

You stared at her with your mouth hanging open and a queer expression on your face.

“And then someday I could get married to Sam and you could marry Dean,” she joked. “It’d be like a bad 90’s movie!” she laughed. “Two sisters marrying two brothers.”

You shook your head at her with another loud laugh. “You are so off base right now—I can’t even find the words. Look, I love Dean, but we’re just friends! I don’t feel that way about him.”

“Well, maybe you should,” she said wiggiling her eyebrows at you. You gave her a skeptical look and shook your head.

“Look, I don’t need to be dating someone,” you said. “I don’t understand this crusade you are on to attach me to someone. I’m totally fine.”

She sighed and stretched, a soft frown on her lips. “So you say. Well, I need another drink. You coming in?” she asked.

“I’ll be in soon. Still hot,” you said. You were enjoying the cool evening air on your face and the smell of green, summer grass. You leaned back against the wall, feeling a little unsteady, relishing the dreamy, slightly fuzzy feeling in your head of being buzzed.

“Alright. See you in there.”

You let your mind drift and inevitably it drifted back to Sam…

Your sister appeared back at the table with the Winchesters and grabbed an unclaimed beer Dean had bought.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Sam asked curiously.

“Oh, we stepped out front to get some fresh air. She said she’d be in soon.”

Sam’s brow contracted down low over his eyes. “You left her out there alone? What the hell were you thinking?” he asked forcefully.

You sister was taken aback by his tone and answered angrily. “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself,” she scoffed.

“She’s drunk,” Sam replied a little heatedly, immediately getting up and pushing through the crowd, heading through the front door. You looked over as the door opened up and straightened up when you saw it was Sam.

“Hey,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, relief washing over him as he saw you were okay.

“Hi,” you said. “What’s up?”

“Oh—just—you shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said.

You gave him a half-smile and tilted your head. “I’m fine.”

“Well… you’ve been drinking kind of a lot tonight. Just—want to be sure you’re safe,” he said.

You considered his thoughtful expression and nodded. “I see.” Your eyes turned back out to gaze across the parking lot.

Sam clenched and unclenched his hand in his pocket. “…why are you drinking so much?” he asked. “I mean, you usually are more of a two-beer kind of person.”

You looked over at him and Sam thought your expression was a little sad. You shrugged. “No reason.” And you didn’t say anything more, though Sam wished you would. You stood and started back toward the front door of the bar, and Sam held it open for you, walking with your through the crowd of people toward your table.

“Thanks. I’ll be back. Just gonna go use the restroom,” you said, and you broke off from Sam toward the back of the bar.

Inside, Dean had been sitting in silence across from your sister, completely at a loss for what to say, simply staring into his beer. The awkward silence was interrupted when Sam arrived back at the table. Your sister looked up at him.

“She’s fine. She’s just going to use the restroom,” Sam said. “You really shouldn’t have left her alone out there,” he scolded your sister again. “You know how much she’s been drinking tonight.”

Dean tried to intervene. “Sammy—”

Your sister’s jaw clenched. “Funny—she seems to be just fine.” The tension stretched for some time and was almost unbearable. Dean was thinking about a way to escape when he suddenly felt a friendly hand on his back.

“What’s up?” Your voice from behind him, a little slurred but very much fine. You squeezed in between Dean and your sister at the high-top table and grabbed the last shot that was sitting unclaimed on the tray and downed it. You chased it with a deep drink from your beer. That’s when you noticed everyone was staring at you and that there was some tension you didn’t understand.

“What?”

Dean rubbed a hand awkwardly over the stubble on his chin. Your sister got up abruptly and rushed off in the direction of the bathroom. You watched her go in confusion and looked back at the Winchesters. Sam was staring at you with some unreadable expression, and Dean seemed to be avoiding your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“You should go check on her,” Dean said pointedly to you.

“What? Why?”

“Just—go check on her.” You shrugged and obliged, turning right back around and heading in the direction your sister had gone, putting a hand out to steady yourself as you reached the hallway to the restrooms. God, the booze was catching up with you.

Dean gave Sam a disappointed look and shook his head. “Dude. I mean, what the hell...”

“Well—she shouldn’t have left her out there alone,” Sam argued, leaning heavily on the table, rubbing a hand over his face. “Do you disagree?”

Dean just stared at him. “No, but Sam… You have to get this under control or do something about it. That was almost too obvious…”

Sam just tried to unclench his jaw.

In the bathroom you tried to coax your sister out of a stall and get her to tell you why there had been so much tension suddenly. You finally succeeded in the first, but not the second. When she came out, she checked her reflection in the mirror, washed her hands, and gave you a forced smile. “I’m fine,” she said.

You gave her a skeptical and incredulous look. “Will you please tell me what the fuck all that was about?”

“It’s nothing,” she said. “Come on.” You followed her back out to your table and some of the tension seemed to have abated, although you noticed that Sam wouldn’t really look at her—or anyone. He was just staring down into the tawny liquid in his glass.

“Dean—” you pulled a quarter out of your pocket. “Wanna play?” you asked with a goofy, wide grin.

“Quarters? You want to play quarters,” he said. “…Now?”

“Why, what’s the problem? Are you scaaared?” you teased him.

“Y/N, you’re already drunk. This is a terrible idea,” he said.

Your face fell and your smile disappeared. “Alright, why doesn’t everyone just stop trying to babysit me and start treating me like I’m a fucking adult who can make their own decisions? Jesus…” you shoved your hand back into your pocket and went up to the bar to get another drink.

“I’ll go talk to her,” your sister said, giving Dean a grimace and sliding off her stool.

Dean watched her go after you. "Well, tonight is going fucking great, huh?" he said, looking to Sam. Sam was trying hard not to keep glancing up at you but was finding it difficult. “Hey,” Dean said, hitting him lightly on the arm. “Let’s play darts or something, hmm?”

“What?”

“Darts? Pool?” Sam didn’t say anything. “You can’t just sit here and stare all night, Sam. You’re just torturing yourself. Come on. I’ll bet you $20 I kick your ass at pool.” Sam cast one final look in your direction and nodded to Dean.

Your sister squeezed in next to you at the bar and you glanced over at her. “Are you going to lecture me about my drinking too?”

She laughed. “No. Honestly, I’m glad to see you let yourself go for once,” she said, bumping you with her elbow. You were waiting to order when the bartender came over and set two tequila shots down in front of you and your sister.

“We didn’t order this,” you said.

“I know. It’s from the guy over there,” the bartender said, indicating toward the end of the bar. You leaned forward and looked down to see the guy you had met earlier, Brian, staring in your direction.

You looked away and rolled your eyes. “That’s the guy who was hitting on me earlier,” you said to your sister. “Who bought me a drink.”

“Hmm.” Your sister leaned forward and seized him up. “Free booze though, so what the hell, right?” You both downed your shot. “Come on. I want to dance some more!” She grabbed your hand and tugged you back out on the dance floor. You gave in and tried to let go of your bad mood.

After dancing for a few more song you needed a break. The bar was starting to clear out a little; it was getting late. You hated to admit if but you were definitely drunk. Much to your dismay though, it was not distracting you from your feelings about Sam… You arrived back at the table and immediately reached for another beer, hoping that if you just kept drinking maybe you wouldn't think so much, or feel so much, or care so much. Sam and Dean were taking a break between games of pool and Dean gave you a look. “What?” you asked, dubious.

“I really don’t think you need anything more,” Dean said, giving you a classic Dean half-smirk.

“Since when do you get to boss me around, Winchester,” you said, poking him in the chest with a finger. Dean was at least relieved that you hadn't gotten mad this time...

“Since you have to ride home in my car, which I prefer vomit-free.”

You pouted at him. “I’m not gonna get sick! I’m not even that drunk…” you argued.

“Famous last words of a drunk person,” Dean said.

You looked over at Sam. “Sam, help me out here?”

He looked uneasy. “…maybe you should slow down,” Sam said gently, his brow knit with concern.

You leaned on the table, continuing to pout.

“I’ll get the table ready, Sammy,” Dean said, heading over to claim a free table, leaving the two of you alone a little strategically.

The silence stretched a moment before Sam gave you a tight smile. “Are you, uhh, having fun?”

“Yeah. Sort of,” you said, nodding and leaning more heavily on the table.

Sam’s brow contracted low over his eyes. “Sort of?”

“Well—when my sister isn’t trying to set me up with people I have more fun…” you said, with a wry laugh.

Sam stomach twisted a little at the thought. One of these days you would find someone—it was inevitable. You were funny, smart, beautiful, fun to be around, easy to talk to… it was only a matter of time. “She does seem to be pretty bent on it, huh?” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah.” A grin spread across your face. “Get this. She even tried to suggest that I date Dean,” you laughed.

“Really?” Sam asked, forcing out a small laugh. Truthfully, he didn’t find the premise amusing at all. A jealous monster roared to life in his chest, just as it had when he watched you and Dean spar earlier in the day.

“How weird would that be? I mean, he’s like a brother to me,” you said. You paused thoughtfully. A tight lump formed in Sam’s throat. If you felt that way about Dean, didn’t it only make sense you felt that way about him? Had he imagined there was something in all those little moments? “Are—are you having fun?” you asked Sam, your voice and face suddenly a bit serious. You could read something in his mood and were already predisposed not to believe his answer, sensing that something was bothering him.

“Yeah,” he answered, a little too quickly, and it sounded forced even to his own ears.

You nodded, your eyes flickering over his face. His were drawn to yours magnetically and he nervously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “You know, umm… you really do look nice,” he said. A smile grew on your lips.

“Thanks,” you said. He thought he saw a spark return to your eyes.

“But, you know, I also agree with what Dean said earlier—I think you always look nice. Even when you’re just wearing those pajama pants with the hippos on them.” A small smile tugged on his lips and you noticed that it reached all the way to the corners of his eyes. You could have melted right then and there. You laughed a little bashfully, heat rising in your face, and your lips fell partially open. You were searching for something to say but you felt completely paralyzed and the only thing you could think about was how fast your heart was racing and how much you just wanted to grab him and kiss him and— “Sam! Table’s ready!” Sam gave you one last warm look and followed Dean over to the pool table. You watched him go feeling a little like your heart was alternating between soaring and dropping into your stomach, chewing your bottom lip.

You glanced back over your shoulder and saw your sister up at the bar still. “Hey,” you said, joining her. “You know, I really didn’t want to come out tonight. But for once I am glad you forced me to do something,” you joked.

“I know,” you sister said with a smile. She considered you a moment. “Your cheeks are all flushed,” she laughed. “What have you been up to?” She wiggled her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“What?” you felt yourself warming even more. Sam’s face flashed in your mind. “Nothing! I’m just warm—from—because we were dancing!”

“You sure?” She said, accepting her beer from the bartender. You shot her an annoyed look. The dance floor had cleared out pretty well and you were both in need of ice water and a break anyway, but the bar area was still crowded and you found yourself squeezing in between the other patrons. Your sister got impatient waiting for the bartender to get back around to you and was glancing alternately at her phone and toward the door to outside.

“Don’t do it,” you said, shaking your head at her and giving her a stern look.

She gave you a guilty smile. “But I reeeeally want one.”

“You always want a smoke when you drink,” you scolded her. “It’s disgusting and literally killing you.”

“I know, I know—but… I’m just gonna pop outside for one. I swear, just one,” she said. “Get me some water when he finally gets back to you? Thanks!”

“Do you even have one?!” you yelled after her, but she was already gone. You sighed and turned your attention back to the bar top, leaning heavily on it and realizing all of a sudden that you really were pretty damn drunk… You should not have done those last shots. You passed a hand over your eyes and tried to stop your vision from spinning, deciding that you really, actually should drink water for the rest of the night. You also realized you really had to pee. Screw this, you thought, and you left the bar behind to head for the bathroom.

You washed your hands and checked your reflection in the mirror, smoothing your hair, wiping a smudge of eyeliner away. All of a sudden it was like all the alcohol hit you at once and you felt like everything around you was wavering. You stepped out into the hallway, one hand on the wall to steady yourself, and stopped to take a breath. Fuck. I should have listened to Sam and Dean. I hate when they’re right. It felt like the floor was moving beneath your feet. “Fancy meeting you here again.” You looked over to see the same guy from earlier again. Brian. Great…

“Imagine that…” you said, noncommittally, straightening up.

“You look like you need some air,” he said. “Too much to drink?” The hairs stood up on the back of your neck. Had he been watching you the whole night? Had he followed you back here and waited for you to come out of the bathroom? Your heart started to race a little faster. The bathrooms were in a narrow hallway at the back of the bar. It felt isolated, tacked on the end of the building. You couldn’t even see any of the other patrons due to the position of a nearby corner, but you could hear the dull, rolling sound of loud conversation loudly.

“Actually, I’m just heading back to my friends,” you said, turning to leave. Fuck, you were unsteady on your feet. But you knew well enough to trust your gut when that tingle ran up your spine, drunk or sober. You abruptly felt a strong hand on your arm and you whipped around to see him smirking at you. He was holding onto you tightly, so tight it hurt a little. Your heart rushed with rising panic.

“Actually, I think you should stay. I bought you a few drinks… The least you could do would be have a decent conversation with me. The least,” he repeated. He flashed you a grin that made your stomach turn. “I like the way you moved out there,” he said. “You should show me what else you’ve got.”

You tried to pull your arm from his grasp but he only held on more tightly. Your temper flared instantly. “Get the fuck off me,” you said dangerously. He didn’t like that response. He pushed you back into the wall behind you and pinned you there, grabbing tightly onto your upper arms. You were stunned for a couple seconds from the forcefulness of your head and back hitting the wall. The next thing you knew he was pressing himself into you, his hips against your body, trying to kiss your neck. You could feel his breath on your skin. “No! Get the fuck off!” You yelled it as loud as you could. You managed to use a knee to push him away from you and then ripped yourself loose from his grasp. You started to rush toward the main part of the bar but your momentum was stopped when he grabbed the back of your jacket, and you almost lost your balance. Thankfully, Sam and Dean had heard your yell clear as day and came rushing toward the sound of your voice.

You were again grappling with the guy, trying to get away and he was practically snarling in your face. “I’ll show you what I have a right to,” he said dangerously, through clenched teeth. Suddenly, Sam was right there and he pushed the guy off you, sending him back into the wall hard.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Sam was right up in the guy’s face. Dean reached you and wrapped an protectively arm around your shoulders, supporting you as your knees seemed to have gone a little shaky. Your chest was heaving in with scared breaths and your eyes were wide.

“Mind your own fucking business—” he snarled back, righting himself.

“I am,” Sam said forcefully. He cocked a fist back and punched the guy in the jaw. He crumpled to the side, swearing and came back up swinging but Sam hit him again and he slumped down onto the floor, holding his face.

Dean also looked ready to throttle the guy, but he wasn’t getting back up. You just wanted to get out of there.

Sam was standing over him, heaving in breaths, his fists clenched and shaking with anger. You gently said his name and it was like a switch flipped. “Sam.” His eyes snapped to your face. He stepped back, away from the guy, and turned to you, still blocking you protectively, a shield between you and him. “Are you alright?” he asked. All you could do was nod, but your eyes were still wide and wild-looking.

“Let’s go. Please, let’s just go,” you said softly. Sam nodded, shooting one last glance back at the guy who was still on his ass on the floor, and followed you and Dean down the hall back into the main room. Your sister was sitting at your table, apparently oblivious but she jumped up when she saw Dean leading you out with an arm around your shoulders and the stunned expression on your face.

“Oh my God. What happened?” she asked rushing over to you and the boys.

Sam’s jaw clenched. “I told you not to leave her alone,” he said through clenched teeth.

Your sister looked bewildered by his tone. “What? I went out for a smoke. She was at the bar when I went out—what happened?” she urged. Dean offered you his glass of ice water, which you accepted. “Do you want me to call the cops?” he asked you.

“The cops? Y/N—what happened?” your sister asked again desperately.

Sam bit his cheek. “If you’d been with her, you would know.”

Your eyes shot up to Sam’s face. “It’s not her fault, Sam,” you said, trying to mollify his anger. “I went back there on my own. And—I’m fine. It’s no one’s fault,” you added, though your voice was a little shaky.

“Except that douchebag,” Dean said, anger clear in his voice. He finally lifted his arm from around your shoulders.

You could tell your sister was extremely upset by Sam’s accusations, and from piecing together what had just transpired. The next second she bolted away from the table, hurrying to get outside. Dean gave Sam a disapproving and pointed look. Sam simply averted his eyes back onto your face. Dean sighed heavily. “I’ll—I’ll go check on her." He felt like that was the fiftieth time someone had said that tonight. Are you okay?” he asked you again. “Seriously, do you want me call the cops? You could press charges on that guy.”

You just shook your head. “No. I don’t want to deal with it being a whole thing. And hopefully Sam taught him enough of a lesson. I just want to go home.”

Dean nodded and gave your hand a light squeeze. “Thank God you’re okay,” he said. He headed for the exit. You sat there, staring down at the condensation dripping down on the outside of the ice water glass, but you could feel Sam’s eyes on you.

“How’s your hand?” you asked him.

“Huh?” Sam looked at his hand and there was definite swelling across the knuckles, but he flexed and squeezed his fingers a few times. “It’s totally fine.”

You swallowed, trying to rid your throat of the uncomfortable lump that had formed there. “Don’t be mad at her, Sam. None of this is her fault.”

His jaw clenched. “I already told her to keep an eye on your earlier tonight,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s still not her fault.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. You had just been assaulted and you were worrying about his relationship? He sighed heavily. “I know. You’re right. I was out of line. I just—I’m… scared. And angry.”

You nodded. “I know.” Dean was striding back over to the table but without your sister.

“She said she just wants a little space. She’s smoking a cigarette out there,” he said. You nodded.

“Uhh,” Dean ran a hand through his hair a little anxiously. “I’m gonna go clear the pool table and I’ll get the tab,” Dean said, looking to you and Sam.

“I want to get out of here,” you muttered, your eyes subconsciously flickering back toward the hallway that led to the restrooms. You looked up at Sam and he nodded before turning to Dean.

“We’ll meet you out at the Impala.”

You exchanged a tight smile with your sister as you walked out into the parking lot. She blew a cloud of smoke from her cigarette and returned it, but her eyes left yours quickly and you noticed how she was anxiously bouncing a knee.

“You guys were right,” you said to Sam as you reached the Impala. You leaned up against the passenger side door, looking out over the nearly empty lot. “I shouldn’t have been drinking so much. That was...stupid,” you said.

His eyes snapped over to you. “Hey—you being drunk does not give that guy an excuse. If anything, it makes it worse. He was trying to take advantage of a situation that made you a little more vulnerable. Like you said, it’s no one’s fault, except his. That includes you.” You watched the muscle in his jaw tense. "I could have killed that guy." His voice was vehement and how he wanted you to meet his eyes so he could study the flecks of color in them and try to read what you were thinking. Every time he thought about the scene he and Dean had rushed into his heart plummeted. What if they hadn’t been able to hear you yell? The thought was just too horrible. He felt sick.

You shuffled a boot on the ground, kicking at a small rock and sending it skittering across the pavement. “Yeah. I know.” The silence stretched for a moment before you looked up at the stars. They were no longer wavering or shimmering—your fear and adrenaline had apparently sobered you up quickly.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The ride back to the bunker was tense, and even the classic rock wailing out from the speakers couldn’t deafen the anxious feeling hanging in the air. When you got home, although you were tired, you knew sleep wasn’t going to come, so you trudged into the library and flopped down on the couch, carelessly pulling off your boots. You leaned back and sighed, your eyes tracing the familiar architecture of the ceiling and the brick archways.

You heard some mumbled exchanges of ‘goodnight’ between Sam, Dean, and your sister, but soft footsteps behind you announced that someone else wasn’t planning on sleep either. You looked over your shoulder to see Sam standing a little awkwardly in the doorway.

“Hey,” you said. Then turning around to look at him more fully. “You okay?”

He let out a dry, sardonic laugh. “I should be asking you that,” he said, stepping more fully into the library and coming around the couch to sit in a nearby chair.

“I’m alright,” you said. “Just—a little too keyed up for sleep I think.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.” Sam’s heart was pounding again as he looked at you. Your eyes flickered down to a reddish-purple bruise forming on his hand, which was resting on his knee. You sat up abruptly and leaned forward.

“Sam,” you said sternly, gently pulling his hand closer to you so you could examine it. You gave him a disapproving look but all Sam could feel was your fingers on his skin.

“It’s fine. Really. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Mhm,” you replied skeptically. “Stay here. You need to ice that.” You climbed to your feet and headed into the kitchen. Dean was eating chips and drinking a glass of water, leaning casually back against the island, staring down at his phone. He looked up as you came in and opened the freezer.

“Hey,” he said. “You alright?” his brow drew down.

“For fuck’s sake, will you two stop asking me that? I’m fine,” you said, grabbing a cold pack out and wrapping it in a dish towel.

“Y/N. That was some seriously scary shit. It’s okay to not be okay,” Dean said. You looked at him seriously and after a moment smiled at him.

“I know,” you said. “But really, I’m okay. Thanks to you and Sam.”

Dean nodded, still a little uneasy.

“Sam, however, seems to have fucked up his hand,” you announced, brandishing the cold pack.

“Mmmm,” Dean said nodding, crunching on another chip. “That second hit was a hell of a punch.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly at you, but you only tore your eyes away, feeling a little rush of heat in the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It was. Anyway. You going to bed soon?”

“I think so. After my midnight snack,” he said, a boyish grin on his face. He crunched loudly on another chip.

“Alright, well, goodnight,” you said, quickly grabbing him in a tight hug. You headed back out to the library. “Here,” you said, holding the ice pack out to Sam. “Twenty minutes with that. It’ll help.”

Sam thanked you and rested it across his hand before sighing heavily. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your face. He felt like he was on his tiptoes on the edge of a precipice, teetering and trying to keep his balance. “Hey,” he said. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and something about the tone sent his voice through you, like a shot to the heart. Your eyes lifted and met his, a questioning expression on you face. “You ever just wonder if—” he cut himself off abruptly, using his uninjured hand to anxiously rub across his forehead. He stalled out, biting his bottom lip anxiously.

Your heart was beating faster and you waited patiently for him to go on, but he couldn’t. “If…?” you prodded him.

He sighed heavily again and ripped his eyes from yours, looking back down at his hands. “Eh...nothing. Nevermind,” he said. He took a step back from the precipice, fear overwhelming him, bad timing overwhelming him.

You studied his expression, your eyebrows drawn down ever so slightly, trying to puzzle out what he had been about to say and why he had stopped, but you found no answers. Simply for something to do, Sam picked up a book from the side table and set it in his lap. He dutifully turned pages, his eyes scanning the text, reading, but he heard none of it.

At some point, your eyelids became heavy and you laid down on the couch, your knees slightly bent, hugging one of the throw pillows. Sam watched your breathing grow deeper and heavier and shut the book in his lap, replacing it silently on the side table, discarding the cold pack for his hand, and climbing to his feet. He grabbed the quilt off the back of the chair he had been sitting in and gently covered you up. Then he made the lonely walk back to his bedroom… hoping that your sister was already asleep, so he could simply drift off with that image of you safe and sound peacefully asleep on the couch, in his mind, uncontaminated by the reality that he was going to sleep in the wrong bed.

Part 3 here!

#the wrong bed

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