Craving

After lunch Mike had mentioned going for pizza later. Wasn't like Sam had a hell of a lot to go home to. What was aunt, no wait, Great-aunt, he rolled his eyes at the thought correction, going to make tonight? Meatloaf? It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it, but, when given the choice between pizza with friends and meatloaf with his silver haired great-aunt, he'd take the pizza hands down.

So there they were at Andy's pizza and there was Stacy, sitting as close as she had been in the car when he had walked out with her and she’d gotten him to listen to that new CD. Sam shoved himself more into the corner of the booth, trying to move away from her without being obvious. It wasn't that Stacy wasn't pretty, she was... but she wasn't the one he kept thinking about.

Sam huffed at himself under his breath. Yeah, just his luck to have the hots for the one asshole in school.

Dammit, Sam, just forget him and turn your attention to Stacy. She’s nice ... even if she comes on a little strong.

A couple of hours later, the group started to break up. Sam walked backwards, away from the other three, with a grin and a wave, before he turned and fished his keys from his pocket.

At his car, he unlocked the door just as he heard footsteps coming up behind him. Sam froze for a moment, before turning quickly, arm raised, hand curled into a fist.

"Whoa! Calm down!" Stacy told him, holding her hands up.

Sam sighed and slowly lowered his arm. "Stacy, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that." He watched her tilt her head to the side and look at him with that flirty look in her eyes.

"Well, maybe if you weren't thinking about that Cullen boy all the time, you wouldn't be so jumpy."

Sam hung his head, shaking it. "What is it, Stacy?"

She stepped up to him taking his hand in hers, as she looked adoringly up at him. "I was thinking, if you weren't going with someone already... you might go to Homecoming with me."

Sam swallowed, glanced around the parking lot, before looking back at her and licking his lips thoughtfully. "Yeah, about that... Uh, I don't think I'm going at all," he told her. She started to pout and he hurried to continue, "I just moved in with my great-aunt and she's old... she needs me at home. I'm sorry, Stacy." he told her, hating that he had to lie, but not knowing what else to say that wouldn't hurt her feelings. She was a sweet girl... even if she wasn't the one he was really wanting to spend time with.

Stacy sighed and nodded, "I understand, it's because you're just that sweet," she told him, raising up on tip toes to kiss his cheek, before slowly moving to kiss his lips.

Sam staggered, his back colliding with his car. "Uh, I should go. Really, I'm sorry," he said as he turned and tugged open the Impala's door, sliding behind the wheel.

He closed the door and started the engine, glancing over as Stacy walked away, watching her until she got into her car and pulled out of the parking lot. He sighed softly, turning his car off again and kicking the floorboard. "Damn you Dean Cullen!" he muttered angrily, before letting his head fall back on the head rest, and closing his eyes.

*

[Daydream]

Dean ran, scrambling up the sides of the river bed, his hands torn on the rough boulders. And still it came after him, the mountain lion. "Help," he shouted in his deep, husky voice, making it over the embankment and heading into the woods. He was tiring, slowing down, when he saw Sam. "Run! Run," he shouted, staggering over a thick tree root and hitting the ground. The snarling of the cat was so close... so close, he wasn't gonna have time to get up.

Sam had been out in the woods shooting targets like his Dad had taught him, staying sharp. 'Never let your guard down, don't go flabby. That's when you find yourself in trouble,' his Dad has always told him. He'd heard the call for help, knew that voice and had run toward it. Dean

He looked from Dean as to the approaching mountain lion, swallowed hard, eyes narrowed and raised the sawed off shotgun. Fired. Once, twice. And once more to be sure. The cat lay on its side a few yards away, deep clawed groove marks in the earth where it had skidded to a stop.

Sam hurried over to Dean, falling to his knees beside him on the damp earth. "Are you okay?" He started checking Dean over, pushing his clothes this way and that to look for injuries.

Breathing hard, Dean grabbed Sam's arm and nodded. "Fine. How'd you... what were you doing out here." He looked down at his bared stomach, then up at Sam again as he started to sit.

Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder stopping his movements as heated hazel eyes stared into green/gold. He licked his lips, "I, uh, was target..." Sam frowned, shook his head, "doesn't matter... as long as you're sure you're okay."

Sam's eyes slowly traveled down Dean’s body, before slowly moving back up. He blinked a few times as though to clear his thoughts, and pulled his hand away. "Oh. Uh, sorry." he muttered, pulling to his feet and offering Dean a hand up.

Grasping it, Dean got up and started to wipe the dirt and leaves off. "Thanks. I mean for..." he nodded at the dead animal. "I would have been a goner. But you know?" He paused and gave Sam a meaningful look. "A smart person would have run."

Sam smiled at him, all dimples and eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he shrugged. "Guess I'm just drawn to danger." Catching sight of Dean's hands, he reached out, grabbing one. "Dude, your hands are a mess. I should put something on these for you. Clean them up," hazel eyes locked on green/gold as he spoke, "wouldn't want you to get an infection," he told him, his voice having dropped an octave, husky.

"If you tell me you not only carry a gun but you have a medical kit, I'm gonna have to kiss you," Dean answered, giving him a heated look of his own. "Or if you don't, maybe you can kiss me better."

Sam quirked a brow at him, licked his lips and swallowed. "My - my car. I have a first-aid kit in..." he didn't finish the sentence, only stepped slightly closer as he gazed into those eyes, those beautiful eyes...

"That an invitation? Really?" Dean's gaze searched Sam's face. "I'll take it."

An instant later, Dean had Sam backed up against a tree and was cupping the side of his neck with his hand as he drew him downwards. Mouth open and ready, Dean covered Sam's mouth, kissing him lightly at first, then sucking on his lower lip before crushing their mouths together harder for a real kiss. He pushed his tongue inside that moist hot channel and started to explore, letting the heat build slowly between them.

Sam moaned softy into Dean's mouth, his tongue tangling with Dean's as his arm wrapped around him, pulled him in close. What was it about Dean Cullen that had Sam acting like this? He was usually shy and quiet, but right now all he could think about was pulling Dean as close as possible, about how clothes were really annoying and about how this would be much better in the backseat of his car.

The kiss slowly ended, but Sam didn't pull away, his lips against Dean's as he spoke, "I - I can take you... to my car..." he swallowed again, something he found himself doing a lot around Dean. He made him nervous, excited and thrilled him.

"Let's go," Dean said confidently, putting an arm around Sam's shoulder, his breaths still labored. "You talkin' about fixing me up still, or... something else?" The heated look in his eyes expressed his hopes.

Sam's breath hitched in his throat lips parting before he pressed them together, breathing in deep through his nose. Licking his lips Sam pulled his head back, "I - I think we should fix you up," he told him, "And then, something else might just come to us," he added, clearing his throat nervously and looking away as a warm flush stained his cheeks.

Nodding and chuckling, Dean didn't press further, not until they got to the car and true to his word, Sam pulled out a medical kit. "You know, that means I owe you a kiss," he said, swaying toward Sam. Just as their lips touched, there was a sharp rapping against the window of Sam's car.

*

Charlie Swan, chief of the police in Forks, knocked again, until the teenager rolled his window down. "Everything alright son?" He stuck his head in as far as he could, trying to see if he got a whiff of alcohol.

Sam had opened his eyes and blinked, slowly lifting his head from the head rest. He had quickly rolled down the window, blushing profusely and grateful for the cover of darkness that hid the fact from the policeman.

One hand went to the crotch of his jeans as he tried to nonchalantly push down and hide his straining erection. "Uh, everything's fine, officer. I was just.... just...uh," Sam let out a nervous chuckle, "I guess I was sleeping. Wow. Didn't realize I was that tired. Well, I better get home and get to bed," he rattled on.

"You must be Cathleen's nephew. Sam Winchester," Charlie nodded, pulling back. "Tell her I said hello. Your father too. It's been too long since we've seen him in these parts." Seeing nothing was amiss, he headed back to his cruiser, leaving the teen to his own devices.

Sam was still nodding as he watched the officer walk back to his car. Once the man was inside and pulling away, Sam let out a long sigh of relief as his head slumped back on the seat. What the hell was his problem!? Never. He had never daydreamed before!

Lifting his head, Sam reached forward and turned the key in the ignition. He was losing his mind. That's all there was to it. He was absolutely losing it.

* * *

Third period came too soon. Dean was in the doorway of their classroom when instead of heading for his regular seat, he veered as far away from the 'new guy' as possible, and sat down next to an open-mouthed classmate. He really had to fight the temptation to answer the questions in her head because telling her no, he did not like her, might cause a scene.

Naturally, he felt the weight of those hazel eyes on him, but did his best to ignore that entire side of the room. His attempts to check out of this class had been a bust since it was too late in the semester, so he was just gonna have to deal with being in the same class a bit more creatively.

Sam watched Dean walk in and sit on the other side of the class. Next to some girl who was looking at Dean like he was friggin' Chad Michael Murray or something. That's when it hit him. Dean didn't like guys. Of course. It made sense. Sam sighed as he looked back down at his book. Way to go, Winchester. Freak the guy out next time. He tried to keep his eyes on his book, but couldn't help stealing glances every so often. Damn. Okay, he so needed to stop this.

With a deep sigh, Sam tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his head hanging backward as he sat there in the short backed chair. He could do this. Just stop looking. It wasn't that big of a deal!...right?

Dean tensed. He was intentionally torturing him. Had to be. Why else was he exposing his throat like that? Why? Between that and breathing in Sam’s addictive scent even from across the room, Dean started to get edgy all over again. What the hell. What had he done to deserve to be in this hell? Scrubbing his face with his hands, he deliberately looked down and kept his eyes glued to his book, refusing to look up at all.

In fact he was barely listening until Mrs. Appleby started talking about a project they'd be working on for the next couple of weeks. They'd learned about newspapers, reporting, journalism, and even a bit of marketing and advertising that went into it. She wanted to put their knowledge to use by creating magazines or newspapers.

"Class I want you to be creative. Your magazine can be written for an alien people on Venus, or in Italy during the times of Romeo and Juliet, or the civil war. It needs to have articles and ads geared for your market. I have a few examples from last year on the table there if you want to take a look. Every day or so, I'll give you a half hour to meet with your partner in class, but of course I expect you to work together after school as well.

As she started to call off the pairs of students she was teaming up, Dean relaxed, noting that she was merely putting those seated next to each other together.

Sam listened, his eyes still closed as she read off the names. He wasn't sitting around anyone now that Dean had moved away. So, maybe he was safe. He could just do this project on his own. Something that would keep his mind busy.

Slowly, Sam opened his eyes and started to pull his head up, just as Mrs. Appleby said his name.

"Sam Winchester and Dean -"
Before she even finished, Sam's eyes widened. No, she wouldn't she couldn't.
"Cullen," she finished and Sam sighed heavily and hung his head, "Shit!" he swore, and none too quietly.

"Samuel!" Mrs. Appleby gasping his name, made Sam's head snap up, his eyes wide.

"Uh, sorry, Mrs. Appleby. I, uh, hurt my finger. Sorry." he stammered, glancing toward Dean, before looking away, muscle twitching in his jaw.

"Is there a problem," the teacher asked, this time looking at Dean."

"No problem," Dean answered knowing he was screwed ten ways from Sunday.

"Good because the pairings are based on where you would normally sit." She clapped her hands together. Put your desks together and start brainstorming your ideas. By Friday, I want an outline of your plans."

The sound of desks being pulled around filled the room. In the time it took to bat an eyelash, Dean had a desk pushed up against the top of Sam's desk, facing him. Their gazes locked.

Sam swallowed, "What do you want to do?" Sam asked him, his voice was soft and husky, sounding far too private for a question about school work. He cleared his throat, tore his gaze away. "Do, uh, do you have a certain idea in mind?"

What he wanted to do was reach across the small distance between them, drag him close and sink his teeth into that throat he’d exposed so damned nonchalantly. There were some questions that should never be asked, and this boy didn't seem to know what they were. It set his teeth on edge.

He took in the flutter of Sam’s lashes, the torturous convulsion of his throat, and the quickening sound of his heart beat. At least he was nervous. That was a step in the right direction. "Aliens? Ever seen Waterworld? A news rag set in that movie setting?" he shrugged, and focused at once on the teacher's hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I expect something wonderful from the two of you," she said, and moved away.

Sam glanced up at the teacher and nodded, before looking back at Dean. "Waterworld? Really?" he asked shaking his head a grin pulling at his lips before he licked them, placing his hands and forearms on the desk, threading his fingers together as he pressed his weight down on the desk causing his rear to lift off the seat, drawing closer to Dean so he could speak softly. "I was thinking of Romeo and Juliet," he told him quietly, before looking up over his brows at Mrs.Appleby as she walked by. He looked back at Dean, "It should have class and style, be something that speaks to people," he shrugged and pulled away from Dean, letting himself sit down fully once more in the chair.

Sam looked over at Dean, waiting for his response, his reaction. Well? What did he think?! "Thoughts?" Sam asked him finally.

Multi tasking had never been a problem for Dean, but trying to think and not be so aware of every movement his partner made was impossible. Then he had to go and choose Romeo and Juliet. Something with layers and layers of emotion, craving and desire for what could not be, and ending in tragedy. His eyes went black for a moment, but he got a hold of himself. "You mean like an expose' about what happened to them, editorials, and a eulogy? I mean with all the other things that would be in a newspaper from those times?"

Sam frowned thoughtfully, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds great. Maybe a few notes between them, found and published along with the editorials. Something to capture the people and make them think, force them to feel," Sam told him passionately before he suddenly stopped and chuckled. "Sorry. Kinda geeky, huh?" Slumping back and tilting his head to the side, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, he backtracked. "Nah, we can do Waterwold, it's fine."

The flatness of Sam's voice when he said 'Waterworld' was in sharp contrast with the fiery excitement with which he'd proposed Romeo and Juliet. "It's harder, but let’s go with Romeo and Juliet. I like to get good grades," Dean said, challenging Sam to do the same. He almost smiled. Hell, they were gonna be stuck together now for a while, so it was out of his hands. Let the chips fall where they might. A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

Sam smiled, dimples showing as he nodded. "Alright, cool. Romeo and Juliet then." Sam glanced over at the crowd of others milling about the examples Mrs. Appleby had laid out, "You wanna take a look at those? I think I already have a few ideas." Sam pulled his hands off the desk, ran them over the thighs of his jeans. "So, uh, I guess we should get started, huh?" he muttered, looking around like he was at loss as to what to do next.

"Don't fidget." The words were out before he could stop them. He searched Sam's eyes for signs he was going to freak out again, like in the cafeteria.

Sam turned his head and looked at Dean, his eyes narrowed slightly, but only slightly before he only gave a curt nod and pulled to his feet, walking over to get a few of the supplies that were laid out in the back of the room.

"What are you and 'dreamboat' doing yours on?"
Sam sighed, nearly rolling his eyes. Stacy. He took a deep breath before looking over at her, "Romeo and Juliet."

"That's appropriate," she muttered, "Mike and I are doing the civil war." she shrugged, "Not like I care. It's his deal, not mine."

Sam nodded, "Uh-huh." turning his attention back to the items he was grabbing before, turning and walking away, back to his seat. He looked over at Dean as he sat down. "So, I guess first, we oughta name this said magazine, huh?"

Looking at some of the stuff Sam had brought... a sample newspaper and magazine, some coupons for free graphics and photographs, and some other services that they could use to put some realistic looking paper together. "You know, she'd rather do Romeo and Juliet with you than with him." What Dean really wanted to know was, whether Sam would prefer that as well. He looked up, trying to read his expression since Sam’s mind was such a goddamned mystery.

Sam glanced at Dean and smiled, then looked back over his shoulder at Stacy. He shrugged as he turned back to face Dean. "She’s that transparent, huh?" he huffed and shook his head, made a face. "She's okay, I guess," he muttered, as he started looking through some of the items he had brought back, having just grabbed a handful once Stacy showed up.

"Oh look, there's a program for your comp that'll make old style writings. That'll be cool. Course, the letters should look like they were handwritten. Oh, look, we can get some stuff from this place too!" Sam wasn't even thinking about Stacy Hunt anymore, which was about as much as he thought about her anyway. Out of sight, out of mind.

Strangely pleased, but not entirely satisfied, Dean threw himself into the project as well. "I don't think they could copy and print letters in those days, so it wouldn't look any different." First hand experience in past-times helped. "How about we say it's a modern magazine, which focuses on something different every month. This month, it's to prove up Romeo and Juliet, including the letters you're dying for," his gaze flicked to Sam's. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was vested in that aspect of the project.

Shit! Just when had he started to think of him as 'Sam?' Shit shit shit...

Drawing away, Dean took a breath. His features once more hardening as he regained his senses. "It can still have old fashioned ads... a re-imagined 1650's magazine for modern consumption. What do you think?" If Steve or Stacy had been his partner, he'd have had to explain it to them three more times.

Sam frowned thoughtfully as he nodded, "It could work." he grinned, "like seasonal festival magazines or topical ones." Sam nodded, "Cool. And it will make it a lot easier," he stilled then and looked up at Dean over his brows, "And who says I am dying for the letters?"

"You're dying for letters," Dean insisted, getting up and getting his things. Seeing the puzzled look on Sam's face, he added, "bell rang." Smirking, he walked away, leaving Sam to collect all the junk they'd gathered from the teacher.

Sam watched Dean walk away his mouth hanging open before he looked down at the mess he had to clean up, collect and arrange. "Aw, hell," Sam grumbled as he quickly started to gather it all up, glancing toward the door every so often, muttering under his breath.

* * *

Lunch. About damn time too. Sam wasn't in the mood to eat, talk or do much of anything but sleep. He hadn't been sleeping well, laying in bed thinking about green/gold eyes. He was slumped over the table, head buried in his arms when Mike walked up to him with a chuckle as he slid into the seat beside Sam he nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, man. Stacy ask you to the..."
Before Mike could finish, Sam groaned out a, "Yes!"
"Oh." was Mikes only reply, his laughter dying away. Sam turned his head away, "Just lemme sleep a little while, then you can pump me for information," he mumbled sleepily.

The disinterested look on Dean's face cleared immediately as his attention laser focused on Sam and Mike. So Stacy had asked Sam to Homecoming. His lips parted as he bared his teeth slightly. And... he said what? His nostrils flared when Mike didn't press. Dean started to scan everyone's thoughts... someone had to know, had to be thinking about it... someone.

No answers, and it was driving him crazy. Where the fuck was she? Stacy? His gaze went back to Sam, willing him to get the fuck up and talk some more with Mike.

After a few awkward moments of silence, Mike poked Sam in the arm. Sam grumbled out a whiney, "What!?"

"So, uh, what's she wearing?" Mike asked him.

Sam lifted his head off the table, confusion clear on his face as he looked straight ahead, then over at Mike, "What the hell are you talking about!? What is who wearing!?"

Mike looked at him like he was daft, "Stacy!"

Sam glared, "How the hell should I know! Maybe she's going naked. Ask her!" he groused, letting his head fall back down on the table.

"She didn't tell you?" Mike asked him sounding surprised.

"Why would she tell me?" Sam mumbled.

"Uh, cause you're taking her to homecoming."

Sam picked his head up and looked at Mike, "I am? News to me. I told her I wasn't going. You wanna know so bad, you take her."

Mike smiled wide at him then, "Really, man? You don't mind?"

Sam frowned, "Why the hell should I mind?"

Sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, Dean gave an amused smile, though he steadfastly ignored Alice's dare that he ask Sam. It was bad enough they'd be seeing more of each other over the next two weeks. There would have to be a library trip or two, and...

Mike shrugged, "Well, you and Stacy are..." he shrugged, "She told me she kissed you."

Sam huffed, "Oh for crying out loud!" his head fell back onto the table. "Goodbye, Mike." he mumbled loudly, trying to give the guy a hint.

Dean lost his smile and got up suddenly. He couldn't stand the images he was getting from Mike's mind, of Sam pressing Stacy up against his car. No, not even against Sam's car, he was imagining the Lamborghini. Clenching his fists, he strode out of the cafeteria, leaving his tray for his siblings to clear.

* * *

Sam walked out of the school and into the student parking lot, his backpack thrown over one shoulder. His eyes flickered over the Cullen family as they stood there, each beside a very expensive, very nice car. "Must be nice to have more money than you know what to do with," Sam muttered under his breath as he walked, shaking his head slightly.

He fixed his gaze on his car, his baby, parked way in the back under one of the giant oaks, sitting all alone. He'd sort of claimed that spot after his first day and the run in with Dean Cullen. Sure it was way out, but at least no one would be running into his car and denting it.

Half way across the parking lot, he heard her voice and his steps quickened. Please don't let her see me, please don't let her see me. It was almost sad that he nearly hid from Stacy now, but after what Mike said... he wasn't too keen on her telling everyone she had kissed him. Hell, it wasn't like it had been mutual, or he had wanted it.

Making his way to his car, Sam fished out his keys and unlocked the driver side door, tossing his bag inside.

It wasn't just Dean's eyes that followed Sam today. His brothers and sisters watched him cross the lot as well, before looking away to talk. Seeing Stacy, Dean tensed, wondering if they were about to be treated to the sight of Sam and her kissing. His mood started to darken like the skies, when he felt a change in the air, a sudden charge electrifying the air.

The jagged bolt of lightning split the sky in two, flashing so bright many closed their eyes. A few screams rent the air, though most had no time to react before the bolt struck right next to the oak tree.

This was the day Dean learned he was faster than lightning. He was in Sam's face, throwing him out of the way and taking the hit. His body arched back, his teeth rattled, and for the first time in many years, he felt extreme pain to the point he might wish for a permanent death. And then it was over, and he staggered and collapsed to the ground, next to where he'd thrown Sam.

A new fear gripped him. Had he thrown him too hard? Humans broke so fucking easily. But no, he could hear his heart. And thank God, he didn't smell blood.

Sam raised his head slowly off the ground, as he raised a hand to the back of his head, then looked over at... "Dean!"
Sam hurriedly scrambled to Dean's side, looking down at him. His hand cupped the side of Dean's face, as hazel eye searched for any injury he could see. "Holy hell, are you okay, man?" Sam asked him softly.

"You almost get toasted by lighting and you're worried about me?" His tone clearly implied Sam was foolish. Gripping Sam’s wrist, he controlled himself, but just barely, as he pulled Sam's hand away to a safer distance where his pulse wouldn't wreak havoc with his senses. He got up, felt his family’s eyes staring daggers into his back, and wondered whether he would regret the decision he'd made.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, watched as Dean just got up off the ground like getting hit by lightening was nothing. Sam hurriedly pulled to his feet. "But you, you got hit." Sam's eyes roamed over Dean. "I saw it. I know you got hit." Sam reached out, tugged open Dean's leather jacket, looking for signs of injury. Burns, blisters, something, anything.

"Right. Cause I'm Superman," he mocked, throwing Sam's own words back at him and trying to clamp down on any sense of panic, that there would be a scene and his family would have to leave. "Copped enough of a feel to be satisfied I'm fine?"

Sam pulled his hand away as though he'd been burned. "Sorry." he muttered, as he turned toward his car, then stopped and looked back at Dean, "How'd you get over here so fast anyway?"

"What? I was right here," Dean shrugged. He was about to say more when Stacy reached them.

He knew who her "are you okay's" were for, and merely nodded and headed away from them.

"Sam! It looked like you got hit, oh my God... I thought you were dead." Her voice trembled, and other students started to gather around. Even teachers who'd gotten word of what happened were running out of the building to make sure the new student was fine.

Sam watched Dean walk away from him and huffed. He was so not right here. Sam had seen him, standing all the way across the parking lot with his family. There was no way he was over here. And there was no way he had followed him without Sam's knowing it. He was a better hunter than that.

Tearing his gaze away, Sam looked down at Stacy, nodding, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. It was just close," he glanced back up at Dean's retreating form before looking down at her again, "that's all," he told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a slight squeeze.

As the crowd started to gather Sam swore under his breath, "Get in the car."

"What?" Stacy asked him.

"Just, get in the car." he told her, releasing her, and turning to open his car door.

Sam didn't like crowds. Crowds drew attention and attention got you busted as to what and who you were. Dad always said that. Even if he was in school and he knew these faces, all of them in one place, all looking at him, it made him feel trapped. It just wasn't a good thing. Hell, before long, they'd call his great-aunt and then probably his Dad. And then all hell would break loose when they found out what his father was, what he was. Probably have them both locked up in the local asylum.

Sliding behind the wheel, Sam sped out of the parking lot, glancing over at Stacy. "Where do you live? I'll take you home. I just had to get out of there. It's... a family thing."

Dean drove in reverse, weaving between some of the students and making a u-turn to roar out of the lot right behind Sam. Stuck behind him at the traffic light, he tapped on his steering wheel, staring at the back of their heads, reading her mind all too clearly. She was shifting in her seat and unbuttoning a button, trying to catch Sam’s eyes. Dean wished the light would change, that they'd get out of his sight.

But no, they stayed right there. Right where he could hear her plans for Sam The couch. Music. Low lights. "Fucking hell." As soon as Sam started to move the car, Dean zoomed around him, going into the oncoming traffic lane to overtake him and get the hell out of there before someone died.

Sam glanced over at the car that roared up beside his own, seeing it was the Lamborghini, Dean's car, Sam glanced again. What the hell was he doing? Where was the fire now? He slowed the Impala enough to let Dean get in front of him, so he didn't cause an accident. "What the hell is his problem?" Sam grumbled, frowning hard as his eyes followed Dean's car.

He glanced over at Stacy, "So turn left where again?" he asked her, pretending not to notice the slip of lace from her bra now showing.

"Next street," she answered, moving her knee over so her thigh rested against his. "Guess what?" She tilted her face toward him. "It's your lucky day."

Sam frowned slightly. Lucky? Not really. Luck hadn't saved him from a lightening bolt. Dean Cullen had, no matter if he wanted to admit it or not.

Sam glanced at Stacy, "Yeah? Why's that?" he asked her, moving his leg away from hers slightly trying to not give her any ideas.

"My mom made peach cobbler. She makes the best cobbler in town, won awards and everything. And she's not home. Pull up right here," she pointed at the drive way. "Carry my books for me?" Without giving him a chance to answer, she put the stack in his lap.

Sam sighed as he looked from her, as she slid from the car, to the books in his lap. This was so not what he had had in mind when he said he'd drive her home. Stop at the house, make sure she got in, pull away. Those had been his plans. Not going in for cobbler and... he didn't even want to hazard a guess at what else.

With a huff, he turned off the car and grabbed her books as he opened his car door. He followed her in and set the books down on a table near the door. "I really ought to be going. I have that project in English to start and my room to clean and my great aunt, she makes dinner and if I'm not there..." he was babbling, trying to think of reasons why he needed to go, as he shifted his weight nervously.

You wanna save me Dean Cullen? Save me from Stacy!

"It's early, come on Sam..." She took his hand and tried to drag him inside. "Besides, you really think if you call Dean Cullen over to your place to start the project, he'll be there?" Laughing, she shook her head. "No one's good enough for the Cullens. You stay here long enough, and you'll know."

Call Dean? Hell, he hadn't even gotten his number. No, he was just going to work on it alone. In his room. Like he did everything else.

"Yeah, well, still. My aunt..." Sam finally let her drag him further into the house.

"It's okay, Sam. It's just you and me. No crowds," she told him as she turned and smiled up at him, leaning in toward him as she did.

Sam took a step back, hand on her shoulder. "Stacy, really. Mike likes you, you should have him over for cobbler. He's a good guy. Me, I'm a loner. I sit in my room most of the time," he shrugged, "I think you have the wrong guy over."

"I don't think so." Even as he backed away from her she vowed she'd make him see her in a different light. He was too good to pass up. Handsome, smart... and probably a way out of this two bit town if things got serious. "I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the ride."

Sam smiled at her and nodded, "Sure. No problem." he told her, taking a couple more steps backward, before turning and making a beeline for the door.

Once in his car, Sam sighed in relief, slumping over his steering wheel, before he picked his head up and started backing out of the drive way.

On his way home he kept an eye out for the Lamborghini, but never saw it. The fact souring his mood by the time he reached home.

* * *

It was twilight, the time vampires felt most at ease. If he was gonna do this, now was the time. Parked on Cathleen Wood's driveway, Dean flipped open his cell phone and dialed the number he'd learned by heart. His gaze was focused on the upstairs window. He could hear Sam moving around in there, could hear the strange huffing sounds he made whenever he was frustrated. Course it only made Dean burn with the desire to find out what had the teenager wound up, an answer he couldn't simply pull out of Sam's head... dammit.
Sam sat on his bed, knees bent, back leaned against the head board of his bed, head bowed over the tablet of paper on his lap. He had planned to try to work on the magazine he and Dean had to create, but all he could think about was Dean. He hadn't seen him on his way home, and Stacy's flirtations and the way she kept looking at him, only made him wonder, no, wish that it had been Dean looking at him like that. Flirting with him like that. The sound of his cell vibrating against the wooden top of his night stand drew Sam's attention.

With a sigh, he put the pencil between his teeth and reached for the phone. 'Unknown Caller'. Sam frowned at the cell, before clicking it open and pulling the pencil from between his lips. "Uh, hello?"

"It's Dean."

"Dean?" He was shocked to find that it was Dean Cullen on the other end of the line. Hazel eyes widening, Sam sat up straighter in the bed, long legs falling to a cross-legged position.

"Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to get together on the project." Dean smirked, "right now."

"Where are you?"

"At your place."

(A/N: Please let us know whether there is any interest in this cross-over fic)