fic: Not another teen movie (2001)

[glovered]

TITLE: Not another teen movie (2001)
WORDS: 5.5k
SUMMARY: Sam sneaks out of their motel room to go to a Halloween party some of his new friends are having. (pre-series, pre-slash)
A/N: thanks mistyzeo for like, giving me some plot points and stuff.

Happy belated birthday, Allback2mine! You are one of the first people I met in SPN fandom and, needless to say, it's been really fun! I'm not really sure what I had in mind for this fic, but ta da! For youu ♥



It was just a Halloween party with a couple of kids in Sam's grade he barely recognized, no need for it to be any big thing. There were fake spiderwebs draped on the front porch and pumpkins had been carved and lit with with care, and the house was bigger than all of the places they'd stayed in the past year combined.

He had PBR under an arm and he wasn't wearing a jacket-They couldn't honestly turn him away. He knocked, but the front door was open so he wandered in.

The big, blond guy who had invited him, Greg, was in the kitchen cutting limes into fourths. He sucked the juice from one of them before chucking it toward the sink. "What's up, man?"

"I brought beer." Sam held the six pack out. "I mean, if you wanna."

Greg just grabbed it from him and said, "Dude, how is that even a question?"

The goalie from the soccer team was there, too. He took the PBR from Sam and shoved some of the cans into a cooler. After he was done, he extended a hand. "Hey, I'm Luke."

"I know who you are." But that was probably weird, so he made something up. "I'm planning on trying out for the team."

"Yeah? We'll have tryouts in a few weeks."

They didn't actually have time for that. Dad hadn't even wanted to enroll him in school, but Sam had a feeling that he was going to need his grades soon. He was trying to make every week count. He didn't say that, though.

Luke handed him a can. "Where'd you get this, anyway?"

"My brother, you know."

"Yeah? Well, we'll make sure to invite him next time."

Sam shrugged like it was a cool thing his older brother had done for him, rather than because his dad had left them in this town and all they had in the fridge was a hardy supply of beer and lunch meat.

Sam cracked his can and tapped it against Luke's. "Where're the girls?"

"Yo." Regina came in from the backyard, through the sliding glass door. She wrinkled her nose and said, "We'll have to drink shots later. Beer's kind of gross."

"Oh, right," Greg said. He draped an arm over Sam's shoulder and drawled, "The special shots."

Sam wanted to duck away, but he played it cool instead. "What's so special about them?"

Regina smiled, something secret. "Let's just call it the main event."

They ended up in the pool, beer cans on the edge and Sam wearing an extra pair of trunks that Anna's brother had stashed away from the summer before. They hung off of his hips even though he tied them in a grip hitch knot. The water was cold when he waded his way in and he didn't warm up for a full minute, his arms folded across his chest and his teeth chattering.

"You guys pass out candy?" Anna asked him. "Is that why you took a while getting over here?"

He shook his head, although maybe she couldn't see it because it was so dark out, despite the pool lights. "No, we watched Dracula Dead and Loving It at my place. I just had to wait to sneak out."

"I hear ya."

Sam relaxed a little, enough to brave the cold and dunk under the surface for a second. He slicked back his hair, which was getting long and was constantly falling in his eyes, and wiped water off his face. "So, did you pass out candy?"

Anna giggled. "No, we've been doing other stuff."

Sam was intrigued. "Other stuff?"

"But we did make a pie. Pumpkin."

Greg came into the backyard then and ran, a quick shadow, whooping, towards the pool's edge. He stumbled into the air and crashed into the water in one of the best cannonballs Sam had seen in years. He felt a grudging respect, even though he didn't think he'd ever really like the guy.

Anna turned and yelled, "Greg, you splashed everyone!" But he was underwater, swimming towards Luke who was minding his own business at the other end.

Sam watched, thinking they seemed nice. Not people Sam felt like he had much in common with, but then the only reason he'd even talked to them in the first place was because he'd stopped Greg from beating up some freshman. Sam would have avoided him after that, would have kept his head down because bullies come in packs sometimes, but Greg came up to him after school today and apologized. He hadn't even seemed pissed about getting detention, and Sam had been toying with the idea of friends this time around, so.

He splashed water at Anna to get her attention. "Where the hell are your parents?"

"Gone this weekend visiting family." She smirked. "I told them I was studying for the SATs."

"That's like a year away," Regina said. She pushed off the wall and floated by on her back, like a selkie in a blue bikini and lit from below by the cold yellow and greens of the pool water.

"I am too studying! You know, just not for some test."

Sam got the shivers but he was only half in the water, so it was probably just the cold air.

He spent at least twenty minutes impressing them with back flips Dean had taught him last summer, the really dangerous kind from the top of tall things. When he was tired of that, he and Luke ended up battling for the same floaty raft. Dad systematically made he and Dean aquabattle every time they stayed somewhere with a pool, so Sam had the moves. He wasn't trying too hard, though. Couldn't scare the locals with his ninja-like abilities.

"Yeah, it's hard acting mortal," Dean would have said, lounging back. Sam just pretended to fall off the raft a few more times than usual.

Didn't mean he didn't put up a fight, though. After a fake scuffle where the raft twisted between their hands and went under when Luke got one knee up, Sam pulled it out of both of their reach and jumped on his back. He wrapped his legs around Luke's middle and pressed his heels where he knew Dean was ticklish. Sure enough, Luke writhed under him and temporarily lost the ability to tread water. He came gasping up to the surface, laughing and coughing around water. Sam held on for dear life, though, so that Luke finally sunk like a rock to get him off.

Sam shot away, to lunge into the shallower area for the raft. He managed pull it under him and roll onto it, and stretched out for the precious seconds he had, the air freezing against his skin. He watched Luke stalk towards him, a dark smile on his face. Luke put his hand on Sam's ankle, fingers pressing hard, his thumb to Sam's sole, and-

"Yo! Homos!"

Sam stilled and Luke tugged him off the raft. Sam, on instinct, grabbed the back of Luke's head and shoved him into the water as a sort of last word.

"Shots!" Greg yelled.

Sam slogged to the edge of the pool and took the small glass Greg handed him. It was full of something that was red in the low light from the pool and Sam's fingers felt pruney around it.

He thought of the Lidérc saliva he'd been force-fed last spring and how he'd vowed always to know what he was ingesting. He hedged, "So, we're drinking a shot of-?"

Anna giggled again and Luke came up next to him and pressed their shoulders together.

"Scared?" he asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so scared. Dude, I've been drinking since I was thirteen."

Luke laughed, and shrugged, but looked kind of uncomfortable. Sam always managed to come off as weird.

The five of them clinked shot glasses with various logos on them. Sam followed along on some sort of high school chant, the kind of toast you repeat even though you don't understand what it means. The sort of thing you might yell before sports games.

"Bottoms up, bitches," Greg said. They drank.

Sam hadn't lied when he'd said he'd been drinking since he was thirteen, but really that entailed sips of beer, or whiskey on the odd occasion that Dean got his hands on some. Dean had just turned twenty-one, though, so that would probably change. In any case, the burn of whatever it was he'd just had was diametrically opposed to sitting on the back porch in jeans and his one, ratty hoodie, hot afternoons and Dean knocking his hand away but not really, when he went to sneak more of his beer.

Sam instantly felt great. Weird party, he thought, looking around at the four faces he barely knew, but freaking awesome, too.

"Shots!" Anna said, like they hadn't just had one.

Sam could have sworn he saw Greg pour something different in Sam's second, but that was just his paranoia he knew. He had to lighten up. These were normal kids his age.

They repeated the chant, and drank.

Luke handed Sam his third shot and watched as Sam took it. Greg punched him in what could be a friendly way on his shoulder, a hard smack to wet skin. Anna and Regina pulled each other away toward the deep end and that was all Sam saw before Luke tried to dunk him under.

Sam grappled with Luke a little, and then dipped around underwater for a while, seeing how long he could hold his breath. He grabbed Regina's feet as she swam past and instead of getting a hand tangled in his hair for his troubles, laughter just barely audible from above level, and a voice saying "Sammy you dork, will you never learn-" instead of that, he got an armful of girl. Her skin was slidey and wet and she didn't try to give him a noogie when he stood up. He made a half-hearted joke and put distance between them to get his bearings.

When he rolled out of the pool, he lay there laughing for a second. Anna splashed another wave of water over him and he yelped. The sky overhead was barely starry; Indianapolis was a big city, so the light pollution washed most of the stars out, but nothing could eclipse the moon which had lodged itself bright and full directly overhead, stuck to the sky like a push pin.

Sam's eyes felt raw from the chlorine and his feet were numb and wrinkly. He felt great.

Greg came up to sit at the edge of the pool, kicking water when anyone swam by. "Sam. Sammy."

"Uh," said Sam. "Just Sam."

"I'm really glad you came out tonight. You're always buried in a book, man."

Sam thought of how he'd spent half of last month wilderness survival training, how he'd gotten so delirious one day that he'd started singing off the top of a cliff and Dean had shot him in the back with an acorn from a roughly hewn sling shot and then tackled him into the dust, like a caveman felling a mammoth.

Sam laughed. "Yep, that's me, all I do is read."

"So, what do you think?"

Sam rolled to his knees and grabbed a towel off a nearby chair. He rubbed himself all over and tried to tip his head so water would dribble out of his ears. "Think of what?"

"Of our group, man." Greg punched him in the arm. "New kid in town, right? Want to hang out with the right crowd."

"I usually have tons of friends," Sam said with bravado. He clammed up.

Greg laughed. "Anything else?"

Sam shook his head, but found himself saying, "You move around like totally normal high schoolers. Yep, not suspicious at all, not like a secret cult or like that wiccan circle we got last year."

Greg widened his eyes, and it would have been comical if Sam hadn't been so confused himself. "Okayy."

"I, uh." Sam cleared his throat. "I should go."

"Oh really?"

"Go for another drink!" He smiled brightly. "Wanna get smashed when I get the chance, know what I mean? Where's the red stuff?"

Greg threw his head back and laughed. It reminded Sam of Dean, which seemed wrong in a lot of ways. Sam had to get to Dean.

"Over on the kitchen table," Greg said. "Made it special for you."

Sam made it out of the house by way of the front door. Easier to sneak out than in, he'd realized after a lot of practice. He walked out with a load of guilt, ditching a party like that. It's not like he was usually just gathered into a group of friends, especially lately, the last half of high school when everyone had people they'd grown up with. He'd been that awkward new kid his whole life, the one who kept a razor blade in his notebook pocket, and now there he was, ditching a group of really nice people, jogging down the quiet streets, the warm and crickety feel of Indiana in July.

It was probably a false alarm, was the thing. So he'd temporarily said some things he wouldn't normally? Well, there was probably nothing wrong with him; he lied all the time! And besides, he'd been drinking. It was distinctly possible he was tipsy and getting ideas into his head, like the insane idea that somehow a group of juniors on Varsity sports had managed to track down and complete some sort of spell that ensured Sam couldn't tell the truth.

Better safe than sorry, though. Once he reached it, he started outright sprinting down the main drag. People always talked about getting lost, but Sam had an excellent sense of direction. He noticed everything for times just like this, when he was scared and feeling guilty, and was letting emotions cloud his judgment.

His feet slapped the concrete in old sneakers that were used to runs so that they were wearing through now. He didn't feel the burn in his lungs until he was a few blocks away. He could tell where he was because the Chevron station that pointed down to the motel like an arrow in the distance. "Thank God for neons," Dean had one time said, when they'd passed a strip club. Their dad had grumbled, "not yet, son."

Sam loped to a quiet jog at a block away, so that, by the time he reached the parking lot, he wasn't breathing too hard. He was at a hard sweat, though, telltale and all over his arms and neck.

The room window was dark. He was going to come back in and probably wake Dean. He wanted to drop instantly and sleep for eight hours, thinking maybe this thing, if it even was a thing, would wear off. But instead, he was going to look like that idiot who'd almost been taken advantage off by a group of teenagers, never mind he was seventeen himself.

He took a breath to steel himself before he went in, turning the handle that wasn't even locked any more. Dean sat up and switched on the light.

Sam made instantly for the bathroom, throwing a greeting over his shoulder.

He heard Dean getting up. "Where the hell were you"

"Nowhere," he said, which, well, it was true. Not anywhere important at least. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. He gripped the door handle.

Dean looked at him for too long, before lying down again and turning away. "Fine, whatever. Just don't let dad ever catch you sneaking out."

Sam couldn't think of a thing to say. He tried to get out some sort of warning, because maybe this was a situation where he should get help after all, but he couldn't do more than shift on his feet and say, "It was just a normal Halloween party. No swimming, no stuff, you know, that every high school kid wouldn't do."

The room was quiet. Dean didn't respond except to reach over and turn off the light again with a pull at the lamp chain on the bedside table.

Dark. Quiet. He felt safe here, like he could sleep forever, but also like a live wire, the sort of situation their dad taught them to watch out for. Sam rolled words around his mouth but couldn't even say 'witches' or 'spell' now that he was concentrating so hard. He distantly noted the rush of the occasional car on the road outside, until Dean muttered, "Sure, Sammy."

Sam got this twist of panic. He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth for way too long, not meeting his gaze under the light in the mirror. The bulb kept flicking and zapping in true horror-movie fashion. When he opened the door, preparing to creep back into the room, Dean was there, waiting. Sam felt a welling of relief, but Dean pushed past him to go pee.

After he came out, Dean didn't lie down again, even though Sam had wound himself under the covers, closing his eyes and feeling strangely mute. Dean sat at the edge of his own bed. Sam couldn't see his expression but for a second when rogue headlights zipped past their window.

"So it was a pool party," Dean said.

His nod, invisible in the dark, fell automatically into shaking his head. He tried again, realizing he could only control his own muscles if he gave it conscious thought. His words, though- "Uh, nope. No pool. No swimming."

Dean was quiet a minute. "It's not like I give a shit if you joined the swim team without telling me," he said. "But you fucking suck at lying. The bathroom reeks of chlorine now and I bet your clothes do, too."

"No," Sam said, stronger, pushing himself up on an elbow. "I didn't get in a pool."

Dean growled and stalked over to grab Sam's shirt off the ground and smelled it. "I swear to god, Sammy." He brought it back to the bed and held it up to Sam's face and said, "What about this? Huh?" Sam sat up to move away on instinct, so Dean pushed the shirt into his face until he had to breathe it in. It smelled rank, like a run and a night swim.

"Freaking liar," Dean said. And when Sam laughed instead of staying quiet like he wanted to, Dean grabbed him by the face and smelled his hair and nosed to breathe in against his neck. He gripped Sam by the shoulder and said into Sam's ear so that Sam was shivering, kind of freaked out and hopeful, "You were in a pool. I can smell it on you. Tell me the truth."

"I'm not lying," Sam grit out.

"Are too," Dean said. Abruptly he was off of Sam to reach for the lamp cord. It flashed on like an interrogation light, and Dean pointed a finger at Sam. "Now shut up."

"I'm not lying, I swear."

They stared at each other. Dean went from frowning to confused, not mad any more, unlike Sam who felt angry all the damn time lately, especially now, here on the bed, lying through his teeth because he couldn't help it.

He kept eye contact. "Dean."

Dean waved it away. "Shut up."

"Dean."

"No, shut up for a second. Why would you lie to me?"

"I'm. Not. Lying."

"No, freaking stop, Sam. Let me think for a second. Why, is what I'm saying. Why aren't you telling me the truth?"

Sam got an idea. He waved his arms around, hoping that he'd be acting spastic enough that maybe it would be suspicious. Dean smacked an arm away before it hit him in the face and said, "I get it, dude. I get it. Stop being a freak. How stupid do you think I am?"

"Really stupid," Sam smirked, but then groaned when Dean grinned and said, "That's what I thought."

Dean got up and started pacing. He clapped his hands together and said, "Soo, questions."

"I would love to answer anything you have to ask me," Sam said, stomach dropping out.

"Good, good." Dean considered him for a second before saying, "Did you actually hate that Western marathon the other day."

"Yes," Sam said, trying to sound as serious as possible.

Dean nodded, looking pleased. "Is your favorite color pink and do you or do you not want a pony for your next birthday?"

Sam shook his head, but said, "Yes and yes."

"And a Barbie car?"

Sam hung his head and whispered. "I want one of those, too."

Dean was obviously overcome with glee. "Ha! This is fantastic. Who'd win in a zombie apocalypse type situation, you or me?"

"Yeah, cuz that's totally possible to tell."

"Okay, so sarcasm works. Really though."

Sam frowned. "Because we'd totally split up and let the other one die. That totally makes sense."

Dean ruffled his hair. "You're no fun. Anyway, so, to get the story straight-There was a pool, and you're either drunk right now or something, but you were obviously at some party with kids from school...." Dean looked around the room for a second and then grabbed at Sam's leg without warning.

"Hey!"

Dean slid Sam's cell from his pocket and flipped it open, muttering something about always having to clean up Sam's messes.

Sam flopped down on the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. "It's not like I need you to or anything, and I hate it when you manhandle me like that."

There was a creaking of bed springs and Dean presumably wrote down the address Anna had texted him on a piece of paper. Sam stared at the ceiling until Dean finally said, "Just-ah, just stop talking, would you? Really. It's for the best."

Sam cracked his fingers, one by one. Dean shook his head and stood. "You just-you just hang tight." Then, he was out the door.

Sam could just wait there. He could. He could shuck his jeans and lay back under the thin covers, folding two pillows under his head and eating the rest of the starbursts he'd left in his backpack. They were the green kind, with the light pink flavor, and there had to be something good on TV, anything really would do. Dean'd be back soon, and Sam could just lie there and recover.

He sat with his bony elbows resting on his thighs, hands dangling between his knees, listening to the sound of cars outside and the quiet creak of a mattress next door and the knock of a chair hitting the wall from the other side of them.

Dammit.

He stood, motions abrupt because he was tired from swimming and running and being freaked out and embarrassed. He grabbed his hoodie and pulled it on as he slammed out of the room, remembering that he'd always hated Halloween.

He left the motel behind him, a pool of light on the dark street. Rain had begun drizzling down. It was like his whole life before had led to this dark point in time where he was chasing after Dean and the Impala on an empty street, that surreal quality of being alone with your thoughts after midnight.

He got to the house, where the car was parked out front, and jumped the back fence, not even bothering with fumbling around for the lock. When it was dark like this, Sam felt anonymous, free of anything that boxed him in. As a result, he half believed he could do anything. He could be normal. He could be a human who'd realized his maximum potential and could jump a fence with just the brush of fingertips to splintery wood, and then he'd be crashing down quietly on the other side.

He moved like a shadow around the pool's edge, where earlier he'd thought he might end up at the bottom of a chicken fight, Regina's legs wrapped around his shoulders, heels under his armpits. He touched a side door and it swung open under his palm.

He crept toward the kitchen, keeping his back to a wall, and caught the tail end of what Dean was saying around the corner, "-Halloween party, and I will freaking have that pie. I am a guest, it's only common courtesy."

"Someone gag him," Anna said.

"Not with a dish towel! Really? Aw, come on, man-mghff."

Sam grimaced, and then stepped into view.

All four of them were standing there, in swimsuits and towels. Regina took a step forward. "Sam, there you are!"

"I fell asleep," he said. "In a room?"

Greg nodded. Apparently disorientation was nothing new when it came to whatever they'd given him.

"Woah. What-" Sam took a step back when he caught sight of Dean.

"You know this guy?"

Well, apparently lying was out. Or, well, in. He answered anyway, because he couldn't help it. "Nope, never seen him before."

"Right."

He sighed, but crouched low and pushed a hand up the side of Dean's neck, waiting for Dean to jump to action. He felt hard stubble and a calm pulse. He checked Dean's eyes, which were unfocused. The sides of Dean's mouth were going white where the gag was stretched tight.

"What the hell?" He looked up at them, wild eyed. Dean wasn't kidding; he knew Dean's bullshit face, and this wasn't it. When he shook took him by the shoulders, his head lolled. "What did you do to him?"

It was Anna who spoke up. "What did we do to him? He was the one who broke in here, and he attacked Greg!"

"He tried to take something," Regina said. "So we had no choice."

Sam didn't care about any of that. "But why's he all-"

They looked to Dean, who had started giggling, despite the gag.

Luke stepped forward, hands up in a placating gesture. "He ate some of the candy we had on the table."

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "Dean, you are not stupid enough to do that. What was it?"

"It should wear off in an hour."

"I swear, if you hurt him, I'm going to-I'm going to make sure you have great dreams about tonight for years." Sam groaned in disgust but pulled out his Swiss army knife and cut the dishtowel.

"Hey!" Greg took a step forward, but put up his hands and stepped back again when Sam half rose, brandishing the knife. "Look, it was just something we were trying out. We were just having fun."

"If my dad were here, he'd let you live," Sam told him with a fiery sort of passion.

Dean just smiled weakly at him once he'd gotten the gag off. "Some great friends you've got here."

Sam shrugged. "Luke kind of sucks, but the rest of them are okay. God I love spilling all my secrets."

"Of course you do." Dean hummed and slumped to one side. "The antidote's in the book."

"Book?"

"On the table. Looks like we've got Sabrina and her buddies on our hands."

Sam eyed the thing. It was leather-bound and looked old, with a red gem stuck right in the cover. "Never would have guessed," he ground out.

"Don't you dare," Anna said.

Sam tried to sneer at her, but smiled instead. "What are you going to do?"

"Luke, tie him up."

"What?" Luke said. He looked at Sam, regretfully, half in fear.

Greg leaned in to mutter, "It's too late, they're going to call the cops."

"What are we going to do with them once they're tied up, though?"

"Memory spell?"

"Does that even exist?"

"I don't know, check the book! But there's no way we can let them leave now."

Sam stood to his full height. "Yeah, do it, Luke."

Luke hesitated, but ultimately came to stand in front of him, just out of reach. He met Sam's eyes only briefly, and it didn't help much that Sam could see Luke's hands shaking as he pulled a jump rope off the back of the chair.

"He's got a knife," he muttered.

Greg eyed Sam. "Yeah, but he's scrawny. You could take him. And gag the other guy again."

Sam's gaze dragged over Luke. He wondered at how, just a few hours ago, he thought maybe they were on the same level, at least about some stuff.

"Yeah," he said, feeling a hot sort of anger flare up in him. "You could beat me, if we fought."

Luke squinted at the implication. "Wait, what?"

And when he reached for Sam's arm, Sam stepped into it. He grabbed Luke's wrist and kicked his legs out from underneath him in one, fluid motion.

"Easy, right?" He pressed down, his knee jammed into the small of Luke's back, and one hand holding the back of his head, fingers pushing through his hair. "You still thinking about touching my brother?"

"Please don't hurt me," Luke gasped. Sam pushed his face into the wood of the floor just because he could. At this point in sparring, Dean would be struggling underneath him, or maybe playing dead until he felt the pressure let up, at which point Sam would be on his back in seconds.

There was a rattling from the front door. Luke tensed even further and Sam, against his better judgment, got off of him. None of them could hurt him anyway. Luke scrambled away on hands and knees.

"It's too late for trick-or-treaters," Anna said.

Greg frowned over at Sam, but said to her, "Could be crazy people?"

"That's not hypocritical or anything," Sam muttered. He reached back to run a hand down Dean's arm, still watching them, and when his fingers found the knotted jump rope, he sawed at it until Dean's wrists snapped free.

He helped Dean to his feet, and when Greg took a step towards them, he rolled his eyes and held up the knife again. "Really, man?"

"Let him try," Dean coughed out. "And I'll take the ugly one."

"You're right, he is pretty ugly," Sam said, but Luke didn't catch the admission, and Dean was drugged, so-

The door clicked open, which meant Sam could use the distraction and grab the book and get them out of there.

"Shit," Anna said. "Shit, shit, shit." She stepped in front of Sam to shove a few beer cans aside but they just clattered off onto a chair, then the floor. Dean stood up straighter and seemed to be clearing his head.

Two people who were pretty obviously Anna's parents appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Hello," her mom said.

Sam surveyed the wreckage, trying to see it from her eyes: four kids in bathing suits and two grungy other guys they'd never met, standing around looking scared and tired. There were a few bottles of alcohol strewn about, along with half eaten bags of chips and an overturned chair.

Regina nudged the book behind a loaf of bread.

Anna looked mortified. "Mom! Dad!"

Her dad laughed the laugh of a father who'd caught their daughter drinking, but had managed to miss the witchcraft. "So, what's all this?"

"You're supposed to be home on Sunday," she said.

He wandered to the table and picked up the jar of red drink that they'd given Sam. He sniffed at it and Anna grabbed it out of his hands.

Smooth, Sam thought. He tried to catch Dean's eye but Dean was just looking kind of distantly smug, kind of entertained, like maybe he was watching one of those soap operas he sometimes flipped to at eleven in the morning.

They should probably get out of there.

Sam strode forward, grabbing Amy's mother's hand and kissing the back of it like he was a Southern gentleman caller. He shook Amy's dad's hand with healthy vigor. "It is very nice to meet you both."

Anna's father patted Sam firmly on the shoulder and her mother smiled slyly over at Anna before saying, "I'm surprised we haven't been introduced before. What a character."

He smiled in a way he hoped came off as charismatic. "My name isn't Sam," he told them. "And I have home ec with your daughter. We were just carving pumpkins. And baking. Like we do in class."

"How nice!" said Anna's mother. "I didn't know she was taking home ec!"

"Oh, it's a club," Sam babbled. He flung and arm around Dean's shoulders kind of woodenly and tugged him into his side. "This is a guy I don't know at all."

Dean grinned. "It's nice to meet you. Ma'am. Sir." He nodded and then turned to Sam. "Anyway, we should go now, shouldn't we?"

"Nope," Sam gritted out as they edged around toward the hall. Anna's parents just watched their progress.

When they passed the table, Sam snagged the book from where it was hidden and told Regina, "I'll take this back to the library for you."

Dean snaked the pumpkin pie when they passed the counter. He slurred, "Thanks for making this for me, by the way. My favorite."

They made it past the parents. Sam shouted over his shoulder, "You have a lovely daughter-" but Dean tumbled him out the front door before they got a response.

Sam slammed the door, Dean hugged the pie in both arms, and then they were out in the night. They took off running, immediately.