A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
See Chapter 1 for all Warnings and Author's Notes.
Chapters: 3 of 15 (3,841 words this part)
Chapter 3: Happy Birthday to Me
Alva chuckled through the whole story. "Your father sounds like a real character."
Taking a second to think about that, Dean cleared his throat and said, "Uh, sometimes." Try not often. Very infrequently. "But, we didn't come here for those kinds of stories, huh? I'm sorry, I got off topic."
"It's alright." Alva smiled. "When you bring up old memories, some of them are bound to overcome you, and demand for their stories to be told."
"Yeah... well, it was my sixteenth birthday. Lots of good memories." The whimsical smile remained on Dean's face as he continued. "Anyway, there is a reason I started this story. Billy's party. When you hear more about it, you'll understand how it relates to Billy's overall character.
"It was at this party that I realized just how much power he could exert over people. Through his charm, and the extreme promises he made. Billy knew how to get at the heart of a person and exploit their weaknesses. He knew what they wanted in their..." His eyes far off, Dean wet his lips. "...their darkest desires."
Dean had managed to ditch his little brother shortly before he drove over to Billy's house. He knew Sammy would have loved to come along, but this wasn't some pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey little kid's soiree; it was a teenager's party.
Billy's mother answered the door. She was a rather rotund, overzealous woman who tried too hard to be hip, her son's best friend and buddies with everyone he brought home. "Well, Dean! Billy will be so happy you could make it. Isn't it your birthday?"
Dean didn't exactly dislike the woman. He just thought she was a bit weird, and sometimes annoyingly clingy. What would she be doing with her life if she didn't have her son to fawn over? "Yes ma'am."
"And how many birthday spankings do you get today, Dean?" Mrs. Loomis laughed.
Oh, God... "Uh, sixteen."
"Sixteen!" She turned to Billy as he came over to rescue his friend. "Billy, did you know that Dean is sixteen today?"
"Yeah Mom, of course." Rolling his eyes, Billy grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him past his mother. She grinned at the boys like a Barbie doll.
"What a great milestone that is. I remember my sixteenth birthday. My parents gave me a fancy makeup kit and a vanity with these big bows tied around the legs," Mrs. Loomis recalled dreamily.
"Oh!" Dean stopped, pulling Billy a step back. "Guess what my dad gave me?"
"A vanity with bows tied to the legs?" asked Billy with a smirk.
"No, wiseguy. He gave me the Impala!"
"Stellar, man!" Billy slap-grabbed Dean's hand and gave him a one-armed hug. "Congrats on the awesome wheels!"
"Oh, that's great," Mrs. Loomis added. She tapped Dean's arm with her closed fist, grinning.
For a brief moment, Dean felt sorry for her. The woman was so desperate to be her son's friend in an effort to be a part of his life that she had no idea how irritating and intrusive her presence could be. The last thing most teenagers wanted was their mom hanging around at their party.
Dean could hear other kids in the house, lots of them, their laughter coming from the room beyond the foyer. "I'd ask you to come outside and take a look at my car, but it sounds like you're entertaining guests," he joked.
"Yes," Mrs. Loomis began, "I've got a full house tonight." She pinched Dean's cheek between her thumb and first finger. "So many good-looking boys," she laughed.
Dean politely chuckled, but it was an insincere gesture. Catching his eye, Billy gave him a look that spoke for how fed up he was with his mother trying to be one of the gang. "Uh, Mom..." Billy put an arm around her shoulder. "Could you make us all some sandwiches?"
Dean backed him up. "Yeah, Mrs. Loomis, I'm awful hungry." He rubbed his stomach. "All I've had since lunch is a piece of cake."
"Your dad didn't feed you dinner?" Her tone sympathetic, Dean knew he already had Mrs. Loomis in that kitchen, slaving away.
"Well, you know how men can be."
"Ohhh... you've got that bachelor pad over there with only your dad, huh?" She patted Dean's cheek.
"Dad and Sammy."
"His little brother," clarified Billy.
"That's too bad. Well, I'll just have to send some sandwiches home with you for Sammy, then." Smiling sadly, Mrs. Loomis looked into Dean's charming eyes and patted his cheek again.
"We'd appreciate that, Mrs. Loomis."
"It's no problem. We have plenty to spare."
Once she was in the kitchen and safely out of earshot, Dean and Billy broke out in boyish giggles. "I thought she'd never leave," Billy said. He slapped Dean's upraised hand. "Snowed her good. Thanks for the help."
"She didn't even say anything about the alcohol on your breath."
Dean ducked his head and smiled, slightly embarrassed that he'd been caught. "My dad let me have a shot of Jack for my birthday." He looked up, catching Billy's eye with a charming grin. "You wanna go for a ride in my car?"
"Later, man. I got a room full of guests in there."
"Oh, yeah. What are we up to?"
Putting an arm around Dean's shoulders, Billy walked him into the living room. "Fight Club," he said with a wolfish smile. "Best book ever."
"Fight Club?" When they rounded the corner, Dean saw what he meant. Most of the kids had formed a semi-circle around Stu and another boy wrestling on the floor, trying to pin each other. The kids were cheering and jumping up and down, almost every one with some kind of alcoholic drink in their hand, a ratio of about three boys for every girl. Dean had been here enough times to know that Mrs. Loomis didn't mind if her son and his friends drank in her house, giving the throw-away excuse that she'd rather they do it at home than go out drinking somewhere else and possibly drive drunk, but it still surprised him to see so many kids standing around with beers and wine coolers in their hands with an adult right in the next room. "What are they doing?"
Billy gestured toward Stu and the boy on the floor. "Whoever wins will fight me next."
"Oh..." He wanted to say how it seemed a little gay to be rolling around on the floor with another guy, but it probably wasn't a good idea. Besides, he and Sam sometimes still play-wrestled, so maybe it wasn't so weird.
Two girls standing nearby grinned and waved. "Hey Billy, who's your friend?"
"You haven't met Dean yet, have you?"
"No." They shook their heads, smiling flirtatiously and trying to catch Dean's eye.
"Girls, this is Dean. Dean, that's Aurora and Angela."
"Hi," they said, one of them running a finger along Dean's wrist, just above the leather cord bracelet he was wearing. Her version of a handshake, he surmised.
"Hey," Dean replied. Had he really been here nearly three weeks and not bedded even one of the lovely local lasses? Well, that would have to change tonight. It'd be a great way to cap off his birthday.
Billy introduced a few more of the party guests. "That's Curtis, Justin, Steve, Casey, Tatum, you already know Randy, and on the floor currently getting his ass kicked is Troy."
Everyone waved or raised a bottle to greet Dean. A grunted, "Fuck you," came from the boy under Stu on the floor.
Billy just laughed. "Uh oh, hold on, Dean." He got down to check how far Troy's shoulders were off the ground.
Stu swung his leg over and sat on Troy's chest. "I'm all out of bubblegum!" he cried, and shoved Troy down hard, holding him there. The boy struggled, but Stu successfully pinned him long enough for Billy to slap his hand against the floor three times, counting him out. At least half the group cheered for Stu's victory.
"Woooo," Dean said in a bored tone, circling his index finger in the air.
Stu walked around the edge of the group with his arms up in a victory lap. On his way by Dean, he grabbed the circling finger and bent it back enough to hurt. Dean held back a wince, opting instead to stare him down with a steely gaze. Stu hissed at him before sauntering off toward the girls.
After Billy had helped him up, Troy came over to Dean with a shake of his head. "Easy come, easy go. You're Dean?"
"Yeah. Dean Winchester."
"Winchester, huh? I'm Troy Gregson. I think we have Chemistry together."
"Probably. I've only been a few times."
Dean and Troy conversed on mundane subjects while Stu and Billy prepared to fight. Where Dean was from, how he liked the school so far, did he like the California weather? As the minutes ticked by, Dean found more of his attention being taken up with the impending wrestling game.
Billy was messing with the CD player. After he pushed the play button, he turned back to the group with a wicked smirk on his face. Dean recognized the song; it was Iron Maiden's "Losfer Words," an instrumental. Good fighting music. So Billy liked to put on a show. He sauntered into the center of the "ring," eyeing Stu as he did the same. The crowd of kids began to cheer for whichever boy each of them preferred. As the music swelled, even Dean found himself bouncing on his feet, anxious to fight too.
"Yeah, Billy! Destroy 'im!" he yelled.
A growl in Billy's throat turned into a war cry, and the fight was on.
As Dean watched the two throw punches and wrestle for dominance, he felt something he never expected to feel, and so did not recognize it for what it was. All he knew was he didn't like seeing Billy and Stu touch each other like that, that it made his stomach knot up and his fists ball angrily at his sides. What he did understand was that Billy was going to win this fight because Stu didn't have the intention of beating him; his movements against Billy were hesitant and playful, just for show. Dean had enough training in hand-to-hand combat to know when someone was throwing a fight. What he had to wonder was why. Why would Stu show such obedience in a friendly brawl?
Just as Dean thought, Billy pinned Stu easily after only two minutes. The kids cheered and patted him on the back while Stu grinned it off as a fluke. "I'll get you next time," he told Billy, pointing at him dramatically.
Billy gave him a dubious look. "Sure you will. Now..." He turned to the crowd and loudly clapped his hands together. "...who's next?"
"Dean!" Troy called, and shoved Dean forward. Dean started to give him a dirty look until he realized all the kids were cheering for him.
"New boy! New boy! New boy!" they chanted.
Feeling a little awkward, he looked around, catching Billy's eye. Billy was grinning at him from ear to ear, a bit wolfishly. "It's Dean, actually. Remember?" Dean replied. His confidence came back and he adopted an arrogant stance, arms crossed.
Billy seemed to relish the very thought of this fight. "How sweet, fresh meat," he said.
Someone started the song over. As the music began again, Billy charged at Dean.
The kids momentarily fell into a stunned hush when Dean simply moved to one side with the grace of a cat, Billy stumbling past him. Billy turned, grinning, as the crowd began to cheer again. He ran at Dean and swung, but Dean just leaned back out of his range, waited for Billy to come close enough, and punched him in the gut.
"Oof!" Billy cried.
The kids howled, "Oooooooh!" in surprise and delight. Now this was a fight!
Holding his stomach, Billy looked at Dean with the most predatory smile he'd ever seen. Billy liked this? Something about this game excited him, and the fact that Dean could really fight made it even more appealing.
With that bellowing war cry, Billy ran at Dean again, swinging wildly. Dean ducked and weaved away from every blow; it was an amazing spectacle to the other kids. Their cheers grew in volume and awe, especially over how effortless his actions seemed. Finally, Billy brought his fist up, but only halfway. Dean ducked from this blow only to lean into the real punch from Billy's other fist. It connected with Dean's lip.
The kids cheered and jumped around wildly. "Yeah, that's the way!" Stu yelled.
Dean wiped at his lip with the back of his hand. It was bleeding a little. He and Billy grinned at each other. "Good one," Dean complimented him, and readied himself for another go-round.
When Mrs. Loomis came back into the living room with a tray of sandwiches, Billy and Dean were fighting for ground on the floor. "Oh my, but they're fighting hard!" she exclaimed.
"Thanks Mrs. Loomis!" several kids said as they grabbed handfuls of sandwiches.
"Now, now, leave some for Billy and Dean."
Although Billy didn't have Dean's technique, he had to admit that Billy could fight pretty well. Obviously, he'd been practicing. They moved sinuously across the floor like two wrestling snakes, grunting and rolling over one another. In a mighty effort to pin Dean, Billy pushed him over, the veins standing out on his arms, and held him down with a bellow of effort. Troy got down on the ground, ready to count Dean out. He slapped the floor once, but Dean stunned everyone when he brought his legs up, hooked them around Billy's shoulders, and shoved him over on his back. Billy cried out in surprise. Dean rolled over on top of him, bringing Billy's knees up, and held him there for the three count. At the last second, Billy squirmed one leg out, but Dean still had an elbow hooked around his other knee and managed to pin him successfully. The kids went wild.
Stu covered his face with his hands. "I can't believe it."
A few kids threw lunch meat into the middle of the ring. Dean, laughing, opened his mouth as if to catch his prize for winning the fight. As an afterthought, he let Billy go. Billy wriggled away from him and lay there, trying to catch his breath. They looked at each other and grinned like idiots.
"Good job," Billy said, holding up a hand.
Standing up, Dean reached down and slap-grabbed the offered hand, helping Billy up. Dean took his victory lap around the semi-circle; the kids clapped him on the back.
"New kid! New kid! New kid!" they chanted.
Mrs. Loomis gasped when Dean came her way. "Oh, your lip is bleeding..." She licked the edge of her apron and swiped at the corner of Dean's mouth with it.
"I'm alright, Mrs. Loomis." He tried to bat away her attention.
"Billy, did you do that?"
"It's just a part of the game, Mom," Billy protested. "Remember what Stu did to Randy last week?"
"Still..." She placed the tray on a nearby table and put her arm around Billy's shoulders. "I have to admit, I'm a bit impressed. You decked a big boy like Dean?" Mrs. Loomis reached out and gave Dean's upper arm a squeeze. He flinched in surprise. "He might've won, but my boy put up a good fight, huh?" she laughed.
Rolling his eyes, Billy said, "Moooooom..." But it was obvious by the chuckle in his voice that he sometimes liked it when she fawned over him.
"You know it, Mrs. Loomis," Dean said, winking.
She held up the tray. "Sandwich? This one's ham, and that one's turkey, you're favorite, Billy."
He took the offered food. "Thanks, Mom." Billy hugged her and kissed her cheek.
The kiss made her smile fondly. "You're welcome, honey. Now, before you leave, Dean, make sure you get my care package from the kitchen. Enough sandwiches for you, your dad, and little Sammy."
Dean, rubbing his stomach, made an, "Mmm!" sound. "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Loomis."
Shortly after, Mrs. Loomis went up to bed with orders for the kids to "keep it down" and a conspiratorial wink. Dean wondered how many of the other parents knew what little supervision there really was at Billy's parties.
Troy and Steve stood against one wall, whispering and sipping at Black Cherry wine coolers, obviously plotting something with the girls now that the parental roadblock had gone to bed. Stu grabbed Randy around the neck. "Slasher movie in the den. You comin' Billy?"
"No, I think I'm going to the rumpus room. Remember what we talked about?"
Stu looked at Dean, then Billy again. "Oh, yeah." He seemed disappointed, but headed for the den just the same.
"Hey, I wanna watch!" Tatum said, and followed after them.
Turning to Billy, Dean joked, "Gee, that wasn't at all obvious."
Billy patted him on the back. "I told you I was going to get you a birthday present, didn't I?"
Opening the door to another room, Billy said, "Come and get it."
When Dean entered, he didn't see anything of note. Just what seemed to be a guest room with a bed and typical bedroom furniture. "Oh boy, you got me a room. Do I get to come live here?"
He heard Billy close the door. Dean turned around to find a girl standing behind him, wearing the cheerleading uniform of Woodsboro High. The big gold 'W' hugged her breasts, which he was pretty sure weren't currently encumbered by a bra. She began jumping around in a birthday cheer, blonde pigtail bouncing just as much as her breasts.
"Dean, Dean, he's my man, if he can't do it, no one can! Birthday, birthday, now get set, how many spankings do you get?" She punctuated the cheer by jumping and kicking her leg up. "Wooo!"
Dean's cool was blown temporarily. He looked at Billy, who was posed against the door, smirking. "Uh... spankings?"
Billy came over and put his hands on the girl's shoulders. "He's sixteen today."
"Sixteen!" The girl threw down her pom-poms and pushed Dean toward the bed. He allowed her to bend him over the bed with his butt in the air. "One..." She spanked him hard. "Two..." And again.
Dean slowly began to realize what was going on here. He laughed as she doled out fifteen spankings.
"...and, sixteen!" The girl reached around, palming Dean's crotch through his jeans. She squeezed and massaged ever so enticingly. "My, my, but you want your real present bad."
It was true; Dean was already half-hard. Not all of that was from the anticipation of doing the girl, though. Something he would leave out of this story as he told it to Alva Keel was that the fight with Billy had brought on most of Dean's erection that night.
Turning Dean around, the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him; everything in that dirty, passionate kiss confirmed for him just what she was offering. She pushed him onto the bed. "Get comfortable, handsome."
While Dean situated himself on the bed, Billy walked around and took a seat where he could see all the action. The girl pulled her top off over her head. She was indeed not wearing a bra. Dean snickered, squirming and grasping the comforter in his fingers.
As she climbed on top of him, undoing his belt, Dean asked, "Can I at least know your name?"
She took his hands and put them on her warm breasts. "Bridget."
That was the first time, but it wouldn't be the last, that Dean had sex with Bridget Bishop. What else would he have to leave out of this story? Perhaps how as the girl rode his lap, bucking and squealing and crying, "Oh, Dean! You're so good!" that Billy watched the whole time? Or how while Dean rubbed and sucked at her nipples, Billy took out his hard cock and began to masturbate right there? And what about the fact that as they both got off, the two boys constantly caught each other's eye, moaning and grunting, and as they came, Billy and Dean were looking at each other?
No, he wouldn't be telling Alva Keel that part of the story.
Alva had finished his lunch, and was starting on a fancy coffee. His eyes were wide with amazement. "So the boy had everyone under his thumb."
"That's a good way to put it. Stu was throwing fights, his mother was letting him have beyond wild parties, and Bridge was willing to have sex with a stranger as a birthday present. All for Billy." Remembering something, Dean shook his head. "Later on, I was coming back from the bathroom and got turned around in the house. I opened the wrong door and found the game room. It had been pimped up like some sort of porn studio. Two mattresses on the floor and a big screen TV showing a porn movie. A bunch of the kids were in there having sex. You can't tell me Billy's parents didn't know about that."
Falling silent for a moment, Dean remembered what he saw that night, the culmination of Troy and Steve's plans. He remembered Aurora, sitting near the wall to wait her turn, crooking a finger at him to come hither. How badly he'd wanted to give in to that decadence, seeing Casey and some other girl he didn't recognize licking up and down the length of Troy's cock (ah, what a life), but he had to get home before it got too late. John would be expecting him home.
What he saw when he finally found the right room surprised him almost as much. Billy had his tongue between Bridget's legs, licking and sucking greedily. It hadn't been more than ten minutes since she and Dean had finished having sex; Billy had to have his tongue deep in more than just her taste. The thought had made Dean feel awkward, so he went back out to look for his care package.
"Mr. Winchester? Did you hear me?"
He looked over the table at Alva. "Oh, sorry."
"I said that we have a pretty good idea what Stuart and Mrs. Loomis were getting from their loyalty to Billy, but what about the girl? Was she just looking for Billy's friendship as well, or was she his girlfriend?"
Dean shook his head. "I think she liked hanging out with Billy, but it was more than that. Much more." He sighed. "That night, I gave her a ride home, and I asked her that same question. I expected Bridget to tell me that she just thought we were cute and that was all there was to it. But... it seems that Billy had gained her loyalty another way.
"He'd made her a promise."
Notes: The Fight Club movie wasn't out by 1995, but the book was - that's why Billy mentions the book, but not the movie.
Chapter 4: The Little Girl who Lives Down the Lane
Chapters: 4 of 15 (3,395 words this part)
Dean couldn't stop imagining it. The way Billy's face looked in ecstasy. Head slightly tilted back, lips parted, eyes full of heat. Hand working down near his waist. The way he draped a leg over the arm of the soft chair. Billy's tongue passing over his lips. A needy moan. Why couldn't they stop looking at each other? Why were Dean's green eyes fixed on Billy's coffee brown ones? He couldn't even have told anyone what color Bridget's eyes were, that's how fixated he'd been on -
"Is this your dad's car?"
So lost in thought, it startled Dean when she spoke. He glanced over at Bridget in the passenger seat. "Uh... it was. But now it's mine." He grinned widely. "My dad gave 'er to me for my birthday."
"This boat car?"
Dean winced. "Ouch, that hurts."
"You wouldn't rather have a hot little sports car?" Bridget shrugged. "A Camaro or a Mustang or something?"
"I'll have you know that this is a classic. A 1967 Chevrolet Impala."
"It's a monstrosity."
Stroking the dashboard, he said, "She doesn't mean it, baby. Girl doesn't know what she's talking about."
"It looks like something you'd see on 'Starsky and Hutch,'" Bridget added, pushing it.
"Hey, they were cool."
"Yeah, about fifty years ago."
Dean, with a small chuckle, looked at her and said, "Do you want to walk home?"
"Not unless I spot one of my friends on the way. Oh wait, I can just duck down so they don't see me in this thing."
Bridget began to laugh. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. I didn't mean it."
"Yes you did."
They were quiet for several minutes while Dean drove on toward her house. Two blocks from the address Bridget had given Dean, she said, "Pull over there."
"Why? I thought your house was on Sycamore." Still, Dean parked the car next to the curb.
"My dad might still be up, and if he happens to be looking out the window and sees me getting out of your car, he'll be mad. I'll walk from here, okay?" Bridget grabbed her sweater and started to get out of the car.
Dean noticed the tension in her bare shoulders when she spoke about her father. "You can't walk home alone in the dark. It's after one."
"Well, if you want to walk me part way..."
"Just until we get close to your house."
She smiled gently. "Okay."
As they ambled slowly down the sidewalk, accompanied by the sound of crickets chirping, Dean asked her some things about which his curiosity was getting the better of him. "So is Billy your boyfriend?"
"No, not really." Her sweater draped over her arm, Bridget looked up at the sky and tried to spy a star behind the southern California smog cover. "We're just... friends? Really good friends?" She laughed a little. "Have you ever heard of a fuck buddy?"
"Ah. I see."
"I'm so glad that you're chuckling at that and not freaking out," she said, rolling her eyes. Bridget reached over and played with the collar of Dean's denim jacket, rubbing the back of his neck as she acted as if to straighten it. "One of the other girls on the squad thinks I'm a whore. Tells everybody I did the whole football team. Of course, there's nothing wrong with them taking part in this imaginary gangbang." She rolled her eyes again. "I don't even like jocks."
He shrugged. "If you're a whore, I'm a whore too. It isn't any different just because you're a girl and I'm a guy." With a smile, Dean took the hand on his collar and kissed it, winking. "Sex is fun."
She smiled back, one corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk. "Keep talking like that and it can be your birthday every day." Bridget winked too.
They started walking again. "It's not that I didn't like my birthday present, because, trust me... rrrreeeow..." Dean grinned as he continued. "...but I am really curious how you guys set that up. Billy just asked you to..."
Bridget was nodding. "He took me out to a movie a few days ago, and after, we were messing around in his car and he just asked me if I would do something for him as a gift to a friend. I didn't know who you were. I have to say, I'm really glad you turned out to be so hot." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "If you ever wanna have another go-round, you let me know, okay?" Bridget whispered in his ear.
Dean put his arm around her. "Sure." As glad as he was to have a fairly permanent place to live, at least as permanent as permanent ever was for the Winchester family, he didn't necessarily want a girlfriend. That was never easy. A "fuck buddy," as she'd put it, though... Dean was relieved that she didn't seem to mind such an arrangement. Most girls simply didn't know the score. This was easier. He wouldn't even have to make shit up to get this one into bed again. "You didn't know what I looked like?" Dean suddenly asked.
"No. Billy said you hadn't been here long enough for him to have a picture."
"What if I'd come in there with a pizza face and a gut as big as a house?"
Bridget giggled. "I would have done it anyway."
"Wow... did Billy promise you a cruise to Hawaii or something?" Dean questioned.
"No," she giggled again. "I'd do anything for Billy."
She strangely grew quiet, eyes pensive. Bridget looked down at the ground. "He made me a promise."
More brooding silence. The streetlight above them was buzzing incessantly. She looked up at him. "If I tell you, do you swear not to tell anyone?"
"Who would I even tell?"
Bridget considered it a little longer. Her shoulders relaxed again. "Billy promised that one day, when he figures out just how to do it... he's going to kill my parents for me."
That stopped Dean cold. He stared at her with narrowed eyes. "What? Why do you want him to do that?"
Bridget looked at the ground, taking a few small steps forward. Dean started to walk again too. "My parents, they're... they're just horrible. They're such idiots. I can't stand them." She let out a long sigh. "I know it sounds crazy. You'd just have to spend a day with them and you'd understand. I probably shouldn't tell you any more, so you won't be involved when it happens."
"Yeah, okay. I understand." Dean immediately wrote this off as idle talk. Lots of teenagers said shit about wanting their parents to die. Most of them didn't really mean it. And Billy, he had to be just talking, running off at the mouth to sound like a badass. Dean heard hunters do that sort of thing all the time. Except, they were bragging about killing werewolves or something. Billy wasn't really going to kill anybody.
When he slipped his arm around her neck again, Bridget looked up at him and smiled. "You don't think I'm a total psycho for wanting something like that?"
"Nah. I'm sure you have your reasons."
She smiled again and put her head on his shoulder.
Dean guessed from the number on the house that they were just a couple houses away from hers now. She stopped and pivoted around to face him, rubbing the toe of one Ked against the sidewalk. "I don't want my dad to see you. But you can stand here and watch me until I get into my house."
"Works for me." Dean tilted her chin up with his index finger and planted a kiss on her mouth. It turned into a long, deep kiss with her arms wrapped around his neck.
When they broke the kiss, she had to take a deep breath. "Damn, you make me horny."
Dean chuckled. "Billy, he, ah... he has this game room, and..."
"I know all about it," Bridget interjected with a grin.
"Good. 'Cause, you know, we could - "
"Damn it, Barry, stop it!"
Bridget's head snapped in the direction of her house. Her face instantly wore an expression just as frantic as that older female voice sounded. "Shit," she said under her breath. "Uh, thanks for walking me home. I gotta go." She hurried toward her house.
"Bridget... wait. Are you okay?" He followed her, worried about that voice they'd heard.
She looked back at him, shadows moving over her troubled face. "I can take care of it. It's nothing."
Dean kept following her. She was headed for the door in the fence that surrounded her back yard. "What's going on?" he whispered. The closer they got to the backyard, the stronger the smell of burning hickory wood became.
"Dean, go home." Bridget, her eyebrows dipping in a stern command, opened the fence door and went in.
He caught the door just before she'd closed it and yanked it open. She glared at him. "What's going on?" he whispered again.
The older woman let out a shrill scream. "Barry, no! What are you doing?"
"You stupid bitch, you don't get anything! Stupid bitches who spend all my money on stupid new couches we don't need don't deserve to own a damn thing."
"That's a photo album, Barry! Stop it, you're drunk! You're drunk!"
Dean could hear the two people struggling over something, and the licking of flames. God, these were Bridget's parents, weren't they? Who else would be in her backyard, arguing in the middle of the night?
Bridget seemed embarrassed, not knowing what to do. Her face suddenly looked five years younger, helpless but angry.
"So what if I wanna drink? I can drink in my own house!"
Yeah, he sounded drunk, alright. Dean started toward the voices, but Bridget grabbed his arm, shaking her head.
"The old couch had a spring sticking out of it! We needed a new one."
"Bullshit. Lemme go! Let go of my arm!"
"OW! Barry, you're hurting me..."
Someone fell back over a piece of furniture, an outdoor chair, from the sound of it. Bridget's mother yelped. "You jerk, look what you did." She began to cry.
"You deserved it."
Dean started around the corner of the house, but Bridget was already running by him. "Hey, wait..."
"Leave her alone!" she was yelling at her father.
As they rounded the house, Dean could finally see what was happening. Mr. Bishop, whose first name was apparently Barry, had started a fire in a barbecue pit in the ground. Dean was struck by how manicured the foliage was; you wouldn't think such a well-landscaped backyard could belong to such a messed-up asshole. Even the barbecue pit looked like something out of Better Homes and Gardens, with its rounded brick edges and gleaming grill. The man had been burning things in the pit. A pretty, half-charred music box. A set of knitting needles. A pile of Vogue magazines. As much as he could carry.
Bridget rushed at her father, grabbing the photo album he was trying to shove through the grill slats. "Dad, quit it! There are pictures of Grandma and Grandpa in there! Baby pictures! Wedding photos! Are you crazy?!"
They wrestled over the album. "Your fucking mother doesn't deserve pictures."
As Dean came up on them, Barry Bishop pushed his daughter away hard enough to knock her to the ground. Next thing he knew, a strange boy was clocking him in the jaw. The man fell back, seeing blackness and those stars his daughter had been looking for earlier.
When his vision cleared, he looked up to see some blond boy glaring at him angrily, the photo album in his hands. "Who the hell are you?!"
"It doesn't matter. You sorry son of a bitch." Dean helped Bridget up and handed her the album. She hugged it to her chest.
Mr. Bishop held his jaw, moving it around with a wince. "I think you dislocated my jaw. Who are you?" Looking at his daughter, he added, "Have you been catting around with him, you whore?"
Bridget almost burst into tears. "Daddy!"
Dean could never stand to see that much pain on a girl's face. He took two threatening steps toward Mr. Bishop, fists clenched. The man flinched. "If I ever hear you talk to a woman like that again, I'll really fuck you up, you got that? And your jaw's not dislocated. I've seen one of those, and that ain't it. Fucking pansy-ass."
Clawing for something to help him get up, Mr. Bishop cried, "Margie. Margie! Help me into the house!"
Mrs. Bishop sprang right up and to her husband's side. She seemed to simply be happy that this boy had distracted him enough to end their fight. "You just need to sleep it off. In the morning, you're going to feel stupid."
"Shut the hell up and help me into the house!"
Watching her mother haul her father up off the ground after what he had just done, Bridget's bottom lip quivered with inevitable tears. "How can you even touch him right now, Mom? After he burned your things?!"
"Bridget, hush! Just drop it." They started toward the house. "And send your friend home."
Once they were out of earshot, Bridget began to cry, clutching the photo album like she would never put it down. "Now do you see?" She turned to Dean. "Now do you see why?"
Alva was shaking his head. "It sounds like the girl had a lot to deal with. What did you do? Did you call the police?"
"No. My dad... he wanted us to avoid police at all costs, unless we needed their input on a case. It just wasn't..." Dean suddenly remembered Keel's file on his family, and his back stiffened up. "You know how we make our living."
Alva only nodded once. "Yes. So, Billy had made her this promise, and it ensured her loyalty. Tell me..." He leaned in. "Did he ever make good on this oath?"
"Not that I know of. And if it had happened, I would have heard about it, believe me."
Considering the things Dean had told him, Alva looked at him for a long time before speaking again. "Billy was a disturbed boy. Wasn't he?"
Dean's body briefly went numb. Alva's question had shaken him a little; he could tell from the pensive look on Dean's face. "I'm sorry if..."
"No. No, it's a valid question." Dean took a deep breath and sighed it back out. "Yes. Billy was a very disturbed boy. I didn't know how bad it really was for a long time, but... eventually, he showed us all."
When Dean came home from school the next day, John was sitting at the dining room table with his feet propped up on one of its corners. Dean knew from the way his father looked at him that he was in trouble. "Hey Dad." Dean flung his backpack onto the couch.
"You were out pretty late last night." John leafed through his address book.
"It was my birthday," Dean replied as an explanation.
"Yeah, I know, and I get that. It was a school night, but I still let you go out." Putting the address book on the table, he leaned forward. John's feet came down with a solid thud. "You weren't supposed to get into trouble."
Dean tried to remember what he could have done that his father would consider bad. "I got into trouble...?"
"Does the name Barry Bishop ring a bell?"
Rolling his eyes, Dean muttered, "Oh, that asshole..."
"Yeah." John leveled a hard look at his son. "The guy was here about an hour ago. Says I need to keep a tighter reign on my kid. Says you clocked him one."
Dean stood up straighter. "Yeah, I hit him. Ass deserved it."
"I gave his daughter a ride home from Billy's party. The guy was drunk, out in his backyard smacking his wife around and burning her stuff because she bought a fucking couch. When he shoved his daughter to the ground, I punched him in the mouth."
John seemed to consider all this before giving a nod and standing up. "Dean, I can understand why you'd want to defend people in a situation like that, especially women, but you need to remember what I told you before you go around punching out people's fathers. And what's the thing that I told you?"
Dean already had his head down in disappointment. "Don't call attention to the family."
"That's right." Sighing, John paused before continuing. "Bishop claims he's a big hotshot lawyer. The guy came here decked out in a suit and everything. He threatened to bring assault charges against you, all kinds of ridiculous bullshit."
Dean looked up, alarmed.
John finished his sentence. "But I talked him out of it."
He sighed with relief.
Patting him on the shoulder, John said, "Steer clear of this guy from now on, okay? He may be a nimrod who desperately deserved what you gave him, but he could be trouble as well. Just... don't test him, okay?"
"Yeah, Dad. Okay."
John got a beer from the refrigerator and then sat back down at the table. "I don't care if you see the guy's daughter, just don't let him know about it."
Dean grinned at that. "Sure thing."
"Even if a guy looks like a nobody when you encounter 'im, that doesn't mean he's always a nobody." Opening the beer, John flipped through his address book again. "Sammy's having dinner with the Science Club kids tonight. Bobby and I will be leaving shortly to meet up with a local hunter who has a pretty good idea where the cult has set up camp now."
Dean, perking up, took a seat at the table. "The Chaos cult?"
"Yeah. This hunter has seen Chaos demons running around North Cypress Woods for a month now, which was about the same time the cult would have arrived. They're using the demons to set up a perimeter of protection. So they must be in those woods, somewhere."
"Are those woods really large?"
"Yeah, that's why we're going to have to scope them out for a while. But it's not so easy." John sipped at the bottle of beer. "These demons aren't very big; they look kind of like coyotes, but they're far more vicious and attack in large packs. Nothing just one man can handle."
"I bet that local hunter is glad to have you around, then," Dean said with a grin.
"Pretty much. I only wish I knew more hunters in southern California to help us." John, rubbing at the stubble on his chin, reached the last page of his address book. "We're beginning to think the cult will attempt to raise Chaos on Earth. It would be bad if they succeeded. And they currently outnumber us."
"Let me go."
"If I'm able to find more hunters to add to our team, then I'll consider it. But as things stand now, it's too dangerous for even me. We're not making a move on this cult until we can better even out the odds." Closing the address book, John wondered aloud, "Maybe I can get Bill and Ellen Harvelle in on this. Outdoor survival is his specialty."
Dean didn't like it when his dad got that broody look on his face and subsequently stopped talking. He knew it was important for his dad to think these things through, but sometimes he'd get like that for days and hardly acknowledge that Dean and his brother were alive. He tried to engage John in conversation. "I should probably try to keep my friends out of those woods then, huh?"
"Yeah..." That broody silence again, staring straight ahead.
"In case this local guy ever comes around here, how will I know him? It's good for Sam and I to know who we can talk with about hunting, right?"
John seemed to shake off the trance he'd let overtake him for a minute. "Uh, guy has black hair, lives on the other side of town." He gathered up his address book and keys and put them in his pocket. "His name is Neil Prescott."
Notes: I made Neil Prescott a hunter for two reasons: 1). Because I thought it would be a cool twist, and 2). Because Sidney kicked major ass in all the movies. Not only did she kick ass, but she was also a very good shot - you don't shoot at least two different people point blank in the head without having been taught how to shoot a gun. I figure her dad taught her how to defend herself and to shoot.
Chapter 5: What Lies Beneath
Chapters: 5 of 15 (3,169 this part)
"Why do I know that name...?" Alva was asking himself.
Dean smiled thinly, his lips tense. "You probably have a file on 'im."
Noticing the bitterness behind that look, Alva cleared his throat. "Yes, I think I do. Ah, Mr. Winchester... I'm sorry that the file offends you. I never meant for it to cause your family any problems."
Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, whatever, you know?"
Alva wasn't sure what that meant. He decided to just continue with their previous topic of conversation. "I think Mr. Prescott's wife was murdered at some point. Whether it was a creature or a human that did it, I can't recall."
That thin, bitter smile again. "We're getting to that."
"Oh? You know how Mrs. Prescott died?"
"I do." Signaling the waitress, Dean ordered another beer. "With my dad out of the house, I decided to go pal around with Billy that night. He was playing with this pocketknife that was broken, so the blade could be flipped in and out of its handle with just a flick of his wrist. He just kept flipping it open and closed while he drew all these pictures of monsters, like things you'd see in a horror movie. Men with freaky faces, mouths full of sharp teeth and crazy, monstrous eyes, that sort of thing. Billy was obsessed with imagery like that. I didn't know what the drawings were about at the time."
"They weren't just fantasy drawings?" Alva asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"No. But I'll get to that too. The point is, I asked Billy that night why he would make a deal like that with Bridget, to murder her parents. He said because she wanted it, and he wanted to make her feel better. That she believed her parents were the enemy and needed to feel like someone was on her side."
Alva nodded. "Do you think Billy was using it to manipulate her as well?"
"Yes. I think he did care about her on some level, but most of the nice things Billy did for people were about what was in it for him."
Just as Dean finished his sentence, Alva's phone began to ring. He put up a halting finger to excuse himself and ask Dean to hold his thoughts until he could answer the call. "Hello? Oh, Evie..."
Dean instantly snapped to attention. "How's Paul?"
Alva repeated the question. "How's Paul?" He listened. "Paul feels like he has a hangover, but he's doing okay."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good."
"What has he been able to tell you about the empathy? ... Evie, you're breaking up. I'm not getting good reception here. Hold on a moment." He got up from the booth. "I'm going to take this call over by the window. I'll be right back."
"Okay." With Keel away from the table, Dean was left to his thoughts and memories. He couldn't help thinking of how his relationship with Billy deepened as the days went by. At the time, he could deny that something was happening between them, that his sexual feelings were all centered on the girl they shared, but eventually, Dean wouldn't be able to deny it anymore.
The day after Dean's birthday, he hadn't been able to find Bridget at school. She returned on Thursday of that week. "Hey," he said, leaning against the locker next to hers.
"Hi, you," she grinned.
"I didn't see you at school yesterday."
"After that shit with my dad, I didn't feel like coming." Bridget touched his arm. "I'm sorry my dad went over to your house and gave you shit because of what happened. Was your dad really angry?"
"Nah. We're not afraid of your asshole father." Dean snickered.
She shoved her books into her locker roughly, angrily. "So many people think he's such a great guy. All they see is the successful lawyer. They have no idea." Bridget slammed the locker closed.
Dean rubbed her shoulder, trying to soothe her. "You wanna go somewhere? Get a sundae or something? I could go for some hot fudge right about now."
With a smirk, Bridget grabbed his shoulders and used them as leverage to jump up on him, wrapping her legs around his waist. Dean, although a little surprised, recovered quickly and held her up by her sides. "I could go for some hot you right about now."
The other students were staring at them. Dean just grinned in their direction. "The sundae can wait."
Bridget directed him to an out-of-the-way spot in the school where kids sometimes went to smoke or make out. It was a small alcove next to a flight of outside stairs, almost completely walled in and covered by wooden slats. The slats were a few inches apart, so anyone coming down the stairs only had to lean over the railing and look down to see them. Neither Dean nor Bridget seemed to care.
Dean settled onto a bench, just a wide board mounted on two metal legs, which made it easy for Bridget to sit in his lap with her legs straddling his waist. They were involved in some very deep kissing when Billy came down the stairs and heard the smacking sounds below.
Grinning, he leaned over the rail, looking down. "What do you kids think you're doing?!" he bellowed in an authoritative voice.
Both Dean and Bridget jumped in surprise. Dean almost started to panic, but looked up to see Billy's mischievous face floating about fifteen feet above them. "We're knittin' a sweater; what do you think we're doing?"
"I'm coming down there." Billy leaned further over the railing, letting out a fake scream like he was falling.
Bridget screamed and covered her head for a moment. "Would you stop that? It really looked like you were going to fall."
Trotting down the stairs, Billy came over to them, eyeing both rather obviously. "I've always liked that skirt on you," he said, and ran his hand up Bridget's thigh until his fingers brushed the hem of her denim skirt.
She smirked. "I bet you do."
Bridget's hair was done up in French braids on the sides, with little tails hanging down behind her ears. Billy took hold of the braids and yanked on them gently, alternating like he was milking a cow. He made squishy noises to accompany each pull. She giggled, rolling her eyes. "Oh Dean, I've always like those jeans on you," Billy said in a high-pitched voice. "I like the way they hug your ass."
Shaking his head with amusement, Dean pulled on one of the braids too, making the sound of a horn on an 18-wheeler truck. "Wooooooonk! Woooonk, woooooonk!"
"Are you through?" Bridget laughed, and leaned in to kiss at Dean's neck.
He wiggled his eyebrows at Billy. "If you're real good and act as our lookout, I'll let you see my butt in these jeans again."
Billy clapped his hands rapidly, hooting, "Oooooooh!" in that falsetto voice. With a mischievous look, he stood back and leaned against one of the walls, where he could see if anyone came down the stairs or approached from the nearby parking lot.
Dean knew Billy probably couldn't keep out of this, but he wanted to leave that up to Bridget. At sixteen, as experienced as Dean was, he'd never participated in a threesome before, and if he had, it probably would have been with two girls. The idea of doing something like that with Billy excited him and scared him at the same time.
Dean knew that if it had been Billy on the bench and him keeping watch, he would have been trying to find a way in within a minute. How could Billy just stand there while Dean pulled Bridget's shirt off over her head and not want to get a piece of the action?
Easing one of her tits out of her bra, Dean started to suck on it, bringing soft moans from between her lips. Bridget ran her fingers through his hair. "Dean..." she said quietly.
"Do you want me to unsnap that?" Billy asked of her bra, a teasing smirk on his face.
"You know I don't," Bridget replied. "Leave it on in case."
"I know, in case of a quick getaway." He glanced up at the stairs.
If anything, that told Dean that Billy and Bridget had been down here before. The idea conjured up pictures in Dean's head of the two of them running across the parking lot with Bridget hitching her bra straps back up, being chased by a teacher. He chuckled at that.
"What?" she questioned.
"Nothing," Dean mumbled, and went back to giving attention to the nipple in his mouth. He especially liked the noise she made when he rolled it between his teeth.
Opening his eyes, Dean saw that Billy was watching them; this wasn't a surprise. That dangerous little smile on Billy's face... it made Dean want to tell him to join in. But that wasn't his decision. She needed to give them a sign that it was okay.
They all knew that taking their time here wasn't a good idea; a teacher could come down those stairs at any moment. "Okay, hold on, hold on," Bridget breathed, and lightly pushed Dean back. He leaned against the wall behind him while she stood up, quickly removed her panties, and settled back into Dean's lap.
Billy watched her do this, leaning over to get a better view when her skirt came up. "Sssshew," he huffed out, obviously turned on.
Now straddling Dean again, Bridget looked back at Billy. "You like what you see?"
"No," he joked sarcastically, and winked.
She undulated in Dean's lap. He groaned at how good it felt, her grinding against his clothed cock. "Fuck me," she whispered, mouth inches from his ear. He trembled with arousal.
Taking a moment to pick up her discarded panties, Billy watched her move in Dean's lap, lower back undulating in waves like a belly dancer. His eyes lingered on Dean's face. Dean panted and moaned with his eyes nearly closed. Hardly able to stand it, Billy pushed himself even further by sniffing her panties. His hand rubbed at his crotch.
With a small growl, Dean worked to undo his pants. His fingers fumbled at it; she helped him. Bridget took his cock out of his pants and stroked it down a few times just to see the ecstasy on his face and hear his needy moans. The same sounds came from behind her, from Billy.
She looked back at him, seeing Billy undo his belt. "Billy... you can take me from behind."
Both Billy and Dean did a mental leap of happiness in the air. If they could have, they probably would have high-fived each other, crying, "Woohoo!" Dean reclined a bit more so there would be more of his thighs sticking out from under Bridget, giving Billy room. Billy sat down behind her and continued undoing his jeans.
Both boys were panting now. Dean wasn't sure what she meant by "from behind;" he'd let her take the lead in the positioning as to not embarrass himself with his lack of threesome experience. He watched as Billy scooted up close to her and hiked up her skirt some more, rubbing her thighs and squeezing her ass. Dean wasn't so green at this that he didn't see the benefit of Billy going in first, with the place he seemed to be about to go. As he spread her back end open, Bridget shuddered with anticipation.
Dean watched and felt every move Billy made as he shifted on Dean's thighs, from his hand dipping into his lap briefly to the way his mouth turned up in a devilish smile when he rammed himself upward and, taking hold of Bridget's hips, jerked her toward him. Billy looked at Dean over her shoulder, smirking, as she opened her mouth and cried out loudly, unable to hold it in. Mesmerized, Dean just watched the two of them for some part of a minute. Bridget, losing control, shaking all over and breathing heavy and shrill, and Billy, the heat in his eyes, grinning and rubbing her sides, moving his hands up to cup her breasts and finger her nipples while giving Dean a mischievous wink.
"Mm, she feels good back here," he moaned, and snickered. "You wanna get in on this action?"
"Whadda you think?" Dean said. He winked back.
"Oh, wait, slow down. I'm gonna cum," Bridget protested breathlessly. Even so, she braced her hands on Dean's shoulders and squirmed closer to him.
That dangerous grin again. Billy wriggled his hands under her thighs and lifted her half an inch up and toward Dean. He instantly took hold of his cock to move it into position. They both knew she didn't mean it when she said she wanted them to slow down. "You know you are, baby," Billy whispered in her ear. "Over and over."
A shockwave of arousal coursed through Dean's body, making him shake. It was the sound of Billy's voice that did that. He was too turned on to overthink it right then. No serious thoughts could have penetrated Dean's mind at that moment, for he was too focused on the feeling of the head of his cock pressing against the entrance to Bridget's channel. He had just begun to open her when Billy practically dropped her on him, pressing forward with his body. Dean slid up inside her. The feeling of that warm, wet heat surrounding him, the pleasure enveloping every part of his consciousness, that was all he could fathom.
Moaning, Dean ground the back of his head into the stone wall behind him. He was dimly aware of Bridget crying out again and her hands gripping his shoulders hard enough to hurt. The thought of whether or not Bridget was on the pill flitted through his mind before it was driven out again as Billy and Bridget started to thrust.
The pleasure numbed his mind into a delicious, carefree state where he wouldn't have even noticed if someone came down the stairs above them. Half the time, Dean kept his eyes closed and just let his body feel, listening to the mixture of Billy and Bridget's moans. The other half, he opened his eyes and watched them. Billy's eyes were open every time he looked, sometimes just to slits, but their gaze always met. For the first time, Dean really looked at Billy's hands, and he couldn't stop watching them as his long fingers played from place to place on Bridget's body. She laid her head back on his shoulder, eyes closed. His fingers curled loosely around her neck while he nipped at her earlobe and breathed into her ear. Billy's other hand stayed on Bridget's thigh, slightly underneath, to continue guiding the action of the three bodies moving together.
Dean slipped his hand into the same place under her thigh and twined his fingers in with Billy's, making it seem like he just wanted to help. Billy smirked at him, a bit like a cat watching its prey, and did not pull away.
His impish grin widening, Billy moved the hand on Bridget's neck down between her legs. He began stroking at her clit rapidly. She made a gaspy moaning noise and brought her hand up to twist into Billy's hair. He took it a step further by lengthening his strokes, taking his fingers down to where Dean was sliding in and out of her and brushing Dean's cock in motion. God, but Dean liked the way that felt.
Billy eased Bridget forward again until she was close enough to kiss Dean; he received her mouth in a deep, dirty kiss, and then both boys were sucking on her neck, moving to her ear, their lips mere inches apart. Dean stared at Billy's lips, noticing for the first time how much he liked the shape of them. He forced himself to move to the other side of Bridget's neck. Had he wanted to... had he really thought for a second how much he would have liked to kiss...
Trembling between them, Bridget cried out with an orgasm, bucking aggressively into both boys to milk it for all it was worth. Her noises and movements sent Dean over the edge as well. The pleasure numbed his mind once again, and he didn't think of how badly he'd wanted to cross a line with Billy that he'd never crossed with any boy before, or how they were doing it without a condom, or how they could be caught... the encounter couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes, but to Dean, it symbolized his time as a reckless teenager, without a care in the world.
Although he'd lost a little of what was happening when he came, Dean was aware by the noises he made that Billy had cum too, and the three lounged together, using each other to prop themselves up while trying to recover and catch their breath.
Bridget laughed a little and started to say, "What a ride," but she had barely finished the thought when the three were doused with buckets of cold water from above. She gasped in surprise and jerked on Dean's lap, letting out a scream. Dean couldn't help but grunt out loud himself.
Looking up, Billy growled angrily through gritted teeth. "You... assholes!"
Dean looked up too. Stu and Randy were leaning over the railing, laughing so hard their voices echoed through the alcove below. "Thought you needed to cool off!" Randy called. Stu did that high-pitched laugh that Dean hated so much.
Growling again, Billy shoved Bridget upward and clamored off Dean's lap as quickly as he could. As he worked to get himself back in his pants and zip up, he yelled, "I'm gonna kill you!"
Stu and Randy threw the empty buckets over the rail and ran down the stairs. They were just beginning to cross the parking lot when Billy took off after them. The two boys hooted as they ran away, Stu making crazy whooping sounds like Daffy Duck and darting between cars while Randy ran in a relatively straight line, hollering, "We did you a favor, man, your head was about to explode like Scanners!"
Bridget, laughing, leaned against Dean and shook her head. "Those jerks..."
Dean saw that the buckets had Woodsboro High Janitorial Department labels on them, and he wondered just how long Stu and Randy had been watching before they nabbed the buckets and filled them with water. For the first time, he realized just how crazy it was for the three of them to do something like this on school grounds, and he couldn't help but grin. Hell, it'd be crazy anywhere.
Dean liked the places of sexual abandon to which this little threesome took him. He had no intention of stopping now. No, he wanted nothing more than to take their abandon further.
On to Chapter 6.
More of Billy's monster drawings (these are actually concept art from Scream:
Monsters 2 . Monsters 3 . Monsters 4 . Monsters 5 . Monsters 6.
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