A/N Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this fic! You overwhelm me with your lovely comments! This story has somewhat taken a life of its own and I'm not sure how I feel about it but instead of overthinking it and taking forever to update, as I tend to do I'm just going to go with it and see where it takes us. If it sucks I hope you'll tell me (so long as you're nice and constructive about it).

Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

Sam abruptly realized he was falling into a state of melancholy.

He was standing on the balcony of an upscale downtown highrise condo with a perfect view of the northern half of the city and an ideal seat for the New Year's fireworks, surrounded by his friends, anticipating the countdown with blissful terror. Hannah Walker had made him promise to find her before the clock struck twelve. She was going to kiss him tonight at midnight, maybe even more than that. He had been pining for her ever since he saw her when they moved to town a few months ago and it wasn't until just before Christmas that he learned she had a crush on him too.

The night was going to be perfect, so why was he suddenly pensive? One moment he was having the time of his life and the next he was lost in thought as he looked down on the rooftops below, subconsciously watching for a dark winged humanoid creature—Batboy as Dean called it. That was the last thing he should be thinking about. Tonight he should be focusing all his energy on the party, on his friends, on the new millennium, on Hannah Walker and her strawberry hair, adorable freckles and how in less than ten minutes he'll get to finally taste her perfect heart-shaped lips and touch her perfectly shaped breasts.

As much as his brother might like to think otherwise, Dean wasn't the only chick magnet in the family. Now that Sam's body finally caught up to his age and his acne had finally started to clear up, girls were starting to notice him now and it was nice. Very nice.

If he was to be thinking about anything on New Year's Eve it should be that, not the hunt Dean and John were on, or the fight they had. Sam knew the moment he stormed off in the middle of the argument to go to this party he was a dead man walking so since it was probably going to be his last night as a free man until he's at least thirty-five, he should be enjoying it, not dwelling on the inevitable execution.

Sam snorted bitterly, hanging his head.

"Hey Sam, what's wrong?"

Jolting out of his reverie Sam spun around at the voice and stood up to his full height, trying to emulate the cool, cocky confidence Dean presented whenever faced with a pretty girl. That lasted all of two seconds before Sam ducked his head, suddenly feeling awkward and he blushed slightly and hoped that the cool winter air and dim lighting would conceal all traces of that blush, "Hi Hannah."

Hannah blushed too, shyly shifting her gaze so she was looking over the balcony; she moved past him and leaned on the railing, "Beautiful out here, isn't it?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he mirrored her position, his hand brushing against hers, "You OK?"

"Yeah," Sam shrugged, "just thinking."

"About what?" Hannah asked, tilting her head so her ginger hair fell loosely off her shoulder and into her face. She tucked her hair behind her ear and Sam resisted the urge to kiss her right then and there, but they were going to save it for midnight.

"Aw nothing," Sam replied bashfully, "just…me and my dad got into a fight earlier."

"What about?"

Sam didn't answer her right away, instead he just frowned and looked straight ahead. He didn't want to lie to her and he hated that his whole life was a lie to almost everyone he knew. Very few people knew the real Sam Winchester, and he lied so much to keep the family business a secret that sometimes even he wasn't sure of who the real Sam Winchester really was. That had played a part in their fight almost as much as the hunt tonight did, but he couldn't tell her that.

He settled for a half truth, "He didn't want me to come tonight."

"Oh," she replied turning her head to face him, "Why not?"

"Family stuff."

Hannah nodded in understanding, though Sam knew that what she thought she understood and what was the truth were two entirely different things. To prove it she offered, "My mom thought I should be spending New Year's Eve with family too. My uncle is hosting some lame party in the suburbs and I know that if I went I'd probably spend the night babysitting my cousins."

Sam chuckled, pretending to empathize with her situation but the truth was she had no idea how lucky she had it.

"Plus she was worried that there'd be alcohol and that I might fall into the wrong crowd," she groused rolling her eyes, and then she laughed, "I assured her that there was going to be plenty of adult supervision and Drew's parents didn't allow alcohol in the house."

"I'll drink to that," Drew, one of Sam's buddies whose parents owned the condo they were partying in said as he handed Sam a cup of beer from the keg his older brother bought and took a long swig of his own beer. His parents were actually spending the holidays in the Dominican and had no idea their sons were hosting such a New Year's celebration.

Both Sam and Hannah laughed at that and Hannah took a drink of the one she had been nursing while Sam casually took a sip of his own beer and he couldn't help but think about the irony of it all. John didn't worry about that so much as the fact that it interfered with the hunt.

Drew pushed his way between them, set his beer down on the wide railing threw his arms around them and sighed obnoxiously, "So Sam, Hannah…New Year's resolutions?"

"To study harder and get better grades," Hannah replied.

Drew made a whining noise, "But Han, you're already freaky smart," he scoffed and Sam realized he was already a little sloshed, "you brainiacs are made for each other!" He squeezed their shoulders as he said it and Sam found himself blushing again at the thought of him and Hannah, together.

Hannah laughed, "Yeah but I've been slipping a bit, and I want to get into Yale and I'm not going to get in with the grades I'm getting."

Drew rolled his eyes, "What about you Sammy?"

"Sam," he corrected without thinking. Dean was the only one allowed to call him Sammy, and even then it was only because Dean wore him down by blatantly ignoring the 'don't call me Sammy' rule until he gave up correcting him all the time.

"C'mon, you got a New Year's resolution Sammy?"

Sam thought a moment and while he wanted to say something thoughtful, he wanted it to sound…normal, he didn't want to bring up the family drama from earlier but the fight was still on his mind and he said, "To not let Dad dictate my life." He shocked himself by saying it out loud, no one needed or wanted to hear about his issues with his family, and there was only so much he could possibly share anyway.

"Why do you say that?" Hannah asked sincerely.

And the next thing Sam knew, the pent up anger from his earlier fight with John, coupled by the bitterness and stress about the very essence of his life came to the surface and suddenly Sam needed to vent. He gave his friends an extremely censored version of what life was like as John Winchester's son. "He never asks about what I want, or what Dean wants, he just expects us to drop what we're doing and follow his orders. He didn't care one bit that I had plans tonight, he just went ahead and made plans for us and expected me to just ditch you guys because he said so."

"I know what you mean," Drew said solemnly, listening to his rant, "my old man can be a real asshole too, he wants Shawn and I to go to law school and join his firm. He doesn't give a shit about what we want either."

"Now see," Sam smirked, feeling like an idiot for losing it, "that's something I think I'd like to do, y'know?"

"You want to be a lawyer?" Drew scoffed incredulously.

Sam shrugged, "Maybe."

Drew looked at him like he grew a second head but then he grinned, "Then go for it. Who gives a shit about what your dad wants? Look at Shawn, he went and did his own thing and dad might not like it, but Shawn's happy, and they can still tolerate each other and I'm sure the same thing will happen when I graduate and I'm sure that when you're done high school and get into law school or whatever, the same thing will happen to you."

"You don't know my dad," Sam shook his head with a frown.

"Well, I think it's time you stand up to him," Drew shrugged.

"I'm here aren't I?" Sam smirked, "I ditched him in the middle of a fight."

Drew laughed obnoxiously, "See! Sam my man!" he gave him a pat on the back, "You're one step closer to being your own person!"

"And when I get home he'll probably kill me."

"Maybe if you talk to him," Hannah suggested, "explain how you feel?"

Sam laughed, "That'll go over well."

"I meant after he's had a chance to cool down," Hannah amended.

"Yeah but still, he doesn't exactly listen to reason. He was OK with me going tonight until he suddenly decided to make other plans for us," Sam shrugged.

"You shouldn't have to put up with that shit Sam," Drew said, "you're better than he is anyway. Stand up to the guy. If he doesn't like it than leave. I'm sure you could stay with us. We've got lots of room and my dad actually likes you, he probably smelled the wannabe lawyer in you and would probably go for it."

Sam looked at him sharply, "You serious?"

"Sure," Drew said, "I still don't quite get what your family business is but it doesn't really seem like anything worth aspiring to. And besides, I think your old man is worse than you let on."

"Why do you say that?"

Drew pointedly grabbed his arm and squeezed, aggravating a deep bruise Sam received when an angry spirit they hunted just before Christmas got him. It had mostly healed but too much pressure still hurt and caught off guard, Sam couldn't hide the wince. "That's why," Drew said, anger clearly etched on his face.

"My dad didn't do that."

"Right," Drew frowned, his voice dripping in sarcasm, "Sure. Just like he didn't give you the others ones I've seen you with in the few months I've known you. I've got your back dude, don't put up with his shit."

Sam shifted uncomfortably when the mood went up a notch in seriousness. He couldn't deny the assumption mostly because the truth was something he couldn't share and Drew knew him well enough by now to know he wasn't into contact sports which was usually his excuse. Embarrassed and desperate to change the subject he exclaimed, "Guys don't worry about it. It's OK. It's New Year's Eve. We've got…" he looked at his watch, "two minutes until the new millennium," he looked meaningfully at Hannah, "I say we forget about our dads for now and enjoy the party."

Hannah grinned and they both looked meaningfully at Drew who still stood between them. The atmosphere instantly relaxed and for that Sam was grateful.

"What?" Drew asked with feigned innocence.

"Drew, you've been a great friend, but get lost," Sam tilted his head towards Hannah.

"Hey the fireworks will be going off soon, I want a good view," Drew shrugged. He looked at Sam and Hannah again, "If you guys want to be alone, my parents' bedroom should be empty." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Hannah squealed in embarrassment, turning three shades of red while Sam bit his lip, shaking his head with laughter. Drew laughed and slid out from between them, "All right, all right, I think it's time for a refill anyway," he said, shaking his empty beer cup and left.

The two of them stood in silence, moving to one corner of the balcony as more people came to get a view of the fireworks. Hannah pretended to shiver and Sam wrapped his arms around her and held her as they waited for midnight to arrive. They remained silent as they stood and waited and Sam rocked her gently and realized that Drew gave him a lot to think about. He knew John would probably want to up and move them again very soon but Sam could make a life here. Here he actually had friends and he wasn't ready to leave, not now that he and Hannah were finally together, and he knew now that he'd have a place to stay.

The thought sent adrenaline to course through his veins and when the clock struck twelve and the sky lit up in greens, blues, purples and reds he took Hannah in his arms and kissed her. Her lip gloss tasted like strawberries. When their lips parted Sam heard his phone ring.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Hannah asked.

Sam looked at the display, "It's my dad."

Catching Hannah's concerned gaze Sam shook his head and grinned, kissing her again, letting the phone ring. When it stopped ringing he turned it off. Screw the consequences. He was in shit anyway why not just enjoy the rest of the night and deal with John tomorrow? Drew was right. He shouldn't let John control his life and Sam figured John only called to yell at him. Probably figured that now that he's had his New Year's it was time to help out with the hunt. Whatever. It was supposed to be an easy kill and besides, he already helped research and it wasn't like John listened to any of his input anyway.

Maybe he would take Drew up on his offer. It was definitely something to think about.

o-0-o

"Damn it!" John cursed, folding his phone shut before turning his attention back on his fallen son. The bleeding on Dean's chest seemed to have slowed down enough for John to free both hands to check for other injuries. Considering how hard he had fallen down the stairs and then off the fire escape head first…the mere thought that Dean might've broken his neck sent bile to John's throat and he swallowed hard.

He tried to call Sam once again but Sam had turned off his phone. In hindsight, John realized maybe he should've tried to call with Dean's phone since Sam was probably still too pissed off to want to answer, but John was too pissed off in return and too worried about Dean to care. "I'm gonna kill that boy when I see him," he muttered angrily. "Damn it Sam, if you were here, this wouldn't have happened!"

John turned back to Dean and placed his hand on Dean's forehead and he frowned at the cold, clammy feel of his pale skin. His hand moved to a bleeding gash just above and behind his ear and winced at the bump he felt there. As gently as he could he moved his hand back to Dean's neck, trying to feel the vertebrae without moving his head but couldn't tell if anything was broken or not. He checked his pulse again and his heart sank at how it felt way too rapid and weak, but he couldn't be surprised because of how much blood he had lost and was slowly losing still.

The fear of Dean breaking his neck was palpable and John debated calling 9-1-1 despite how risky it was. Not only was there the insurance fraud to consider, but how the hell would he explain the nature of Dean's injuries and the monstrous bodies lying nearby? Add to that the dead homeless man and their weapons and there was just too much incriminating evidence at the scene that could get them into serious trouble. But if Dean's injuries were as bad as he feared…from his vantage point Dean had fallen head first!

Careful to keep Dean still John forced himself to remain calm as he continued to check for injuries. He felt Dean's right shoulder and then his left, grunting in sympathy when the bones at the joint felt out of place. When he put pressure on the dislocated shoulder Dean groaned, his body tensing as his eyes shot open and he gave a pained hiss as he gasped for breath, disoriented and panicked.

"Easy son, take it easy," John soothed, though his voice somehow still managed to sound more like a drill sergeant than a concerned father. "Don't move," while John sounded harsher than he intended, his fear always managing to be disguised as anger, it had an effect and Dean did as he was told, his unfocused eyes resting vaguely on him.

"D-dad," Dean groaned, body shuddering with pain and cold and maybe even shock. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan and blinked a few times in an attempt to clear cloudy vision, "Wha…wha' 'app'nd?"

"Batboy did a number on you," John explained, "Shoulder's dislocated, chest's shredded…I need to know where…where else does it hurt?"

Dean rolled his head to the side before John could stop him from moving and he whimpered in pain as he drew a harsh breath of air, "Better que-estion…wh-where doesn't…it h-h-hurt?"

Hope surged through John, if Dean was in pain, then maybe he didn't break his neck after all. He wasn't an expert on that sort of thing, but if Dean's spine was injured as John had feared, that would mean Dean would feel numb, wouldn't it? Dean wouldn't be able to move at all, right?

John felt down his arms noticing Dean's left wrist was swollen, but probably not broken, but when he gently checked Dean's ribs Dean's back arched and he cried out shakily with a curse. "Take it easy, it's OK," John soothed, mentally adding broken ribs to the tally of injuries.

"F-fuck," Dean gasped breathlessly. His face was tight with agony and his eyes rolled as his breath hitched and he shifted in an attempt to lessen the pain but that only sent waves of fire to spike through his body and he moaned, "Ahhh, s-son of a b-bitch that…h-hurts!"

"I know," John said softly, but loud enough to be heard over the crowd in the distance, still partying. "I know but try to relax kiddo."

Dean closed his eyes and made an honest effort to do what he was told, but he coughed suddenly, jarring every injury. "Shit," he wheezed, "shit, shit…"

"OK," John nodded, holding him still, "that settles it, I'm calling 9-1-1."

"No," Dean gasped, "m'fine. D-don't…" Tears spilled from his eyes as he tried to draw breath and his unfocused gaze wandered and he blinked in confusion, "Wh-where's Sammy?" Suddenly he began to panic, looking around, trying to push himself up.

"Dean!" John hissed, alarmed but not entirely surprised by Dean's confusion, "Dean, focus! Sam's fine. He wasn't with us tonight, he's fine, he's OK…"

But Dean didn't seem to be listening and he pushed himself up, weakly fighting his father's attempts to hold him down. When he lost his balance and tried to catch himself with his left hand he screamed in pain and lost consciousness again.

"Damn it, Dean," John sighed. In a rare act of affection John gently stroked Dean's hair, and swallowed back the sudden urge to weep. Overwhelming relief flooded through him because it seemed Dean's shoulder had taken the brunt of the fall and he no longer feared possible spinal injuries, and while he was obviously concussed he had been coherent enough to rule out major brain injury as well and the relief and worry battled within him because even if he didn't break his neck or crack his skull open, he was still in bad shape. The question was whether it was something John could handle or if Dean needed an ER. A hospital posed so many risks he wasn't prepared to deal with, but if Dean was bleeding internally, if he missed something vital…

John ran a hand down his face in indecision, inadvertently smearing Dean's blood down his face. He looked back at Dean, at his slack, ashen face and swallowed hard. He checked the wounds on Dean's chest and frowned when he saw they were still sluggishly seeping blood and his pulse was way too fast and John was certain that Dean was starting to go into shock. As it turned out, that was what made the decision for him.

"Sorry son," he murmured, "I know you hate them, but hospital it is."

While 9-1-1 was probably the best option for Dean, it was also out of the question now that John was confident that Dean's spine was intact. Carefully tucking Dean's injured arm into his jacket which also served to keep John's makeshift bandage in place, John pulled Dean's right arm around his shoulders and slid his arms under his back and knees and with a grunt climbed to his feet, shifting to adjust Dean's dead weight in his arms.

It was a few blocks to get to the Impala. Luckily the streets were relatively quiet since most were still partying at the downtown core and those who saw them assumed Dean was passed out drunk if they paid any attention to them at all. When they reached the Impala John cursed Sam's absence when he realized he couldn't open the doors with Dean in his arms.

Gently he set Dean down on the ground, leaning him up against the car. Dean roused slightly and asked John what happened and then asked about Sam. John frowned worriedly at the memory loss but he smiled and gave Dean a gentle squeeze on his uninjured shoulder.

"Batboy got you good son, but you'll be OK. And don't worry, Sam's fine, Sam didn't come with us, he's fine, he's safe," John assured him as he carefully moved him into the back seat. Dean relaxed at that until his body trembled and he shuddered, whimpering in pain before drifting off again.

Trying once more to contact Sam proved fruitless when unsurprisingly he found that Sam's phone was still turned off.

"Damn it Sam," John muttered angrily as he drove off towards the nearest ER, "I hope your stupid party is fucking worth it."

A/N Well, that's it for chapter two. I hope I didn't disappoint because truth be told, I'm kind of worried about this chapter. I really hope the Winchester's aren't OOC, especially Sam. I'm trying to portray him as a rebellious teenager facing a bit of an identity crisis and peer pressure as I imagine he would be like around that time and hope he doesn't come off as a jerk for not answering his phone. I say this because he's kind of different than he is in a lot of the fics I've read where he's that age. And don't worry about Hannah becoming a Mary Sue, she and Drew were a means to an end and I doubt we'll see her again. I say this because I know it's tricky writing an OC as a love interest. Some can pull it off quite brilliantly, others not so much and I fear I would fall into the second category seeing as though romance isn't my forte nor is it something I'm particularly fond of, especially in this fandom. So again, don't worry.

Anyway, thanks a bunch for reading, now please let me know what you think! I say this because my muse is hungry for feedback and she gets cranky when she's hungry.