Wicked Distractions [Completed]

Chapter 4 - 7 Years Later

"Why are we going back to Boston, Dad? That place is so lame."

Dean was in the Impala with John and Sam. They had been moving close to every 6 months now. But they were used to it now. Him and Sammy. But that didn't mean they liked it.

"Dad? Can we go see Fenway Park? I want to go see a ball game." Sam was almost 13 now and very school smart. Dean was proud of how he had seemed to mold his brother.

"Sure, son. Maybe we'll squeeze some time in for some baseball."

Dean scowled in the front seat. "I wouldn't get your hopes up Sammy. We won't be here that long."

"Stop it, Dean." John glared at his son. "I don't want any trouble here, you got that? I need that from you, boy."

"Yeah, whatever."

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"Isn't it great, Dean? Were gonna be in the same school."

"That's awesome, Sammy."

"I wish you quit calling me that. Just Sam now, okay. I'll be made fun of for sure. I'm already going into high school a year early."

"Anybody messes with you, tell me. I got your back."

"But Dad said no fighting."

Dean shrugged and headed into the school, Sam on his heels.

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At lunch, Dean ate outside under a tree. Always a loner. Always the rebel. No one would understand his life. No use making friends and trying to explain it or hide it. They were all stupid anyway. They didn't know how many times he'd saved thier sorry asses. It was pathetic. Dad wouldn't let him go hunting like he wanted to. He even offered to drop out and help him all the time. But he'd refused. He wasn't smart like Sam. He didn't need school. He knew what he was going to do.

A basketball came his way, almost landing in his lap.

He kicked it toward the fence. He heard the chain-link rattle and someone say something.

"Hey, Punk! What's your problem?"

Dean slowly looked up, feigning disinterest. Very worn black combat boots, tight blue jeans, up more he saw a ratty and torn white tank top and a jean jacket. Nice body, decent rack. Then he saw her face. Long brunette hair and chocolately brown eyes. He knew those angry eyes.

"Hey! You gonna answer me?"

Dean jumped up. "Faith."

"Yeah. Who wants to know?" She narrowed her eyes at him. She really didn't recognize him. It had been almost 7 years. Dean liked the way she had filled out. Tough, but hott. Definately a smokin body.

"It's Dean."

"Dean who?"

"Winchester."

"Sorry, not ringing any bells here."

"Never mind." He started to walk away. "Sorry about the ball, Faith."

"Hey, you may be a cutie, but I ain't ever known a Winchester."

He smiled to himself. At least she thought he was cute. Too bad she didn't remember him. But then again, she definately wasn't the same, sad little girl. Something had definately happened to toughen her up. He just hoped it wasn't too bad.