Maddison Winchester: Journal 6 {Supernatural}

6 Live Free or Twihard: Part 2

When we got to The Black Rose, we found a table, and Sam and Dean ordered drinks. Looking around the bar, pretty much everyone in there was wearing a ton of dark makeup, black clothing, and fake vampire fangs.

"Well, you wanted Emo chicks. I think we hit Ground Zero," Dean said, looking around.

A waitress in a black pleather suit walked up and set their drinks down.

Dean nodded. "Thank you." Then she walked away, and he leaned toward me. "You think she wears all that rubber to the beach?" He looked at Sam. "When was the last time we had a beer together, anyway?"

Sam shrugged.

A teenager about my age walked up to our table, dressed like everyone else in the room, and looked down at me. "Hey there, beautiful. The name's Marco." He smirked at me. "There's room for two in my coffin." He winked.

"Excuse me?" Dean snapped at Marco.

"What?" Marco asked nervously, "Is she your girl?"

Dean furrowed his brow, his face turning red with anger. "No, she's my sister, you little perv."

Marco put his hands up and started to back away. "Okay, dude. Jeez, I'm sorry."

As Dean was about to stand up, I put my hand on his shoulder and looked up at Marco, laughing. "I'm sorry. Has that line ever worked out for you?"

He shrugged. "I decided to try it out tonight."

"I would suggest you work on a new one." I laughed.

"Look, buddy, unless you want a broken nose, you should get moving," Dean threatened.

"All right, I'm sorry, she's cute," Marco said nervously.

Dean stood up. "So, you bring her flowers! Get to know her! Be a gentleman!"

Marco flinched with every shout and looked down at me.

"Not her, though. Go find someone else." Dean waved his hand to shoo him. "Get out of here." Then he sat back down next to me as Marco hurried away.

"When have you ever done any of those things for the girls you've picked up at a bar?" I asked.

Dean shrugged. "That's different."

I furrowed my brow. "How?"

"You're sixteen," Dean said.

I shrugged. "He looked like he could be sixteen."

"I don't care. He's not picking you up at a bar," Dean said.

"Why?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow. "You know why."

I shook my head. "No."

He shrugged. "Just because."

"Because you're worried that he'll take me back to a motel and do whatever you do with any girl you've ever picked up?" I asked.

He frowned and shook his head. "I'm not talking about this anymore."

I shrugged. "Maybe that just means you should reconsider what you do with those girls."

"Maybe you should drop it," he snapped.

I smirked and chuckled. "Touchy subject?"

"Shut up," Dean said and glared at me.

"There," Sam said, interrupting Dean's glare to point out a teenage boy in a black coat and dog collar chatting up a pretty girl. "Whatcha think? He's hittin' on her hard enough." He shrugged. "Real?"