Samantha's POV

I've now currently been here for a full month and it has been the best time of my life. I grab my wallet and phone then exit my dorm, locking the door as I go. Since it's a Sunday I'm spending my day with some friends at a diner not a far walk from the school. Once I get on the elevator I make eye contact with my elevator buddy, and I wish I hadn't. His eyes are those of a shark, filled with a crazed hunger. His hair appears as if he slicked it back with black tar, and his skin is the pale white of a man with a deathly illness.

"Jim Moriarty," His voice felt like someone pouring freezing water down my spine. I hesitantly shake his outstretched hand, and give him a timid smile. Every molecule of my body was urging me to run away from him.

"Samantha," I decide to answer him, but I can't deny the voice in my head suggesting I give him a fake name.

He regains possession of his hand, the same sick smile on his face, then directs his full attention to the elevator doors, as if they were the most interesting things on the planet. I've never endured a silence as awkward as this one in my entire existence. I counted the infinite seconds until the elevator doors open, and I bolted out of there faster than an Olympian.

"Watch it." A very annoyed voice spoke when I accidently bumped into her, consequently knocking her books to the ground.

"Oh sorry- Oh hey! What's up, Grace?" I was happy it was my sister I bumped into. I can handle her bitchiness, I was not prepared to deal with some self-absorbed airhead.

"Well, I was having a great day until this stupid sophomore decided to knock all my books to the ground. Where are you headed in such a hurry?"

"Just to hang out with some friends at the dinner in town." I tell her, Grace is the one who recommended the dinner to me. The food is so amazing she often swears by it.

"Ohhhh, like Sam? The kind and intelligent brother?" Grace waggles her eyebrows and I have to contain my laughter. She looks like her face is having a seizure.

"Grace, I know you aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, so I will say this one more time. Slowly. Sam and Samantha are just friends. No dating. Friends."

"Sure, if your definition of friends is two people who make gooey eyes at each other constantly. Oh my God! I just thought of the perfect ship name for you and Sam!" Grace looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to take the bait and ask what she came up with.

"Okay, what did your tiny brain think of?" I give in, but she still glares at me for insulting her intelligence.

"Are you ready for this genius? Okay... Sam Squared! Because he's Sam and you're Samantha, but I call you Sam all the time!" Grace smiles wildly, and I can't suppress a tiny grin. It is kinda funny, and pretty creative. I dramatically roll my eyes, we continue to walk together as I near the place I'm supposed to meet Bucky.

"So, how are you and Dean?" I shoot her the innocent look of a doe, never less she glares at me in exasperation.

She may not have a thing for Dean, but he has an obvious interest in her. I can see why he likes her, Grace is beautiful. She oozes confidence, and it is apparent she doesn't need anyone's approval to feel comfortable in her own skin. Her hair is a natural sun-kissed honey blonde and falls to her mid-back. While she inherited our mother's liquid gold eyes, I lucked out with dark coal black eyes from some very dead ancestor. At least that's what mom tells me. It doesn't take Einstein to figure out my dear sister is a catch, but her personality is what the boys have to get used to.

"Shhhh! We do not speak his name! You know the saying, if you say someone's name three times they'll appear!" Some people would call Grace superstitious, I call her crazy.

"One day you won't be able to resist Dean's devastating good looks, or his devilish charms." I smirk, keeping track of how many times I've said his name because I can tell she is too.

"Stop saying his name!" She persists.

"I'm just saying that eventually you're going to accept that drink he keeps offering you." The look she gives me would bring most men to tears, but I've had my entire life to master immunity to her tricks.

"Psh, maybe in a blue moon." She scoffs, though I smile. Little does Grace know about astrology, so obviously she has no idea what a blue moon actually is.

"Well, isn't that convenient." I laugh a little to myself as Grace shoots me a very annoyed and very confused look.

"What?" She patiently awaits an answer.

"A blue moon is the second full moon in a month, and lucky for our friend Dean there is a blue moon in this fine month of September."

"It is an expression! And you said his name three times! Three times you inconsiderate exhaustingly literal swine!"

"Expression or not, you can't out run fate." I say jokingly, but I exchange buffoonery for incredulity when I see Dean round the corner.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear! I blame all of this on you." With a dignified huff, Grace spins on her heal and quickly walks away. I have no idea what possesses her to run away from the hot interested boy, but Grace is a women better not understood.

"That your sister?" A deep voice questions from behind me, but I relax when I see the glint of a prosthetic arm. It's just Bucky and not that Moriarty kid.

"Yep, that is my sister." I answer in fondness as he nods.

Bucky isn't the chatty type, and I usually have to pry a conversation out of him but today I am content with my thoughts. We begin our journey to the diner and meet up with Sam, John, and Matt along the way. Once our group of misfits arrives at the quaint diner, we scout out a table and make ourselves at home. I find myself squished between Matt and John while Sam and Bucky are seated comfortably on the other side of the booth.

"So John, where is Sherlock?" Matt asks.

"He's back at the dorm, I invited him but he insisted he had 'other business so attend to'. Basically he will be longing around in his pajamas." John explains.

"At least you hope he is in his pajamas." I smirk over my menu and get a glimpse of John's horrified expression.

"For all you know, Sherlock just wanted you out so he could prance around in his birthday suit doing god knows what." Matt plays along, and the whole table bursts into fits of laughter at John's beet red face.

We continue the small talk, discussing classes and gossip, eventually things got a little more personal. Matt insisted we all play a friendly game of Truth or Dare, it started out with trivial questions and things, but things will start to heat up. Everyone knows there is no such thing as 'friendly Truth or Dare'. As of now I've had to convince our waitress I have an awful bladder condition and confess that I didn't watch Drake and Josh as a child.

"Okay, my turn! Matt, truth or dare?" I ask with a mischievous grin on my face.

"Truth." He quickly decides that will be the lesser of the two evils.

"Let's see, do you like anyone?" I instigate, a faint blush begins creeping up his neck and using my Nancy Drew skills I conclude he definitely likes somebody.

"Who is it, Smith?" Sam pushes.

"Uh..." He grunts to clear his throat, "Clara." He mumbles.

"What was that, I don't think I heard you?" I tease.

"Clara! I like Clara Oswald." Matt finally discloses, and we all laugh hysterically as Matt's blush finally decorates his entire face.

"Are you talking about soufflé girl" Sam inquires.

"Yes, I am undyniably attracted to soufflé girl. Enough about me, John who do you fancy?" Matt's attempt to redirect the table's attention was a success, now we all want to know who has John Watson all hot and bothered.

"No one." He confidently declares.

"Everyone likes someone," Sam reasons, John fidgets in his seat clearly uncomfortable.

"You must like someone," I insist.

Sam and I make eye contact across the table, sure he likes someone. What if that someone is Sherlock? He wouldn't want everyone knowing he was gay, even if he wasn't sure about it himself. I see realization dawn in Sam's eyes and he quickly turns the attention onto me.

"Who do you like Samantha?" He questions with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh no, I am on a boy detox. I have been there and done that, I don't like anyone." I convince.

"Sure." Bucky says sarcastically.

"Honestly, I don't have a crush on anyone." But even as I say this my eyes meet Sam's, as if they weren't taking orders from my brain but from my heart.

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Grace 's POV

After Samantha had the damn nerve to set Dean on my trail, I'd lost track of him when I ducked into the library to finish some homework. Now I was contently sitting under a tree near my dorm reading one of my favorite American classics. It was a gorgeous day outside, and the slight breeze kept causing wisps of hair to fall from my hastily done bun.

"Hey beautiful," Dean's deep and evidently sexy voice floats to my position on the ground.

"What could you possibly need Winchester?" I look up to him in exasperation and have to make a conscious effort not to drool.

His bright spring green eyes were trained intently on me, and the sun seemed to be grooming him creating the illusion of pure gold woven in with his natural hair. He was adorned in a black t-shirt that had been worn so often the edges were frayed, and his jeans sported several tares likely made by himself. I cannot fathom the Dean standing in front of me would walk into a department store with his mind set on torn and frayed jeans, it just isn't his style. His muscles flex as he situates himself next to me on the ground. I'm glad I'm not the swooning type.

"Are we really going to use that surname crap?" He inquired.

"Maybe, what do you want?" I reiterate.

"Whatchya reading?" Dean tried to get a glimpse at the cover, but I yanked my book away.

"To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee." I hotly answer, and he gives me a genuine smile.

"Yeah, that's a good one." I smirk into my book, doubting he's ever read it. It seems like Dean my actually be capable of having a decent conversation, and I'm curious to see if I'll be proved wrong.

"So Sam and Samantha are friends." He states, it puzzles me why the dumbass feels the need to state the obvious.

"I am aware." I am having a field day making this conversation difficult for him, but I honestly believe Samantha has a thing for baby Winchester.

"Do you and Samantha have a good relationship?" Dean asks.

"As good as sisters can. We've been through some crap, it brought us closer instead of pushing us apart. If you don't have your family, who do you have?" I confess to him.

"I completely understand." He confides, and I find myself hesitantly looking up into his eyes. His gorgeous, very gorgeous eyes.

"Yeah?" I am sincerely curious as to what he's been through.

"Yeah." He reciprocates, and we sit in silence for a bit. Just gazing at the school and studying the students milling around.

"So, I was wondering if-" Dean starts to break the silence, but I interrupt him.

"No, I do not want to go anywhere or drink anything with you." I interject. Damn him for ruining such a nice moment, there is nothing like companionable silence.

"I'm not the type of guy you think I am." He insists, I just roll my eyes. Better to deflect than to become attached. I can't spend my time worrying and fawning over him, I need to spend my time taking care of Samantha.

"Sure." I scoff.

"Have a drink with me." He demands.

"Sorry, I'm not twenty-one I can't 'have a drink' with you. Maybe a few years after never." I hastily stand and begin walking away in indignation. Dean jumps from his spot on the ground and grabs hold of my wrist spinning me around to face him.

"Let go of me Dean!" I yank my wrist out of his hand with surprising ease, and because he let me go I let him speak. I turn a guarded expression up to meet his expectant gaze.

"Let me prove that I'm not the huge ass you have me pegged as." Studying him I discover a part of him bracing for my impending rejection. I inwardly sigh, what am I known for if not unpredictable.

"Fine. The only day I'm free is Wednesday. You get two hours of my time, not a minute more." As I lay out the stimulations, his ever present smile oozing with confidence comes to settle on his lips.

"Anything works for me." He agrees.

"Okay. Pick me up at six." I add to my new plans.

"I'll be there." His confidence his tangible.

"Fine. Asshat." I promptly turn on my heal and walk back to my dorm. I will castrate him if I turn out regretting this.

I find Samantha lounging on my bed studying for some test when I arrive in my dorm. I wasn't planning on telling her until Wednesday, or maybe Thursday after it'd already have happened. Unfortunately my guts spilled the moment I walked through the door in a huff and she asked what 'whats up'. It took less time than I'd have thought to explain to her the whole phenomenon.

"You said yes? You, Grace McThomas, my angsty I-Hate-The-World sister, said yes to a date with Dean Winchester?" Samantha demands my assurance, she can't wrap her head around the fact I said okay when it was her predicting this outcome mere hours before.

"It's not a date." I say, defeat evident in my voice.

"Did he seem excited?"

"I guess, I don't know. Maybe? What does it matter anyway, it's just one evening." Cue all my regret over telling Samantha this.

"After a month you finally gave in! One date will turn into two dates, then every Friday night dates. Then kisses on the cheek, then mouth, then Frenching and- Oh my God! Use a condom!" She whisper yells, and my mouth drops in horror. Enough about me, it's time to redirect the limelight.

"Has Sam asked you out yet?" I interrupt her midsentence as she was voicing her thoughts on what I should wear.

"Sam and I are just friends. Nothing more." It sounds like the more she says it, the more she's trying to convince herself, not me.

"Well, he's hot. Like if I didn't have a stimulation against dating boys younger than me I'd totally screw him hot. Plus he obviously has a thing for you." I tentatively choose my words, hoping to manipulate the truth out of her.

"What? Of course he doesn't. I mean, I'm not going to call him ugly. He's actually quite attractive," I assume my widened smile is what prevented her from completing her thoughts, "We are just friends Grace, I promise."

"Don't make promises you are positive you can keep, Sam. What did you and your little friends talk about?" I can't help the fact that I like gossip. I honestly think everyone loves gossip, and those who say they don't are lying to themselves.

"Like I would tell you." She chuckles.

"C'mon! Nothing you tell me will leave this room. I promise!" I wear a grin hungry for the trivial gossip of young sophomores, and Samantha continues to laugh at me.

"'Don't make promises you can't keep'." She threw my words back in my face with a snicker.

"Did any of you confess your little crushes?" I continue to pry.

"What, of course not. You and your friends may not have better more intellectual things to talk about, but my friends and I do." Samantha is a certified bad liar.

"Okay, fine don't tell me." I playfully roll my eyes and stand from my position in my spinny-chair.

"It's almost time for dinner, I'm going to go get ready. I'll see you there?" Samantha asks as she walks to the door.

"Yeah, bye." I'm left alone at the sound of the closing door.

Standing in my closet I have an inching feeling that everything I own is on the drab and ratty side. God, I am a strong and independent woman and I don't give a shit if a boy thinks I am pretty. Even if that boy is Dean Winchester. This is the reason I walk confidently out of the room, resisting the urge to run to the mirror to apply lip gloss.

A/N: The end of this chapter is to all the girls who feel they need to dress or act a certain way to get a guy. Be beautiful for yourself. Be the best you that you can be for YOURSELF. Don't let a guy dictate your life. One day a nice fella will come around and love you for you, and he won't ask you to change or look a certain way. Hold out for that guy. Or girl. Whoever makes you happy.