A story of Family, Friends and a Shit load of problems!
- Created By Electrogirl
Chapter 3
“Right guys!” Sam shouted across the soccer field at the Winchester children,” lets see who can get the ball by me!”
Almost immediately they started pelting him with soccer balls. Sarah sat on a park bench, Cobain in her arms. He slept so soundly with his thumb in his mouth and his head resting on Sarah’s breast.
The children continued playing soccer even after Sam had left and had gone to join his wife and nephew. He sighed and took a swing of water, drinking it down like it was going out of fashion.
“This is the childhood I never had.” Sam said.
“Snap.” Sarah replied turning to look at her husband’s puppy- brown eyes,” Raised like warriors, trained like thieves. I’m glad these kids will never get to meet my parents – would have screwed them up.”
She lifted a hand and fiddled with Sam’s shoulder-length hair. He smiled in return.
“Do you think we should ever tell them what we did when we were younger? I mean, if they ever ask about why you, Dean and John go on your little trips what should we say?”
“We should lie.” Sam replied, he was no longer smiling,” I don’t think it would be fair taking away their childhood like that.”
“How would telling them the truth take away their child hood? It’s not like we would be pushing them out the door and screaming at them to join in with our hunting games!”
Sam sighed, closed his eyes and shook his head. Obviously this was not up for discussion and you might as well be asking him to encourage his daughter and son into prostitution.
“Sam, what I’m saying Is; If the kids ever found out and actually liked the idea and wanted to join in with us, when they were old enough of course, I wouldn’t argue. They could join in with us if they liked.”
Sam’s head snapped round. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He would expect this from Dean but not from Sarah.
“Are you mad!” He cried ,” If they ever do find out and wish to hunt, I will not allow it! If Cobain and Dana want to hunt, that’s great, by all means let them but if Ryan or Kayla so much as ask me, there are out of the house!.”
Sarah sat in silence and utter shock at her husbands sudden out-burst. Cobain, now awake, clung to the collar of her t-shirt and cried softly.
“You remind me of Elen you know! She held Joe back and look what happened. She went out anyway and never came back to see her. No Elen is alone in that god-forsaken bar of hers, probably regretting what she did and missing her daughter.
So, if you dare drive our children away from us, so help me god!” She replied in a low and angry whisper.
By now Cobain was screaming and gripping onto Sarah with more force. She cooed him, reassuring him everything was okay.
“Shhhh baby. That’s a good boy.”
Sam was silent beside her. He watched her, swaying Cobain in her arms. It was then that he felt a pair of eyes watching him from behind. He turned round, almost jumping as he laid eyes on his niece, Dana.
“Uncle Sam?” she asked.
“Yes honey?” he replied, shifting round to give her his full attention.
“What do you mean by hunting?”
Sam’s stomach tightened, Sarah looked up with a shocked expression on her face. Sam was speechless, he kept opening his mouth but no words would come out and as a lawyer this almost never happened.
“Oh sweetie. It’s nothing to worry about. I and uncle Sam were just having a private discussion.” Sarah told her.
“I’m ten years old, I’m not stupid.” Dana replied.
“Of course your not sweetie. But it’s really nothing of your concern. I assure you.”
“Alright. I won’t concern over it.” Dana sighed.
“Go play with your cousins,” Sam said smiling,” I’ll be along in a minute.”
Dana waltzed off closely followed by Sam. Maybe playing soccer would make this mistake go away.
Chapter 2
Sarah’s Prov.
I usually took my sister-in-laws kids around 9 on Saturdays, but given that this was Angel, I probably wouldn’t be seeing any sign of them for at least another half hour. Its not like she lived far away, it was only across the god damned street. Still, couldn’t say a bad word about Angel.
My husband, Sam, lay across the couch with the kids watching early morning cartoons. Some classics if I dare say so. ‘Biker mice from mars’, ‘Teenage mutant ninja turtles’ and also ‘Tom and Jerry’, one I knew was a personal favourite of Sam’s.
My sandy haired son, Ryan sat on his daddy’s stomach while my mysterious daughter, Kayla,sat cross-legged on the floor with a box of crackers. Watching my family in this picturesque scene made me forget all the times that I just wanted to kill them, like when Ryan spilt grape juice on the new carpet or when Sam put on a load of white washing but left a red bra in along with them, now all my lace panties and his boxers are a rosé shade of pink. Despite all of this I remained a good mother and a good wife, even if I was harsh sometimes but there was nothing wrong with a little tough love.
I sniffed the air and suddenly realised that my pancakes were burning in the toaster. I wasn’t a fantastic cook by any means but even I thought I could at least get toast right. Sighing, I lifted the charred circular remains of my pancakes from the hellish pits of the toaster and smothered them in raspberry jam.
“I thought I smelt smoke.” Sam stood over my shoulder, a mug of coffee In his right hand.
I narrowed my eyes and fixed him with my ‘Don’t-even-fucking-try-it’ stare, but he just fixed me with a goofy grin.
“I’m sorry Sarah, I wasn’t judging your cooking. Honest.” He placed his mug in the sink and pecked me on the cheek, “Besides, I hear that burnt pancakes is very nutritious.”
Laughing, I pushed him away from me but was dragged backwards into his arms. He kissed me passionately before releasing me to eat my ‘nutritious’ breakfast.
The clock chimed 9:30 as I sat down in the living room and right on cue, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” I said, although this was quite pointless as Sam was taking his morning pee in the bathroom and really couldn’t answer it anyway.
“Sarah! Sorry I’m late again, Cobain lost his rabbit and Dana couldn’t find her sneakers.” Angel sighed.
“They were in the basement, beside the washing machine!” Dana smiled up at me before dancing glee-fully into the living room.
“Here let me take Cobain for you. And that baby-bag.”
Angel handed me her son and the blue baby bag. She sighed heavily, brushing her dark hair from her face.
“I would love to stop for tea Sarah, but I had better get to work. I have a deadline to meet by the end of this week for 2 articles and I have a painting that I would like to get finished.”
I allowed her to go with out a fuss. Angel was a great woman but she pushed herself to hard and even though she was, at that present time, a freelance journalist and freelance artist she often smothered by articles and drawings. Even when she was pregnant with Cobain, she kept working until the very hour she got her first contractions.
Dean, her husband, was the polar opposite. He didn’t like going to work every day and as soon as six o’clock came, he was out of his father’s garage like a bullet.
Cobain struggled in my arms, rocking from side to side trying to find freedom. I set him down on the floor beside Dana and Kayla, trusting that they could look after while I ate my breakfast, which had by then gone completely cold.
Sam, meanwhile, remerged from the bathroom.
“Hey guys! I was just thinking! How about we go to the park today and play a game of soccer?”
I sighed and pondered over why I ever agreed to having kids.
Chapter 1
Dean Winchester
Seven A.M on a Saturday morning and I had to get up for freaking work. As if Dad actually cared if I was there on time or not, it was Dad for Christ’s sake, he was never there on time himself and he owned the god-damned garage. My wife, Angel shook me continually and whispered my name over and over.
“Dean, get up sunshine. Time for work.” She cooed over and over and freaking over again.
“Can’t I just lay here, it’s not as if Dad actually cares if I’m there bang on time anyway--“
“No, but I do. I have my own work to do once I drop the kids off at Sam and Sarah’s.”
As I looked round at her face, prepared to argue, I remembered part of the reason I married her. Her eyes glittered and she had a puppy dog expression on her face which would make Sam look like a black dog. So what else could I do but sigh and give in.
“Fine. I’m up.” I climbed from the bed and pulled on the grimiest pair of jeans I could find. If I’m going to go to work with little to no enthusiasm, I’ll damn well show it!
Angel took over the bathroom to make her self beautiful (well more beautiful) and for once I didn’t have to pee like a race horse, so I quickly scrubbed my teeth and proceeded down the hall to attend my youngest kid, Cobain John Winchester.
He wasn’t crying, like he usually is by this time, but because I was a fantastic father and wonderful husband I decided to wake him anyway.
“Hey sport –“at that moment Cobain rubbed his eyes, screwed up his face and started balling.
I, being not as great as I thought, quickly tried to comfort him, but was relieved when Angel snatched him from me and comforted him. Within moments it was like nothing had happened.
“Dean, you should know to let me wake him. Let’s face it honey you’re not Mrs. Doubtfire.” Angel smiled at me, trying to hide her obvious annoyance at me.
I like to think I handled this pretty damn well by just smiling and walking out of the room, but I would be lying to myself if I didn’t say I was a little hurt that I wasn’t as good as some guy dressed up as an old lady, even though that was a sick and creepy movie.
From the door way I could hear Angel cooing softly to Cobain and him laughing with her, that damned kid never laughed with me! My daughter was the one who laughed with me, and never cried when I woke her, and so it was only natural that I missed her when she was that age. A ten year old isn’t the same as an infant, they talk back to you, get moody with you, steal the TV remote and somehow think they know better than you do and continue arguing when they are so obviously wrong. (Even if they are right and they actually do know a lot more than you do, what adult would ever admit that?)
Breakfast, the most important meal of the day often turned out to be pop tarts and a cup of coffee (mostly because it was the day that Angel did the weekly supermarket run in the evening and there was nothing in the house but kids breakfast foods.) Angel sat across the table with Cobain in her arms, feeding him some messy green stuff – it could have been peas, I didn’t want to look, I mean seriously who would feed their kids that shit anyway. Dana was still sleeping, she was old enough to get herself up and fed and then make the long journey across the street to Sam’s place.
“Dean,” Angel said softly looking up at me and then to the clock,” Eight A.M. You had better go to work.”
I sighed.
“Righto.”
As I headed to the back door I stopped to kiss both her and my son. Who would have thought suburbia was where I would end up?
