Hi! So 2nd SPN story already! :O Don't expect more anytime soon, this one was already finished. It was just sitting in my documents... I thought maybe I would upload it one day and then why the hell not now, so here you guys go. I love Outsider POVs by the way. And I almost called this "Why Kids Are Annoying and Not Good for Business". XD Enjoy. R&R!
Disclaimer: "Supernatural" and all related logos, titles and characters are trademarks of the CW. I own nothing. Eric Kripke is the brilliant creator of this awesome show.
It's an old gas station where you end up, a cheap restaurant build on the side of it with a big parking spot. It's filled with cars and trucks and with not too much security camera's around to be caught. The drivers are all inside at the moment, enjoying a cup of coffee and something to eat before hitting the road again. You stick in the shadows and let your gaze slide over all the different cars parked here. Normally there aren't that much cars worth taking around, but this time it's seems you're lucky because parked off all on the side is a real classic: A 1967 Chevy Impala. You grin and walk up to it, subtly checking for camera's and witnesses. There are none.
Up close the car looks even better than from a distance. It's in perfect state as far as you can see, shiny and clean, no rust in sight. But just as you're about to grab your gear and take this baby for a ride there's the sound of footsteps behind you and you turn around quickly.
"What the hell are you doin' with our car, mister?"
Behind you there's a boy, he can't be more than seven years old, but he's glaring at you like you've just committed a crime. He looks sturdy and tough for such a young kid, hair trimmed in a military cut, arms crossed over a dark shirt, jeans ripped and dirty on some places. He's got more freckles than you ever saw on a kid, full lips and the prettiest green eyes you ever looked into. If he would have looked a little less like he wanted to murder you right then and there you could have called him cute.
"Nothing kid, go to your parents."
The kid doesn't move a muscle and narrows his eyes even more. His eyes are cold and stubborn. "I don' think so. That's our car, and you should keep your hands of her!"
You blink, surprised by the attitude he has. Chuckling you lift your hands and decide to go for the subtler approach. "Alright, alright, calm down son. I was just admiring her. She's quite a ride."
That gets a reaction from him, he uncrosses his arms and a proud smirk plays on his lips. "Damn right she is. Dad says when I'm old enough he's gonna give her to me."
Oh great, so now you have an irritating seven year-old who sees this car as his. "Is he? That's nice of him. Where is he by the way?"
The kid crosses his arms again, wary suspicion back into his eyes. "He's buying food. He'll be right back. He told me to watch the car 'cause there's always people who think they could get away with taking it." He says it as a matter of fact, as if he doesn't think anybody would ever be so stupid to try and steal their car. There's not only a great deal of disgust in the kid's voice but also a tone that makes it sound like an absolute ridiculous idea, and somehow it makes you feel sort of like somebody just made fun of you.
The kid doesn't move from where he's still standing and glaring and you fidget, trying to come up with something that will make the kid go away. But he just stands there, stares you down and there's something about him that makes you stiffen.
And then there's a shout from behind him and as he turns a smile lights up his face for a second with childish glee. "Sammy!"
There's another little boy running towards him, limbs flailing in that special way only small kids can do. "Dean, Dean look! M&Ms!"
And the kid -Dean apparently- grins and pulls the kid towards him. This kid looks just as wild as 'Dean' does, but there's no spark of danger in this one. He's barely four years old, maybe even three and his eyes are shining with innocence and happiness.
The other kid however locks his eyes on you again and this time they're not only warning you, but they're deadly cold and aggressive and you realize that if you make one move towards the younger kid he won't hesitate to throw himself on you. Not that that seems very threatening, but it's an impressive glare nonetheless.
"Who's he Dean? What's he doin'?" the younger kid asks, and Dean looks back at him and smiles charming and a bit cocky. "Oh nothin' Sammy, he's just going."
No matter how strange this whole situation is, you can't help but step a step further from the car. The youngest looks at you and waves. "Okay, Bye!"
You awkwardly wave back, asking yourself why the hell you just didn't break open the door and jump in the car before these kids showed up to be obnoxious.
"Boys!"
The two kids turn around so fast it looks almost like they're tied to a rope and someone just pulled on the other end. There's a chorus of up-beat and respectful "Yessir!" and then you look up from them only to meet the eyes of the guy who's walking straight towards them with his arms full of a six-pack of beer, a bottle of whiskey, a newspaper, some energy drink and coke and three packs of the disgusting pre-prepared sandwiches that claim to be healthy and tasty but really are neither. It's a bulk of a guy too, tall and muscular, moving with grace and efficiency. He's wearing faded jeans, army boots, and a plaid shirt with a leather jacket. He's got brown hair and dark eyes and his face is indifferent when he scans you up and down, clearly dismissing you and somehow it's even more unnerving than the death-glare of the seven year-old.
He doesn't say anything to you however, snapping his attention back to the kids.
"A little help here?" It's not as much as a question as a command, but it comes out amused and they bounce over to grab the stuff he's carrying, the smallest going for the coke and the newspaper, leaving the seven year-old with the beer and the whiskey. They both run to the car and wait for him to open the doors before stuffing all the stuff and themselves in.
Only then does he turn to you, dark eyes piercing yours. "Did you want something?" It's not said like a threat but there's a dangerous edge to his tone that warns you to back the hell off because there's something about this guy and his kids that doesn't add up. It's only now that you realize the kid had the same steel-hard gaze this man has and you feel a shiver running down your spine, thanking god that you never made it further than thinking about taking this particular car. So you just shake your head and try to smile non-threatening. "No, I was just admiring your car… sir."
The guy grins and nods. "Oh yeah, she's a beauty."
"Definitely man, but you're not selling I heard?"
The guy shakes his head and glances amused to the back seat where the kids are still watching him closely, only now stuffing their mouths with sandwiches and M&Ms. "Nah, this car belongs with us."
The triumphed grin on the seven-year old does it and you decide you stuck around long enough. Your chance is gone and these people are a bit to creepy for your taste. "That's alright man, I understand. Just make sure you don't lose such a beauty."
The guys nods shortly and climbs into the car without another word. The engine roars to live and a blast of rock music fills the air. The tires spin and it's already turned to the highway and you let out a breathe you didn't know you were holding. You still have no idea what happened, but you figure that this day just isn't your best day. Maybe a good night's sleep, a few beers and another gas station will bring better opportunities.