Disclaimer: Kipke and Cameron created Supernatural and The Sarah Connor Chronicles not me. Well done, those men - please don't sue me.
Warning: One eff word.
It's funny how one word can take you back to a different place - a different time. For me it started when John and Cameron were watching an old rerun of MASH.
He was explaining what was funny to Cameron and what wasn't. A boy and his robot hanging out, it gives me no hope for the future that this thing - a killing machine - can happily watch anti-war sitcoms for hours on end without complaining. On the other hand maybe I should get another German Shepherd dog as company for John - they're a good breed.
A hot evening in July and I felt restless, unfulfilled. Having Kyle Reese's bare-chested older brother slouching in an armchair in my living room contributed to my disquiet.
The Reese males were buff as they used to say back in the eighties. I bit my knuckles in that way that sexually aroused human females have for centuries and tried to block my from my mind speculating on if Derek would also be hung like a horse like his kid bro.
Wiping sweat from my brow I told Derek Reese to put a shirt on - the nuclear holocaust hadn't happened yet and we still lived in a world with standards (like I'm going to forget how he used my toothbrush in a hurry).
He told me to take a hike, the cotton would rub against his latest healing wounds and to buy a fricking state of the art air conditioning unit with a diamond.
I still had enough diamonds in my possession to outshine a beauty queen's tiara but that wasn't the point. I proceeded to tell Derek Reese that wasn't the point when John pointedly turned up the volume on the television to drown me out.
Well, I wasn't putting up with that crap even if John is the future savior of humanity (and maybe I was suffering from PMS a little) so I snatched the remote off him and pressed the off button.
"Jesus, Mom! I'm sorry, okay?" John grabbed it back from me and turned the TV back on.
The volume blared forth and Colonel Potter bellowed for his major. "Winchester!"
And I was back in 1991.
"Winchester!" The mechanic was tall with ex-military bearing, and showing Sarah the room where she and little John would be sleeping if she accepted his housekeeping job. "When the drill sergeant yelled out my name like that during my training I almost peed my fatigues."
Sarah grinned while she surveyed the small but neat room, "Yeah, never nice being shouted at."
"My youngest kid, Sammy, hasn't worked that one out yet, he can be a handful." Winchester was looking Sarah up and down, taking in her neat blue jeans and pink sweatshirt, her muscular physique unusual for the time. Overall he approved of the female package in front of him. "Don't let him give you any crap."
"I don't put up with crap." Sarah was indeed the young single mom she portrayed herself to be, looking for somewhere safe to stay while she sent John to elementary school in rural Wisconsin. Central America had become too hot for her in more ways than one and Enrique forged the nicest fake references for a resume.
"I'm sure you don't." Winchester seemed to admire the determination that shone from his potential housekeepers eyes.
It was a long summer, a hot summer.
Devoted if emotionally stunted parents Sarah Connor and John Winchester were both humorless fanatics not that they let the other into their private deep dark secrets.
Both worked out tirelessly when they had a free moment and would secretly and separately hit the bottle in solitude angsting over their lost dead loves.
Inevitably being two healthy young lonely people they fell into bed together or more accurately screwed against a washing machine one night when Sarah was washing all three boys' clothes.
The sex was hot, dirty and comforting.
The two single parents had been getting on well.
Was this a good time to bring up time traveling cyborgs? Sarah wondered to herself. It could be a relationship dampener.
"Sarah," John kissed her on the forehead. "I have to be straight with you about why I'm in Wisconsin this summer."
And that memory made my road to the future clear not dark. I decided to join Derek Reese the next time beefcake took a shower.
Derek was a murderer and emotionally screwed in the head from being shoved into a death camp in the future, but at least, Derek wasn't some fucking basketcase who thought ceiling demons existed and then when I tried to explain about the nuclear Armageddon approaching and terminators, had the nerve to call me nuts.
