This little and weird tale was originally written in 2010, (in Portuguese) for a Challenge demanding stories happening solely "on the Road".
A tale about the Wee!Chesters, Daddy Winchester, Mighty Motors and…Doritos!
WARNING: Some swearing. Kids in distress. Bad English (not a native here).
300 miles
(A Wee!Chester Tale)
Well, it happened in the summer of '85. I hope it means something to you guys, because in this exact moment of his life, Dean Winchester is very busy wondering the big questions of his life: whether he's going to like going to school, and whether when his baby teeth start to fall out, he'll be as awfully-ugly as his Dad uses to say he's going to be. Period.
And a comma, because we are talking about Dean Winchester, even if it's about a little, blond and bitch-faced Dean Winchester. Because we all know that his main worries reside on the wellbeing of his even smaller and usually smelly brother Sammy, a cute little bumbling thing of 2 years old or so. And in this particular second of this narrative, Dean Winchester, completely unaware of what Destiny is preparing for him a few decades ahead, is very worried with two more immediate things: the destination of his dad's black car (which he proudly knows to be a Chevy Impala '67) and the destination of the diaper Sam is wearing right now.
For Dean Winchester, things were not going to smell good in near future.
Uh-uh.
To the older boy, from the back seat of the car, while observing his little brother Sam nodding with sleep, with some leftovers of Doritos kind of glued in his toddler's sticky chin, the future seemed to smell as bad as a baby's diaper. Oh yeah.
He moved his gaze to the woman at the Impala's steering wheel, who was driving with apparent resolve while humming a country song.
"Er… "Auntie" Stella, when are we going to make a stop, uh?" He had already made this question a couple of times, and he was smart enough to discern when an adult was trying to fool him. "Ya' know, Sammy needs a clean diaper… He gets a really red arse if he wears a wet diaper for a long time and I think it… it sort of hurts…He's going to cry A LOT…" The boy thought he needed to be didactic this time; perhaps it would make her listen to him. She nodded and looked at him, a concerned look with big eyes to match. "Soon we're going to make a stop, Dean! I promise. I think you wanna go pee-pee too, right?" Watching how the green eyed boy vehemently nodded, she smiled. "Uhn, right. I think I need too."
But before you get too worried about Sam Winchester's baby bootie getting diaper rash, let's rewind a bit in time and into his older brother's memories. Precisely 7 hours ago, when that freaking scary journey started over.
Dean didn't understand very well why, instead of his Dad come out from Auntie Stella's motor home (she's not really their aunt, Dean's not that stupid, but his Dad's girlfriend. She's a waitress, she's blonde, has a loud laughter and likes care and help the boys to shower; she makes delicious pies and often takes the leftovers of the restaurant she works in to them), it was her who came out, locking the door with her keys and looking at them with a huge and overfriendly smile. He smiled back and Sam knocked the window of the car's door trying to catch her attention. It wasn't necessary. She was coming to them. Auntie Stella stopped as someone who stops when is trying to remember if is leaving something important behind. She looked back to the motor home, and then decided she didn't need what she left there. Sammy was uneasy because he liked when she holds him in her lap (that womanizer little one!). The toddler was trampling over Dean's legs and the older boy, annoyed, pinched the toddler trying to make him stop hurting his legs.
Sam's wailing slobbering mouth only worsened things up. Stella got in the car and while Dean was busy thinking in a good excuse, she simply turned to them with an angelical smile and eyes that went wider and brighter (in fact, they seemed red and with their little black circles as wide as saucers, resembling very much as cat's eyes in the dark, something that was, on its own way, a bit disturbing to Dean, although it was something he would only fully understand a long, long time later):
"We're going to make a 1-gal-2-boys super fun trip, kiddos! Yay!" She absently minded snugged the crying toddler's head, who discovered that his performance of utter indignation and suffering wasn't getting the attention he thought it would, and proceeded to calm down, grumbling something like "Dean, Dean… he hurt me, auntie…" while climbing over and beyond Dean to sit in his toddler's seat, reaching out the apple juice box, with eyes as dry as sand. Every action happened simultaneously with the actions of Stella a) start the car, b) maneuver it out of the parking lot and c) leave well above the speed limit, looking as having extreme urgency on going wherever she was going to.
Dean was uneasy; something seemed to spin inside his belly as the distance where his Dad was left behind grew longer. For he had witnessed that his Dad had entered there just to say goodbye. And, somehow, Dad took a lot of time doing it. A long lot more than expected, to be honest. He could hear the two adults yelling, but could not understand the words. Dean kept to himself, playing with the G.I. Joes, and Sam, as always, was very entertained trying to unfasten the seatbelt of his toddler's car seat. He was always trying to escape. And, their Dad took so much to show up that Sam eventually got a way out of his toddler's seat anyway. So, to get the little boy entertained for a bit more, Dean showed the Doritos bag to Sam. And after it, Auntie Stella came over.
Now, Dad for some reason was left behind and it didn't feel right at all.
But, Auntie Stella was Daddy's girlfriend, right? She was a friend and, as we know by now, Sam loved to be in her lap (though it seemed to Dean, somehow, treason to their mother). So, as you can imagine, Dean was unsure between to relax and to be afraid. The weirdly "offset" answer Stella finally gave him took a little more than needed, and her voice was pitchy and shaky. "Everything's gonna be alright, okay, Dean? Don't worry, just trust me. I am your friend, uhn?"
Of course it just got Dean more confused than ever, and his baby brother trying to share the drooled Doritos with him made very little to help.
"Where are we going to, Auntie?"
"Our new house. You'll gonna love it! Sam will, too. It's going to have a nice school and you two are going to love everything…!"
Of course this thought kept the little blond Winchester entertained for a long time. Time enough to wonder about his hypothetic new toys, hypothetic new friends, hypothetic new trees, rivers, hugs and pets to love. And even time enough to wonder about the day when his first baby tooth would pluck off and how it would be to Sam too. But, as in that wonderful scenery, the gloomy figure of his father was stubbornly not getting itself to fit in, the idea was progressively harder and harder to keep on, until Dean woke up from his daydreams with a shock and the sentiment that he would be on the road forever; his arse already a bit sore from the long time on the road in the backseat.
"Auntie…"
"Dean baby, just hold on please. We can't stop right now, alright?"
It was what she was repeating time after time, and somehow, missing the feeling of protection he got by the side of his Dad, even with his thunderous voice and harsh words which could make Dean to cry many times a day, was making him feel like crying.
...
But of course, I suppose you are terribly devastated with the utter irresponsibility of the cruel man who lost his sons in a poker game, exchanged them for weapons to hunt a Wendigo, or simply got drunk and forgot his kids in the car. But at the same moment that Dean is starting to suspect the apparent "good intentions" Auntie Stella has, John Winchester, bloodshot eyes of pure wrath and fury, was getting his 7th fine for speeding in the Cushman Truckster '64 scooter he was riding on. And that, let's face it, wasn't a common feat.
It probably was the first time in his life he was seriously thinking in killing a woman. He looked as a possessed man, even more so knowing that, besides everything, he was several hours behind her, and barely could conceal the fact he was carrying a riffle he stole from Stella's neighbor (the same unfortunate owner of the old scooter he was piloting as a madman).
While his elder son was miles ahead trying to discover why was Stella taking them somewhere, and not their Dad, John was full of regret about carelessly fall for the "getting a bit of love doesn't hurt anyone" philosophy. From now on, he swore to himself, he'd only have casual sex, and if it was possible, would turn into a celibate for real.
But, to be honest, we're only in the beginning of the Winchester family's saga as hunters of the supernatural. John, so to speak, is just a rookie. A determined one, but a rookie nevertheless. He's still obsessed with finding the answers on what killed his wife and destroyed his dream of a happy family; he barely hunted his first supernatural being. And then, the lovely waitress Stella was there, so warm, so available… He committed three crass mistakes: the first one was telling her what he was doing. The second was telling her that no one would replace Mary. And the third one, the coup of mercy, was telling her he was leaving. In the moment he was saying her goodbye, she left for the kitchen with the excuse she'd take sandwiches and juice for the kid's lunch; and came back with a baseball bat that'd fit squarely in John's skull.
The fact that Stella used to have a collection of colorful pills in the headboard should have said something to John about the possibility of such a thing to happen someday. Now, that crazy bitch kidnapped his kids, stole his Impala; and he was sure she was planning to leave the State. She sometimes chitchatted about the place she had born in, somewhere in the valleys of Colorado. John knew it was her route right now. And when he'd get his hands on that thin neck of hers, if anything would have happened to Dean or Sam, for God's Sake, he'd kill Stella without any qualm.
And he'd burn and salt her up.
Unfortunately to our ireful hero-to-be, the sunset twilight and his blinding rage dazzled him for just an instant, and he didn't notice the hole in the highway's asphalt before it was too late. The Truckster took flight in a weird angle, inclining to the right, to finally catapult its helmetless rider against the hard asphaltic surface.
Everything blacked out suddenly to John, who had as last thought: "Fuck, who's gonna save my boys now?"
...
The moon was set high in the sky and Dean thought that, if his Dad was around, he'd most likely be telling him to stop biting his nails, and so he obeyed. They just had had snacks in the gas stop diner, and Dean knew they would have a phone booth somewhere near the restrooms. Perhaps he could call the police. Right now, Auntie Stella was showering Sam. His little brother was really in need of it. Dean looked at everything with wide anxious eyes, it was the first time he was entering a Ladies' restroom.
"Is it going to take long, Auntie Stella?"
Uhn Dean, I think your brother ate too much Doritos… But it'll take only a bit more, I promise. Then it's your turn…"
The thought of the Auntie Stella's pro bath services would have please him in any other occasion, but Dean had other plans. He started to casually wander through the restroom; he was carefully picking the right person to give away the crazy woman who was kidnapping them. When he noticed Stella wasn't paying attention to him, he escaped out the restroom, eagerly looking around seeking for salvation. It was when Heavenly Daddy smiled upon him and Dean caught a glimpse of a weapon by the side of a badge. He furiously strode to it and pulled the jacket of the officer until get her attention:
"M'am? My little brother and I are being kidnapped by a crazy lady that is right now in the ladies' restroom."
...
John dizzily woke up inside the ambulance, his head aching like hell and a bigger and brighter siren wailing and spinning inside his mind, telling him he was a failure. On Dean and Sam. What would happen with his boys if we couldn't find them before it was too late?
"My boys!" He growled, trying to get rid of what was keeping him tied to the stretcher. The paramedics held him in the place using force. John was unstoppable, trying to escape, but was pricked by a needle, and within seconds felt the liquid flowing into his body. That definitely wasn't his lucky day.
"What have you done?! My boys… They need me…"
When John's eyes glassed, reflecting the calming drug's effect, and he went back to the stretcher as Nosferatu returning to his coffin, a paramedic exchanged a meaningful look with his partner:
"Look at this guy, dude! He was speeding in the Interstate in a scooter carrying a rifle... And now this one about kids... He was lucky that those bikers found him…"
"Well, he's got a massive blow in the head..."
"That's nonsense! Those veterans… All crazy heads, that's what they are!" The other shook his head, getting the clipboard to make notes about the case. Though, that huge blow in the back of the patient's head… It looked as being inflicted several hours ago and probably caused by a blunt object…Really intriguing. The guy was in real trouble and would need to give good explanations to the sheriff, but right now the paramedic had other much more important things to think about in the Superbowl night.
...
That night, the huge gas stop was increasingly crowding up as even the travellers wished to watch the Superbowl game, plus it was a popular pit stop due its comfortable facilities. Already in the office of the gas stop manager, Dean was attentively listening to the conversation between Auntie Stella and the officer Jill Meyers (who didn't wish take a hasty decision and handcuff the lady in front of a crowd of curious people), while Sam was busy meticulously tearing out paper sheets on the old sofa. Despite the conversation taking place in the small office in front of him, Dean could understand a bit here and there of what Auntie Stella was telling to the policewoman of amicable features. The gas stop manager was kind and gave the boys… Doritos! and soda to entertain them, and now was in there with the two women. Amongst Stella's sobs, the blond Winchester could discern fragments of her pleas to the officer's sympathy:
"… My husband… He beats me… I just… Needed to run away…But the boys… Dean can't understand… All what I wish is to come back to their grandma's…"
"…"
"He's angry, but he's only a kid… I can't endure it anymore… But our living hell must end! Please, help me…" it was the authentic and unmistakable plea of a desperate wife…
"Please, calm down, try to calm down, we're going to help you, don't worry…" The officer's voice in an understanding tone was heard.
The poor little boy trust in authorities died right away, with the shock of what he'd heard. He had just discovered that the adults always believe in adults. They were really likeminded, he reasoned out. Dean checked upon his little brother, now entertained by his new activity of plugging paper chunks into the face orifices.
Out there, the roar of motors increased suddenly, and someone knocked at the door.
The gas stop manager left the two women talking by themselves and opened the door. It was one of the attendants:
"Gavin, a band of mean looking bikers just arrived. I think it's better you get a check on things out here…"
"…" The manager looked back upon his shoulders, and noticing things in there seemed under control, he sighed and followed the attendant…
…Leaving the door open.
Then, Dean inspired heavily with resolve, deciding that, if his dad wasn't around, and the police couldn't help them either, he must act.
...
Maybe you, who hate John Winchester more than anything in the world, are asking yourself whether God is making him pay his sins forehanded. Well... Maybe. But everything makes part of a bigger plan, and it's when the most implausible of the characters is introduced in this little tale.
The nurse Rory Mackenzie (in her fourties, married, no children, member of the gardening Club and 4 consecutive times the regional Crosswords Solver Champion) would never do anything near related to it, if it wasn't for the maniac and pitiful look in the eyes of the patient. But she nevertheless helped him to discreetly get in her Pontiac Sunbird '78, taking care of his foot in a cast. The sad and crazy story of a desperate father had taken Rory out of her emotional lethargy as nurse in an E.R. Hospital. She soon recognized that the man in front of her wasn't the type who begs for help. She could see it in his eyes. But he begged. And as a good Christian she was, she felt it was a calling from God pushing her to make something else for one of her patients. Even if it meant to smuggle out a patient without discharge or conditions to get on his foot by himself, and help him to find his two little boys who might well be miles away from them, maybe even in another State, by now. The man by her side sighed, choked with what she was sure was a 'thank you'. He also looked as a man who never asks favors, just to not be forced to thank someone. She just shushed him, and to conceal her own panicking mode, she faked an enthusiasm she was very far to possess right now.
"And… you know what, now? Let's find your boys!"
...
Perhaps you might be interested in knowing what happened to the ex-waitress Stella Kovalski. Do you? It's kind of complicated to keep a big lie for a long time. And perhaps she could have gone away with that, if a last incident hadn't blow out her plans. On the contrary of John Winchester, Stella was a woman who could count on luck. When people started to inquire about a little blond boy carrying a toddler with him all the way across the huge and crowded gas stop , some even remembered of that cute scene of a boy barely holding the toddler's weight to take him somewhere. But it was Supebowl night, and two events of this importance on the gas stop caused such a pandemonium that they only noticed that "their mommy" also was missing, a bit too late.
That night, Stella met a very gentle truck driver, named Mick Stevenson. We get to know that they are happily married to this date.
...
In the other tip of this story, another character, known as Bruce The Shark, only noticed he had gotten free riders when the sun was high in the sky and he was miles away from the last gas stop. The shock it ensued took a long time to fade away from his memory, and he got this tale to tell for several years after the event itself.
First, a blond little head emerged from underneath the cover of his Harley-Davidson Electra Glide '81's sidecar. The Shark thought he was seeing things:
"What the fuck…!" He pulled over in panic mode; bouncing from his seat to the road shoulder and rubbing his eyes with millions of swear words popping out his mouth, just to end witnessing a smaller head to emerge as well. "…Fucking God?!"
He was a Hell's Angels veteran, riding for the most part of the year across the US roads, and he was always felt the right to brag about having experienced a lot of weird things through the years, but to be honest, This! he never had.
The boys were terrified, and even he was mad at the situation (to himself who didn't noticed it before) and feeling like beating someone (e.g. the brats' parents who let it to happen in first place); and even he being, as he used to say himself, a big dirty old motherfucker who couldn't care the less about the others, the fear in the eyes of these kids had something…
However, anything could help him from hysterically keep pointing out to them, while saying:
"How the holly hell you two ended in there, for the devil's sake, how come?"
The smaller of them casted a pair of hungry and friendly puppy eyes, from inside the protective embrace of the older one, who for his turn, was checking out the biker head to toe as if deciding whether to attack or run. Which was, in a way, very funny, because Bruce the Shark had at least 3 times the size of the boy, and he'd weight around 200 lb. more.
"We're running away from the crazy bitch that stole us from our Dad." The blond one finally spoke, emphatically.
"Holy Fuck! What?!" Bruce started signaling from the road shoulder to his band to pull over and gather.
The mini Winchesters shrunk in fear when they found themselves surrounded by all those Hell's Angels. Dean Winchester sighed, taking a lot of air inside his little body, while his head was working in his next step. That band of bikers was very, very scary. But he could not let himself be intimidated by them. A biker lady all covered in tattoos and with long jetblack hair get out of her bike and went ahead in a beeline to grab and hold Little Sammy, who seemed to love both her initiative and her lap equally (that little womanizer!).
"Awn...What a cutie! Bruce, where did you get them?"
"The kid here says he's running from someone who stole them from their Daddy." Bruce stroked his long beard (because he was a very traditional American Hell's Angel who loved the tradition of leather, tattoos and mighty motors).
"I can relate to… even me couldn't resist stealing them myself...! I'd steal you too, blond delicious thing!" She winked to Dean, which suddenly got embarrassed by being flirted by a pretty woman. It would never happen again in his life, of course.
"I'm Dean Winchester. As the rifle. This is Sam. My dad must be looking for us. His girlfriend stole his car, and us, from him."
"Heck!" Someone exclaimed. "Fuck, what you're gonna do with them, Bruce?"
The Hell's Angel stroked his thick beard again, knowing how little his band and the police liked to meet.
"Ok, Deano! Let's ride, big boy, to our bar to drink and figure out about what to do with you and your little bro!"
The band roared in agreement, taking their places in their bikes and backseats. Sam went back to the sidecar by the side of his older brother sporting a bitch face, after being forced to leave the padded lap of the biker woman.
"Wanna some Doritos?" Dean offered with a frozen grin, trying to appease the mood of the younger one.
...
This story could have been a bit more convoluted, but the truth is, while Dean, after some sips on a beer (don't let children do alcohol, please), was cheered as an AFFA, and Sammy, the envious toddler, cheered as the mascot of the band, the Angels were already aware of whom might be their Dad. The man that was found unconscious by another gang in that incident on the road (from which this band had been communicated about by radio), was the dad of the brave little boys right now with them in the motor club. The man was a laughing stock among the bikers, because the guy was known by having a stupid accident riding a scooter in the interstate highway, while carrying a rifle with him. But they all had to admit that, despite lacking in style, the man had cojones!
...
The nurse Rory and her new friend John Winchester got a bit nervous once they sighted, on the road in front of them, the awe-inspiring formation of bikers pointing out to them. John even had to hold and align the steering wheel because the arms of the lovely lady simply melt from fear. When about 15 bikes passed by the Pontiac, and half a mile away, returned for them, his blood froze as well. They're, after all, the infamous Hell's Angels. But John swore to himself that he'd eat alive each one of them if they dared to stand between him and his boys.
One of the bikes aligned to the side of the car by the passenger's window, and the woman in the backseat knocked with some insistence on the glass, gesturing to John to open up the window. He exchanged looks with Rory, but made what was being asked. The woman in the bike's backseat yelled:
"Are you the guy we helped out back on Marshallfield?"
"'Course it's him! Winchester! Nobody forgets a name like this! You better follow us, dude, if you ever wanna see your boys!" The guy riding the bike laughed, letting show through a gap in his thick ginger beard a mouth where the front teeth were missing. Soon he speeded ahead, and Rory had little options left but to oblige, when she saw herself escorted by the band in their potent bikes and leather jackets. She had prayed to God and asked for help for this father in trouble while she was driving, but she could never imagine that He would send their way that sort of badass Angels!
...
Then, in the end of that afternoon in the '85 summer, this adventure was coming to a grand finale, and thanks to a bunch of persons with whom our 3 heroes would never meet again, everything ended well.
Dean could barely get on his feet, after all that alcohol consumption, but when he saw his Dad walking in the bar, slightly resembling as a mummy, the boy flashed a big and relieved grin, before missing the floor and being saved by Bruce The Shark. Meanwhile Sammy was deeply sleeping in the warm comfort of the tattooed arms of Lola, his new muse, to the blasting sound of a Motorhead's album. Nurse Rory was wringing out the tip of her cardigan, intimidated, near the door of a place she never had though to put her feet in alive, though she was very moved about the reunion of the Winchesters (additional information: one year later, Rory Mackenzie and her husband bought a Harley-Davidson).
Dean was taken to his dad by the towering biker, and when he found himself in his Daddy's arms, he cried freely.
"Hey, buddie, you said you were brave! Wanna lose your Angels' badge?!" The tough biker teased, trying to lift Dean's mood, patting on the boy's back while John snugged his son. And perhaps to conceal his own feelings over this fluffy scene and get some stress relief, The Shark yelled and danced around with his beer mug, urging his gang to party hard for that happing ending.
John hold his older boy tighter against his chest, muffling Dean's sobs, and trying to hold his own sobs back as well.
After 300 miles, they were together again.
That's it.
But I must confess something. I lied back there in the beginning. It didn't happen in the summer of '85. Any of it happened at all.
But it could have happened, right?
...
end
...
*AFFA: "Angels Forever; Forever Angels", Hell's Angel honorific lifelong membership
DISCLAIMER: No child was warmed during this story.
All dangerous scenes were made by stunts. Children didn't do real alcoholic beverage. It was Apple Juice. And about the Doritos… It was the real deal, but I didn't earn anything from Pepsico to mention the brand in this story. I don't own the Winchesters.
Now, are you leaving some reviews or I need to hit your heads with a baseball bat for it?