I guess my story starts with my mother's death. Her name was Betty, just a simple name, kind of like mine. My name is Sara, Sara Singer. My last name is kind of recent due to the news I learned right before my mother's death. You see, my dad is apparently Bobby Singer, the famous and well-known hunter. Although, I guess you wouldn't call him famous since hunters aren't famous, except in the demonic or holy world. Anyways, I just learned that he is my father after being alive for 21 years. It's all news to me considering my mother raised me by herself. It's not the old man's fault though. He didn't know I existed; blame my mother for that one.
After my mother's death, I decided to seek out my father. Unfortunately, the man is a lot harder to find then I thought. The guy lives in the same spot, day after day, and yet, I can't find him. Other hunters don't want to discuss him or give up his locale, which I don't blame them since it's kind of a hunter trait. I'm a hunter too, you see. It runs in the family DNA considering my mom was one too, although not as much so. She tried to stay away from hunting after she had me. I suppose that was a good idea since she considered me her little pistol. That was her nickname.
Back to the point since I blabber on sometimes, my father is Bobby Singer. Lately, I've been searching for him and my next stop is some bar called the Howling Coyote. The name isn't very original, but I guess it's a start for a bunch of South Dakota rednecks, no offense to anyone that lives there. It's just, the state is so bare and the only interesting thing is Mount Rushmore, some presidential faces carved into a mountain or whatever. What a waste of money in my opinion. Okay, okay. I'm blabbering again.
I narrowed my dad's location down to South Dakota based on what some hunter told me at another bar called the Quacking Goose. Oh I know, don't even get me started on the name of that one. The guys name was Travis, another older hunter that I didn't ask too many questions. You see, I have this picture I carry around with me that is supposedly my father from when he was younger. I go around to a few local bars, ones that hunters typically hang out in, and ask if anyone knows this man. This Travis guy gave me the most information so far. He told me that Bobby Singer was a nice man and he had done a few deals with him in the past. He also told me about the South Dakota part. Geez, I was bummed when I heard he lived in that state.
Now, being in the great state of South Dakota (yeah right), I am at the Howling Coyote, asking if anyone has seen him. I try to fit my part the best I can by wearing black leather pants, a red t-shirt, and a black leather jacket with black leather boots that are way too faded and worn. So yeah, it's a lot of leather, but it's my style and I like it. Frilly and pink just doesn't work with me.
So, I'm up at the bar, having a drink. It's whiskey I might add. I'd rather drink whiskey than beer. To me, beer is a pussy drink. Why get drunk off of that stuff? It takes too damn long and it's not even worth it. I prefer the hard stuff, especially if you're looking to get drunk because it does the trick a whole lot faster. Now that you know my drink philosophy, I can get back to the point.
I'm up at the bar and I pull my picture out of the old man. I show it to the bartender. "Have you seen or know this man?" I asked. I know it's not a very catchy question but hey, it does the trick.
The man looks at me like I'm some kind of retard, or possibly a creep. I'm not quite sure yet but like he's one to talk. "No. Can't say I have, miss." He replied.
Pfft. I don't believe him. He's probably looking for a 20 dollar bill before he gives up information. "Listen buddy, I've been looking for this man for a long time, and I'm willing to pay if that's what you want." I said, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he has some information for me.
"No. You listen, lady. I don't take kindly to bribes. I will throw your ass out of here if you don't stop bugging my patrons."
Oh no, he didn't! That man did not just call me lady. Technically, it's a proper term, but I hate it when people call me lady. He was already pushing the boundaries when he called me miss. "You know what? Screw you asshole. I'm just trying to find my damn father and you don't even have the decency to be nice to me. That's no way to even treat a lady." Oh that's great. I just used that word right back at him. If he wants to call me lady, he should try treating me like one.
The guy laughed and I have no idea why. I don't see what's so funny. "Do you even know the guys name?" He asked as if somehow the guys name made it even more hilarious.
"His name is Bobby Singer. I just found out he's my father since my mother just died." I explained to him, playing the dead mother card to make him feel bad. It so worked too.
The guys face turned sympathetic and he looked at me sincerely for once. "Bobby Singer owns the junkyard about a mile up the road." He confessed to me. "There is no guarantee he will be home though. He's pretty busy."
"I'll take my chances." I replied before throwing some money down on the counter. "Keep the change." The guy was rude to me but at least he told me what I wanted to know. I think that deserved a tip after all the hassle I've went through just trying to find one man.
I grabbed my duffle bag and threw it over my shoulder before leaving the place. Yes, I have a duffle bag because I'm cheap and don't care to own too many things. I was never big on having too many possessions because I felt they were weak. Everything I needed was in that duffle bag. When I needed more clothes, I bought them. When I needed more supplies, I bought them. What I carried in my bag was the most important things in my life, besides the leather jacket I wore, but we'll save that for later.
Since I never cared too much for hitchhiking, I walked the mile to this junkyard. It wasn't too hard to pinpoint, especially in a state like South Dakota. It's pretty deserted but when you see all those cars by a house, you spot it right on. Besides that, I was used to walking since I felt a hunter always needed to keep in shape. It's not that I never hitchhiked; I just preferred to walk or pay for a bus or something. I never liked the idea of some creepy guy picking you up and trying to feel you up.
After I walked the mile and found the junkyard, I ascended up the steps of the front porch. The house was kind of worn, the paint all chipped away on the siding. Wrecked cars and car parts were in the back yard and scattered here and there in the front yard too. I think the house looked nice at one point, but right now it looked exactly like an old guy lived in it that didn't have a lady around. I guess that answered the question of whether or not the old man got married.
Now that I was at the front door, I knocked on it and waited. I'm not sure what I expected to say or do, but I knew I had to meet this man. He was my father and I had to know if he wanted to be my father or not. Plus, he was a hunter and so I couldn't go wrong with that. Although, he might not like the fact that I'm one once he discovers who I am.
I sighed and waited for what seemed like forever, but then I heard footsteps and the door opened. A middle aged man answered the door with a graying beard and a ball cap on. I didn't pay much attention to his clothes since I stared at his face, seeing the resemblance in the chubby cheeks a bit, and possibly the eyes.
"Can I help you miss?" He asked me. Ugh. I hate being called miss, but at least he was polite.
I froze for a second, tucking a bit of my long brown hair behind my ear since it had been whipping around from the wind that came from Canada. "I'm…umm…you're daughter." I laid it on the man. I know it was kind of dumb, but it was better to just get the truth out there.
His mouth opened slightly and then closed several times before he actually spoke. "You care to explain that one?" He asked.
I pulled the picture out of my jacket pocket, which technically was a picture of my dad, but I had another picture too, one that was of me as a baby, my mom, and my dad holding me. I handed the picture of my dad to him. "My mother gave me that before she died. Her name was Betty." I explained, not giving her last name. I figured he would know who she was without last names. Then, I handed him the picture of all three of us.
A sigh escaped his lips as I watched him stare at the pictures. He looked back up at my face, almost as if he were trying to see if I resembled him. "Betty told me the kid was from some other man." He told me, as if he didn't believe I was his kid. I guess I didn't blame him. I did kind of spring it on him with only some crappy pictures for proof.
"You're a hunter so she probably didn't want to spring the responsibility on you. She knew you wouldn't be able to do your job anymore." I tried to explain to him. "We can do a DNA test if you want. I really have no problem with that."
My father nodded and handed the pictures back to me. I thought this was going to be his farewell but he surprised me. "Well, come in out of the cold." He demanded before stepping aside to let me in. "Have a seat on the couch if you want."
I entered the house and found the couch, sitting down on it and letting my duffle bag hit the floor. I glanced around the place, seeing all the books piled high and scattered about. I'm guessing they were for research since I heard that Bobby Singer was quite the hunter and loved his books. I on the other hand, hated reading sometimes. I hated the research part. I always wanted to get down and dirty to the real action. To me, doing research was like foreplay, and sometimes, foreplay gets dragged out way too long.
The old man took a seat in the chair across from the couch. He pondered for a moment before speaking again. "So what do you do?" He asked. Wow. What a boring question. He just met me and asks me what I do.
"I'm a hunter." I replied simply. It is best we got that problem out of the way anyways.
He looked concerned. "You should be doing something with your life instead of hunting. It's dangerous and not proper for a lady to be doing that." Ugh. He just called me lady and that is so sexist saying it's not proper.
"I tried to have a life. It didn't work," I mentioned. "I did the whole college thing and got kicked out. Apparently I have a temper, but I see it as being an overachiever."
He nodded as if he couldn't argue with that. "So you have a temper?" He questioned before chuckling slightly. "That's a Singer trait. I run an angry streak sometimes too, mainly when people are stupid fools."
"Yeah? Well, there seems to be a lot of stupid fools out there these days, gettin' killed or otherwise." I stated since a lot of people tried to hunt but weren't any good at it. I know I had my fair share of injuries, mainly cuts and scrapes, but people tend to get into things they aren't good at and lose their life by death or making a waste of it.
There was silence for a couple of minutes again. I suppose that's normal for a situation like this. "I've got to be honest. I'm not quite sure what you want me to do." He confessed to me.
Wow. Here I thought that was pretty obvious. "I see it as you having two options," I said. "You can either try to be my father and be a part of my life, or you can tell me to get the hell out and take the high road. The option is up to you." Of course I didn't want him to tell me to get out, but he had every right.
"A Singer never turns their back on family," he explained. "We can do a DNA test tomorrow to double check, but we have to do it in the morning since I'm expecting company. As far as where you're going to stay, you can sleep here. I have to have you sleep on the couch though since the guest room is kind of cluttered right now. I'll clean it out later."
I gave him a slight smile. "Thanks, and I can actually clean the room out myself. I won't mind." I really didn't. I liked things that kept me busy where I could free my mind or actually clear it at times.
"It's up to you, but we better get some sleep since we're going to get going to that hospital bright and early in the morning." He explained. He took off for a moment and I have no idea where he went, but he came back with a couple of pillows and a blanket. I thought that was pretty sweet of him.
"Thanks." I grinned.
He just nodded. "'Night. Don't let the bedbugs bite." He joked.
Oh my god. I haven't heard that one since I'm a kid. I hope he didn't mean it. The thought of bedbugs freaked me out. Oh well. I laid the pillows at the end of the couch and then took off my shoes. After that, I laid down and pulled the blanket over me, finally feeling better that my secret was out, that I had found my father. Of course, I had no idea what he thought of me since he didn't know me yet, but I'm hoping that he would in time. Being a hunter is to be alone, or to have no family, and I didn't want that anymore. I thought about some of the things my father and I might do together, but then I drifted off into a dream world.