AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello Dear Readers! If this is your first time reading one of my fanfics, please check out my page for more stories with Alyson Winchester. The main story is called 'The Adventures of Alyson Winchester', and there is now a sequel called 'Winchester Interrupted: The Further Adventures of Alyson Winchester'. There are also several short stories about Aly at different ages.
You know that excitement you get when you see that there's a new chapter published of your favorite fic? Writers feel that same happiness and excitement when they see that they've got reviews from readers. So please, think about leaving reviews and comments for your favorite fanfic writers, and appreciate what they do for you. They are taking time out of their busy lives to write and publish a fic for you to read, for free, out of their own love of the characters or the show/movie/book or just a love of writing. Give them some love back- it will encourage them. They deserve it, and they need it, and they will appreciate it.
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John Winchester, hunter, stepped into the coffee shop holding the hand of a little blonde girl, a small pink backpack dangling from his other hand. He spotted the men sitting at a small table in the corner and nodded as he walked over to them.
"Hey, John," Bobby Singer stood up and the men shook hands.
"Hey Bobby," John said.
He looked at the other man, who was still seated, coolly appraising him. "Winchester." the man said.
"Hanson." John said.
The man turned his eyes on the little girl and she stepped close to John, wrapping her arm around his leg.
Bobby leaned forward, looking at Alyson. "Hey, Shorty, come say hi," he said kindly.
She detached herself from John and walked over to Bobby. He reached out and tweaked her nose, smiling at her. "Hi Unca Bobby," she said solemnly, glancing at the other man nervously.
"You brought a kid, Winchester? What gives?" The hunter called Hanson asked.
"She's my daughter," John said stiffly, "She's too young to be in preschool." He didn't know why he was feeling defensive or why he felt like he needed to explain himself to this man.
John looked over at Alyson, who was showing Bobby her coloring book. "Alyson, come over here," he pointed, "Let's set you up right here."
The table the men were sitting at was next to a small sitting area that had a couple of large armchairs and a padded bench. John walked over to the bench and set down the small pink backpack he was carrying. He unzipped it and took out a pink sippy cup and a small plastic container shaped like a fish.
Aly walked over and climbed up onto the bench as he set them down. "Here's your drink and snack," he told her.
"I has it now?" she asked.
He took a plastic box of crayons out of the backpack and set it on the other side of her.
"Not yet," he told her, "Why don't you color for a while. I'm going to be right over here."
" 'Kay Dada," she replied, opening the box of crayons. He reached down and ruffled her hair, then walked over to the table where the other men were sitting.
"Was all that necessary?" Hanson asked bitterly, "Jesus."
"Yeah, it was," John said sharply, "It's better to get her all set up now, then to have her interrupting every 5 minutes, later."
"You don't have much experience with kids, do ya, Hanson?" Bobby asked. "John knows what he's doin', and it's not like you got anywhere to be. So put out the fire that's lit under your ass."
Hanson scowled and made a frustrated sound. "Can we get this show on the road now?" he asked pointedly.
John sat down, and Hanson opened up the folder on the table in front of him.
For the next thirty minutes, the three men discussed the case that Hanson was working on, offering their opinions and advice.
John glanced at Alyson occasionally, checking on her. She was absorbed in her coloring book; she loved to color and could spend a long time concentrating, longer than he would have expected of a kid her age. Certainly the boys had not had the patience to sit for any length of time with a box of crayons and paper when they were her age, both of them had been in constant motion. Once again he was reminded of how different she was from them.
Alyson looked up and saw him watching her. She grinned shyly at him, and then held up the fish-shaped container. He nodded at her, and she opened it and took out a couple of goldfish crackers.
John turned his attention back to Hanson and focused on what he was saying.
A few moments later, there was a clattering sound. The men turned to the bench where the little girl sat, staring horrified as the goldfish crackers poured out of the container onto the floor.
She looked up at John with an agonized face.
"Dada, I spill!" she said, and then she burst into tears. The people standing at the counter across the shop turned at the sound of her crying.
John got up quickly and walked over to her, squatting down in front of her and scooping the goldfish into a pile.
"My gol' fiss!" she wailed.
He put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "It's all right, Alyson," he said mildly, "It was an accident." He had learned that it was best to stay calm when something like this happened with her, because if you joined in the upset or showed her that you were upset it just made her worse, and harder to calm down in the long run.
There were a couple of napkins on a small table next to the bench and he took one and opened it, then piled the goldfish on it and crumpled it closed.
He looked up at her, watching him clean up. "Let's get you something else to eat," he said.
"Dey gots gol' fiss?" she asked, sniffling.
"I don't think so. Let's go see what they have," He picked up the napkin and stood, and she held her arms up to him in the universal toddler sign that meant "pick me up".
John leaned down and picked her up, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
"Be right back," he said to the two men.
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" said Hanson bitterly.
John ignored him. "Can I get either of you a refill?"
"Sure, John," Bobby nodded, "Hanson?"
"No." Hanson snapped.
John walked up to the counter of the coffee shop, tossing the napkin in the trashcan, and pointed to the food in a glass display case on the counter. "They have a bagel, or a blueberry muffin, or banana bread, or an egg sandwich."
"Cookie?" she asked, looking at him hopefully. There was a stack of large, thick chocolate chip cookies at the end of the display.
"Yes, you can have a cookie," he said. When the hell had he turned into such a softy? He would never have let the boys get a cookie in the middle of the day when they were her age.
He ordered and paid for two large coffees, a cookie, and at the last moment, a small plastic bowl with apple slices in it.
Alyson put her arms around his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder as they waited for the coffee.
"You getting tired?" he asked her.
"Uh-uh, I not seepy," she insisted, and he smiled to himself. This kid hated naps and going to bed at night, she would fight falling asleep and would resolutely insist that she wasn't tired even though her eyelids were drooping and she was yawning.
The clerk put two coffees on the counter and John told her, "I need to put you down now. You carry your food." He set her on the floor and handed her the cookie and the bowl, and then picked up the coffees.
He let Alyson walk in front of him and set the coffees on the table, then walked over to her at the bench. He unwrapped and handed her the cookie, then removed the lid on the bowl and set it next to her. She picked up a crayon and took a bite of the cookie.
She looked up at him. "Fank you Dada." she said, then she held the cookie out to him. He leaned down and took a small bite; it was something she always did, sharing her food with others. "Thank you, pumpkin," he said quietly, and smiled at her. He walked back over to the table where Hanson sat, glowering.
Bobby took the lid off of his coffee. "Thanks, John."
They continued talking for a while, and then John heard Alyson cough.
He glanced over at her as she coughed again and brought her hand up to her chest. She inhaled quickly and then got a shocked look on her face. She opened her mouth but no sound came out, then she put her hand up to her neck. Her face filled with worry and she stared up at him.
"Alyson?" he asked, "What's wrong?"
She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, but still, no sound came out. Her eyes got big.
He got up suddenly, his chair clattering back into the chair behind him, and strode over to her.
"Alyson, what's wrong?" he asked again, in a louder voice. He squatted down in front of her and noticed that her lips had a slightly bluish tinge.
He could not hear any breath sounds coming out of her mouth. She looked absolutely panicked at this point.
"John?" he heard Bobby say, "Is the kid chokin' on something? She ain't breathing."
John grabbed her chin and wrenched her mouth open wide, then stuck his fingers into her mouth and swept them from one side to the other. He felt something in the back of her mouth and grabbed it, pulling it out. It was a large piece of half-chewed apple slice, slimy with saliva.
Alyson gagged, inhaled deeply, making a loud whooping sound, and then burst into tears.
John knew exactly what had happened. "How many times have I told you to take small bites?" he scolded gruffly, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say.
She started crying harder, lowering her head.
He grabbed her and crushed her to him in a hug, standing up. "Jesus, Alyson, you scared me!" he said. His heart was pounding and he had broken out in a sweat.
"Dadaaa!" she wailed. He could feel her whole body trembling.
One of the shop workers had come over. "Excuse me, is the little girl okay?" he asked worriedly.
"Yeah, she's okay. Tried to swallow a piece of apple that was too big for her mouth." John told him.
"Do you need anything?" the young man asked.
"No, we're fine, thank you," John said, rocking back and forth with the little girl. Somehow when you held a baby or toddler, you always ended up doing the stand-and-rock-side-to-side thing with them at some point. The gentle motion served to calm him as well. He murmured softly to her to comfort her and quiet her sobs.
He walked over to the table and sat down, placing her in his lap. She had her arms wrapped around him and was still crying a little bit.
"You okay, kid?" Bobby asked with concern. She glanced at him and turned her face to John's chest.
"She'll be fine," John said, "We're both just shaken up."
Hanson glared at him and then at Bobby. "Jesus Christ!" he snapped, "This is the last time I ask for your fuckin' help! This is Goddamn ridiculous! Why couldn't you have left the kid at home!"
"Calm down, Hanson. If you don't want our help, fine. If ya do, then shut up and deal with it." Bobby told him.
At the harsh sound of Hanson's voice, Aly shrank into John's chest and whimpered. John put his hand up and stroked her hair. He kept at it, falling into a slow rhythm, until he noticed that her thumb had crept into her mouth and she was leaning heavily on his chest. Her breathing slowed and he shifted her in his arms.
"She's out," Bobby said to him quietly. John nodded at Bobby and tried to focus on the other hunter.
Hanson and Bobby strategized for several minutes, and then started discussing when to meet for the hunt.
"I've got to check with my boys," John told them, "My son might have a soccer game this weekend."
Hanson rolled his eyes. "Right, and soccer is more important than saving people's lives," he said sarcastically, "What the hell kind of hunter are you, Winchester?"
"One who's trying to do right by his family," John snapped, "I don't think you need my help."
He stood up abruptly, and the sound of his chair scraping back woke Alyson up. She sat up with a start in his arms, rubbing her eyes with small fists as he walked over to the bench. He set her down and picked up her backpack, sweeping everything into it and zipping it closed.
He shouldered it and picked her up again. "Bobby, I'll be in touch." he nodded. He turned and walked out of the coffee shop. As he was buckling Alyson into her car seat, Bobby came out to the car.
"He don't mean to be that harsh." Bobby said. "He lost his wife and parents to a Wendigo, and it's still fresh. Seein' other people's families has gotta be tough."
"It's been at least a year for him." John said. He straightened up and turned to Bobby, putting his hand on the roof of the Impala. "Yeah, I know how it is with grief- we both know. But Hanson's always been an asshole, since before his family passed."
"Well, if ya change your mind, he could use some help."
"I'll think about it." John told him. They shook hands and John closed the door and walked around to his door and got in.
It had been tough for him after Mary died, but he didn't remember ever being that bitter. He knew that some people considered him to be gruff and hard to work with, but he personally didn't think that he was anywhere near as harsh as Hanson. He was a hunter, and he was obsessed with finding whatever had killed his wife, but he had realized that he needed to be here for his kids at this time in their lives, especially his daughter.
He started the car and turned around to face the back seat. "You ready to go home and see your brothers?" he asked Alyson.
"Dada," she said solemnly, "What a assho' ?" She frowned in confusion.
He inwardly cursed himself. He was always forgetting that Alyson was at the stage where she repeated everything she heard. She had gotten Dean in trouble more than once, because she repeated every curse word out of that boy's mouth as well.
"Don't worry about it," he told her, "It's not a word for little girls to say, and I don't want to hear you say it again."
"O-okay, Dada." she said doubtfully. She had probably heard Dean say it too at some point.
"How about some Beatles?" he asked her, to distract her from talking about words any more.
Her face lit up. "Yeah! Sar-dent Peppas!" she said. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was her current favorite. He slid the tape into the tape deck and put the car in gear.