My body bounces, hard against the door as dad barrels down the highway,
"Sht." As I curse I forget to say the vowel and dad looks over at me,
"Good morning." I look around, we're driving on a desolate road in the middle of a desert somewhere in the south, "Do you want breakfast? There's a diner up ahead." I remember diner food,
"Sure." I sit up and stretch, yawning audibly as dad continues to drive, "Are Alan and I awake yet?" I look into the back seat and see Alan is fast asleep and I'm sitting there, twiddling my thumbs and staring out the window.
Dad pulls into the driveway of the small, rickety diner and turns the engine off,
"Hey, Genny," He turns back toward Alan and I and nudges my leg, "Can you wake Alan up?" I look back at my younger self and she nods, turning to Alan and shaking him softly,
"Alan, Alan it's time to wake up, we're getting breakfast." My younger voice is much higher than I remember it being and a lot squeakier too. Alan groans to life and curls up toward his window,
"Just five more minutes." I laugh at him and younger me shakes his shoulder again,
"Alan, come on! We're going to be with uncle Benny!" Alan loved uncle Benny I'm pretty sure he still does, you know considering he hasn't gone psycho vampire hunter on our asses. In my travels I've learned to never trust a vampire hunter. They are insane and driven for one goal: Killing vampires. And if the vampire killed their families they won't just stop at that vampire, they will kill every vampire they come across without any remorse. They are vicious and if you get in their way they will cut you down to size before handling their vamp,
"Fine." Alan utters the one word through a half closed mouth and stretches, like I had before getting out of the car. By now everyone is waiting for him on the outside and when he joins us we all shuffle toward the diner's door.
It's so hot out here I can see the heat radiating off of the diner's roof. Normally dad would be wearing his trademark leather coat and who knows how many layers under that but today he was stripped down to a t-shirt and jeans. Although he is still wearing his regular working boots and his ever present necklace and rings. I take a moment to remove my heavy coat and my long sleeved shirt before we step inside and tie the shirt around my waist.
Don't worry, underneath I'm wearing a tank top. What, you think just because I took my shirt off that I didn't have anything underneath? Jeez. I'm smarter than that you know! Anyway when we get inside dad directs us toward one of the booths and we all slide in, dad and I sitting across from each other and younger Alan and I doing the same.
While we wait I glance up at the TV, there's not much going on out here, wherever we are. On the news they're talking about a kitten stuck in a tree and the firemen that had to rescue her from the top branch. Really slow news day.
A woman comes to the table to take our order. She's a smaller woman, with her almost black hair up in a bun on top of her head and her cat eye glasses perching gently on the bridge of her nose. She's smacking her gum loudly as she looks down at her notepad that she is holding in her well manicured hand,
"Hey, dahlin' what c'n I getcha?" For being so far in the midwest she had an awful thick Jersey accent. There's no way she'd be talking like that to me. Dad always gets the women hanging from his arms, or lips,
"Hi, we'll have two burgers and what do you two want?" He nods toward Alan and younger me,
"Can I get pancakes?" My voice pipes up and dad nods, smiling sweetly. The woman taking our orders smiles as she writes it down,
"I'll 'ave him make 'em special for ya." She smacks her gum and pinches younger me's cheeks,
"I'll have some waffles." Alan doesn't sound too enthused about anything as he places his order. She smiles at him and then scribbles in her notepad before looking up at us again,
"D'ya guys want some drinks?" She glances around at us and continues to smack her gum annoyingly. Dad orders our drinks for us, considering we rarely ever stray to any other flavor and we all like the same thing. Diet Coke or Coke Zero on ice.
It would be different for dad but ever since mom died he'd stopped drinking alcohol. Before then he was a pretty heavy drinker, seeming to drown his sorrows and pain in the amber sting of whiskey. He wasn't a scary drunk. Not at all, he was just a sentimental and self-pitying drunk. It was sad. Sometimes dad would get wasted and mom would drag him to the bedroom and he'd just lay there and cry, thinking about all of his old friends who have died more times than he can count. Sometimes I would go into his room when stuff like this happened and I'd just sit with him, hoping to make him feel better. Somedays it would work. Others he'd stay in bed, even when I crawled in next to him and gave him big hugs. Mom always told me that hugs and kisses make everything better. She said it like something was always wrong too.
Sometimes dad would come home from a hunt and mom would be pissed. They'd start yelling at each other. Sometimes it escalated to violence my dad would end up having mom pinned to something like the cupboard or the door. But she wouldn't be scared, she'd be glaring right back at him. Sometimes she'd mutter something to him and dad would soften. But most times instead she'd just push her head toward his and kiss his lips. I guess that was her way of telling him to shut up for a second. His hands would relax and he'd let go of her, slipping his arms around her waist and just hugging her, sometimes he'd cry. Other times he'd just stand there apologizing to her.
As I'm caught up in my thoughts I notice dad is snapping his fingers in front of my face,
"Gen? Gen you there?" He waves his hand inches from my face. I nod silently and come back down to Earth in some midwest diner,
"Yeah, yeah sorry. I was just thinking." I stare down at the table and look around at the diner.
On the walls old records and things like that are hanging by thumb tacks and other items from the past are scattered about the room. There is a glass cake holder sitting on the diner counter and inside is half a pie waiting to be eaten by someone.
I know he isn't verbally asking, but something about dad is curious as to what I had been thinking previously,
"I was thinking about you and-" I pause and look at young Alan and I, "You and Camille." That was our mother's name, "About what she would do to get you two to stop fighting." I look up at him and his face has softened, "Did it work?" He looks down at his hands and shrugs,
"It did most days. It depends what you mean by it working." He studies the wedding ring that is still sitting proudly on his finger,
"Like did it really calm you down?" He looks me dead in the eye and nods,
"Yeah. Yeah, it really worked." His voice is getting soft, he's remembering her now, everything she ever said to him, everything she ever did with him, he's remembering everything,
"I have one more thing to ask."
"Shoot cowgirl." An old nickname he would call me,
"Why would you apologize?" His head snaps up so he's staring at me, "I remember you would apologize so profusely. Why?" Dad rubs his head as I ask him this and messes up his hair with his fingers,
"I would apologize.." He trails his voice off and sighs before seeming to compose himself, "I would apologize because when I asked her to marry me, I told her I wouldn't shout and I wouldn't hurt her. We would always fight when we were dating, she asked me not to when we got engaged." He shakes his head, "I can't tell you how many times I broke that promise before you came around. A few times she'd make me sleep on the couch. Sometimes we'd just sit and have some coffee or scotch. Every other time though-" He glances at younger me and does the motion we would use to tell us to cover our ears. I did as he said and giggled childishly, "We'd have make-up sex." EW!
"Eugh dad! Did NOT need to know that!" Alan shudders in his seat, "That's disgusting!"
"Hey watch it mister, that's how we made you." And with that Alan looks utterly mortified. Younger me is looking around at all of us, a big grin plastered on her face, "And you too." He points at me and that just made me feel worse about everything.
I make a mock barfing noise and Alan looks at me, confusion overrunning his face,
"Wait, what?! She's my-"
"I'm her." I point at younger me and Alan gives me this look of utter terror,
"Oh GOD!" He doesn't quite yell it but he says it louder than the rest of us are talking and runs to the bathroom.
Dad and both of me are still sitting in the booth, laughing at my older brother as he disappears through the restroom door. The waitress comes back to the table with a tray of drinks,
"Alroight goiys, heah's ya drinks." It's almost like she's speaking a completely other language.
"Thanks." Dad and I both speak at the same time as she sets down the glasses and a slip of paper under dad's. He picks it up and reads it, rolling his eyes, "Geez. It's like girls specifically dig unavailable guys." He holds up the paper with the writing toward me. The writing is her name and when she gets off work along with her phone number and some lipstick kissed onto the paper,
"Wow." I chuckle and take a sip of my drink, "You're still counting yourself as unavailable." I shake my head and dad nods, "I don't think that's healthy dad." This is a line he'd always use on Sam, "You know, things build up, you gotta let them go." Dad laughs at me and shakes his head,
"Why are you preaching to me, Miss Independent." He wags his finger at me as he references a song that's more modern than his music taste would suggest, "You have really got to get a boyfriend or something."
"I have a boyfriend!" I get defensive. Well, I don't know if Jeremy counts as having a boyfriend, "Well, kind of. I mean we're kind of a casual thing. Like he comes over to help me study theology and sometimes we end up in a little less clothing than when he arrived." I shrug and dad raises his hand for a high five,
"That's my girl!" He's smiling from ear to ear as I slap my hand against his, "What's his name?"
"Jeremy." I smile sheepishly and scuffle my feet on the floor, "He's the student who I'm racing neck and neck with to get the highest grade." He reaches across the table and ruffles up my hair,
"So smart and so pretty. You're just like your mom." I smile down at the table and the waitress named Tish come back with dad and my burgers,
"Wheah'd the little goiy goh?" She smacks her gum obnoxiously and dad shook his head,
"Bathroom. You know how family roadtrips are." She nods and turns around toward the counter,
"Alroight, well you let him know his foods gonna be out soon." Dad nods and looks at his plate with a dopey grin on his face.
It's another five minutes and half a burger later when Alan comes out of the bathroom. For a while I thought he would start living in there. When he comes back he sits in the booth stiffly and lays his hands on the table, waiting for his food to appear in front of him. Tish, the waitress comes over and sets his plate and younger me's plate down in front of the. We start digging into the food with no remorse and I don't stop until it's all gone. Alan takes a little more time with his, he picks at it, obviously thinking about something and every so often he'll take a bite of the gold brown waffles. After we are all one eating and dad is paying the check I take the kids and start for the car. Younger me skips ahead across the barren red desert sand toward the shimmering black Impala while Alan walks lazily behind the current me.
It doesn't take us long for everyone to get in the car and on the road and even after that it takes a short three or four hours before we get to the small town in the bayou that housed our favorite vampirate.
Benny didn't have a lot of a home; a shack by the ocean with a boat only fifty yards from the front door. Benny never could stand being on land for more than a few weeks at a time.
When dad pulls up to the side of the shack and turns the engine off there is a shout from the inside of the wooden boarded structure,
"Dean!" The screen door opens and out comes the southern native, slurping a packet of A- blood from a bag with a straw, "My boy, how are ya?"
"Hey, Benny!" When they reach each other dad grabs his hand and they do that kind of bro hug you see from a pair of friends that go back a few decades, "I'm doing good, how you holding up?"
"Oh, y'know. Scrapin' baih with the blood bags." He lifts the bag in his hand and takes a sip from it before looking past dad toward younger Alan and I, "He-hey!" Younger me runs up to him as he kneels down and opens his arms wide, "How's maih little huntuh doin'?" As she gets to hugging Benny he lifts her up and kisses her cheek sweetly,
"Hi uncle Benny!" Younger me is wearing a sheepish and shy grin on her face. After a few seconds Alan comes over and gives Benny a firm handshake,
"Hey, Benny." He has a soft grin on his face as Benny ruffles his hair,
"And how's the little punk doin'?"
"I'm doing alright." Benny puts younger me down and she dashes inside,
"Hey, Benny I was wondering if you could watch the kids for a little while." Dad catches Benny's attention as Alan follows younger me into the shack, "I've got some stuff to take care of." He jabs his thumb towards me and Benny follows the movement,
"Alright." His eyes travel warily up and down my body as though he questioning me internally, "Camille?" My eyes drop and I smile solemnly, shaking my head,
"No." I speak the one word and glance back at him. Now he's really befuddled. His eyebrows furrow and he squints his eyes as he studies me more carefully. He shifts on his feet as dad and I exchange a knowing glance,
"Did Cam have a secret twin that I didn't know about?" Dad and I both laugh and he puts his arm over my shoulders, squeezing me close to him,
"No, Benny this is Genevieve." Benny looks from dad to me then back again,
"The one you named li'l Genny after?" Dad and I both shake our heads at him,
"I am li'l Genny." The poor guy was confusing himself now, "I came back from the year twenty-thirty-seven. Not willingly though."
"Cas brought you back." He mumbled quietly to himself and glanced between us, "Dean, what're you droppin' the kids off for?" Dad puts his hands in his back pockets and looks at the ground, nibbling on his upper lip tentatively,
"There's been an accident with Cas. He's lost it again and zapped off with Sammy and Alan." Benny nods and chuckles,
"I told you that angel boy was trouble."
"Yeah, yeah, save it." Dad tries to keep Benny from making the argument he always used to, "I just need to know if you can watch the kids." Benny takes a moment, glancing around at the ground, seeming to study the leaves and the interspersed grass as he thinks for a second,
"Sure. I'll watch 'em. How long do you think this is gonna take?" Dad shakes his head, trying to come up with a rough estimate,
"A week or two. You can handle them for that long can't you?" Benny nods as he looks back at the shack,
"I always wanted to have kids of my own. I guess I can borrow your's for a while." He smirks happily and dad shakes his hand,
"Thanks Benny. I'll pay you back for this some time."
"Don't mention it buddy!" And with a wave or two from all of us that was the end. Dad and I are back in the car, driving back to the bunker so we could investigate what happened there last night.