Skylar was sitting next to the door, her head leaning out of the window while she stared at the passing farms and cities. Her iPod was playing loudly in her ears (Hunter and I just couldn't take hearing Ice Cream Paint Job one more time). Her hair kept blowing in her face and she struggled to keep it back until she finally put it up in a ponytail. I grinned and Hunter looked over at me.

"So, I'm guessing you don't remember hitting that, huh?" he asked, taking a drink from his Coke.

"We haven't had sex yet," I lied. Skye and I hooked up pretty much every night. What can I say? I can't get enough of her.

"Maybe not lately," he snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah buddy, rollin' like a big shot!" Skye yelled into the wind. She had the damn song on repeat and it started over. Again.

"Those drugs fucked you more than you know," Hunter said. "Cause ALL of Kliq fucked Little Skylar," he said.

"What? Little Skylar? And who fucked who?"

"Shawn, Shawn, Shawn." He took another sip of his drink. "I fucked her, you fucked her, Eric, Kevin, Scott, and Waltman fucked her. We passed her around like a good issue of Playboy."

I almost stopped the car in the middle of the highway. "No I didn't!" I yelled. "And I know damn well you all didn't!"

"Sure we did," Hunter shrugged. "And you're the one that told us you fucked her. She was only sixteen at the time, too. We almost got in so much trouble, but Skye's the cool twin, after all. She kept things quiet."

"I... I didn't... I couldn't have..." I muttered to myself. "I'd never hurt Skye."

"Well, apparently you didn't. She's the one who offered. At least to you. She didn't fuck me, Pac, Scott or Kevin until we got her drunk. I think someone might have slipped her a roofie, too."

"Hunter," I said through clenched teeth, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. "Shut the hell up. Please. Or I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Why would you kick my ass?" he asked astonished. "I didn't do anything."

"You just told me you drugged and fucked my girlfriend."

"So? I've drugged and fucked a lot of your girlfriends," he said, still not understanding my anger. "You let me fuck your wife once, or do you not remember that either?"

"No, but this is different. Rebecca could make her own decisions," I said, wording my thoughts carefully. Really, I wanted to tell him that she'd been on my ass for the longest about 'fulfilling her needs' and 'being more attentive'. Apparently Hunter was all of those things, so she went and slept with him, telling him I was cool with it. I had no choice but to go with it. "Skylar can't."

"Skylar is twenty years old Shawn," he said shaking his head. He talked softly. I knew he could feel my pain. "She can make her own decisions."

"No, Skylar is fucking retarded," I said. "She can't. She needs my help."

"You want to take care of her," he said. I nodded. "Then I'm sorry I said anything." I just nodded again.

The rest of the ride was silent, aside from the soft country music playing in the background and Skylar's thrown in rap lyrics.

"I didn't even know she liked rap," I said, cringing as the song restarted for the twelfth time. Hunter laughed.

"You'll never know everything," he said.

We finally pulled into San Antonio. Skylar had fallen asleep, so luckily we didn't have to hear her loud squeal as we drove into the driveway. Hunter and I got out. He went to unload the truck while I left to give Steve a heads up.

"Hey Shawn," Steve said as I walked into the house. He and his wife Debra had gotten divorced years before me, so everyone thought it'd be a good idea for me to have some one-on-one counseling, hence his moving in permanently. That couldn't be further from what happens. Steve sits at the house chugging back Bud Light and watching football. I don't think I'd want it any other way.

"Hey. I know you've heard, but I need to tell you something about her," I said quietly, before Steve could say anything else. "She's sensitive, okay? Don't say anything too personal,"

Steve sighed. "Look, I know about Skye's little quirks and whatnot, okay? I did a story line with her parents back in the day. Me and Joelle are still pretty close and all, and the only thing she talks about is her kids."

"Oh. Okay then," I said, scratching the back of my head. "Well, I just want you to know, Skye's carrying around a spatula now. I'm not sure why, but she never lets it out of her sight." Steve stared at me for a minute, opened his mouth to say something, then grinned and shook his head. "Steve, I couldn't make this up if I tried."

We walked outside, passing Hunter, and to the truck where Skylar was sleeping. I climbed in and shook her shoulder slightly. "Sweetie, we're here." She opened her eyes and looked up at me. She stared for a second before sitting up.

"Where are we?" she asked. Steve shook his head.

"My place," I said climbing out of the truck. She followed, stretched, and looked around. That's when Steve caught her eye.

"Ah!" she yelled, wrapping her arms around him. "Stevie! I missed you so much! I haven't seen you in a bazillion years, and you never told me you lived with Shawn Michaels, and I have so much to tell you, and I gotta- hey wait." She jumped down and turned to me anxiously. "Where's Xander?"

"Under the seat," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. She crawled back into the truck and came back with a shiny new spatula, the one she had forced me to buy two days earlier. She turned back to Steve, a Cheshire grin on her face.

"This is Xander," she said, looking at the spatula lovingly. "He's my spatula."

"I see," Steve said, taking a gulp of his beer. "Why in the hell do you have a spatula?"

"The question is," she said, dragging her hands along the blade. "Why don't you have one?"

"That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard," he said plainly. Luckily for me, he'd already learned how to deal with her.

"Whatever! Apocalypse Man said that stuff like this will help us in the future!" Steve gave me a look and I quickly explained.

"Apocalypse Week on the History Channel."

"Yeah," she said. "Now come on! We're missing Life After People."

That night...

RAW was extremely boring. My mind had been reeling the entire time, knowing I had more important matters to attend to. I dropped Skye and Hunter off at the house (Smackdown was in Corpus Christi on Friday, so Mark wasn't here yet) and drove off to see my kids.

I pulled up to Rebecca's house, a huge six bedroom seven bathroom mansion she had bought with her alimony and child support. I parked on the curb and walked up to the door, sliding my hands through my hair before rapping on the door. When I got no answer, I rang the doorbell, pressing the button over and over until Rebecca yanked the door open, glaring at me.

"It's about time. Were you really too busy to come see your kids?" she asked, flipping her blonde hair out of her face as she turned. I followed her into the house as she called the kids down.

"Cameron! Cheyenne! Come down and see your father!" She turned back to me. "I almost had Cheyenne down, but no. You finally decide to show up at eleven o'clock. You do know they have school in the morning, don't you?"

I nodded silently and stood at the door, waiting for them. Cheyenne came first, dragging a pink stuffed dog on a leash behind her.

"Hey daddy," she said, her thumb planted firmly in her mouth.

"Hey sweetheart," I said, wrapping my arms around her. I picked her up and she wrapped her free arm around me in a half hug. "How have you been?"

"Good," she said, slobber spilling around her mouth.

"Why is she still sucking her thumb?" I asked, looking over at Rebecca.

"The same reason she's been having nightmares for the last three months. Her dad is never around."

There was no way I was going to argue with her in front of the kids, Cheyenne especially. She didn't need memories of her parents fighting each other. Not while she's this young. "Have you been having nightmares?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "There's a boogeyman in my closet."

"At least it's not a garden gnome," I said, more to myself than anyone. I saw Rebecca give me a strange look out of the corner of my eye. "Where's your brother?"

"Upstairs," she said. I looked at Rebecca. She rolled her eyes and nodded, and I carried Cheyenne and her stuffed dog upstairs to find her brother. He was sitting in his room, a game controller attached to his hands as he blasted robots or demons or whatever kids battled on the game systems these days. I knocked on the door to get his attention.

"Hey Cam," I said. When he saw who it was he rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

I frowned. "I came to see my son. Do you think you could put the game down and at least say hey?"

"No," he said. "You know damn well I don't like you."

"Don't talk to me like that Cameron," I said sternly. "You're only twelve years old."

"I know," he said. "And you left when I was eight. I'm not as stupid as her, okay?" he said, pointing at his younger sister. "I know you don't care about me, her or mom!"

"Cameron, why would you say that? I work my ass off to get you everything you want. I come see you every chance I get!"

"No you don't!" he said. "Just leave me alone! I don't want you to be my dad!"

"Stop being mean Camwon!" Cheyenne said around her thumb. She was resting her head on my shoulder, frowning at her older brother. Her blonde hair fell in her face and I smiled as I thought about how my little girl had never quite learned how to pronounce her r's right. She yawned and I smiled, turning back to Cameron.

"So that's it? Because you know at twelve you can choose whether or not you want certain people in your life."

"Yeah. I waited three years for that, and I know I sure as hell don't want you," he said, his light face turning red in anger. He'd thrown the game controller down and had his hands clenched into tight fists as he stared me down. I shook my head and closed the door before heading down to Cheyenne's room. Inside it was all purple and pink, covered in posters of Disney Channel stars and stuff. I laid her down on her queen sized Hannah Montana bed and pulled the covers around her.

"Night honey," I said, kissing her forehead. He grabbed my arm and looked at the closet, her whole body trembling. She flashed her eyes toward me and I saw a hint of me, Rebecca, and... Skylar?

"What is it honey?" I asked, kneeling down to get on her level. Her lips shook as she explained the boogeyman hiding out in her closet, waiting for her to go to sleep so he could get her. I frowned.

"Don't worry baby. Daddy won't let that boogeyman get you!" I walked over to the closet and opened it just far enough for me to slip inside. "Hmm, what's this?" I asked loudly, rattling stuff around to make noise. "Huh, no boogeyman here. He must have gotten scared an- OH NO! HE GOT ME!" I yelled. "CHEYENNE HELP!" I heard her scream and hop off her bed. The closet door flew open and she tackled me, both of us falling into a heap on the floor.

"I got you daddy!" she said, eyes snapped shut. She yanked the stuffed snake off me and held it for a minute, her eyes popping open. "Daddy! This is just a snake!"

"Is it?" I asked, sitting up. "Are... are you sure it's not a boogeyman?"

"Yes, I'm positive," she said, grinning at me.

"Then, I guess there's no boogeyman in here."

"Are you positive?" she asked, holding her hands out for me to pick her up.

"Yes, I'm positive," I said, putting her back in the bed. "Will it make you feel better if I left the light on for you?"

"It'd make me feel betta... betto.... good if you stayed with me," she said, struggling to pronounce her words. I stroked her hair as I stared down at her.

"I wish I could stay, but I have to go home baby."

"Why can't I come with you?"

"Because you have school tomorrow," I said. She frowned and her eyes welled up with tears. "But don't worry, as soon as summer comes I'm gonna take you with me, okay?"

"Pwomise?"

"Promise," I said. I kissed her again. "Now go to bed. You got school in the morning, you little monkey."

"Bye daddy. I love you," she said, her eyes closing.

"Bye Cheyenne."

I went back down stairs to find Rebecca and tell her of the plans I'd just made with a six year old. "Becky?" I called, turning into the kitchen.

"Don't call me that. You know how much I hate it."

"Sorry," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "So, yeah, um... I'm gonna take Cheyenne with me this summer, okay?"

"The hell you are," she said, turning back to the dirty dishes in the sink. She started rinsing them. "You aren't taking my daughter anywhere."

"Rebecca, she's the only kid I've got, seeing how you've turned Cameron against me."

"I didn't turn anyone against you!" she yelled. "You decided to go back to wrestling, sleeping around with all those sluts in the WWE, and was never there for him!"

"I went back to the WWE so I could take care you y'all! And I've told you time after time, Candice is a LESBIAN! She has sex with Andy Johnson every night!"

"How do you know?" she asked. "Do you sit in there and watch? Or do you and Hunter film it, just wishing one of you could jump in and join them?"

I stared at her. "No! Where are you getting this from? I'm not even attracted to Candice anymore!"

"I know, because you just screw them and leave them! And that doesn't change how unavali-"

I cut her off when my phone started ringing. Some song called Panic Switch or whatever started playing and I knew it could only be one person. "Hey," I said.

"Shawn! Where are you?" Skylar practically yelled into my ear. "You're missing Gangland!"

"I know, I'm taking care of business right now."

"Babe, we're off now. You shouldn't be doing business. It stresses you out," she scolded. "You should be here learning about how... oh wow! Did you know the Aryan Brotherhood is responsible for 18% of all prison related murders?"

"Nope. I didn't know that."

"Well they are. And they caught like two hundred pedophile on To Catch a Predator! You're missing all the good stuff. Do you think we could get Hunter on there?"

"On Gangland?" I asked.

"No! To Catch a Predator! Because he's a pedophile and all."

"No, we are not turning Hunter in to Chris Hanson. And don't say that in public, okay?"

"Fine," she said.

"Okay, I'm on my way home. I'll talk to you then, alright?"

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too," I said, hanging up the phone.

"Who was that?" Rebecca asked, sending an icy glare at me.

"That... that was Skylar Johnson," I said, looking down at my hands.

"Are you fucking her?" she asked, a disgusted look on her face. "You really sank that low?"

"Look Becca, you don't know Skye like I do."

"Yeah, because I'm not looking for a relationship at a daycare! I can't believe you're with that slut!"

"She's not retarded!" I retaliated, a reflex these days. "Wait, slut?"

"Yeah. She works for the WWE, right? That just screams sleazy hoe!"

"She's not a hoe Rebecca," I said, my lips set in a grim line. "She's not. She's just young."

"Right," she said, a knowing look on her face. "Yeah, because you and your friends all took turns with her when she was what? Sixteen?"

"I didn't sleep with her," I told myself. Rebecca snorted.

"Whatever. Have fun robbing the cradle. But remember, as long as you're with her," she pointed at my cell phone. "You will never get her," she pointed towards Cheyenne's room. "Now get out of my house."

I drove off to the liquor store. Lucky for me they had a drive through. I pulled into a park and drained the bottle of Jack Daniels, lighting a cigarette in behind it. The nights events reeled though my mind and I hurled the bottle at the floor. I picked a shard up and let it slip up and down my arm, not stopping at one cut. Blood seeped from the open wounds and covered my entire left arm. My breath came out heavily and I opened the other bottle, letting it slip between my lips. I pulled out of the parking space and drove toward home.

I feel the car swerve around me. The road is blurry and under the cover of an alcohol induced fog, I'm grateful that the roads are empty. My driveway, I'm pretty sure it's my driveway, pulls up and I make it in the garage. Slamming the car door, I call out to Skylar. She comes outside, and I hear her gasp, then scream. I can't understand her words. I follow her in the house as she pulls me to the couch by my unharmed arm. She's still yelling as she goes into the bathroom, and that's when I black out.

A/N: 3000 words. A new personal record. I be very happy. I didn't mean to make Rebecca sound like such a bitch, but what do you think? Keep her attitude, or shimmer her down some?