Hello my little lovelies! Oh my I have missed you immensely. Therefore, because of that (and my horrible skills in updating) I am posting this wee little ditty to hold you over. I hope it works.
This lovely number was created one night by the splendid sweetkiwi604who is just one of the sweetest things alive. (Her screen name really fits.) She was even kind enough to let me tweak and play with her idea, and tah-dah, here you have the outcome.
I know it's short, and I'm sorry. But I have big plans for upcoming things, so stay tuned.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for those of you who continue to show your support to my slacking self by adding this story (as well as My Twist to the Winchester Tale) to your favorites and follows! And then you go and review? Talk about making my life. Because you do. Know that.

So, I don't know much else to tell you guys and don't want to take up too much more of your time.
As always, let me know if there are any issues in the chapter and I will do my best to fix them.

READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)

Disclaimer

Pedal to the Blacktop

Ages:
Dean – 14
Sam/Becca – 10

Year:
1993; Early Summer

3rd Person POV

At ten years old, Becca Winchester was capable of doing many things. She was able to dance a pen across paper to form cursive handwriting. Walking home alone from school (with Sam of course) was a—although not often—task she beamed at. Sneaking treats from vending machines and stores was like a second nature to the small brunette, and even multiplication tables were quickly being conquered. However, with all these things under her belt, there was one thing she couldn't do.

Ride a bike.

Day after day she passed the bike rack out front on the school. The shiny metal frames glinted in the sun making them seem even cooler than she imagined. A lot of the kids in her class told stories of the bikes they'd gotten for Christmas or birthdays, and she didn't dare try to compete to that with her slightly used shoes and least worn-out shirt that Dean have given her. When kids would ask about her bike, she began to lie and exaggerate about a bike she never owned. The fact that she'd never ridden or even sat on a bike felt like a dirty little secret to Becca, and she vowed to never let anyone know. She told herself that she would learn to ride a bike, and she would do it on her own.

Walking home with her brothers though was proving that her plan was a difficult one. Sam and Becca rarely stayed home alone and when they did, the rule was always the same. Don't leave the room. With Dean's always watching eye, Becca was sure she wouldn't be able to be alone.

As Sam continued on about a new lesson that he'd learned that day, Becca dragged her feet until she thought up an idea. "Hey, Dean!" she ran up to him, earning a scowl for interrupting from her twin.

Dean dropped his gaze to her face and lifted an eyebrow, not bothering to stop walking. "What?"

"Do you think I could like, do my homework outside today?" she tried, tripping but catching herself.

"No. And watch where you're going."

"Why not?" she whined, turning her head forward and sulking.

"Come on, Bec. You know the rule. No leaving—"

"—the motel room," both Sam and Becca helped him finish with grimaces.

Dean sighed. He knew that being detained to whatever motel room or babysitter's house they were at sucked. There was never really anything on television and even less to do in the room itself. "So, what, you wanna go to a park or something?"

Sam perked up, his immediate answer to being "Yes" while Becca's face showed worry that her plan wouldn't work. "No," she countered.

Dean stopped and looked at her, confused. "I thought you wanted to do your homework outside."

"I do. At the motel."

"What? Like out in the parking lot?"

"Yeah."

"No," he decided, shaking his head at the idea.

Becca glared up at him. "Why can't I?"

Rolling his eyes, Dean continued on the path to the motel. "You're not hanging out in the motel parking lot like some freak. What if Dad finds out?"

"I won't tell, promise!" Becca begged, trudging alongside him.

Shaking his head again, she pouted. "Why do you wanna do your homework outside anyway?"

Becca went silent. Telling Dean that she planned to ditch her homework and learn to ride a bike seemed like a bad idea. One, he would pick on her and tell her she was being dumb; and two, she wanted to do this on her own.

"Just forget it," she groaned, moving ahead of him with angry stomps.

Sneaking out of the room had been terrifying. Becca waited until she'd heard Dean's heavy breathing and then quietly slipped on her shoes and jacket before going through the door. Due to the cloudless June sky during the day, there was a chill in the air. Becca zipped her jacket up around her shirt and walked along the sidewalk to the main doors of the business. Double checking back over her shoulder, she made sure the motel door was still slightly ajar so that she could get back in when she was done.

Finding the bike rack next to the glass doors, she smiled and then moved to the one that had been on her mind all week. The red paint sparkled, even in the darkness, and the black seat still looked just as cool as she remembered. Even the tires and pedals looked like they were just unwrapped. She ran a small hand over the bar of the frame before wrapping her hands around the black grips on the handlebars. Lifting her leg she tried to swing it over the bike so she could get mounted. It took numerous attempts before she realized the bike was too big.

Huffing, Becca stood by the bike rack, pouting and mentally telling herself how dumb of an idea it had been. Getting ready to start her walk back to the motel room, she stopped at what caught her eye. Beside the large red bike she had been bragging about all week was a smaller bike. It was white with large stickers of pink flowers littered across the frame. Glittered, silver strands hung from the ends of the white gripped handles that sat on either end of the large wicker basket. Deciding it was better than nothing she pulled the bike away from the rack and pointed it towards the parking lot.

Managing to pull herself onto the bike and sit on the seat she moved to set her feet on the pedals before the bike toppled over. Picking herself and the bike up, she tightened her jaw and attempted it again. By the eighth time she'd fallen, Becca was growling with bared teeth at the bike before shoving it off of her body. The thin material of her pajama pants had been ripped open and scraped, chilled knees showed through from the other side. Her hair was in disarray and her entire right side felt sore from the amount of times it'd come in contact with the ground. Scrapes along her cheek and brown stung in the cold air, and if she had any say, she broke a bone somewhere—but it didn't matter. She was determined.

When she finally managed to get the bike to remain erect after sitting on it, she surprised herself so much that before she firmly set her stance, she fell once more. This time it did not faze her, instead making her eager to get the bike to work. Her feet were set on the pedals and she was still on the bike, hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars, and she didn't move. She felt unsure but when she began to wobble she pumped her feet and slowly began to move forward. Remaining stable while moving was harder than she anticipated, but she the two feet she managed was enough to lift her spirits. Catching herself before she completely toppled over, she beamed down at the small bike. Becca continued her practice, managing in the end to ride from one side of the parking lot to the other before she finally fell hard enough to determine she was done for the night. Walking the bike back to the rack and shoving it into the space, she smiled before turning her gaze to the red bike. Still angry she was unable to mount it, she stepped behind it and kicked the rear wheel causing it to shift and making her yelp and turn and run back towards her room.

Out of breath and smiling, she shut the door and then ripped her jacket off. Stepping up on her toes to hang it on the hook, she flinched when the light was flicked on and Dean rounded on her. "What happened to you!?"

"I did it!" she announced loudly, not even caring that he was upset.

"What did you do? Kill someone? Look at you, you're a mess? Where were you?"

"I rode a bike, Dean! I really did it, all by myself!" The happiness flooded through her, making her unable to see any other type of emotion around. Becca had managed to succeed without someone over her shoulder. She got to call all the shots and take as long as she determined was necessary. She called all the shots and she succeeded. In short, she was proud of her self.

"What?" His eyes switched from worry to confusion and he took in her face. "Where did you get a bike?"

Becca sat down on the chair and began kicking off her shoes. "Outside, there's some by the doors. And I took one and I rode it."

Dean fell into the chair across from her and just stared blankly as she rattled on. When she finally looked up at him and her face went into confusion, he answered her silent question with, "I swear to God, you're gonna kill me one day, Becca. Now shut up and go to bed."