Okay, this is the first chapter without the boys. Well, Dean gets a cameo but not much. Sorry it is not too cute, I wanted to do this cause it was one of the original ideas that I had about this fic. Please review and I will get back to the Wee-chester goodness. Oh and the crazy lady will be returning soon, by popular demand of a couple of readers.
"And then, I whent 'VWOOM' an' them bugs whent 'EheheEe'!" The drunken man sputtered as his hands flew through the air. John Winchester drew back enough to avoid the flailing limbs without falling off the barstool. The eldest Winchester had been at this for hours, trying to get the only witness of a suspicious attack to give him information. It was not going well.
"The figure in the woods," John sighed, it was always tough getting information from bars. Simpler then going into a home but harder in the fact that the drunks tended to get off subject more times then a dog sniffs hydrants.
"Oh yeah," a strained look crossed the man's face. Thinking was obviously hard for him.
The vein in John's temple began pulsing out of his forehead. This was not going to end well if the man did not get on with it and let John get back to the boys.
This was not to be for the man took that moment to keel over in a drunken faint. John poked the body with the toe of his boot, sighing.
"He does that often," a silky voice came from behind the hunter. John turned to see a very pretty bar maid. Her wavy blond hair brought the image of another, slightly older blond. Mary.
The woman smiled at John, "I'm Amber."
"John," John turned back to the bar, not wanting to look at her.
Amber leaned over the counter to look at John's face. "You know, you remind me of someone." She pouted her lips, "Someone on movies."
"Great," John did not want this to continue. That too familiar face was burning into his mind, bringing up memories of happier times.
The blond was cut off by a ringing coming from the man's jacket. John fished out the cumbersome cell phone, happily paid for by the credit card of one R. G. Veda, and hit the receiving button. "Yeah."
"Mr. Winchester. This is Carrie White, the Principal of your son's school," John raised an eyebrow at this but did not comment. Calling a school official a homicidal movie character was not the best way to get around trouble.
John forgot that line of thought quickly as he remembered, "Wait a minute, Dean is in kindergarten."
If John was looking, he would have noticed the starry eyed look in Amber's eyes at the mention of his son. But he had not and the Carrie started again, "I am aware of that Mr. Winchester, which is where he is causing the trouble." There was a very distinct crash in the background, "Do not stand on the chairs young man!" More anarchy could be heard across the phone, making John's mouth twitch.
"Anyways," the Principal's voice was strained tight, "Your son is in quite a bit of trouble. Dean covered the chalkboards with odd symbols, scared many of the students while he described most of the film works of Steven King," That did make John smirk, that kid loved his movies, "and he started a fight."
John did take notice to this, "He was in a fight," that went against direct orders. John had said no fighting.
"Actually he was the cause of a fight between two girls in class."
"What about your son?" Amber asked. She had worked her way very close to the hunter, almost pressing against the man's arm.
"He has girls fighting over him," This time John did smile, that's his boy.
"Yes, I would like you to pick him up. He needs a strong talking to sir." Carrie sighed out the last part. It was the sound of a woman who had dealt with many parents who never heeded her words.
"Yes ma'am," John also sighed, he may not be psychic like Missouri but he had a sinking sensation that this would not be the last time he was called about Dean.
Of course, being a Winchester, it would never be that easy.
A burly hand clasped onto John's leather clad arm, "What do you think you're doing with my woman twerp!"
John looked up at the towering mass of fat and muscle, the stench of too many shots of whisky on the man's breath. This sort of man was the type who was ready for a fight at any time, no matter if he had a reason or not.
"I have better things to do," John shrugged the man off, making his way to the door.
"Don't turn your back on me!" the man swung a clumsy fist at him.
John easily dodged and went in for a low attack. This was not a good day.
Okay, that is it. I hope you enjoyed it, or at least it scratched the itch for another chapter. The next will be fluffy, I promise. REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!! I will give you cookies and Dean plushies.