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John Winchester settled more firmly into the too small, chrome and vinyl chair at the small kitchen table in their apartment. He glanced at the clock above the wire rack against the back wall. It was two-fifteen. The boys should be home from school pretty soon. Glancing at the refrigerator he frowned, he had forgotten to check the freezer for something to cook for dinner. It looked like pizza tonight. Not that the boys would care, they'd live off pizza if John would let them.
His mind drifted back to the book cradled in his large palms. The tiny print was almost illegible and John felt the beginnings of a headache throbbing just behind his eyelids. The ragged thrumming of a large engine alerted him to the fact that the quiet stillness of the apartment would soon be shattered by the arrival of his boys. Sighing he dropped the book on the table.
The front door banged open, and two shrill voices drilled themselves right into John's brain. The boys were arguing about something, He closed his eyes not exactly praying, more like begging, for divine intervention.
Dean was the first around the corner and he stomped into the kitchen with a grim expression on his face. John took in his older son's face and steeled himself for either a report card or a letter demanding a parent conference with the principal.
John groaned, "Dude please don't tell me that you got in trouble today, starting this weekend you have two weeks off from school for spring break. I spend so much time in Mr. Barr's office people think we're dating."
Dean grimaced. "That's not what people think you're doing. I heard one of the lunch ladies say the only way you could keep Mr. Barr from kicking me out of school was by giving him a blowjob, and that's why the doors are always closed when you meet with him."
John's eyes went wide and he uttered a half-strangled groan. "Watch the language, Dean. Which one of these lunch ladies…"
Suddenly another voice distracted John from his older child. "Daddy, what's a blowjob?"
The smile that split Dean's face sent a shiver of fury coursing down John's spine. "It's nothing you need to worry about Sammy, and don't ever say that word again."
"Dean said it," Sam said, giving his father the look.
John cringed.
"Dean says a lot of things that are going to have him field stripping every gun in the house and cleaning it."
"Dude…" Dean rolled his eyes making John want to smack his overly obnoxious twelve year old right on the ass. But Dean turned to his younger brother and smiled gently. "It's a bad thing Sammy, it something that a bad clown would do. A really bad clown."
Sam's eyes widened and John smiled. Leave it to Dean to pick the one thing guaranteed to make sure that Sammy never said the word blowjob again. Swallowing hard Sammy turned to John for validation and the elder Winchester nodded gravely.
"Did you kill it, Daddy?"
John nodded staring at his older son. "Yep, nipped it right in the bud."
When Sam shifted again it occurred to John that his younger son was carrying something large made of multi-colored plastic in his little hands. The thing was vaguely oblong with tubes connecting a lower level to the upper level and there was a blue plastic wheel-like thing anchored to the wire sides. Cocking his head John motioned Sammy over.
"Whatchya got there, sport?"
"It's Twinkie…" Sammy chortled happily. "I volunteered to take care of him on spring break."
He shoved the plastic monstrosity at his father's face and John peered inside. Suddenly something tannish in color poked its head above the shredded newspapers peering at John with malevolent beady black eyes. Dean had never heard the kind of sound that issued from his father come from a grown man, at least not a live one. His Dad rocked back in the chair bringing the two front legs up off the floor and threatening to spill over onto his back. With rounded eyes the older Winchester brother made a grab for his father's hand, not that he was anywhere near big enough to keep John from toppling over. But the chair rocked forward again and then connected solidly with the floor again between John's spread legs. He slid to his feet.
"That's okay Sammy; Daddy'll take care of that thing for you. You just put it on the table. I'll go get a hammer."
"Dad!" both boys shrieked plaintively.
John took in their shocked and dismayed faces and took a deep shuddering breath. Apparently he had misread the situation. He cast a mournful glance at the hideous thing on the table and its ugly plastic cage. Trying for a smile, and noting the boys horrified expressions failing miserably, John made a broad gesture at the cage.
"Is it too late to take it back to the school? Maybe your teacher can take care of the thing," he said reasonably. Sammy's lower lip began to wobble and John felt his chest tighten. "I take it that the teacher can't do it?"
"No," Sam said gravely. "Miss Herald is getting married. She would have taken him home but she's going on her… her hunning moon."
"Honeymoon," John corrected. "Sam you really should have asked me before you volunteered to take care of that thing."
"Twinkie is not a thing, Daddy. He's a hamster."
"He's a rodent, Sammy. Rodents are filthy, disease ridden, lice infested vermin," John said with a grimace. Sam looked at his father as if the man had lost his mind.
"Twinkie doesn't have lice, Daddy. He's not a robent…he's a hamster."
"Yeah," Dean added smiling at his father and John snorted. He glared, but for some reason the death glare wasn't producing the same results as usual. "Hamsters are really clean animals, Dad. How many problems could one little hamster cause?"
John stared at him aghast. "What kind of problems can a rodent cause? Have you ever heard of the plague, Dean, huh? The Black Death? It decimated half of Europe back in the day?"
Rolling his eyes Dean motioned Sam toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "We'll keep him in the bedroom. He'll never get out. I've never heard of hamsters carrying the plague, Dad."
"Don't you roll your eyes at me, boy. I'll roll 'em right back up in your head." John shuddered, and then sighed casting another glance at the offending cage. "They're all in it together, Dean."
Once the cage was out of the room, John felt a little more settled. He kept glancing at the hallway, ears trained on the back bedroom listening as the boys played with the hamster. He could hear the rattling squeak of the wheel as the thing presumably scurried around on its little rat claws. He sighed, as long as the thing stayed in the cage maybe he could cope. He didn't want Sammy picking up on his fear.
John rose from his seat and walked to the phone. Picking up the yellow pages he called for pizza and dropped the phone in its cradle. Walking back to the table John collapsed in his chair and took a deep breath. Finally, he picked up the book again.
He was absorbed in reading when the front doorbell rang; looking up John frowned until he remembered the pizza he had ordered. Tilting the chair back he leaned around the kitchen door hollering down the hall.
"Dean…pizza guy. My wallet's on the dresser in my bedroom."
He could hear the patter of two sets of feet and the rumble of little boy voices. They were arguing again, but this time it sounded less shrill so John didn't bother intervening. Sam appeared carrying a smaller box that John couldn't remember ordering and a Dean carted in the large flat box that still had steam coming out of the sides. He smiled happily.
"I love Buddy's Pizza, they always get it here hot."
Sammy smiled happily at John hefting the small square box. "Look Daddy, brownies."
John nodded distantly. "I didn't order that. I don't like you guys having too much sugar."
Dean grinned. "It came free with the pizza. It's some kind of promotional thing."
Grimacing John rose and pulled three chipped macramé plates out of the cabinet, along with two large plastic tumblers. He had long given up on trying to pack ceramic plates and real glasses, opting instead for the cheap and easily replaceable plastic crap. He sat them on the table and fetched a large jug of lemonade for the boys and a couple of beers for himself. He settled back popping the tab on the can and letting the boys dish the food.
The apartment had subsided into silence as John flipped through the last few pages in the book. He looked at the clock again surprised to see it was past seven. Once again he reared back in the chair and shouted down the hall. "Boys, bath time."
There was no answering pitter-patter of little feet and John frowned. He rose, carrying the lemonade and the leftover pizza to the fridge and pulling out another beer. Walking down the hall he ducked his head into the boys' bedroom. Dean was standing on the old scarred dresser looking at the wooden shelf that held a variety of toys, carefully brushing his fingertips through the collected dust. John sneezed. Both boys jumped.
Sammy scurried across the floor and slapped the door closed on the cage. John followed his furtive movements with his eyes, and then cocked his head as Sammy slid under the bed. He bent over at the waist trying to peer at his younger son.
"Bath time boys," John repeated and Sam's head popped out from under the bed. He smiled nodding vigorously.
"Okay, Daddy. I'll go first."
That alone should have told John that something was drastically wrong but he had worked the nightshift the day before and not gotten in until just in time to send the boys packing for school he had slept three hours and then spent the afternoon researching a vengeful spirit in a town nearby. Sighing he watched as Sam fetched his pajamas and underwear shuffling past his father but not before throwing a worried look at his older brother. Dean just shrugged.
John walked back to the kitchen dropping his half-full beer on the table and helping himself to the brownies. He may not want the boys to eat all that sugar but nothing said he couldn't. He finished off the beer and got another one from the fridge. He was all but nodding over the tabletop when he heard Sammy's voice coming, not from the bathroom, but the bedroom.
"Sammy," John shouted, "Either take shower or let your brother, I'm beat and I want you two ready for bed before I crash out."
Suddenly both boys appeared at the kitchen door, Dean shaking his head at something his younger brother said. Clearing his throat Dean smiled an oily looking smile at his father and John sat up.
"Uh, Dad…" Dean stammered, "Twinkie…escaped."
"What?" John shouted, his voice climbing in tone, and he coughed to cover it up. "What do you mean he escaped? Sam did you leave the door open?"
There was a flash of movement in the floor and Sam turned, eyes growing wide. "Daddy he's over here!"
John levered himself out of the chair and planted his butt on the table which rocked alarmingly. His booted feet smacked into the seat of the chair. Scanning the floor quickly John assessed the area but didn't see the offending rodent. On the floor there was a small speck of newspaper that might have been rodent related beside the refrigerator. John motioned to it.
"Check over there," he said. Both boys scurried toward the far wall, Dean bent over checking the baseboards for cracks and Sammy squeezing as far as he could into the space between the appliance and the wall. Dean looked up;
"Dad, it would go a lot faster if you helped."
John glared. "You lost it, you find it."
"He's not here, Daddy," Sam said unhappily.
John frowned again, and Dean looked up shrugging. Finally, when Dean decided that his father wasn't going to aid in finding the hamster. He pushed Sam toward the door to the hall.
"Maybe he went back to the bedroom," Dean said. Then casting a glance over his shoulder at his father he added. "Dad, rodents can climb."
John jerked around looking at the expanse of floor beneath the table.
"What?"
"They can climb table legs, curtains that kind of thing. Remember when we moved in you found all those rat turds in the kitchen cabinets. Rodents, and hamsters, can climb. Like on the table."
John flinched scrambling from the table to the chair. The tiny chair rattled and then the seat, which could barely hold John's weight with his feet on the floor, screeched and shattered. John's boots smashed through the wood and vinyl and the chair tipped over. He landed hard on his hip and shoulder grunting as the air went out of his body.
The noise startled both boys and then Sam spied a small furry body scurrying from beneath the refrigerator. His eyes lit up, and he smiled.
"Twinkie!" Sam shouted throwing himself on the floor. John kicked at the chair frame desperately trying to disentangle if from around his boots. He jerked his head up at the sound of his son's small body hitting the ground. The hamster dodged Sam and headed straight for John.
"Don't chase it over here," he yelled. Sam's eyes went wide and Dean began laughing. John shot his older child a look. "Shut up, you."
Flopping over onto his back John managed to kick free of the chair and slam his fist against the floor.
"No Daddy, don't squish him…"
The hamster skidded to a halt, back-tracking right into Dean's cupped hands. With a smug grin Dean hurried to his younger brother. "There you go Sammy, all safe and sound. And not squished."
Sam looked at the hamster cage critically but the wire that his father had put on the door seemed to be holding just fine. He yawned scratching at his stomach and John peered at him over the top of the plastic cage. Sam stilled his fingers immediately.
"I don't got fleas, Daddy. Not from Twinkie."
They watched as the hamster rattle the door trying to push it open like he must have done in the first place. Dean sighed, and looked at his father still snickering faintly behind one hand. John dared him to say one word with an upraised eyebrow. Sam smiled trundling over to his father and hoisting himself up into John's lap. They watched the wheel churn to life as Twinkie gave up on getting out the door and decided to climb the blue plastic wheel instead. He skittered to the top and rose up on his rear legs, front paws coming into contact with the roof. Suddenly the wire sides of the cage rattled and the roof popped loose. The hamster poked his head over the side of the cage trying to pull himself through the crack.
"I'll be damned," John hissed.
Dean thought he detected a hint of admiration in it though. Quickly he hurried over poking Twinkie's nose enough to get the hamster to drop back into the cage. John sat Sam on the table and went into the rear porch for his toolbox. He returned with a roll of duct tape.
"You know Sammy, anything that wants to be free that much deserves to live out its life wild, like it was supposed too."
Sam looked up at his father while John eyeballed out a length of duct tape and handed it to Dean. "Wrap that around the end while I get another strip."
Sam made a little moue of disgust. "Daddy the cage belongs to Ms. Herald we can't get duct tape on it."
"Then Miss Herald should have kept the little bas…uh… little critter hadn't she?"
At Sammy's mournful glare he sighed.
"I've got some solvent that'll take it off before you take him back to school, fair enough? Back to what I was saying anything that wants to be free that much should be free Sammy. Not locked up in some cage."
"He'd get eaten by stray cats," Dean pointed out helpfully and Sam looked horrified.
John shot him the look.
"Dean, you're not helping. Besides stray cats just illustrate my point. Do cats want to be kept locked in a house, hell no. That's why they're stray, they get out just like uh…"
"Twinkie," Sam provided.
John smiled and patted him on the head.
"Yeah, just like Twinkie here. He wants to be free and I say we should just let him go. Run away and be free…"
"Dad, how much have you had to drink?" Dean asked skeptically. John heaved a sigh.
"Dean, I brought you in this world. I'll take you back out again."
Dean rolled his eyes as his father made an expansive gesture with one hand.
"It's like that lion movie Sammy is so fond of. You know animals want to be free to live out their lives in nature. It's why that rat tried to escape from the cage. Why cats run away from houses. They all want to get back to their roots, like lions in Africa."
"Dad," Dean interrupted, "I'm pretty sure there are no tabbies on the Serengeti."
"It's an example Dean, just go with me on this one. Cats go stray and they meet other cats and they make more baby cats that grow up and run out into the road and get hit by cars. It's all part of the great circle of life, Sammy."
Sam's lower lip stuck out in a pout and John knew he had hit a brick wall. He sighed again. Sam narrowed his eyes.
"I'm not putting Twinkie out in the yard, Daddy."
"Fine, just keep it in the bedroom, and make sure that it doesn't get out again."
Finally, with the boys washed and tucked in for the night John trotted into his bedroom. Shimmying out of his jeans he tossed them at the hamper in the corner and tugged his t-shirt over his head. Yanking the blankets down John dropped into bed. He was just about to drift off when he heard the faint squeak of the plastic wheel in the cage. Well, at least he knew the damn thing was in its place. Rolling over John uttered a brief snort and fell asleep.
Sammy looked over at the battered and scarred wooden dresser that held his and Dean's clothes. The pale yellow of his night light cast just enough illumination that he could see the tiny furry body running in the wheel. Sam smiled, he'd tell Ms. Herald, or by then she would be Mrs. Banks, about the great hamster hunt in the Winchester house. He'd leave out the part about Daddy trying to squish Twinkie though.
Grinning to himself he fell asleep.
Twinkie scurried across the cage picking through the bedding looking for bits and pieces of pizza crust the two boys had given him earlier. He nibbled a bit then ran to the door. The wire door was secured by a twist tie from a garbage bag that John had wrapped through the wires. It meant that the boys would have to untie and retie it each time they wanted to open the door, but it also meant that there would be no squished hamster in the house too.
Rising up on his hind legs the hamster nosed the twist tie securing the door. He bumped against the door rattling it, but the wire stayed in place. Slowly the hamster nibbled at the wire, tugging it with his front teeth. The twist tie slipped and Twinkie happily chewed through the plastic, tugging it free a little more each time.
The End