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poisontaster 5 things Jess thought might be Sam's 'deal'.
It wasn’t like she thought it was something major, but once in a while, Jess wondered what was up with her boyfriend. I mean, he was perfect. Sweet, respectful, gentle, great in an emergency, funny. You just didn’t get that way with an alcoholic father and a drifter for a brother. It just didn’t work like that.
So, yeah, she wondered.
First, she thought maybe his family was in Witness Protection. You know, keeping off the grid. It would explain why he didn’t like to talk about his past. Then she Googled the name Winchester with Lawrence, Kansas, and found the article about his mother’s death. Sam had been a cute baby, judging from the picture.
Then, she wondered if his father worked for the mob. I mean, it would make sense. Maybe the whole fire thing was retribution for a hit his father did. Maybe he expected Sam to follow in the family business. It explained why he flinched every time a car backfired. Or how he’d been able to pop the lock on her car when she’d locked the keys in it. Or why he kept a gun in the back of his sock drawer. That one worried her for a while. I mean, if they’d hit his mother, what was to say they wouldn’t go after Sam? Then, she realized that he was from Kansas. Not exactly prime Mafioso territory.
After a while, she started spinning the cracktastic theories out.
He was from a troupe of circus performers. Maybe sword swallowers. Hey, he had a knife, it was kind of sword-like. Maybe clowns. He left because he was too small to fit in the car.
Then, on Halloween, their first year together, he got a little drunk, and was ragging on the cheesy zombie movie someone had left on as background noise. “So not right,” he’d muttered. “They don’t move that fucking slow. They’re slow, yeah, but c’mon. Why would you die if they were that slow. You could roll over in your sleep and avoid them. Then, he’d fallen asleep. She and her friend Rachel had come up with a wild story for him, coming from a family of zombie hunters, but she thought that was mostly the Ecstacy talking.
The last theory she’d come up with was that he really didn’t have a family. Maybe he was really an orphan, and just came up with these people so he sounded more normal. That had gotten put to rest last night, when his brother Dean had shown up in their living room in the dead of the night. Huh. Imagine that. His brother. (Brother was a damn hottie, too. Rachel would kill for his number.) And apparently Dad was in the picture too. The way Dean’s face had tightened when Sam had made the crack about a ‘Miller Time Shift’ made her think there was more there than met the eye, too. She’d have to give Rachel a call, see what she made of it. But for now, the bag of chocolate chips Sam had picked up were calling to be made into cookies.
It wasn’t like she thought it was something major, but once in a while, Jess wondered what was up with her boyfriend. I mean, he was perfect. Sweet, respectful, gentle, great in an emergency, funny. You just didn’t get that way with an alcoholic father and a drifter for a brother. It just didn’t work like that.
So, yeah, she wondered.
First, she thought maybe his family was in Witness Protection. You know, keeping off the grid. It would explain why he didn’t like to talk about his past. Then she Googled the name Winchester with Lawrence, Kansas, and found the article about his mother’s death. Sam had been a cute baby, judging from the picture.
Then, she wondered if his father worked for the mob. I mean, it would make sense. Maybe the whole fire thing was retribution for a hit his father did. Maybe he expected Sam to follow in the family business. It explained why he flinched every time a car backfired. Or how he’d been able to pop the lock on her car when she’d locked the keys in it. Or why he kept a gun in the back of his sock drawer. That one worried her for a while. I mean, if they’d hit his mother, what was to say they wouldn’t go after Sam? Then, she realized that he was from Kansas. Not exactly prime Mafioso territory.
After a while, she started spinning the cracktastic theories out.
He was from a troupe of circus performers. Maybe sword swallowers. Hey, he had a knife, it was kind of sword-like. Maybe clowns. He left because he was too small to fit in the car.
Then, on Halloween, their first year together, he got a little drunk, and was ragging on the cheesy zombie movie someone had left on as background noise. “So not right,” he’d muttered. “They don’t move that fucking slow. They’re slow, yeah, but c’mon. Why would you die if they were that slow. You could roll over in your sleep and avoid them. Then, he’d fallen asleep. She and her friend Rachel had come up with a wild story for him, coming from a family of zombie hunters, but she thought that was mostly the Ecstacy talking.
The last theory she’d come up with was that he really didn’t have a family. Maybe he was really an orphan, and just came up with these people so he sounded more normal. That had gotten put to rest last night, when his brother Dean had shown up in their living room in the dead of the night. Huh. Imagine that. His brother. (Brother was a damn hottie, too. Rachel would kill for his number.) And apparently Dad was in the picture too. The way Dean’s face had tightened when Sam had made the crack about a ‘Miller Time Shift’ made her think there was more there than met the eye, too. She’d have to give Rachel a call, see what she made of it. But for now, the bag of chocolate chips Sam had picked up were calling to be made into cookies.