This series of chapters will consist of moments, memories, flashbacks, all that good stuff. It all pertains to Becca (the OC I've created in My Twist to the Winchester Tale). There may be extensions of flashbacks that have already been written about or mentioned in that series. If ever you do want to see one of those flashbacks mentioned, let me know, I will see if we can work something out. :)
Each chapter will probably vary in length, since they are not following a transcript I have to have everything be original, and that's actually a lot harder than it sounds. Sometimes. Anyway. I will also try to make each chapter a full thing in its own, meaning I'm going to try and NOT do part 2's unless highly necessary. Updates for this series will most likely not be as consistent as those for My Twist... just because 1) I plan to really only post these as they come to me, or as they follow the other story; 2) My main focus is to be on My Twist... and I don't want to stray away from that. I already feel as though I'm slacking on that as it is.
Disclaimer.I, ispiltthemilk, do not own any part of Supernatural or anything related to it. I own actually nothing really, besides my car and a stuffed elephant and moose. The only part of this that I can take credit for is Becca and her story, points of view, and anything about her really... Dean, Sam, Bobby, John, all of those awesome people? I have nothing to do with them. I just throw them in here so Becca has people to interact with.
READ. REVIEW. ENJOY. :)
Becca's Broken Nose. (I'll try to give all the chapters these cute little title things, but no promises).
Dean - 16
Sam/Becca - 12
1995; Late Summer
Becca's Point of View
"Ugh, it's... not… working!" I dramatically cried out like a child as I stomped my foot. I pulled back again, and the only thing that happened was that my fingers started to hurt more along the insides of my knuckles. They were red, and burning while aching, and I could have sworn one was bleeding a little. "Dad, it's broken," I announced through a yell as I dropped my hands, the bow swinging next to my leg, and I turned to my left, seeing him standing beside my brother.
"Good job!" I heard my father congratulate Sam at the "thuck" of his arrow hitting into the target that sat farthest away from us in the distance. I grimaced as Sam's body moved from the claps on his shoulder and seemed to practically buckle beneath the unintentional hard force. His face twisted into a slight painful look with each impact. When our father looked down at him with those warm eyes and that genuine smile though, Sam couldn't help but have at least a small grin on his lips.
Sam wasn't exactly thrilled to be doing this. In fact, he argued with Dad about doing it at all; he'd said that he didn't want to learn bow hunting. He even suggested that he stay home and do homework, try to keep up his grades in school. Sam's grades were never low in school, and Dad knew that. Sam was unnaturally smart, the little show off. Dad had "cleared his day" to work with us on this and told Dean to pack everything we needed. When Sam tried to stay home, there was an argument that ended like they usually do. "Sam, enough. I'm your father, you're my son, and you're doing what I said. Now, help your brother load the car, and move." There was the usual grunt and finger point and scowl and me lowering my eyes while not knowing whose side to take.
"Can we be done now?" I heard Sam ask as a frown crossed his face.
My dad sighed, walking towards the targets to collect all the arrows. Obviously, that was a "No". I caught Sam's eyes and his entire face read that he was bored and didn't think that any of this was important. It was an uninterested look, but yet, you could tell his humor level was at not even existing. He gave that look to Dean a lot. But, like normal, I laughed at his face when he gave it to me. It was the eyes. He always looked up as though his eyes were half rolled and silently told me, "this is dumb". Sam could always make me laugh – no matter what.
"You're up, Becca. Show us what ya got," my dad directed to me, avoiding Sam's question once he was on his way back. My eyes and silent conversation with Sam broke, and almost looked over at our dad like I was guilty of something. I didn't like to get in between their arguments. I didn't like the yelling. But it's hard not to get into the middle of a Winchester battle. Someone always says something, and even if you do agree, you shouldn't say it, but you'll be dragged in either way. Dean was dragged in as much as I was, maybe more.
Shaking my head, I snapped back to the innocence of the moment I'd been having. "I got nothin'!" I rolled my eyes as I told him with my "this isn't working" face. I hadn't shot a single arrow, because I couldn't pull back the string. All my arrows were still sitting next to my feet in their stupid pile.
"Try it again," my father huffed as he came to stand beside me. I could tell from the sound of his voice and the look on his face that he didn't believe me. He thought I was just doing my best to not pull back on the bow if it was too hard. He always thought I tried to get out of doing things if they were too hard. I mean, I don't try to get out of everything.
I growled and lifted the bow in front of my face, my arm stretched out in front of me. Bringing up my opposite hand, I wrapped three fingers around the string and pulled. Nothing. I tried pulling again. Nothing. Now I was frustrated. I pulled, and I pulled, and I grunted, and I pulled, and I pulled until I was purple in the face.
"All right, all right, relax. I don't want you to pop a blood vessel," my dad smiled at me while he put a hand on my arm, pushing it down slightly as a sign that I should quit. Setting the arrows down at his feet, he waved over Sam. "Bring that bow over here, Sammy," he directed. Sam slowly walked over, carrying the bow, and handed it to our father. "Here, try this one," he bent down and picked up an arrow for me. "Sam, you try hers. See if you can pull back on that one."
Sam and I nodded, each of us taking our instructed weapon. Sam went back to his spot while I took up my stance and aimed at my target. Placing the arrow on the rest, I clicked it onto the string and put my three fingers around the nock and where it grabbed the string. The string slid back with ease, and I tried to contain my excitement and stay serious so that I didn't drop the arrow down so that it pointed towards my toes. The last thing I needed was an arrow in the foot. Aiming to the center of the target, I steadied the line, exhaled, and released. The arrow sliced through the air, a large smile spreading as it went up and then smacked into the ground maybe ten feet in front of me. The nearest target was at least twenty feet away. Grr.
My dad nodded his head while rubbing his chin. He didn't look angry though, so that was a relief. Normally he'd have blamed it on me or something. "Okay, good. Sam, let's see you try," he instructed as we both turned to watch my twin.
Sam fixed his stance and did everything I'd just done. He tried to pull back on the string, and nothing. Gritting his teeth, he pulled harder. Still nothing. He slumped after the two pulls, his shoulders curling in defeat. "It's too hard," Sam sighed as he walked back over to us with the bow.
Nodding his head, I think my dad already assumed that Sam wouldn't be able to pull it back. "Let me see them both," he told us, holding out his hands. Sam and I handed them over and waited quietly nearby. Eventually, after a few minutes, we were more focused on trying to step on each other's toes than paying attention to anything our dad was doing. It's not like we could have done anything anyway.
"What'd ya break this time, Bec?" Dean teased as he came across the field carrying a bag full of food and a cardboard carrier full of sodas. I looked at him not understanding, Sam stomping on my foot at the opportunity. Dean motioned to where our dad was focused on the top wheel.
Glaring at him, I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled. "I didn't break anything, you boob. It was already broken."
"Ooh, nice come back," Dean mocked, setting the stuff down on the top of one of the boxes we'd brought for the arrows and targets and such.
"Dean," my dad snapped, making us all turn to look at him. I thought for sure he'd be yelled at for picking on me. He wasn't. "These look the same to you?" he questioned, nodding Dean over.
Dean pushed past Sam and took the bows from my dad and inspected the weights and pulleys and whatever else you do to make sure a bow is set correctly. Sam "psst"ed bedside me, drawing my eyes to him. I stepped beside him as he waved me over. "Wanna mess with Dean's food?" What? Is he crazy? Dean loves food. Especially pie. Messing with Dean's food could end up with someone missing an eyeball, or, or toe or he might even kill you.
"Yes," I stated simply, without even thinking twice.
Sam grinned and we huddled around the white, paper bag that Dean brought with him, digging out the burgers. Figuring out which one was Dean's by the amount of onions and bacon that was piled on top, we unwrapped it and then stared at it. Neither of us had a plan. We're lame. "Remember what Matt did to Jimmy in school this past year? With the fake fishing worm thing? We could put a real worm in his food," I suggested. Sam gave me a look that said, "don't be dumb". "Or not," I quickly retorted.
"Bec, come over here," Dean called. Great. I shot a look to Sam and he just winked and then bent down to pluck some grass out of the dirt. "Today," Dean groaned louder.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'," I drawled as I turned and made my way over.
I stood waiting for him to say something, and he didn't. My dad was checking the bow Sam had been using, and I saw him look up when I audibly exhaled, signaling my boredom. "Pull back on this one again," my dad held out the bow. I didn't need an arrow, so I stood in their small group, and raised the bow, pulling back on the string with ease. "Okay, now that one," Dean handed the other one over, and we switched. Holding that one up, I pulled. Nothing.
I gave it back and flexed my fingers. "Sam's was easier than the last time."
"Okay," my dad took Sam's bow back and began to tighten the string. "What about now?"
Taking the bow again, I tried pulling. I struggled a little, but managed to get it. "It's harder," I told him.
"Sammy, I want you to see if you can still pull this back," my dad said taking the bow and heading off towards Sam.
I turned away from Sam's fallen face back around to see Dean messing with the bow. I just stared at him, not saying anything. He raised his brows as he continued working. "Can I help you?" he questioned with a bit of a "yes?" face.
Shaking my head, I answered, "Just watching. You told me to come over here, remember?"
He finished up and held the bow out. "Now try it," he directed. I held the bow up, and tried pulling, getting nowhere. He let me struggle for a few moments before swiping the bow from my hands. "Well, what the hell?!" he barked as he started messing with the bow once more.
Looking down at my feet when I thought I felt a bug on my leg, I kicked my foot and saw my lace was untied. Bending down to tie it, I hummed to myself to the tune of whatever song had been last playing in the Impala. I did it mainly to ignore the grunts of swears Dean was making above me. I mean, the guy mumbles under his breath all the time when he's frustrated. Who's going to really think it's a big deal? Just as I stood back up next to him, I faced the ground and pulled down my shirt, and just as I sniffed and lifted my head back up to look ahead of me, something hard snapped into my face, sending me down to land awkwardly on my knees, crashing on the hard earth below me.
My hands clutched my face, and I drew them back seeing dark, red blood already covering my palms entirely and creating a thick puddle. I didn't know what just happened, or felt anything really. Just numbness and shock. Staring at the blood puddle that was growing, I saw it was getting on my shirt and I could taste it on my lips. I gently brought my hands up to my face, and when my finger tips touched the bridge of my nose, I felt an abnormal dip on the side.
"You broke my nose!" I screamed to Dean.
Apparently no one else knew or was paying attention to what had happened until I screamed, except Dean – who looked horror stricken.
"I – I, Bec, I didn't –" Dean stuttered out, dropping the bow to the ground where it didn't even bounce. "You just stood up, it was an accident! I didn't mean to elbow you." He seemed frozen, like he didn't really know what to do or how to react.
"You elbowed her in the face and broke her nose?!" Sam gasped as he laughed while still holding the bow in one hand. He had a full smile on his face, all his teeth showing.
"Shut up, Sam!" Dean, our dad, and I all yelled at the same time.
"Let me see, Becca," my dad instructed as he came to kneel in front of me. "Dean, go grab the first aid kit from the car. Sam, bring over napkins, and one of those sodas." Both brothers immediately moved to do as they were told. "This is gonna hurt," he told me as he put a palm on either side of my face. I felt him gently tapping his thumbs against my nose as he tried to find the right placement. "Do you need something to squeeze?" he asked.
I nasally responded with a "No" as Sam stuck a handful of napkins into my blood soaked hands. My dad nodded and told me to keep my eyes locked on his. Then he counted to three and a loud crunch sounded, and a sharp ache stemmed from my nose. I allowed a cry of pain to pass from my lips, and instinctively slapped away his hands. I immediately wanted to touch my nose to feel for myself that it was fixed. It almost felt like it wasn't even there anymore. My entire face just throbbed and hurt.
"Becca, don't," my dad ordered as he took the kit from Dean's outstretched hand. He was peeling that white tape into smaller strips from the roll and took a piece of hard but moldable something he'd found from somewhere, and tried to roll it and create a curve in the otherwise straight piece. He wrapped a few cloth bandages around it for padding and then gently stuck it on my face, taping it down. "This is gonna be uncomfortable, but will help," he assured me as he made sure it was properly situated. Then he used some wet wipes to start cleaning my small hands in his large, calloused ones. "You're gonna have some pretty bad bruising, and that cast will have to stay on 24/7 for probably over week or two, but you'll be okay. If it doesn't get better, we'll take you into the hospital or something."
Nodding my head, I bit my lip, but didn't move. I didn't even know if I wanted to cry. I felt the sting of tears on my rims, but the pain didn't cause them. I didn't know what they were from or what the proper response was. Instead I just watched as he finished up cleaning my hands. After he'd wiped the blood off my face and helped me stand, he gave me cotton balls and instructed I put them in my nose while he dumped out one of the baggies in the first aid kit and filled it with ice from the soda. Slowly, I did as I was told before he gently placed the baggie of ice against my face.
Sam, Dean, and our dad cleaned up everything and we headed back towards the car, me slowly walking while carrying the makeshift ice pack against my face with one hand and bag of burgers in the other.
"I didn't mean it," Dean told me as he slowed down to walk next to me. "It was an accident."
"Yeah right," my words were hard to understand beneath the "cast" and "ice pack". "You probably thought that I was too cute and wanted to make me ugly!" I argued. It sounded like something he would do to me. And after Dean's super spying missions he'd done after Joshua kissed me, he said it was his mission to make sure no one ever touched me or ever did anything to me again... or wanted to.
Dean rolled his eyes at my dramatics. "If anything, me breaking your nose made you better looking."
Narrowing my eyes at him, I caught a small smile on my dad's face as he put things away into the trunk while he listened to our usual back and forth comments. Sam was already in the car waiting, eager to separate himself from anything that related to hunting or practicing. Dean was giving me this stupid smirk, like he thought he was cool or right or something, but he really just looks like a cocky jerk. And he's not even funny.
"I hope Sam put a real worm in your burger," I growled before getting in the car and closing the door behind me.
Dean froze for a minute, not really understanding what I'd told him as I buckled up. Then he quickly whipped open the door to yell at me when Dad cut him off.
"Dean, I wanna get back to the motel and get your sister some pain meds. Stop pickin' on her and bring that box over here so I can close this thing."
Dean growled at me and Sam before slamming the door shut once more. Sam looked at me and we immediately started to laugh. "Ow, ow, it hurts to laugh!" I whined, holding the bag of ice against my face with a little more pressure. Sam grimaced, feeling bad as he looked at the pain I was in. "So, what'd you do to his burger?" I whispered when we heard the trunk slam and their feet crunching around the sides of the car as Dean and our dad walked to their doors.
We looked over our shoulders before he shot me a full grin. "Nothin'. Dad came over and then Dean elbowed you before I could even do anything. But now he's gonna freak thinking that we did!" he told me before we both started laughing again, earning sharp eyes from Dean as he settled into the seat and shut the door behind him.