Story Title: Spookshow, Baby

Summary: Meet Cherry. (Charlie!) Whatever. She's just acquired a black '67 Chevy Impala. Problem? It's being haunted by its former owner. And he's not too happy about the situation. Then again, neither is she.

Warnings: Mild language. Some spoilers. Mainly from season one. Maybe a little foreshadowing of season two and three.

Genres: Humor/Drama/Angst/Romance/Supernatural

Disclaimer: I wished on a star last night, woke up this morning and Sam and Dean Winchester still didn't belong to me. Oh, well.

Author's note: Okay, so here's the deal: this is my first Supernatural fic. I'm a little nervous about putting this out as I've never really done humor, but not to worry there will be plenty of angst and supernatural dealings. Enough said, please review. Feedback is always good and I'd like to know what you think.

Chapter One:
Happy Birthday!

"Cherry?" Charlie, I corrected. "Hey, kiddo. It's Mal." There was a small pause, followed by a long sigh. "I know you're probably mad at me- please don't be," his tone of voice had changed since his initial greeting. "I've got a good reason. I swear. Meet me at home, okay? I'll explain everything there. And if you still want to throttle me senseless, you can. Well, not to badly. Love ya and see ya soon, bye!"

By the time the message was over, I was already halfway out the door. I might have been a bit upset with my older brother, but I wasn't going to skip out on seeing him.

Hearing his voice, even though it was just on the answering machine, was both a huge relief and a surprise. When I arrived home from work and saw the red light blinking, I expected it to be a damn telemarketer or something, but then I heard his voice, telling me to meet him at our parents home. I didn't know what to expect from his return. I never did.

Malcolm had disappeared a couple of weeks prior to his message and hadn't been heard from since. Actually, disappeared was to strong of a word. He left, took off. Same thing, I know, but less harsh and it doesn't raise too many alarms. Sure, he'd left a note saying that he'd be back as soon as possible and that we shouldn't worry, but moms worry and ours was at her wits end. She was going out of her mind, worrying about him.

Why did he leave? Where did he go? Did he have any clean underwear? Mom stuff, you understand.

Dad and I just couldn't say or do anything to calm her down.

Mal was known for taking off at random times, we were use to it. It was something he did, but mom still had trouble letting go. Dad and I had been worried too, don't get me wrong, but we knew that he was a big boy-he could take care of himself. Sort of. And his leaving usually didn't bother me, but it kind of irked me this time.

He left about two or three weeks before my birthday. My twenty-first birthday. I wanted to know why, but of course, he never leaves a contact number and he doesn't have a cell phone. Cancer, he says. Whatever.

So, of course, being the person that I am- curious as a cat- I didn't hesitate to meet up with him and about forty-five minutes later I found myself sitting on mom's couch, waiting for him as patiently as I could.

Mal arrived ten minutes after I did with a huge smile on his face, like he was proud of something.

I quirked an eyebrow. "What are you grinning about?" I asked suspiciously as I stood up from my seat to hug him. He was a lot taller than me. 6"2 to my 5"2 and when people looked at my mother and father, who are at a decent height, and ask why I was so short, I'd point at my brother and they seemed to get the message.

"It's good to see you too, Cherry," he said, bending at his knees a little to hug me properly.

"It's Charlie. Or Charlotte. No Cherry," I reminded him. I couldn't count how many times a day I had use to do that. It was cute for a while, then it just got annoying when I turned fifteen and he just didn't seem to understand that I wasn't his baby Cherry anymore. Sometimes I didn't have the heart to remind him, but I was still a little upset with him leaving and not telling me why.

"I know, I know," he replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He was still smiling and something about the way his brown eyes twinkled didn't sit right with me. He was hiding something. Something big, maybe… but then again I had always been a little paranoid when it came to him. And with good reason, too. This was the guy who put his pet rat in my bed just because he thought that my reaction would be funny to watch.

"So," I began. "You needed to see me? I was promised an explanation and some major throttling if I wasn't satisfied."

He shook his head. "Come on," he said, walking behind me to cover my eyes with his large hands.

"W-what are you doing?"

"I've got a surprise for you."

He led me outside, slowly, and wouldn't so much as give me a hint to what it could be. I didn't know whether to be excited or worried, but judging by his voice- the surprise was good and I couldn't help but feel a little giddy and when he removed his hands, I knew that I was right.

"Okay, when I move my hands, keep your eyes closed until I tell you. Got it?" I nodded and he removed his hands away from my eyes. "Okay… now!"

Okay, so what I thought might be waiting for me was not half as cool as what actually was. Sitting on our parents drive way, in all its glory was a black Chevy. My early annoyance and paranoia was quickly replaced by shock and confusion. My jaw dropped, I think it might have hit the ground, but my hand quickly caught it. I turned to my brother, who was standing a little to my right with a bright smile on his dimpled face.

Stupidly, I asked him, "Is this for me?" I needed to be sure. I didn't want to get all excited for nothing and then have him tell me: "No are you crazy? This baby is mine!" Because then I probably would have killed him for getting me worked up for nothing.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. "Happy Birthday, kiddo. Sorry it's a bit late. I was working on it and--oomph!" I cut him off by tackling him with a hug.

"Sorry?!" I shouted, horrified. "Don't be sorry. You are the best big brother a girl could have!" I finished, jumping on him and squeezing him as hard as I could in a bear hug to get my point across, although now that I think about it, I don't think that constricting ones air supply could be considered as a way of saying 'I love you and thanks.'

"I'm your only brother," he reminded me with a wheeze as he tried to wiggle out of my grasp. "Cherry, I can't breathe, kiddo. I love you too, but you gotta let me breathe!"

"Oh!" I said, jumping away, still beaming about my late birthday gift, completely ignoring the fact that he had called me by that ridiculous nickname he had given me when we were little. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he replied, rubbing his arm a little. "So, I take it you like it?"

"Like it?" I asked, bright eyes scanning the car in all its glory. "I love it! Where'd you get it? It must have been so expensive!" I know it's rude to ask about the price of things, but I knew my brother didn't have a lot of money. He was just as broke as I was.

He just shook his head, "I got a good price, found it in a junkyard." He must have noticed the confused look on my face because he began to explain. "I left because I got called for a job, came across a junkyard and saw the Chevy and knew it must have been a classic. I talked to the owner, practically gave it to me, said he didn't want it. So, I bought car parts, worked for most of them and lo' and behold, your new baby." He gave another smile and walked towards the car, running his hand lightly over the hood, almost lovingly. "Happy Birthday," he said, turning to me.

I shook my head and walked over to him. "You really didn't have to give me anything, you know." I hadn't been aware that he had left for a job or that he had taken so long to get back because he was fixing up a car for me.

He nodded, "I know, but it's nice to give you something every now and then. Twenty-one is suppose to be big deal and I know that your eighteenth birthday wasn't all that, or your fifteen. I wanted this to be special. Plus I now you hate getting around in cabs and buses."

I officially loved my big brother to death. Malcolm was only four years older than me, making him twenty-five. Growing up, we didn't always see eye to eye with each other. The whole brother and sister bonding thing just wasn't for us. I was out doing my own things and, well, he was too. It wasn't until recently that we started forming a bond. I had always wanted a big brother to rely on, to joke with and I was getting that now.

"Oh my god," I choked, covering my face with both hands. "You're gonna make me cry."

"Oh no," he rushed over to me and grabbed me by my shoulders, shaking me enough to get my attention. "You will not cry on me! I'll take the car back, I swear!"

"But your so cheesy!" I joked, trying to lighten up the mood. Malcolm wasn't very good with crying women. I often wondered what he would do if he ever got married and needed to comfort his wife or daughter. Probably send them to me.

He laughed as well, shaking his head as he reached into his pocket for something. I wiped my eyes just in time to see a key hanging from his index finger. "Wanna go for a ride?"

I smiled widely as he tossed the key towards me and I made way towards the drivers side. I had my license, but always thought it was a waste because I never could get around to buying a car. Good think I let dad pressure me into it.

I opened the door carefully and hopped in, taking in everything. The upholstery. The steering wheel. Everything! Mal had done such a good job. My brother did the same. As I put on my seatbelt, Mal reached over and turned the radio on, switching it to this station that played his favorite music.

Before I could stop myself, I reached over and switched it to another station. "Uh-uh. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole," and then I froze and looked at my brother. He was giving me this really weird look, quirked eyebrow and all. "On second thought, you choose. It's fine," I said, with a nervous giggle.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you meant," he said, turning the station back and then looking at me once more. "Freak."

"Loser," I shot back, pulling out of the driveway and testing just how fast my new baby could go.