Bad Moon Rising
Supernatural/BTVS Crossover
Word Count: 614
John Winchester saw the old truck on the side of the road in the middle of the William B. Bankhead National Forest in Alabama outside of Double Springs. It was rusted out in spots, the paint worn down to the red primer, and its hood was up while white steam billowed out of it. The Impala pulled up behind the truck, its black paint a pristine shiny black that reflected the starlight peeking through the canopy of the trees. The chrome so bright that it looked like liquid silver. "That is one crappy looking truck," Dean said from the passenger seat stating the obvious. His blue eyes scanned the dark shadows around the truck looking for some sign of the driver. The man was dressed in black, and hard to see. Dean relaxed when he saw the white of his collar against the darkness.
The man in the collar glanced up from the truck's engine, behind him the spectre of his mistress waited while the car came to a stop. "These the ones you wanted me to meet?" he said quietly beneath his breath as the dome lights in the car came on with the opening of the heavy Detroit steel doors of the old car. The First nodded with a sly smile. She was wearing the face of a young black whore that he'd killed for her about a hundred and fifty miles north.
"Need some help?" the older man asked as he stepped from the car, the gravel on the side of the road crunching beneath his boot heels. "This is no place to be stuck this late at night."
"This ain't no place to be stuck any time of day," Caleb wiped his grease covered hands on an old rag that was stained from wiping his knife on a regular basis, and then tucked it back into his pocket before the man and his son could see the brown stains of old blood that were a permanent fixture and reminder of his service to the First. "Mighty nice of y'all to stop to help me though. I'm Caleb."
"Father Caleb?" Dean said as he came around behind the man, unknowingly walking through the First, and shivered as her evil brushed at his soul.
"That's right," the fallen priest said with a grin. "On my way to Double Springs to see a cousin of mine. 'Fraid my old truck has other ideas though. Looks like I blew a radiator hose." He frowned knowing damned well that that's what had happened. He'd wanted to just cut the hose, but She had told him they were too smart for that. It was better to weaken it, so that when it broke it would be real. "Don't suppose y'all have a spare in that mighty fine lookin' car of yours?"
"Don't think so," John said gruffly as always. His voice sounding like he'd drunk too many bottles of moonshine on his quest for revenge against the demon that had killed his wife and the mother of his sons.
"But we can give you a ride into town if you like?" the boy offered. Caleb figured he was about twenty, but his eyes were so much older than that. His father shot him a warning glance, but by then it was too late.
"I would appreciate it," Caleb reached into the cab of the truck, and grabbed his duffel bag. "Not much hope of me hitchin' a ride with anyone else tonight." The boy and his father had been to hell and back. Making their lives miserable was going to be so much fun, and quite a challenge. He couldn't wait. "Think there's a storm comin'."