AN: This is my new fic! It has nothing to do with my other one! Thanks for checking this out

Dean was sitting in his yellow cab that was parked on the side of a busy Chicago street with the light on saying he was available. His one track mind was repeating one thought over and over. I hate this job, I hate this job, I hate this job… As he repeated that, he filled out his log from his last trip. He had taken someone to O'Hare which was at least a half hour away from where he was now but that was when traffic's good. But in Chicago? Traffic was never good, so the trip was longer than he had hoped and the guy was a lousy tipper to top it off.

The passenger's side door to the backseat opened. Dean finished writing before looking into the rearview mirror as he set the sheet down. He was met by an intense gaze from a pair of deep blue eyes. A handsome face with a five o'clock shadow surrounded the eyes and unruly dark hair stuck up all over the place on top of his head.

"Where, uh, where to, man?" Dean asked, followed by a small cough. He couldn't help but be flustered at this odd but attractive guy in a trenchcoat sitting in the back of his taxi.

The mysterious man still said nothing. He paused for a moment before turning to look out the back window. Dean followed suit and checked it out.

On the sidewalk were two people causing a commotion in the early evening foot traffic. It was a woman with her brunette hair pulled back into a sharp bun and a black guy, fit with short black hair, both dressed in business attire. They were running towards the cab and closing quickly and were clearly looking for someone.

Their eyes found Dean's cab and they moved with more eagerness, if that were possible, upon seeing the man in the backseat.

"Friends of yours?" Dean asked, although he could figure out that answer pretty quickly and didn't like where this was headed.

"I would not characterize them as my friends," was the response. It was a deeper voice than Dean was expecting. "I don't want to tell you how to do your job but you might want to step on it," he continued.

Dean's eyes widened as he could see the terrible duo pulling guns from side holsters hidden by their suit jackets. He didn't need telling twice as he punched it, swerving into traffic and getting several honks from other drivers. As a cab driver in a city, he was used to that. Being shot at? Not so much.

"What the hell, man?" Dean yelled as a couple of shots dinged parts of the cab. One of the taillights might have been busted. The windows were fine and the car could still drive so he assumed they were okay. For now, at least.

"They're after something I have," the passenger said simply, as if this was a normal, everyday occurrence for him. Dean was going to ask what he meant but got distracted by what he saw in the rearview mirror. The man and woman were getting into a shiny, white Escalade driven by a third party. It was safe to guess he wasn't a friend either, Dean thought bitterly.

The Escalade cut through traffic, swerving and speeding and gaining on the taxi. A shot rang out and then another. Dean tried to focus on the road and lose them and not get shot. I do not get paid enough to be shot at.

The back window shattered as a third bullet was fired. Glass rained onto the man in the backseat who had ducked down when shots had started to be fired.

"Are you okay?" Dean yelled. He didn't want blood in his cab, it was bad enough the company would probably dock him for the window.

"I'm fine," came a muffled response from the huddled mass behind Dean.

"All right, hang on," Dean advised, making a very sharp and immediate right turn. Their pursuers weren't quick enough and kept going straight.

"Yes! We lost them!" Dean exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air. "I'm awesome."

The excitement was short-lived because the random assailants must have made the quickest U-turn in history and were again chasing the taxi.

"Oh, come on!" Dean shouted, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. More shots rang out but were pretty far off of their mark. He was trying his best to swerve and weave but the beginning of rush hour traffic was making that exceedingly difficult.

The Escalade was gaining and the two who were running still had their guns trained on the cab. As they pulled up level to the cab's right side, the woman was about to fire from the backseat right at Dean when their car hit one of the many potholes that curse Chicago streets. She still fired but thankfully the bullet hit the front tire.

Well, Dean thought it was 'thankfully', until they started spinning out of control. The Escalade sped away and disappeared into traffic as the taxi spun and slammed into a light pole with the left side, crushing the back door. Dean's head hit the window and he blinked away the black spots dancing at the edge of his vision.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" he asked, turning to face the backseat. The man was sitting up, shaking glass off of his coat and looking dazed but unharmed.

"Yes. We should go."

"We? Go? What are you talking about? I just drive a cab! They're after you, not me!"

"They'll figure out who you are and then you'll be a part of this, too. So we should go."

Dean couldn't believe his day had gotten this worse. What this stranger was saying made sense, from what he knew of the crazy people who had tried to kill them. Of all the cabs in Chicago…

"Fine. My brother lives pretty close. Let's go," Dean said reluctantly as he began to walk away from the destroyed cab. "before they come back." He turned to make sure his new "friend" was coming with and laughed a little.

"What?"

"We almost died and I don't even know your name."

"Castiel," Castiel said with a small smile.

"Dean," Dean answered as they walked down the street together.