Authors note: This was written for a friend… it's not really focused on any particular season, probably somewhere in 1 or 2… Before Sam got shot or Dean went to hell… It'll become clearer if I decide to add any other characters from the series. This might be a one-shot; it all depends on how it's received. So reviews would be appreciated.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot or any original characters that might pop up. Everything else belongs to someone else…
The wind rushed passed Sam's locks of hair as he enjoyed his time of silenced driving during the early hours of the morning with the window rolled halfway down. Dean had wanted rest, and had let Sam drive the stunning black, 1967 Chevy Impala while he slept in the passenger seat.
As Sam swerved around one bend in the tree-lined highway, Dean sat up quickly and frowned in Sam's general direction.
"Man, what do you think you're doing, going that fast?" he asked.
"What?! You always drive fast." Sam retorted.
"That's because it's my Metallicar.." Dean replied, a smirk playing across his face.
Sam frowned and pulled over to the side of the highway. Looking at his brother sideways, he shook his head. "That's a stupid name for a car."
Dean's face, despite the crack on the car's nickname, cracked into a grin and an evil shine played in his eyes before he quickly pounced on Sam.
"Fine, my turn to drive," Dean said, trying to suppress a laugh as he simultaneously opened the drivers door and pushed Sam out of the car.
Dean quickly slid over to sit in the drivers seat and close the car door, while a very disgruntled Sam slipped into the now vacant passenger seat, slamming the door as he got in.
"Jerk." Sam shot at Dean.
"Bitch." Dean replied back.
Dean revved the car while smirking in his brother's general direction and they both resumed speeding down the highway.
"So where are we going?" Sam asked, staring out of his door's window.
"Salem." Dean replied, turning to Sam with a very serious expression.
Sam looked at Dean with an eyebrow raised and gave a small laugh.
"Salem?" he asked in disbelief.
"Nah." Dean replied, breaking out into laughter as Sam shot him a dirty look. "We're going to Vegas."
"..Vegas… Poltergeist? Demon? They'd be the types to love that place."
"Nah, we're gonna be checking out the credibility of some sort of psychic." Dean said, turning his head to look out his door's window, inspecting a sign he had nearly missed.
"Name?" Sam asked, as he went to pull out their father's journal.
"Uh… Sam… Winchester, I believe?" Dean said, before giving his brother a sidelong glance.
Sam glared at him, but before he could say anything, Dean turned a particularly sharp corner, which threw Sam into the door rather hard.
"You really should wear a seatbelt, buddy boy…" Dean teased, and Sam just stared out his window again, not wanting to get into any deep arguments at the moment.
They rode in silence as Dean laughed inwardly.
Sam woke up rather groggily, and cracked his head as he had realized he had fallen asleep rather uncomfortably against the door of the car. He looked to his left and saw that his brother was gone, and as he looked around some more, he realized that he must have gone into the building they were parked in front of. From the looks of the neon lights that decorated the door and the ones he could see glaring behind him in the rear-view mirror, they were already in Vegas.
Sam sighed and stepped out of the car, locking and shutting it before entering the building. Almost right away he saw the outline of his brother at a rather shifty looking Poker table, and he went to his side.
"Well hello sleeping beauty, thanks for finally joining us" Dean smirked. "Think you could give us some insight on the cards these jackasses hold?"
Sam just frowned and walked away, towards a different doorway. He wasn't about to be used to gamble and he wasn't in the mood. He'd had some disturbing dreams in the past few days, and he couldn't make heads or tails of them.
He entered a dark room, which smelled kind of funny; a mix of black licorice and booze, it seemed to be. He heard the door open again behind him and could vaguely make out the shape of Dean following him into the room.
"Well I have basically NO chance of winning without cheating… and those guys didn't look too friendly." Dean casually said.
Sam just scoffed and moved forward.
Dean took a flashlight out of his pocket and turned it on, flooding the room in a dim, blue light.
Odd shapes of mermaids and other sea-creatures could be made out from different paintings on the walls. Clown masks filled several desks, and there were piles of other things that they couldn't make out. All had a thick layer of dust on them, and as they looked at the ground they could see that the floor was in the same state. Dust covered.
"Dude… are we even supposed to be in here?" Dean asked.
"I don't know… Isn't this a casino?" Sam replied.
"I don't know if it's a legit one… but it seems there's remnants of casinos everywhere in this city." Dean replied.
They both walked around, looking at things, before coming up to some sort of large, fiberglass box. It looked like it had once been white, but with years of grime and dust, had turned a pale yellow/grey in color. On the top, were faded black words "McFly".
"Oh man! This band sucks!" Dean laughed as he went to throw open the door.
"Dude, don't, you don't know what's in there." Sam said, moving to stop Dean.
"C'mon, man. You can't say that after our job, you're scared of what might be in a box marked 'McFly'?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged and Dean threw open the box.
It looked to be empty and as Dean started leaning quite far into it, Sam had the idea to push him in. And he did.
Giving a great heave, Sam rammed Dean up against the box and startled, Dean grabbed back, clutching the arm of Sam and as a result both of them toppled into the box. They both heard a noise as the top slammed shut above them, and it seemed quite deep as they kept falling.
Dean had a horrible feeling.
"What did you do that for?! Who knows what this box is? It's obviously not normal, you shit head!" Dean yelled.
Sam's angry voice echoed around them, "You're the one that told me there was nothing to be afraid!"
"I'm not afraid, I just don't know what you got us into."
Light started to pour in all around them, and they fell quite hard onto what felt like a concrete pathway.
As they looked up they realized they had fallen on a concrete pathway and Sam was the first to realize they were on a street of some sort.
A man stood in front of them.
Sam and Dean stared, as they slowly stood, steadying themselves.
The man had white hair, which looked like it had been electrocuted more than once and was wearing a long white lab coat.
"May I help you?" he asked, in a high, gravely voice.
The boys found this odd for many reasons, but mainly because he offered help in the middle of a sidewalk in what looked to be a busy part of whatever town they were in.
"Yeah, you can tell us where the fuck we are… and how the hell we came here through a box." Said Dean, quite agitated.
"Not scared, huh?" Sam giggled, as he looked Dean up and down.
Dean had a wet patch on his pants, signifying a weakness in bladder… or courage.
Dean glared at Sam as he laughed long and hard, and the stranger stared at them both.
"Why don't you come with me?" the man asked, and upon finding no apparent fault with him, apart from possible insanity, the two boys followed him; Dean of course, tying his leather jacket around his waist.
When they got to the place the man called home, they found it to be a rather small house, covered inside and out with various junk. A dog greeted them at the door, and as Doc, as he told them to call him, got Dean new pants, Sam and Dean sat on his couch.
"You really probably shouldn't be sitting down on account of the.. uh.." Sam started to joke about Dean's wet pants, but got cut off when Dean shoved him off the couch.
"Oops. I slipped." Dean said, flatly.
"LIKE YOUR BLADDER. OLOLOLOLOLOLOL."
Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, "Are you alright."
"BETTER THAN YOUR BLADDER, SCAREDY CAT. OLOLOLOL."
Dean scooted to the edge of the couch furthest from where Sam fell. Consequently, Dean left a wet trail on the couch, which left Sam in more 'loling' fits.
Doc entered the room with a pair of pants in hand, telling Dean to go change, indicating towards a door behind him. Doc then sits on the couch, where Sam had scooted back up, leaning away from Doc who had sat in the pee that Dean had left behind.
Doc shriveled up his nose at the smell and turned to face Sam with a half-assed smile. "I don't usually go out in public, but when I do, I find strange foreigners! So tell me! Where do you come from?"
Doc seemed over-the top interested in the boys, and as Dean came back in he caught Doc leaning closely towards Sam.
Sam was just answering Doc's question, "We come from a show called Supernatural… and I think we stumbled into the wrong place!"
Dean nodded behind Doc and said "Isn't this from Back to the Future?"
Doc turned around, eyeing the two suspiciously, back and forth.
Dean shrugged and walked around, surveying his surroundings. "We fell in through a box… Well I was pushed in…" he concluded, shooting Sam a dirty look.
With a very serious face Doc said "Captain Jack Sparrow, manbearpig, fruit, Hannah Montana."
Dean and Sam simply stared at Doc and jumped as steam started coming from his ears. Quickly, Doc exploded from the stress of naming the worst pop star in history.
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Isn't Hannah Montana from in the future?"
Sam simply swayed back and forth, as Doc had just named everything in his strange dreams.
"What do we do?" Sam asked in a hushed voice.
"Hmm…" Dean thought, and looking around he found a pair of car keys. "Let's go to Vegas!"
Authors Note: That sucked, in my opinion… It wasn't as good as I thought it'd be. I just couldn't think of much and I tried to make it as parody/funny-like as possible. So yeah, unless it's requested, I won't be continuing, so it may just be a one-shot.
I hope you enjoy it more than I think you will…