A/N: Because Jensen completely broke my heart at Torcon a while back I thought I would share my misery. (Yeah, yeah, I know. It's been a while since the con, but I'M REALLY BUSY RIGHT NOW) I will be adding to this, so stay tuned for more later.
Act 3
WIDE SHOT of a lonely country road. The pavement it cracked and worn after years of travel. There are weeds popping out of the cracks, each one withered and brown. Harvested fields surround the ROAD; the wheat stalks cut down and dry.
CAMERA focus' on a four door black 1967 Chevy Impala. The vehicle is shiny and clean, the chrome polished and pristine. This car has been obliviously cared for. DEAN WINCHESTER is leaning against the hood of the car, his eyes focused on the distant horizon as his hand flicks the keys to the car back and forth, every once and a while the metal hitting his palm with a harsh clank. There is a BAG resting at his feet made of green canvas and he is wearing a new LEATHER JACKET.
DEAN suddenly drops the keys; his eyes re-focus as he gazes down at the keys lying on the grey pavement. He keeps looking for a moment before bending down to pick them up. He gazes at the for a moment before removing a simple silver key, the words CASTLE STORAGE clearly written on tape at the top of the key. DEAN pockets the key before turning to pace along side the CHEVY IMPALA.
DEAN walks with trepidation, his steps quick and troubled. He stops several times, looking for brief moments at the car before continuing his walk. The loud rumble of a MOTORCYCLE is heard in the distance, DEAN lifting his head and pausing at the hood of the CHEVY IMPALA.
A MAN rides up the road on a Harley Davidson FAT BOY, the motorcycle a crisp matte black with silver finishings. DEAN takes a step away from the CHEVY IMPALA and towards the MAN who is now placing the weight of the MOTORCYCLE on the kickstand, swinging his leg over the side of the MOTORCYCLE before meeting DEAN in the center of the road.
BOTH MEN shake hands, it's firm and solid- a mans handshake. The MAN turns his head towards the CEHVY IMPALA, whistling low and sultry.
MAN
That's quite the vehicle there. Are you sure you want to be selling her to me and not some fancy-ass company willing to give you hundreds of thousands of dollars for a beauty like her?
DEAN
*Also turning to look at the CHEVY IMPALA* No. She deserves to be out on the road going nowhere, not sitting in a show room for people to gawk at until she rusts.
The MAN let's out a huff, both standing in silence and gazing at the IMPALA. After ten seconds the MAN turns to DEAN, pulling a key ring out of his pocket and holding them out to him.
MAN
Well if you're sure, then here you go.
The MAN hands the keys to DEAN, taking the IMPALA's in exchange. The MAN walks over to the IMPALA, placing the key in the DRIVER DOOR and turning, the door opening with a familiar creak, heartache showing on DEAN's face at the noise. The emotion is there for just a fraction before DEAN leans down, putting his weight on the open door. His eyes travel over the vechile lovingly, a small smile coming to his face.
DEAN
Take care of her for me.
The MAN turns to look at DEAN, his gaze soft and relaxed.
MAN
You don't have to worry about me. I know how to take care of a work of art.
DEAN nods, standing to his full height before running his hand over the roof of the car one more time. The movement is slow, his eyes once again clouding over as memories flood his mind. His eyes fill with tears before he clears his throat, hitting the roof once before he takes a step back. He moves to the frot of the car, picking up the BAG and slinging it over his shoulder before moving out of the way of the CHEVY IMPALA.
DEAN
Well enjoy her. It was a pleasure.
MAN
I'll see you around kid.
The DOOR shuts and the engine of the IMPALA fires up. DEAN stands beside the MOTORCYCLE watching as the MAN pulls away from the side of the road and roars down the highway, the gleaming black exterior of the CHEVY IMPALA shinning in the sun light. DEAN watches until he can no longer see the car, turning to the MOTORCYCLE once it is no longer in his field of sight. He looks at the bike, gazing extra long at the single seat. There is reluctance in his motion as he swings his leg over the bike, shifting uncomfortably in the seat unused to not needing a passenger's seat.
DEAN swallows hard on inserts the key into the ignition, the MOTORCYCLE rumbling to live beneath him. DEAN swings the BAG over his shoulders, shifting it several times to make sure it is place before zipping his JACKET shut. With a practiced motion DEAN kicks the bike into gear and roars down the highway, the wind drying the tears on his face.
FADE TO BLACK
END SCENE