A/N: This is my first fanfiction, so any criticism is welcome! This fic and it's title is inspired by the song 'Riders On The Storm' by the Doors.

Disclaimer: I do not own rights to Supernatural.

Chapter One

Rain battered the windscreen of the Dodge as Dean drove along what felt like a never-ending road. Combined with the oppressive darkness outside, he could hardly see anything in front of him, the headlamps of the car making little difference against the cruel weather. Sam was dozing in the passenger seat next to him, his head lolling backwards over the leather seat, his chest rising and falling slowly. His eyelids fluttered ever so slightly, a sure-fire sign that he was dreaming. At least it isn't a nightmare, Dean thought, otherwise he would be kicking his unnaturally long legs against the footwell of the car. It was a comforting sight to see his brother sleeping so peacefully for a change. The poor kid deserved a break; Dean could only guess at what sort of havoc and torment Lucifer was wreaking in his brother's mind.

The radio was quietly playing Lynyrd Skynyrd, accompanied by the rumbling of the Dodge's engine, and Dean finally allowed himself to feel the sense of peace creeping upon him. He could almost ignore the threat of the leviathans, the complex mental case of Sam, Cas's betrayal and end. He could almost forget the heavy sense of loss and grief over Bobby. Things seemed so set against him, and yet right in this moment, with Sammy sleeping so soundly next to him, driving towards what the next morning would bring him, he felt the most in control and relaxed he had for a while. Maybe this next hunt would go smoothly. Maybe he would find some solid evidence on Dick Roman. Maybe Sam would be better rested at the least.

However, all these hopes were shattered as a figure came into view in the headlights.

Nearly crashing into the shadow, Dean slammed on the brakes, the tyres screaming in protest. He stopped just short of sending the figure flying. Sam jerked awake, his bloodshot eyes quickly scanning his surroundings. His flannel-covered shoulders slouched as he relaxed, realising he was safe. Just when I was finally getting some rest, he thought.

"What the hell, dude!" Both said in unison, Sam staring accusatorily at his brother. Dean didn't reply, his eyes wide as he stared ahead, his hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. He was holding his breath. Sam followed his line of sight to a hunched figure stood in front of the headlights. The person seemed to be completely unaware that a car had just nearly kissed their ass. Before Sam had a chance to react, Dean seemed to wake from his state of shock, near enough kicking the car door open, anger etched on his face.

"Are you trying to kill yourself!" Sam heard Dean shout, and sensing the situation was about to escalate, he followed suit, exiting the warmth of the car. Walking round to the front of the Dodge, Sam was able to see the full profile of the figure. A man, who appeared to be in his early twenties stood before them, shoulders drooping forward, wet dirty blonde hair plastered to his face. Blood and mud covered his face, bare arms and jacket. His soaked clothes clung to his body as he stood blankly looking ahead, not seeming to notice the two men staring at him. The guy looked like he had been hit by a car already, and Sam couldn't help but feel sympathy towards him.

"Looks like the lights are on, but no one's home," Dean said dryly, breaking the silence.

Sam glared at his brother and sighed. "Um, hey?" Sam asked, bending slightly and lowering his head so he could see the man's face properly. "Are you OK?" There seemed to be no sign of thought, or life even, in the man's eyes. He did not even acknowledge Sam's question, or of either brothers' presence.

"Maybe we should get him in the car and warm him up?" Sam suggested, looking back at his brother.

"Why would we do that? We don't know him from Jack," Dean retorted, the light casting angular shadows across his face.

"We can't just leave him out here Dean. He might cause another accident, or get run over."

"He doesn't seem to be bothered about that," Dean said, waving his hand in front of the man's face. "See, there's nothing there."

"That's beside the point," Sam rolled his eyes. Empathy didn't always come naturally to Dean, unless it concerned Sam or his safety.

"No, the point is, I don't want some nutcase in the car with us. God knows what he could do."

"In case you hadn't noticed, you've already got a nutcase in the car with you," Sam looked over at his brother pointedly, the headlights reflecting in his hazel eyes.

"Not cool, Sammy. Not cool," Dean shot back at his brother. But he knew Sam was right; he couldn't leave this strange man on the side of the road to be a danger to himself and others. And even if he wanted to, he knew Sam would not let it rest until he got his way. Sighing, Dean stepped round to face the man, and crouching to look at him, he placed his hands on the guy's shoulders.

"Hey man, we're gonna get you off the road and somewhere safe. OK?"

The man eyes shifted to focus on Dean's, and Dean thought for a moment he would respond. However, a few seconds later, the man eyes flitted back, as he continued on with his staring contest with the woods behind Dean.

"Definitely crazy," Dean muttered, as he guided the slight man to the car. "A bit of help would be nice Sam."

...

Dean headed towards the closest town in Minnesota, which happened to be Princeton. He decided that he would hand Mr. Crackpot in the back over to the authorities, and be on his way. He had bigger fish to fry than babysitting some loon. It had been a mammoth task to get him in the damn car. It was like his limbs had stopped working, as he did not cooperate with the brothers, his arms stiff by his sides, his feet firmly planted to the asphalt. By the time they had shoved him into the backseat and got back into their seats, Sam and Dean were drenched by the relentless rainfall, Sam's mop of brown hair poking at his eyes. And to add insult to injury, the Dodge's windows had started to steam up as a result of the extra body in the car. Dean had turned the heat up to full, and felt as if he was being cooked alive.

"Hey, no Titanic moments Sammy. I don't want a handprint on the window," Dean smirked over at his brother. He chuckled furthermore at the bitchface he received in return. They continued in silence for a while, until the backseat mental case began mumbling to himself, his eyes cast down towards his feet.

"Oh great, he's a talker," Dean groaned.

"Shh, I'm trying to listen to what he's saying," Sam said quietly, not daring to turn round and face the man, for fear it would startle him and he would stop. He could only make sense of a few words.

"H-h-h-help… w-w-w-woods… l-l-l-lost…"

"I think he's trying to tell us something Dean," Sam whispered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "OK, Mr. Detective, while you're trying to figure that out, I'll be pretending to care. The sooner we get to this town and get rid of him, the happier I'll be."