RAILROAD 666

WOW: Mad. Six different Supernatural characters are dealing with challenging train journeys in their own individual ways. Six unrelated drabbles written by six authors. A collaboration by Dizzo, Amberdreams, Edina Clouds, xlittleangx, The Ymp and Alena (not necessarily in that order).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of these fine people.

xxxxx

Castiel

This is certainly one of the stranger forms of human transport. The things I do for... the Winchesters, thought Castiel, surveying the antiquated interior of the steam train.

Surreptitiously, he gazed hungrily at Dean. It was madness, but he so desperately wanted.

A whistle shrilled with an almost demonic howl as the train plunged into the Stygian darkness of a tunnel.

Unable, unwilling, to restrain himself any longer, Castiel leaned forward and took what he needed. At the emergence of daylight, he sat back with a small, self-satisfied smile.

Dean's face twisted in outrage. "Who stole the last Hershey's Kiss?"

xxxxx

Sheriff Donna

The train whistle screeches as they enter a tunnel.

Donna's not scared. Nope. She can cope with a simple ghost hunt, you betcha. It's no worse than dealing with Joe Wiggins when he gets drunk on a Saturday night.

She follows Jody's lead, searching the carriage for anything this ghost might be attached to. She doesn't know what happened to the Winchesters, but the tense set of Jody's shoulders speaks volumes.

Guess they shouldn't have made the ghost mad. She'd been close to shoving Dean's over-protective ass off the train herself, mind.

Not until after he'd shared his donuts though.

xxxxx

Dean

I kinda like trains. There's something about the whistle and the smoke and the clackity-clack that's comforting in a funny sort of way.

Of course, I'm not saying I like this train. The damn thing's haunted by the spirit of an old time driver, mad as a bucket of frogs, who drove it off a bridge all those years ago.

So now I'm sweating my guts out, breaking my back shovelling coal and stoking the friggin' boiler to keep it going, so we can drive it over the rails we lined with salt last night.

So, yeah … actually,

Trains suck.

xxxxx

Crowley

Despite the plethora of ice the whiskey was not cold enough for the man dressed in black. He swivelled his glass wildly hoping the jerking movements would help to cool down his "much too warm" liquor.

Cutting his losses he downed the cheap beverage in one and left the buffet car.

"Bloody Winchesters," he snarled, eyes twinkling madly as he slinked through the track-clanking train. He pulled a small box from his jacket pocket and opened the lid. The smell of rotting flesh filled the compartment as he entered.

"What the …?" Dean growled.

"Wendigo liver as requested," Crowley smiled.

xxxxx

Sam

They never did enough research. He kept telling Dean that it was mad to go in blind.

He tasted the bitter tang of blood as the spectral car tilted sharply, lurching over phantom tracks.

His fellow passengers clung desperately to any purchase they could get as the haunted train sped on.

Sam's head barely cleared a space above him and any jolt precipitated his now aching head against (in his opinion) a far too solid roof. It also bounced a curtain of tangled bangs across his eyes causing distinct feelings of nausea.

Cursing their luck, he began the exorcism ritual.

xxxxx

Sherrif Jody

Jody watched the scene unfolding before her. The 'haunted train' experience was, frankly, getting old fast.

The ghost driver's eyes held a mad glint as he pulled the whistle and let loose a burst of steam. The train lurched forward, shuddered leaping over a sudden gap in the flickering tracks.

Everyone tumbled forward, caught out by the unexpected move.

"Right that's it!" Jody snapped as she extricated herself from the pile of bodies on the floor. She pointed at Sam, fixing him with her best Mom Glare.

"Do the ritual already! I got a busy county to take care of."

xxxxx

end