I don't own either supernatural or good omens. Sorry for any behavior that seems OOC. I don't think it particularily was, but...
"Wow. That is one old car." Sam commented aloud.
Dean twisted a bit to look, and gave a long whistle. "Yeah, that's an antique Bentley. Looks mint condition, too." He squinted. "A 1926, I think."
"You can tell that just by looking?" His brother asked incredulously. "I know my cars, Sammy." The other replied, not taking his eyes off the Bentley. "But man, someone must really love that thing for it to still be running. It's a relic." "Well, you can ask him about it yourself." Sam replied. "He's staying at the same place we are." He pointed out the window at the motel sign. "Maybe you two can trade love stories." He snickered.
"Ha ha. Very funny, Sammy. Maybe I will. Not everyone appreciates good cars. Bentleys may be for rich bastards, but anyone who can drive one of those around and still stay at the crappy kinds of places we stay at is a bastard I could like."
(The owner of the Bentley is, in fact, definitely the kind of person who would normally stay at the most luxurious room in the most expensive hotel in town. However, he has…business in this area. And it doesn't really matter, because anywhere he stays will be luxurious, simply because he expects that anywhere he stays will be. It's a perk of the job.)
A turn of the wheel pulled the '67 Chevy Impala up in front of the building. Dean got out, but left the keys in the ignition. "I'm gonna get us a room. Sammy, you park the car." "What? You're serious?" Dean's head and shoulders reappeared through the open window of the car. "Yeah. Maybe a spin behind the wheel will teach you to respect my baby more."
He patted the side of the car. "Besides, I don't think there is much you could do to it in the five minutes I'm going to be gone."
Sam blinked slowly. "Wow, Dean. Thanks. I mean it." Dean gave him a wave as he disappeared through the front door.
"Alright then." Sam murmured to himself as he got out and walked around to the other side of the car. "I'll park it next to that Bentley then." The car in question had both spaces on either side of it open, as well as the space across from it, which seemed odd in an otherwise full parking lot.
As he slid into the space, he cut the engine and swung the door open. There was a loud crunch. "Oh shit."
He squeezed out the door to inspect the damage. He had parked too far to one side, and when he opened the door, it had winged the side of the Bentley, leaving a very noticeable dent. "Not good."
No sooner had he spoken the words than the door to one of the rooms flung open so hard it broke one of the hinges. "What did you do to my car?"
A man stormed out, alternating between flustered and wringing his hands, and angry and looking like he was going to pull Sam's entrails out through his throat.
He looked to be in his mid to late thirties, well dressed in an expensive black suit, and snakeskin shoes. His hair was slick black, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of deep black sunglasses, even though the sky had been cloudy all day, and the man had just emerged from indoors. He was also British.
'For Go-Sa-Someone's sake! My car!"
"Look," Sam protested, wondering how the man had known so immediately. "I'll pay for it, okay? It was an accident." The mark was barely noticeable, and the hunter started to get a little pissed off himself that the dark haired man was making such a big deal out of it.
The man glared at the blemish to the glossy black surface of his car as if it had killed his mother, and with an audible pop, the dent…undented itself.
"Uh…" The hunter wasn't sure what supernatural creature had the ability to fix cars, but the man sure as hell wasn't human. A witch, maybe?
Turning his glare on the hunter this time, the man literally began to hiss. "You, Sssam Winchessster," He spat, lowering his sunglasses to reveal yellow yes with slitted reptilian pupils "are going to wisssh you'd never been born." A forked tongue flickered in his mouth as he spoke. The man snapped his fingers, and then both he and the Bentley were gone.
And the Impala was on fire.
"Oh shit!" Sam wrestled off his jacket, and started to beat the car with it, trying to put out the flames. A shocked voice behind him yelled "What did you do to my car?"
Sam turned around. "I swear to God, Dean, I didn't do it. You have to believe me! It was this snake guy!" A heavy crash and the chiming of broken glass sounded behind him. He didn't even have to turn around to know the driver's side door had fallen off.