Diclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy this story!
The impala shuddered to a halt in the middle of the back-road the Winchesters were traveling on. John gave the dash a smack. "Damn car," he swore as he pushed the door open, signaling to Dean that he should follow him out. Sam started out as well, but John turned his head, "Stay in the car, Sam." Sam could tell his dad was still angry about his carelessness at their last job. He slouched down in his seat and sighed, trying to forget about his nearly fatal error.
Outside, Dean and John surveyed the exterior of the Impala. It wasn't pretty. The entire roof had been scraped of its shiny black coat, and the sides weren't much better. The front of the car was completely smashed in thanks to the agitated Rukh back at Harney Peak.
John reached for the latch to open the hood, choking on the foul smoke. "Dean, see this?" Dean looked over John's shoulder into the mess of machinery. He nodded, trying not to breathe in the toxic fumes. "This is what it looks like when you're screwed." John slammed the trunk back down. The day had been just about the longest and worst possible. Starting with the Rukh carrying off the car and mauling it.
"I could call Bobby," Dean suggested, wedging his hands in his pockets, "We're not far from Sioux Falls." His dad was touchy under stress, and Dean wasn't sure how he'd take the suggestion coming out of a mouth other than his own.
John let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Yeah, give Bobby a call. Phone's in the trunk."
Dean grabbed the phone and dialed Bobby's number. He picked up on the third ring. "Hey, Bobby it's Dean."
"What's your Dad gone and done now?" Bobby sounded cranky. Dean would try and make it short.
"Ran into some trouble with a Rukh up in Montana… scraped up the car pretty bad."
"Uh-huh."
"The Impala broke down."
"How far away are you?"
"'Bout four miles up the highway."
"Guess I'll be seein' you idjits soon." Bobby hung up. Dean threw the phone back in the trunk over a couple of machetes and a pistol.
"Bobby's coming to pick us up," Dean informed John.
"Great, Dean." John was sitting on the front of the truck with his flask screwed open. He was in one of his funks, Dean could tell, so he turned around and took a seat next to Sam.
"Uncle Bobby's gonna come pick us up."
"I heard, Dean," Sam's eyes were downcast. He was still upset about the Rukh. Dean took a deep breath and mussed Sam's hair. Sam punched him in the shoulder. It kind of hurt, but Dean pretended it didn't.
"Aw, c'mon Sammy-"
"Sam," he hated being treated like a kid. He was fourteen now. He was Sam.
"You know that Rukh getting away wasn't your fault."
"Dean, I forgot to bring the cardamom shells."
"Yeah, so maybe it was your fault a little, but you can't blame yourself every time we don't burn the bones or forget to pack salt," his little brother didn't respond.
"Dad's mad at me," Dean knew how much his father's anger hurt Sam. Sammy was different than him and Dad, and it worried Dean.
"Yeah."
Headlights flashed through the scummy windows of the Impala, and stopped across the road. Bobby had arrived. John's silhouette slipped off the car and disappeared as the headlights of Bobby's newest beater flicked out.