A/N: Ok, so this is, in fact, a Mystery Trio fic. I know, right? And i also know this makes no sense, esp regarding the timelines but like...fuck it lmfao. its modern day and they're just fucking around monster hunting and shit.

Also...welp, I'm feeling so poorly i guess I'll just release the first chapter without beta'ing or anything lmfaooooo

It's nearly dark, the rain's coming down in gallons. It beats the walls of the car's metal body like it's trying to get in. Dean's favorite Led Zepplin mix CD is playing, but it can barely match the drone of the storm, and has nothing on the intermittent crash of thunder. Dean is mildly buzzed, but well under the legal limit. Still, he drives as slow as he possibly can without feeling like a blind old lady or something.

It's probably for the best, because if he'd been driving any faster, he would have missed them. Three figures huddled together on the side of the road, one of whom springs forward, waving their arms around as soon as the headlights fall on them.

"Poor saps." Dean says, though he doesn't slow the car down.

Sam perks his head a little, blinking heavily. "Poor what?"

Dean snorts. "Some lookout you are."

"Hey, listen man, I'm tired. I was up all night doing research for this job, ok?" Sam tosses a wrapper of some kind at him. He turns his head, looking out the window. "Jesus, are those people?"

Dean shrugs. "Maybe. Could be spirits or something."

Sam squints as they disappear behind them. "Seemed pretty wet." he holds up his hand. "Don't say it."

A moment passes. They're still driving.

"Wait, you're not gonna stop?" Sam's tone cracks with incredulity.

Dean snorts again. "Oh, so we're a taxi service now?"

Sam gives him a look. "Dean."

Dean groans. "C'mon, dude, no human being in their right minds would be huddled on the side of a road at nightfall when it's pouring fucking cats and dogs like this!"

Sam scoffs. "So we should just leave them?" he gestures like he does when he's upset. "I mean, they could just be down on their luck. And in this weather? They could get, like, hypothermia or something!"

Dean exhales. "Well, we're already like a mile past them so..."

Sam opens his mouth and Dean raises his hand. "Ok, ok, fine. We're not total douchebags. But if they're like a little boy band of vamps or ghouls or good old-fashioned ax-crazy hitchhikers, don't come cryin' to me if they shishkabab our asses."

He slows the car and makes a not-so-legal u-turn back to the dumbasses caught in the rain.

Sam crosses his arms, but he settles back down into his seat. He mutters. "Still'd have to deal with 'em…"

"Hrm?"

Sam laughs. "We'd still have to gank 'em, dude, if they weren't human."

Dean rolls his eyes. "You know what..."

He doesn't get a chance to finish that thought, though, because they're already back to where the idiots were sitting on the roadside. The one in the hoodie who'd tried to wave them down races towards the car, all but running into the door when he reaches it.

Dean rolls down the window, though not all the way. "Need a lift?"

"Oh thank god." the stranger huffs in a gravelly voice. "We...heh, we kinda thought you were gonna leave us or somethin'!"

Dean snorts. "Well, it crossed my mind."

"Oh." The man says nothing for a moment. "Well, you didn't, right? So I guess that's what really matters!"

He speaks with blustering animation, despite the obvious exhaustion riddling his face, or being soaked to the skin. He slaps his stout hand over the side of the window sill and turns back to his companions, who are now standing. "Hey, Poindexter, Fiddlenerd, get over here! We got ourselves a ride!"

The two of them waste no time, scooping up bags and a weird metal box and running over to the car.

Sam is already out of the passenger's seat before Dean can protest, rushing to help them.

Dean returns his focus to the first hitchhiker. He gestures behind him. "You'll all have to squish in the back, sorry man."

"Hey, hey, it's fine! Heh, no complaints, you saved our asses!" the stranger gives a broad smile. He extends his hand over the half-rolled down window. "Name's Stan!"

Dean hesitantly takes his hand. "Dean." he manages to return Stan's smile.

Sam is meanwhile busy with the other two strangers.

"Here, let me get that for you!" He takes a bag from both of them.

"Ah, th-thank ya!" One of them says. He's scrawny and has a bit of a southern accent.

"Ah, yes, thank you!...um…err..." the other trails off, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose and looking sheepishly at his rescuer.

"Sam." Sam replies, popping open the trunk. "And it's no trouble." He shoves aside some of their own bags and stuffs the strangers' belongings into the new space. He and Dean won't be able to grab any of their gear with all this luggage back here, but the alternative is to force their new driving companions to leave their shit by the roadside. Yeah, that wouldn't be suspicious. Not to mention rude.

"Well...uh…" the broader man with the square glasses glances down at his bags, then back at Sam. "I'm, uh, I'm Ford!" he motions with his head to his companion. "This is Fiddleford!"

Sam exhales, a bit of a laugh mixed in. "Ford and Fiddleford?" he begins helping them load the rest of their things into the car.

Fiddleford giggles, a delightfully goofy, snorting laugh. Ford chuckles nervously. "Ah yes, it…yeah..."

"A right, proper serendipity is it!" Fiddleford cackles, nudging Ford with his elbow. "Shoulda seen the look on this one's face when we first were introduced..."

Ford gives him a somewhat flustered smile.

There's a lull in the conversation. Sam tries to ease a rather stubbornly wedged tire iron out of the corner of the trunk. The rain continues pelting their clothes and thrumming on the hood of the car.

Stanford stutters. "Oh, and, just...thank you so much for all this, wait...I did already thank you, didn't I? Well, no reason not to do it again, haha...i mean I...suppose..."

Sam shrugs. "Like I said, it's no trouble." he collects the last of their possessions, glancing down as his fingers brush Ford's. He does a bit of a double-take. There's an extra digit on each hand.

He tries not to stare. He imagines the man has deal with enough of that sort of thing.

He instead wordlessly packs the rest of the bags into the trunk. "Hey, you can get in the car now! Better hurry!"

The two of them shiver, as if suddenly noticing the chill in their bodies again.

"I agree, that would be most wise." Ford says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Seconded wholeheartedly." Fiddleford says. he gives his coat a shake, the water spraying off of him.

They both scramble to the back door of the car and hastily pile into it. Sam does much the same, opening the passenger's side and sliding in.

"Ha, took you nerds long enough!" Stan laughs as his soaking wet companions finally retreat into the back seat.

Ford grumbles, trying to wipe his sopping wet face with his equally sopping wet sleeve. "Well maybe if you had bothered to help…"

Stan snorts. "Hey, it's not my fault I packed lighter than you two eggheads!" he gives the single backpack wedged between his legs and the back of the seat a little kick.

Fiddleford sighs, as if he's heard this conversation a million times and knows exactly where it's headed.

Dean gives Sam a look before putting the car in gear. He turns it back around, pumps the gas, and they speed off into the night.