Title: Hell on Earth
Disclaimer: I would curse Kripke/CW into oblivion for the rights to Supernatural but unfortunately, my witch's license expired. So, no I don't own it.
A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic and my first one-shot. One-shots are really quite challenging because I always think there is more to the story. Well, on with the story. A special thanks to the wonderful glittergodess who writes the best crackfics. Seriously people check them out (and don't drink when you do).
"May what you most love turn into your greatest fear," the witch cackled and cursed before Dean obliterated her alter, thus destroying all of the witch's power.
The broken pieces of the alter were scattered across the dingy room and the once powerful witch, now stripped of any mystical force laid crumpled in a heap sobbing. Throwing a calculating glance at the she-devil who had caused him and Sammy so much shit over the past week, Dean rapidly made his way into the next room to his brother who was propped against the wall half laying, half sitting and obviously very beaten.
"Sammy."
Dean only said the one word but there was so much contained in that word. There was concern and a question of Sam's well-being; fear over something happening to his beloved brother. But above all, there was love and that, right now, scared Dean.
Having hardly ever not known the supernatural world, Dean had seen curses take effect and ruin lives quickly. Sam, who had heard the curse, mumbled through labored breaths, "I'm okay Dean."
Dean, who had never taken someone at their word, checked Sam over, looking for signs of evil. He even muttered "Christo" to determine if Sam had turned into a demon. Nothing. Neither of the brothers understood it. Surely, Sam was the person Dean loved the most and the witch had been extremely powerful. So what went wrong?
Chalking it up to good luck that the two never seemed to have, Sam and Dean left the witch's den with brightened moods because of this fortuitous turn of events. Dean almost whistled on his way to the car, while Sam felt like skipping. 'It's a good thing the curse didn't take,' Sam thought, 'because both of us don't need to be damned.'
Sam looked over at his brother. It was hard to believe that the year was almost up and Dean's deal with the Crossroad's Demon was imminent. They had found no way out of the deal which would send Dean to Hell. Involuntarily, Sam shuddered at the thought of his strong, tough, sexy (scratch that, Sam edited), protective brother in Hell's fire. Always burning. Dean suffering from the heat and flames as sweat glistened off of his muscular body. 'Edit again,' thought Sam. As sweat fell down from his tortured, hot body. What the hell? Dean suffering. Don't expand.'
As night fell, both the brothers took solace in the fact that the curse did not occur. Dean examined his precious brother several times to gage whether any demonic activity was present. None. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Around 1:00am, he gave up and fell into a peaceful slumber.
The next morning dawned bright and beautiful and full of possibilities. Dean awoke first, strangely invigorated. Deciding for once in his life to treat Sam, Dean headed out to his car to get breakfast. Birds chirped and sang, the sun shone brightly, and a soft breeze ruffled through his dirty blonde hair. He took a deep breath and exhaled. A perfect day.
Dean's 1967 black Chevy Impala or as he liked to refer to it as "baby" beckoned him to go on a joy ride. Pedal to the metal, get the Led (Zeppelin, of course) out kind of ride. Quickly, Dean got in the car and started the engine. It purred like a well-satisfied cat. His hands reverently fondled the leather steering wheel.
An effeminate laugh sounded throughout the interior of the car. Startled, Dean looked throughout the car interior for the source of the laugh. It was completely empty. Huh! A ghost figured Dean.
"Show yourself, you son of a bitch," Dean threatened.
Again, a giggle sounded.
"Alright, freak show. Enough with the helium ha-ha's. Show yourself or tell me what you want."
There was a moment of silence, then a voice, male though definitely high-pitched voice said somewhat seductively, "Why Dean baby I only wanted to be with you."
'Okay,' Dean thought, 'Either the ghost has a Kathleen Turner type of voice or it's a gay ghost and I don't fly that way. Ghost or gay. Well, maybe ghost if she was ten kinds of hot.'
"Listen buddy, get out of my car or I'll have to smoke your ass."
The voice sighed, "But I'd rather fondle yours."
The driver's car seat suddenly vibrated.
"What the frak? I didn't pimp my ride," Dean said as he jiggled.
"Nope but I'd sure pay a pimp for you, Honey. You have a seriously fine rump," the voice flirted.
Dean was completely freaked at this point and nothing ever freaked Dean out. The voice wasn't a ghost. It seemed to be coming from the car. 'No,' he thought, 'not my car.' He wanted to dismiss his conclusion but found he was unable and so with much trepidation, he asked, "Are you my car?"
The voice started laughing again before it teased, "I thought I was your baby."
"No, no, no," Dean refuted loudly while banging his head against the steering wheel in absolute horror.
"Yes, yes, yes," the car insisted joyfully then teased, "I hear that a lot in this car. Can't you spring for a room or something with sheets?"
"Shut the hell up! How is my car talking to me?" Dean pondered out loud. Silence. "How are you talking to me?" Dean yelled frustrated beyond belief.
"Jeez. Shut up. Talk. Make up your mind. Your blood pressure is skyrocketing. You need to calm down. I know how to calm you down." The voice went falsetto into the song:
Every night in my dreams
I see you. I feel you.
That is how I know you go on.
Far across the distance
And spaces between us
You have come to show you go on.
Near, far..
Looking around the car, Dean shouted, "Ugh, shut up, shut up, shut up."
"Are you sure? Celine really works not as well as Babs or the great Garland but I figured something contemporary for you."
"Shut. Up." Dean begged and threatened in one.
"Chill my hunky hunter. You need a drive. Let's go," the car suggested.
"All right," Dean conceded, "as long as I don't have to deal with you."
Dean exited the parking lot and drove onto the highway enjoying the silence. It was too good to last. An explosion of sound filled the car again.
If you change your mind, I'm the first in line
Honey I'm still free
Take a chance on me
If
"No more singing. And what is with you? Celine Dion? ABBA? Is this how I raised you? AC/DC, Metallica, Zeppelin...They wrote the songs, yours are just travesties."
"Actually, I really don't care for your taste in music. It's so pedestrian."
"Pedestrian?" Dean, who after all wasn't brainiac Sam, didn't know the meaning of the word and questioned.
"Dull, uninspired," the car provided.
"Dull, uninspired," Dean exploded, "Led Zeppelin, the greatest rock band ever..uninspired. Stairway to Heaven, have you ever heard of it?"
"Of course I have. You only play it every other day and I'm sick of it. Can't you play something more upbeat? Might I suggest, the latest Britney Spears?
"You can't. I don't allow trash in my car."
"Don't be a hateaah, brother."
Fortunately, the drive to the diner was short. Dean pulled in, parked, and shut the engine off.
"Get some fruit and fiber, instead of that grease you usually get. I noticed earlier there was a little too much wiggling in your shake-shake booty."
Dean practically screeched in anger as he slammed the car door shut.
"You always hurt the ones you love," Dean head the car's muffled voice.
Shortly thereafter, Dean came back to the car carrying a takeout bag and scarfing down a grande breakfast burrito. As he sat down on the seat, the car which he now named "Imp", let out a "humph".
"Now what's your problem?" spat Dean taking another large bite of his burrito.
"You're eating grease again. It's going to lead to love handles. You keep yourself in crappy condition," Imp said disgusted by Dean's filthy habits.
"Don't worry about me, just worry about yourself. I keep you in primo condition, don't I?" Dean shot back defensively.
"You keep me in excellent condition: shiny rims, matte paint job, clean interior, top-notch parts. The only thing is the trunk. You guys just throw all of those weapons in there. One day one of those big guns is going to go off and tear me asunder."
"Tear you asunder?" Dean choked on the words.
"Yeah. Read the smut, don't just look at the pictures. Oh, that reminds me. Can you buy the latest issue of Gorgeous Gay Greek Guys for me?"
"Abso-f'n-lutely not."
"Fine, be that way but one day you'll come over to the dark side," Imp prophesied.
"I thought your side was the pastel, highly coordinated side."
"Don't rub it in. Because of this black paint job all the other cars probably think I'm trying to disguise an extra 200 pounds. How about something in a nice blue or beige to bring out our highlights? We'd look wonderful in that."
"Black," Dean stated with finality.
Imp came to a stoplight and waited patiently until a hot metrosexual passed and then he sounded the horn and gunned his engines playfully flirting with the guy but all the guy observed was Dean in the car with a shocked and disgusted look on his face. Dean started going off on Imp. At first his words were unintelligible ramblings then they became clearer emphasizing his anger and disgust.
"He wasn't your type?" Imp goaded.
"Hell no. I prefer"
"Sam," Imp finished.
"You're a freak."
"I don't hear you denying it. Sammy and Dean sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G" Imp sang.
Dean's entire face went red with frustration, anger, and something else. The car pulled into the hotel lot. Before he exited, Dean, plainly fed up said, "I am."
"Ye protest too much."
Dean ran out and into the relative comfort of his hotel room. Sam, who had awakened at this point, noticed his brother's agitated state.
"Dean?" Sam questioned.
"I don't want to talk about it. Ever. It's just too much to take. How could something so beautiful turn out to be so hellish?"
"Another witch?"
Dean didn't respond to his brother, effectively closing off the topic.
"Okay, so what's the plan for today?" Sam changed the subject quickly.
Dean floored Sam with his next words. Words Sam never thought he'd hear from Dean in his entire life. "Shopping for a new car," Dean defeated and spent slouched in the chair near tears.
"What?! Why?" Sam shot up from the bed and looked out the window to make sure the Impala wasn't totaled.
"Because sometimes hell can be found on earth," Dean finished.
A/N: Take a Chance on Me belongs to ABBA and My Heart Will Go On belongs to Celine Dion