Baby

Chapter 1: Prologue

"Oh god, finally," Dean sighed as he fell onto the motel bed. They had just driven ten hours straight. It was necessary, though. They didn't exactly leave their last case on a good note. Let's just say, threatening a State Trooper with the demon knife is not a good idea.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Sam called, already in the bathroom. Dean grunted in reply and turned over. Maybe he could catch a little z's before morning came. A few raindrops hit the roof, and Dean finally began to drift off when the sprinkling turned into a storm.

Sam walked out of the bathroom, his long, wet hair hanging down to his shoulders. He walked to the window with a strange expression and pulled the curtains back. "Why is it raining?" he wondered aloud, looking out into the night.

"Do you want the scientific explanation or the smartass one?" Dean mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed.

"No, seriously Dean," Sam persisted. "There's been a drought in this area for the past three weeks and it was expected to last at least another month. Why would it just start raining the night we rolled into town?"

Dean groaned and turned over to look at Sam. "Okay, dude, it's just rain. Not everything in the entire world revolves around us. Just go to sleep. It'll probably die down soon."

As soon as the words exited his mouth, as if to prove him wrong, there was a bright flash of lighting and a loud boom of thunder swiftly afterwards. Sam gave Dean a bitch-face and crossed his arms.

Dean got up and went to the window. "Just a coincidence," he said. But to prove him wrong yet again, there was a blinding bolt of lightning and an even louder crack of thunder. "Shut up," Dean said before Sam could bitch-face him again.

There was a familiar whoosh behind them and Castiel said, "There is something wrong with this storm."

"No dip, Sherlock," Dean retorted. He sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Can't we just leave this till morning? We can pick this back up after I get a quick nap." Dean walked over to the bed and flopped down again.

"Dean, don't you think it would wiser to at least protect ourselves with salt?" Castiel asked. He had his worried face on, so Dean obliged.

"Sammy, go get some salt," he ordered, annoyed, as he threw the car keys at him. Sam caught them with a nod and walked out the door and into the rain.

"Are you good now, Cas?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded curtly in reply. "Alright then," Dean sighed. He laid down, again, hoping desperately that he could get some sleep, only to bolt upright the next second by the sound of the door slamming open.

"Dean, it's not there," Sam gasped as he stood in the doorway, drenched by only a little while in the rain.

"Just go get some more. There was a gas station near the exit," Dean told him angrily, mad that Sam was freaking out over nothing. Salt wasn't ever that expensive, and they often ran out. It wasn't that big of a deal.

"No, Dean," Sam gulped, sounding really scared now. "The car. The Impala isn't there." He cringed, as if preemptively deflecting something being thrown at him.

"What?" Dean's voice was flat, and the next second, he was at the door, looking out into the downpour. The rain was heavy, but it was still visibly certain that his car was not anywhere in the entire parking lot.

"My car!" Dean yelled as he ran into the parking lot. He stood in the space where the Impala was parked just a while ago. Dean, being Dean, started freaking out and hyperventilating. He bent over with his hands on his knees, trying his hardest to keep himself from going room to room and questioning everyone in sight.

"Oh god," Sam sighed, exasperated, and ran to his older brother. Castiel had already started poofing around and searching the area for the Impala. After a few minutes of Sam trying desperately to comfort his brother, Castiel poofed next to the pair with a sad and scared face. Sad, because he had failed to find it. Scared, because he knew full well the wrath of Dean Winchester when you mess with his car.

Castiel just shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Sam had already started backing away slowly from Dean, scared of what would come next. Dean slowly straightened himself up; fists clenched, and took a deep breath.

Surprisingly, his voice was level and calm. But that was the scary part. "I'm going to find whoever did this," he said, more to himself than the others, "and I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill their family. I'm going to kill their cat."

"Alright Dean, you can kill their cat. Just calm down. We're not going anywhere in this rain, and definitely not without a car. We'll pick this up tomorrow, okay?" Sam tried desperately to calm his hysterical brother, but Dean was just blocking him out.

Dean was now pacing around, clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into his palms and pinpricks of blood were beginning to drip down his hands. Sam sighed and looked to Castiel pleadingly, and Cas nodded curtly in reply. Castiel walked over to Dean swiftly and muttered, "I'm sorry, Dean," then brought his two fingers to Dean's temple and put him to sleep.

Dean hit the ground with a thud, and Castiel grabbed his wrist and zapped him into the motel room. Sam shut the door behind him. "How long will he be out?" Sam asked, sounding concerned.

"About 20 minutes," Castiel replied, looking at Dean with a strange expression. Sam shook his head with another long sigh and sat down on the other bed. "Maybe he'll wake up and think it was a nightmare," he thought hopefully. Although he didn't think it would happen, it didn't hurt to hope.

Sam decided he would take this time checking to see if this was just a regular storm. He opened up his computer and looked up the weather report for this area. As he had read earlier in a newspaper, there had been a drought going on for a few weeks, and then this storm randomly showed up when they came into town.

Before Sam could ponder further, the lights flickered out. Now he was left in the dark, and without internet. He sighed for about the hundredth time that night, and got up to go and get the flashlight. After searching his bags clumsily because of the lack of light, he finally got Dad's journal and a flashlight and went back to the table. He set both down and was about to sit down himself, but he noticed that something was missing. His laptop.

"Are you serious?" Sam groaned, exasperated. He snatched the flashlight off the table and turned it on, searching the entire room for his laptop. "This can't be happening," he muttered, looking under the beds. He got up and ran his hand through his hair. "What is happening?"

"I don't know," Castiel said, scaring Sam.

"Damn it, Cas," Sam said, copying Dean. He sighed, "Can you at least turn the lights back on?" Castiel nodded and obliged. "Well, at least we have lights."

Castiel looked around and said, "It has, indeed, been a very strange night."

As if the world wanted to agree with Castiel, there was a knock on the door. Sam automatically reached for his gun and walked towards the door slowly. He turned the knob and opened it, holding his gun behind him.

There was a teenage girl, about fifteen, standing in the doorway, her long, jet black hair soaked and hanging down to about her waist. Sam looked at her strangely and asked, "Uhm… who are you." She smiled kindly back up at him and said, "Sammy, I'm the Impala."