Everything about the day was perfect. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the local diner had great burgers. But best of all, the Impala, for the first time in months, was clean and sleek and in a parking lot instead of hidden under a dirty blanket somewhere. Frank be damned, Dean wasn't going on the first totally normal monster hunt he and Sam had in months in anything but his baby.
The Winchesters were walking out of the coroner's office, Sam blabbering something about which monsters did this and that (as usual), when Dean stopped. There was a guy standing by the Impala, looking at it. That feeling of pride he got when people looked at his car welled up. Dean had missed that feeling. He walked over to the guy, some black-haired dude in a leather jacket and biker boots. The guy looked up.
"Your car?" He asked. Dean grinned.
"Sure is."
"'67 Impala. Nice." Dean was about to reply when the guy added, "But not as nice as the '67 Camaro."
"Uh...What?" Dean asked, thrown off-guard momentarily. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam grin and start to shake, laughing quietly. The guy gestured to the far end of the parking lot, where a light blue...thing was sitting. Dean lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think you know what you're talking about."
"Well then, up to a little...challenge to settle which car is best?"
"You're on." There are a few things a man has to do in his life, and defending the honor of his car is one of them.
"Deal. Be at the bridge leading into town in two hours, when the sun goes down."
"Damon, what are you doing?" Another guy, this one younger with brown hair, was walking toward them, evidently only having heard the tail end of the conversation. The first guy, Damon, turned and clapped the man on the shoulder.
"Let's go, brother. Elena needs help with something, then we have a race to win!" Damon's brother looked like he was about to protest, but was dragged away before he could say anything.
"A drag race?" Sam said after a moment. "You're not afraid that something's gonna happen to the-"
"No, nothing's gonna happen. The Impala's gonna kick his ass." Dean grinned. "Baby's back!"
Sam and Dean returned to the motel room to wait until the race. Oh, and to research the case, too. About half an hour before the start of the race, Dean stood up, stretched, and grabbed his jacket.
"Come on, Sammy." But Sam waved his hand, staring intently at his laptop. "Fine, but you're about to miss history."
Dean was sitting on the hood of his car at the designated time, just under the sign proclaiming "Welcome to Mystic Falls!" Just as he though Damon and his brother had chickened out, the blue Camaro rolled up. Privately, Dean had to admit it was a good looking car.
The two men stepped out and walked over to Dean. "About two and a half miles down the road there's a maintenance lane on both sides. What do you say we turn around there? Whoever gets back here first wins." Damon didn't pause for any pleasantries or preamble. Dean could respect that.
"Hey," Dean said, grinning casually, "Whatever works for you." Damon nodded, then looked at his brother.
"Stef, why don't you wear a bikini and wave the flag?"
"Why don't you?"
"Fine then. Just do a countdown." Damon turned and walked over to the driver's side his car as Dean got into his.
One. Both engines revved.
Two. The Impala inched forward a bit, seemingly of its own accord.
Three! They were off. Dean was flying down the road, with a feeling of elation he hadn't experienced in a while. The trees flew past him, a blur of dark leaves and black bark. He glanced into the side window; he was neck-and-neck with the blue Camaro. Mentally, he urged the Impala forward.
The maintenance lane materialized out of the gloom suddenly, a pale shadow of dirt leading off the side of the main road. Dean barely had enough time to swing the car into it. As the Impala flew around in a 180° arc, he caught a quick glimpse of Damon's car on the other side of the road, doing the same thing and sending up a spray of dirt and gravel.
The two cars shot back down the road. The air was loud with the sound of engines and tires. Dean spared a glance across to the window across the car. He was ahead by nearly half a car length. He could win! He could-
"A drag race? You idjit! What's rolling around in that empty melon of yours?" Dean nearly lost control of the car. As it was, he had to stop just short of hitting a tree. He looked at the passenger seat. Bobby, in all his ghostly glory. Dean touched his pocket, and he felt the flask there. Dammit! A split second later, he saw Damon's Camaro go rocketing past the passenger window.
"Bobby," Dean growled.
"Oh, what's wrong, princess? Did I make you lose the beauty pageant? I probably just saved you from ending up like me!"
"Saved me!" Dean looked at the tree in front of him, an inch maybe from the grill of the car. "You nearly – never mind." He scowled as he got the Impala back on the road and drove back to where the brothers were standing. He barely noticed when Bobby disappeared.
"What happened?" Damon asked in a manner that said he didn't really care as Dean exited the Impala.
"Nothing. Just…an accident." Dean's mouth twisted, but he managed to force it into something that resembled a smile. "Well, congratulations."
Damon grinned. "Not that I mind winning by accident, but this still isn't settled, then. If you're ever in town again, we'll figure it out once and for all." Then the brothers got into their car, and were gone.
Dean leaned against his car. He pulled out his flask and took a drink from it. As he was about to get back into the car, his phone rang.
"Yeah, Sam?"
"Dean, I think I know what we're dealing with. It deviates a bit from the normal pattern, but I think there are vampires in this town."