Beyond the headlights and the blinking yellow line of the center divider, the rushing road was hard to see.
"We stay on this road and we might head them off." Sam turned and threw the map in the back seat where his hand lamp caught the abandoned DVD, skull logo chipping and date stamp blazing bold in black sharpie. The bridge his brow forms broke upward.
"Might?" Dean barked.
"Uh" Sam startled out of his stupor and clicked off his lamp "Yeah. Might," he admitted with the guilt of uncertainty.
"I swear..." Dean's hands alternated a choking grip on the wheel. "Don't even know why we saved those dumb asses if they were just gonna toss their lives away again."
Turning to his brother, seeing his life in a matter of days, hours, minutes left, Sam felt time as a painful air to breath. "We save who we can Dean."
"Yeah well this is the last time."
The car's careening roared away the silence. Leaving it to rattle and echo behind them into the fading dark.
"Werwolves? That's like breaking into the majors by taking a 90 mile an hour to the face. What else their message say?"
"Well they made sure to let us know we were huge douches."
Dean scoffed and a grin ripped up the corner of his mouth.
"Then they vowed revenge by producing an even better pilot than the Morton House."
"Because filming wannabe ghost busters getting their hearts ripped out makes for great television."
"Yeah." Sam let out a breath too pitiful for a laugh.
"What else?"
"Huh? "Nothing, nothing."
"There's something. Spill it"
Sam cleared his throat. "We erased their friend."
"What?"
"Corbett. The casualty of the Morton house. They said we erased the only thing that proved his bravery. His sacrifice."
The grin Dean chiseled firm into his face crumbled and his eyes narrowed to a point beyond the speeding black. Beyond the light.
"He'll be remembered by the people he left behind." Dean seethed through his teeth. "Isn't that enough?" Dean saw Sam through his periphery slumped by finality of the question.
"DEAN!"
Great wide doe eyes like floating mirrors reflected back the runaway headlights. Dean downshifted with with tights steps, punched the break trying to force it through the floor, and the black beast skid with squeals like screams in the night.
Stiff arms futilely tried to control the slide and stiffer arms braced for impact.
A blur split the night catching the doe as cold metal nudged its damp fur. It's hooves waved in the fringes of the panning high beams and it was gone.
The car stopped askew in the middle of the road and the brother's heaved confused breaths. They pushed out the doors, hands on weapons, scanned the fog and silence only to make out the shapes of towering trees hiding anything beyond it.
"That deer..."
"Gone."
"And whatever that was?"
"Took it."
"Sammy?" The brothers paused their search to look at each other. "Where the hell are we?"
Sam's strained face traced the line of light the crooked car threw against the road and nodded into that distance. The brothers lowered their guns and stared at the city limit sign frayed, chipped, with five letters that glowed.
Forks.