A Forgotten Highway, Maine

After midnight

The impala roared against the dark night, a black silhouette against the white pines of Maine. The air beyond the rolled down driver's window was moist, warm with the summer. Dean's hands slowly drummed along the steering wheel as his head bobbed to the rhythm, and he began to croon in time with the song.

"I was born in the dirt."

Crowley's lids fluttered as he gazed beyond the passenger window, trees blurring past.

"I never had no home."

A sigh passed through the lips of hell's king as his hazel eyes narrowed on the highway lit by the headlights.

"And the places I've lived," Dean paused, a smirk on his face, "you don't wanna know."

"Squirrel," Crowley began, only to be interrupted and ignored.

"But if you wanna hear evil," he sang, taking his emerald gaze off of the road and looking upon his companion, "just come a little bit close."

With a huff, Crowley reached and dialed the knob back to kill the music.

"What?" Dean asked with a wry laugh. "The King of Hell doesn't like Glenn Danzig?"

"Oh, haha, Dean," he shot back, resting his elbow on the door frame to prop him up as he leaned, his right hand braced against his temple. "I know I suggested we go take a howl at that moon, but this is getting repetitive rather quickly."

"Oh?"

"We find a bar, you drink, I drink. You woo the waitress or sing terribly. Often, it's both," Crowley reflected with half a chuckle and a crooked smile. "Don't get me wrong, I like this new you."

"But?" Dean probed in his usual gravelly tone.

"But," Crowley sighed, "it has grown tiresome and hell isn't about to run itself."

"Are you breaking up with me, Crowley?"

The impala slowed, sputtering as it lost speed.

"Are you pulling over to make me walk?" Crowley asked incredulously, cocking his eyebrow.

Dean stepped on the throttle as they slowly crept to a halt-nothing. With the last bit of momentum, he pulled to the shoulder of the highway as baby's engine died.

"We're out of gas," he replied, finally.

"Oh, bully," Crowley scoffed, sitting more alert as he gracefully lowered his hand to his lap. "Did you not just fuel up in the last town?"

"Yeah. It'll be a real bitch to get her running again after we get more gas," Dean growled with a shake of his head, getting out and shutting the door. "Come on."

"And just where are we going to get that?" Crowley demanded, following after him. "The nearest town is-"

They stepped over an orange line along the asphalt.

"-was some hundred miles away."

"What are you on about?" Dean asked in earnest confusion.

"That sign was not there before."

Dean whipped his head in the direction of the sign Crowley had gestured to. It read, 'Entering Storybrooke'. He didn't notice it either, not until the old king of hell mentioned it.

"Huh."

"I don't believe this place is meant to be found," Crowley cautioned, his gaze darkening pensively, "it might be a waste of our time to nose around. Why not call TripleA? It's, er, handier."

The clouds parted. Ribbons of silver moonlight captured his rugged features in the darkness as he flashed Crowley an amused grin.

"I think I'll take my chances with Mystery Town."

"Very well, then," Crowley exhaled, following behind Dean as they walked along the roadside, towards the glittering lights of a strange town that didn't exist until they crossed over a painted line. "Let's go out for a stroll. See the sights."


The Same Highway, Maine

Before the dawn

Cold. The trail had gone cold.

Sam gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles blanched while Cas slept in the passenger seat. His gaze sharpened against the pavement lit up only by the high beams as light rain spat down on the old town car. One hand on the steering wheel, he brought the other to his face as he ran his hand over his forehead and through his hair in a bid to keep awake.

They'd spent the day in York, going through the same motions. Fooling the police, using an alias, and hiding in plain sight. Among the dead in that bar were angels Castiel sent to search for him, and the proprietor herself-decapitated and burned; a vampire among angels and demons. The fact that a monster had been struck down by his brother was reassuring. Had she been an innocent human, he would have begun to believe that his brother was lost to the darkness. At the same time, this made him wonder if Dean knew she was a vampire all along. Was he hunting out of boredom, then? Did he, as a demon, have the ability to sense who was human and who wasn't?

All information about Dean perished in the flames, and the authorities seemed eager to write off the inferno as some doomsday cult and close the file. They scoured the town for information on a black Impala and the direction it headed in before heading that way themselves. It was all they had.

He stole a glance at Cas who kept still and leaned against the window, his face bearing the semblance of a marble statue. Even in the shadows of early morning, he seemed so pale that he was almost glowing. As Sam looked back to the dark road, he pursed his lips and shook his head.

The angel was dying, gradually.

Dean's humanity had been lost. Cas' grace was taken and his essence was fading. He was hunting his own brother with only the support of an angel who he'd burn out completely if he relied too much on him. At this rate, he'd have no one anymore, not if he couldn't do something for both of them. Sam let out a quiet, helpless sigh.

It was then that he saw it as if his thoughts had made it appear. The very thing he'd been after for weeks, suddenly before him and pulled off to the shoulder. Their father's car, the Impala. Had he not been paying attention to the road, he'd have easily sideswiped the town car along her dark frame as she nestled in the shadows of the surrounding trees. Sam slowed down and came to a stop just behind the abandoned Impala.

He ripped his seatbelt away and erupted out of the car, his desperation mounting as he ran over to see what was left behind. The car Dean called baby was just as he remembered, though not a lot of time had passed since Dean woke from the dead and left the bunker.

Dean had been here, Dean was somewhere not far from here.

"Dean!" Sam cried out, his voice resounding through the night that would soon give way to the dark blues and oranges of sunrise. "Dean!"

Nothing but the call of an owl not far off. They were in the middle of nowhere. If Dean left on foot, how far would he be, and where would he go?

Sam turned to face the can checked the driver's door. The handle wasn't locked and he sat down in the driver's seat, looking for something, anything that would tell him where to find his brother. Any clue that would tell him why he'd left his baby behind.

The keys were still in the ignition. He turned the key, checking the fuel gauge which revealed an empty tank. He ran out of gas. The car died here and he left on foot. Maybe he'd find him along the highway then since the next town was a long way from here.

Before he could leave, the door closed and locked. Sam fought against it to no avail, for the door would not open. The engine roared to life and his head snapped to look at the fuel gauge which now read three-quarters of a tank. Had the Impala never been empty at all? He tried to escape once again, though it was no use. He couldn't leave.

The Impala then went into gear and rolled slowly over an orange line on the road. As Sam crossed over, a sign suddenly appeared and a town that wasn't on the horizon before was suddenly there.

The sign read: Entering Storybrooke.

The Impala came to rest and the door unlocked, now permitting Sam to leave. He got out and made haste back to the orange line, to wake Cas and tell him what had he found, what had happened.

Sam did not take another step forward as he collided with something unseen. He then staggered back as the pain radiated through his head and down through his limbs as he hissed through his teeth. He massaged his forehead, where he bumped right into what felt like a brick wall, and wondered what in the hell had just happened. He reached out and probed the invisible barrier with his hands, unable to reach or step beyond where someone had painted the orange line before. This wasn't a new phenomenon, and whatever it was had Dean trapped here as well.

"Cas!" Sam cried out, leaning against the invisible wall. "Cas, help! Cas!"

It was useless. Cas didn't hear him, couldn't hear him. That wall, whatever it is, locked him away behind it, both unseen and unheard. Sam Winchester was a prisoner in whatever trap some supernatural being had laid out. He was brought into a hunt without even realizing.

Then so be it. He'd hunt.

The Impala purred as it still ran, waiting for him to return. As long as it didn't do anything on its own again, it was probably safe to drive. Something told him that whatever drew him and Dean in had no use for it now. He marched over to the Impala, his eyes glowering with a new resolve to not only find his brother but to kill whatever, whoever trapped him here.

If he couldn't go back on this seemingly abandoned road, then he'd go forward-to Storybrooke.

End Chapter

Author's note: Well, I am officially back in full swing with this fic. For a long while, life was happening and this just fell to the back burner. That said, there are some details I'm no longer clear on from Season 4 and 10 of each respective series. I'm going to be taking some creative license here like I did with Dean having the Impala. I'm going to have fun with this and just write. Please feel free to comment or make a suggestion. Where do you want this fic to go? I'm already beginning to form some ideas that I think some of you are going to enjoy. Thanks for the favorites, even after the lengthy silence. I see you and appreciate the love.