FINDING BAMBI

Chapter 2

Just for those of you who think I'm cruel and nasty and heartless, here's a super quick update :)

Sam reflects back to the day's events ...

xxxxx

This whole crap-filled day had started fairly badly and kinda gone downhill from there …

An early-morning run-in with a witch the brothers had been tailing for several days had been eventful to say the least.

"A beloved friend," the witch had said; "a beloved friend would hurt Dean more than he had ever been hurt before;" the venomous whisper rode on her dying breath.

The worst kind of pain; that inflicted by a loved one.

Appropriate payback according to the witch for the kind of pain that she had suffered at Dean's hand; namely the four bullets he had pumped into her.

Dean didn't give a flying damn. The ramblings of a dying witch were a complete irrelevance to him. The job was done, the townsfolk were safe.

Sam, however, was not quite so blasé, and Dean's confident assertion that "she's talkin' crap - nothing's gonna happen," did little to soothe Sam's growing sense of unease.

xxxxx

Over lunch, Sam repeated his concerns, wincing as Dean forked an entire onion ring into his mouth.

"Anyway," Dean mumbled juicily round the chewed wreckage of the onion ring; "she's talkin' through her ass; we haven't even got any friggin' friends – beloved or otherwise!"

Sam grimaced at the sight - it was like sitting opposite a combine harvester. "There's Bobby," he offered.

Dean shook his head, pushing six fries into his mouth; "he's family, he don't count as a friend."

Sam gritted his teeth in exasperation; "I don't suppose she was concerned with semantics."

Dean took another bite of his burger without even looking up.

"You don't know what she's done;" Sam snorted through clenched teeth, leaning over the table to try to engender some sense of self preservation in his brother; "I think we should hole up somewhere for the next few days so if things do get crappy for any reason, we've got a base."

Dean rolled his eyes as he noisily sucked a mouthful of coke up his straw.

"I don't see why jus' 'cause of some skanky bitch's babbling, you're getting your boxers in a knot," he observed sympathetically; "she didn't even point at me."

Sam slumped back in his seat; "yeah but did you see that amulet round her neck? I mean, that's seriously dark stuff man, you can practically think a curse with that thing."

Dean hesitated briefly mid-chew, seemingly giving some thought to what Sam had said before resuming his convincing impression of a plague of locusts.

"Dean, we could wake up tomorrow and find that Bobby's got an incantation wrong and turned you into a ferret or something."

Dean gave a shrug, accompanied by a twitch of the eyebrows which seemed to indicate he wasn't entirely averse to the idea of being a ferret.

"It's no good if we're on a hunt or something and something bad happens, one of us could get hurt," Sam offered.

Dean grunted apathetically with another shrug.

"The fugly could get away …"

"No way dude, not from me; even if I was a ferret," Dean replied with a curt shake of the head.

"You could get injured or sick and lose your looks," Sam narrowed his eyes artfully.

Dean hesitated for a moment before dropping the screwed up burger wrapper onto the plate and stifling a soft burp with greasy fingers.

"Oh, whatever, Samantha if it'll make you feel better …"

xxxxx

Deciding to put a healthy few hundred miles between the witch's hometown and their next destination, it was dusk before the Impala rolled smoothly into the parking lot of a motel which looked marginally less fleabitten than any of the others they had passed on their journey.

Its white walls stood in stark isolation against the dense forest around it, a good few miles in either direction from the next source of civilisation; a state of affairs which suited the Winchesters very much indeed.

The key turned smoothly in the lock on the panelled door to room 9 of the Wild Acres Motel, and the brothers strolled in, dumping their duffels as they looked around with unspoken approval at the subdued coffee and crème décor of the room.

"Hey, the game's on tonight," Sam announced, as he folded his jacket over the back of a chair; "wanna chill and watch it?"

Dean grinned, he was starting to like this idea of resting up for a couple of days more and more.

This was gonna be the perfect night; at last they had found a half-decent room which appeared to be relatively free of mould and roaches and there was a good game on the TV. All they needed were the beers out of the trunk and a few snacks and …

Dean's brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean was already shrugging his jacket back on.

"No snacks, dude."

Sam cocked his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Snacks?"

Dean gestured towards the TV; "you can't expect me to sit in front of that thing and watch a game without some candy or chips."

Sam's mouth dropped open and he stared at his brother as if he was speaking fluent martian.

"Dean, it's getting dark and it's gotta be twenty miles back to the last gas mart we passed," his eyes widened in amazement; "you're not seriously considering driving all the way back there just because of your pathetic M&M craving."

"It's been hours since lunch; I'll be hungry by the time the game's halfway through," Dean replied irritably, "and for your information, I do not have an M&M craving."

"You're not pregnant are you?" Sam goaded.

"Kiss it." Dean snorted petulantly; "I'm goin' out to get some snacks which may – or may not – be M&M's," he gathered up the Impala's keys as he spoke; "do you want anything, or are you jus' gonna sit there later an' drool over mine, 'cos I ain't sharin'."

Sam grinned, he knew better than to get between Dean and his candy.

"Get me a couple of blueberry muffins."

Dean nodded smartly and the door slowly swung shut behind him.

xxxxx

Ramble On, And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song. I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl, on my way …

Dean sang lustily along to the cassette player as the Impala powered along the deserted highway. He glanced across at the plastic bag on her passenger seat; family size packs of Cheetos and peanut M & M's stared back at him, together with a giant bottle of Pepsi and two blueberry muffins for Sam.

Yep, in hindsight, Sammy's idea to dig in and chill for a few days was a good one, not that Dean thought for one moment the witch bitch's dying words were anything to dwell on, but he was more than happy to humour baby brother on this occasion.

They were both battered and tired and could both benefit from a bit of rest and relaxation; the game tonight would be a great way to start it.

They badly needed to do some laundry; Dean had been wearing this same pair of socks for three days. This break would give them the opportunity to do that particularly unsavoury job; well, give Sam the opportunity to do it. Laundry was Sam's job. It was always Sam's job.

Also, Baby needed a wash and a wax. Now, that was a man's job; but not any man - it was Dean's job. He smiled and patted the steering wheel, "anyone wants to get their hands on my girl, they gotta get past me first, huh?"

The game; crap, what time was it?

Dean glanced at his watch. It was starting in about ten minutes; yep, he should make it in time if baby stretched her legs. He nudged the gas pedal, and she responded effortlessly with an obliging purr.

Relaxing back against the seat; he revelled in the potent thrum of her engine as she powered swiftly along the highway, and began to warble along to the next song.

"...There's a feeling I get when I look to the west, And my spirit is crying for leaving. In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees, And the voices of those …"

… "HOLY SHIT!"

A moonlit flash of brown suddenly bolted out of the dense forest and tore across the road in front of him. Whipping the wheel round to avoid it, Dean let out a gasping yelp as the Impala skidded, tilting into a squealing spin across the damp asphalt.

Dean whirled into panic and confusion, the snacks tumbling across the seat into his lap. He panted harshly, cursing breathlessly as he yanked the wheel back and forth, trying desperately and vainly to rescue the situation.

He would later swear that his life played out before his panic-glazed eyes in the split second before baby's nearside front wheel clipped the verge by the side of the road.

The forest raced past her windows at a queasy angle, as she ploughed over the rain softened verge, slamming almost vertically hood-first into the uneven ground at the foot of a massive tree.

Tossed around like a rag doll inside the car, Dean heard the grinding crunch as her front end crumpled upwards in toward him with the catastrophic impact and almost immediately after, the hollow thud as his chest made heavy contact with the displaced steering column.

His world exploded into a brilliant white nova of blinding agony.

Then all was darkness and silence.

xxxxx

tbc