Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters. They belong to Eric Kripke.
Takes place during Fallen Idols
"So, what's with this job?" Sam asked with a light laugh. They were driving the Impala down the abandoned highway at some ungodly hour at night. Sam and Dean sat up front while Bri sprawled out across the entire back seat.
"Dude suffers a head on collision in a parked car, I'd say that's worth checking out." Dean answered.
"Pretty high on the scale of 'freaky' to me," Bri muttered sleepily.
"Yeah, definitely, uh, but, uh, we got bigger problems, don't you think?" Sam questioned. Sam and Dean had caught Bri up on what they knew about the apocalypse.
"Yeah, definitely, uh, but, uh, we got bigger problems, don't you think?" Sam mentioned as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm sure the apocalypse'll still be there when we get back," Dean answered simply.
"Right, yeah, but I mean, if—if the Colt is really out there somewhere—" Sam began.
"We've been looking for three weeks, we got bupkis," Dean finished.
"I'm still confused, what is the colt and how did you lose it?" Bri questioned leaning forward to be almost up front with the boys.
"Samuel Colt made a gun that could kill anything so that's what we're after. And a thief named Bela Talbot stole it from us," Sam explained.
"Yeah, that gun's gonna be useful," Bri murmured as she leaned back again.
"Can't wait to ice the devil," Sam muttered.
"Well we'll have to. It's our first real case back together-"
"What about the werewolf case?"
"I'm calling that one not a case, we didn't do much," Dean answered.
"Welcome, dumbasses," Bri murmured.
"It's our first real case back together and we just added a new member to the team, I think we ought to ease into it. Ya know, put the training wheels on," Dean announced.
"So you think I need training wheels?" Sam asked in an accusatory tone.
"No! We. We need training wheels. You me and Bri as a team. Okay?" Dean responded defensively.
"Okay," Sam decided.
"Fine by me, I hardly know you two," Bri added.
"What do you want to know?" Dean asked.
"Why ya in the life? Other than well being players in the apocalypse but you're obviously experienced hunters," Bri deduced.
"How do you do that? Are you sure you aren't psychic? Okay test, which number between one and ten am I thinking of?" Dean asked.
"Seven, and it's statistically proven that most people choose a number ending in seven, so no, I'm not psychic," Bri answered.
"She's right, one of my friends at Stanford was a psyc major and she experimented on the entire population of the bar one night, most of us picked seven," Sam announced.
"I hate you both," Dean muttered pushing the accelerator a bit harder.
While Sam and Dean were off posing as FBI agents, Bri wandered the town. She found a small coffee shop and fished two dollars out of her pocket to get a cup. Her leather jacket wrapped tightly around her and a sweatshirt hood sticking out of the collar, she walked down the main street, hot coffee clutched tightly in her hands.
"Hey newbie! Where ya from?" a few boys called at her.
"Hell," she smiled in response flashing a grin that would have made Sam and Dean splash her with holy water. Needless to say, the boys backed off. She found a wax museum advertising, "We have genuine objects owned by our replicas!"
"Worth looking into," she thought. Pushing open the door, a little bell rang, announcing her presence. Immediately a man hardly taller that Bri entered the entrance hall.
"Hello, how are you? Are you lost?" he asked smoothing out his leather jacket.
"Oh, um no, I was actually here to find out what you meant by 'Genuine objects owned by our replicas.' Does that mean like hair or just like clothes?" Bri asked slipping into hunter mode.
"No no! Mostly clothes and things they owned! We have James Dean's keychain, Abraham Lincoln's hat, Gandhi's glasses, on of Albert Einstein's shirts, FDR's iron lung, Amelia Earhart's flying cap," the owner announced.
"Amelia Earhart?" Bri asked her eyes brightening.
"Yes, are you interested in that exhibit?" the owner asked.
"Actually, I'd love to, but I'm doing a report on James Dean, do you mind if I ask a few questions?" Bri smiled.
"A report? For who? You don't go to the local high school do you?" the owner asked.
"I'm sorry, I'm Cassie Hack, I'm with the teen blog PeaceLoveVintage and I was assigned a James Dean story," Bri lied smoothly.
"Well, come along then Cassie, our James Dean exhibit was visited regularly visited by Cal Hawkins and William Hill, James was born February 8, 1931 in Marion Indiana, and he was killed September 30, 1955," the owner explained.
"Didn't he die in his car, Little Bastard?" Bri asked.
"Yes actually he did, he was impaled on the windshield while going almost eighty," the owner explained.
"Thanks, that's all I need," Bri muttered before walking out. She ran back to the motel to find Sam in front of his laptop with papers spread around him.
"Oh no, what's Dean got you researching?" Bri asked.
"Uh tracking down a car, see if it's actually Little Bastard," Sam replied showing Bri the engine number.
"Here, let me help," she announced pulling out her own laptop. As it connected to the wifi, she looked up at Sam.
"You know, I never got an answer as to why you and Dean are in the life," she commented as she brought up a website that could track cars based off engine number.
"Our mother was killed by a demon when I was six months old. Our father went crazy with finding the demon and he dragged Dean and I along."
"Oh I'm sorry, you mentioned you went to Stanford though," Bri commented.
"I did, I planned to study law. But then Dean broke into my girlfriend's and my apartment and dragged me onto a hunt. And when I got back, um, the same demon killed my girlfriend Jess and that's why I'm on the road again," Sam admitted sadly.
"Damn, you have had a tough life, I'm so sorry," Bri apologized.
"It's fine really. How'd you get into the business?" Sam asked.
"Well, my mom was killed by a vampire," Bri admitted.
"Oh, I'm sorry, how'd you get around?" Sam asked after a pause.
"Hitchhiking, walking, occasionally jumping into the back of tractor trailers going where I was going when no one was looking," Bri grinned.
"What's so funny?" Sam asked.
"Okay so this one time I hopped in a meat truck without knowing it so of course, meat is refrigerated. So I spent the entire trip wrapped in my sweatshirt, leather jacket and my parka. I could barely walk when I hopped out at the truckstop!" Bri laughed.
"My god, you are crazy you know that?" Sam asked as he squinted at his computer screen.
"It's been hypothesized," Bri responded. She went back to researching the car and sat there with Sam for most of the afternoon.
"Good news, it's not Little Bastard," Sam announced suddenly.
"Any reason why?" Bri asked.
"Dean had to get the engine number somehow," Sam muttered as he shifted through the papers for his phone. He dialed Dean's number and put it on speaker.
"Yo," Dean answered.
"Hey. You're on speaker. Just me and Bri. Took me a while, but I traced all the car's previous owners," Sam explained as he shuffled his papers into a pile.
"Any of 'em die bloody?" Dean asked.
"Nope in fact-" Sam started before he and Bri heard the familiar crack of someone breaking pool balls. They exchanged glances.
"Dean are you in a bar?" Sam asked.
"Really?" Bri added.
"No, I-I'm-I'm in a restaurant," Dean defended quickly.
A female voice on Dean's end broke in, "Here's your beer."
"Thanks," Dean's flirty smile could be heard through the phone. Sam shook her head and Bri placed her forehead down on the edge of the table.
"That happens to have a bar," Dean admitted.
"I've been working my ass off here," Sam spat.
"Not cool," Bri voiced.
"Hey, world's smallest violin, pal, I spent the afternoon up Christine's skirt. I needed a drink," Dean parried.
"Actually you didn't," Sam smirked. Bri chuckled slightly.
"Meaning?" Dean asked.
"The car's first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia; drove it until he died in nineteen-seventy two," Sam read off the screen.
"So you're saying?" Dean continued.
"It's not Little Bastard genius! James Dean probably never touched it!" Bri exclaimed.
"Well then what killed the guy?" Dean asked.
"Good question," Sam responded.
"We're working on it," Bri added.
When Dean returned, Sam was asleep and Bri was asleep in hers in the adjoining room. Dean sat down at the table briefly to look through what the two had come up with. "Bupkis, bupkis, bupkis. Why is everything bupkis these days? We've got bupkis on Lucifer. We've got bupkis on The Colt. Now we have bupkis on this," he thought angrily. Shrugging off his suit, he changed into jeans and a t-shirt before crashing in his bed.
The next morning, Sam and Dean drove out to the scene of the second strange death. A man had been killed by a gunshot wound to the head but there was no gun powder, no bullet, bupkis. Again. Bri had been allowed to come just as long as she stayed out of the way.
"She's an intern," Dean explained to the officer who tried to stop Bri. She straightened her tie and pulled her fake badge out.
"She'll just be interviewing the witness," Sam promised. Bri nodded and went over to talk to the house keeper.
"Hello Consuela Alvarez, I'm agent Brown, an intern with the FBI, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Bri asked.
"Si, ¿Qué quieres saber?" Consuela responded.
"Shoot um, "Quien mata Señor Hill?" Bri responded calling on her limited knowledge of Spanish.
"¡Fue un presidente de los Estados Unidos!" Consuela cried.
"¿Qué presidente lo hizo?" Bri asked praying she had said it right. Consuela looked at her confused.
"Um well, ¿Cómo estaba el?" Bri asked.
"El estaba mucho alto. El tenía barba y llevaba un chaqueta larga y negra," Connsuela explained.
"Abraham Lincoln?" Bri asked in shock.
"¡Si! El Presidente Lincoln," Consuela admitted before sobbing.
"No llore Consuela, todo está bien," Bri soothed before going back to the Impala to wait for Sam and Dean.
When they arrived, Dean and Sam were talking in hushed voices about what they had learned from Consuela.
"Did you guys get Abe Lincoln too?" Bri asked as soon as all the car doors were closed.
"Other than that bupkis. No sulfur, no EMF nothing," Dean announced.
"Let's get some research done. Mind getting lunch Bri?" Sam asked.
"Yes! I do!" Bri complained as Dean popped in a Rush cassette and drove away.
Back at the motel, Dean had put the video Jim had made of Cal's death in Bri's laptop. Sam was on his own researching lore. After some persuasion, Bri had gone to grab lunch.
"Woah," Dean announced suddenly.
"What?" Sam asked. Dean toggled between the two frames.
"It's a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman's video," Dean explained as he turned the laptop around. Sam squinted at the figure in the video.
"Am I crazy, or does that look like James Dean?" Dean asked.
"That looks like James Dean," Sam decided.
"You're also crazy," Bri commented as she entered the room with a deli bag in one hand and a drink tray in the other.
"Did you get me Pepsi?" Dean asked.
"Yes, and I got Sam's Sprite," she commented.
"So we've got Abraham Lincoln and James Dean?" Dean asked.
"Weird, that's two of the figures in the wax museum," Bri chuckled as she unwrapped her sandwich.
"Is that bacon?" Dean asked looking at her sandwich.
"Uh, Turkey, cheese, bacon and tomato, so yeah," Bri responded.
"Dean focus!" Sam reprimanded.
"Sorry. Famous ghosts?" Dean responded.
"Maybe," Sam announced.
"Well that's just silly," Dean dismissed.
"No, actually, uh, there is a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not-famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before," Sam explained.
"I once had to salt and burn Samuel Clemens's bones," Bri announced.
"Mark Twain? Really?" Sam asked.
"Steamboat murders," Bri explained.
"Yeah but now we got two of 'em. Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?" Dean questioned.
"Who are apparently ganking their fans," Sam finished.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"Professor Hill was a civil war nut. He dug Lincoln," Sam announced as he read off a website.
"And Cal must have been a James Dean freak. He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the dude's car. So you're saying we've got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their...super-fans?" Dean announced.
"That's what it looks like," Sam decided.
"Well that is muchos loco," Dean announced.
"Muy," Sam replied with a grin, "Not muchos."
"Yeah well the big question is, what are they doing here?" Dean wondered.
"Yeah. Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House—" Sam started.
"And James Dean at the racetrack, but...what the hell are they doing in Canton?" Dean finished.
"Good question," Sam answered.
"The Wax Museum!" Bri exclaimed, "The wax museum has objects owned by the people!" Bri exclaimed stealing Sam's laptop. She ran a quick search and pulled it up.
"Oh you are kidding me," Dean complained.
After Sam and Dean got back from the interview at the wax museum, Bri and Sam went out to pack the trunk. Well, Bri packed the trunk and Sam hid what they were packing from the security camera because he was so tall.
"Hey Bri, I'm curious, Dean told you what happened with Ruby right?" Sam asked as Bri lugged a bag of rock salt into the trunk.
"Yep, why 'ya asking?" Bri grunted.
"Where's your stance on it? Do you think I'm gonna fall off the train the second I see a demon?" Sam asked. Bri paused for a second in her packing.
"I wouldn't say you're that bad, but I'm not going to start slitting demon throats around you," she admitted after thinking.
"So you're not afraid of me?" Sam asked.
"You haven't given me reason to be, I'm just wary," Bri responded as she checked a shotgun barrel.
"Thanks Bri, that means a lot to me," he smiled as she slammed the trunk shut. AS they walked back into the room. Dean was having a conversation on the phone.
"Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that? ...Why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is. ...Well I'm sorry, but it's true!" Dean exclaimed into the phone.
"What's going on?" Sam asked as Dean turned around.
"Did you two get the trunk packed up?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, trunk's packed. Who was on the phone?" Sam asked.
"Bobby." Dean answered.
"And?" Sam questioned.
"Nothing," Dean responded with a shake of his head.
"So we're going to pretend we didn't just hear what we just heard?" Sam asked.
"Pretend or don't pretend. Whatever floats your boat," Dean shrugged.
"This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean," Sam complained.
"Well, this is about as fresh as it gets. Now are we going or not?" Dean asked as he shrugged on his leather jacket. Sam sighed and Bri rubbed her eyes in exasperation.
At the wax museum, Dean made a derogatory comment about Gandhi and Sam immediately defended the pacifist.
"Hey Sam, Bri, check it out," Dean suggested, "Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat." The last part was said in a voice that imitated Lincoln.
"Really?" Bri asked as Sam grabbed the hat from Dean and dropped it in the metal trashcan.
"Let's go grab East of Eden's keychain, c'mon Bri," Dean suggested. He and Bri walked into the next room. Dean moved toward James Dean's exhibit while Bri stood in front of Amelia Earhart's display. Suddenly the doors slammed close.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed. He grabbed the keychain and ran up to the door. He slammed into the door a few times.
"Move!" Bri exclaimed. She shoved Dean out of the way and pushed the door open with one hand. She and Dean ran into the room to find Gandhi choking Sam.
"Dean!" Sam choked out.
"Is that Gandhi?" Dean asked. Bri had her shotgun raised while trying to shoot Gandhi without shooting Sam.
"Yeah!" Sam croaked.
"Dude's he's squirrelly " Dean commented.
"Get the-" Sam started.
"Dean focus!" Bri reprimanded still trying for the shot.
"Glasses Dean! Gandhi's glasses! Burn the glasses!" Bri exclaimed as Sam gestured to the wax figure. Dean grabbed the glasses and threw them in the metal trash can. He doused it with lighter fluid and Bri threw a match in. Gandhi disappeared in a burst of black smoke.
Back at the motel, Dean, Sam, and Bri were packing their things to go.
"Gandhi! I still can't believe it!" Bri called. She threw her spare boots in her bag and stuffed a shirt into each.
"Dean, didn't it strike you as strange the way Gandhi just...vanished?" Sam asked as he retrieved his toiletries from the bathroom.
"Strange how?" Dean asked.
"No screaming, no big flame-out, I mean that isn't the way ghosts usually go," Sam announced as he threw the toiletries in his duffle.
"Still, I torched, he vanished," Dean admitted as he folded another shirt into his bag.
"Yeah but I-," Sam mused, "I feel like he was trying to take a bite out of me."
"A bite?" Dean asked.
"Revenge of the Vampire Pacifist sounds like a bad horror movie," Bri chuckled.
"Yeah, like he was hungry. But the thing is, Gandhi—or, the real Gandhi—he was a—," Sam explained before cutting off.
"A what?" Dean asked.
"Spit it out," he ordered after Sam's hesitation.
"He was a fruitarian," Sam mumbled. After a moment of staring at Sam, both Dean and Bri burst out laughing.
"Oh jeez, so he only ate fruits?" Bri asked. Sam's look was all the answer she needed.
"Let me get this straight. Your, uh, ultimate hero was not only a short man in diapers, but he was also a fruitarian?" Dean asked.
"That's not the point," Sam defended.
"That is good. That is–I mean even for you, that is good," Dean smiled.
"Look I'm just saying, I'm not so sure this thing is over," Sam admitted.
"It was a ghost. It was a weirdly super-charged fruitarian ghost, but it was still a ghost. Now let's go," Dean ordered as he picked up his bag.
"So first you drag me into town, and now you're dragging me back out," Sam complained.
"You ain't steering this boat. Either of you. Let's go, chop chop," Dean ordered.
"No. I'm with Sam on this one, this is a weird one," Bri admitted. as Dean walked to the door.
"You know, this isn't gonna work," Sam announced
"What isn't?" Dean asked as he turned around.
"Us. You, me, together, I—I thought it could, but it can't," Sam replied
"You're the one that wanted back in, chief," Dean countered.
"And you're the one who called me back in," Sam quipped.
"I still think we got some trust building to do," Dean announced.
"No team building exercises. Anything but team building exercises," Bri begged.
"How long am I gonna be on double-secret probation?" Sam asked.
"Till I say so," Dean shrugged.
"Look. I know what I did. What I've done. And I am trying to climb out of that hole, I am, but you're not making it any easier," Sam explained.
"So what am I supposed to do, just let you off the hook?" Dean questioned.
"No. You can think whatever you want. I deserve it, and worse. Hell, you'll never punish me as much as I'm punishing myself, but the point is, if we're gonna be a team, you and I—it has to be a two-way street," Sam argued.
"So we just go back to the way we were before?" Dean responded.
"No, because we were never that way before. Before didn't work," Sam pointed out.
"How do you think we got here?" Sam asked.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean questioned.
"Dean, one of the reasons I went off with Ruby...was to get away from you," Sam admitted.
"I'm just gonna sit in the car," Bri decided as she slipped out of the room.
"What?" Dean asked pain lacing his voice.
"It made me feel strong. Like I wasn't your kid brother," Sam told his brother.
"Are you saying this is my fault?" Dean asked.
"No, it's my fault. All I'm saying is that, if we're gonna do this, we have to do it different, we can't just fall into the same rut," he responded.
"What do you want me to do?" Dean caved.
"You're gonna have to let me grow up, for starters," Sam mentioned with an accusatory tone. Suddenly, Dean's phone rang.
"Yeah?" he answered it. He looked at Sam and then away.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Dean said.
As he hung up he said, "I guess you were right about this not being over."
Sam and Dean had visited the sheriff and the mortician. Paris Hilton had kidnapped a girl and Sam had won the argument that it wasn't a ghost. Dean, Sam and Bri were all researching the seeds. Bri had a Botany book Sam had grabbed for her out of the library and the brothers were on laptops.
"Yahtzee!" Sam cried.
"What?" Dean asked.
"You find something?" Bri questioned as she put the book down.
"The seeds aren't from around here. In fact, they're not from any tree or plant in the country," Sam explained.
"Where are they from?" Dean questioned.
"Asgard?" Bri joked.
" No, Eastern Europe. From a forest in the Balkans, which is not even there anymore. It was chopped down, like, thirty years ago," Sam read.
"So?" Dean questioned.
"So, local legend has it that the forest was guarded by a pagan god whose name was Leshi. Um, a mischievous god, could take on infinite forms—" Sam announced.
"And let me guess. He liked to munch on his fans," Dean deduced.
"Yep. Could be appeased only with the blood from his worshippers. It would drain 'em, then stuff their stomachs with the seeds," Sam chuckled.
"Ew," Bri muttered. Dean moved to look over Sam's shoulder at the information
"So how's he doing it? What, he touches James Dean's keychain and then morphs into James Dean?" Dean guessed.
"Hm. It's as good a guess as any," Sam commented.
"Yeah, well, whatever. How do we kill him?" Dean pried.
"Says here to chop off his head with an iron axe," Sam replied.
"All right. Let's go gank ourselves a Paris Hilton," Dean said.
Sam, Dean and Bri entered the part of the wax museum that was closed for renovations. Dean carried the axe, while Bri and Sam carried flashlights. Bri kicked the door open, breaking the lock in the process. Immediately, they found the room decorated like a forest with a path.
"Into the woods it's time to go I hate to leave I have to though," Bri whispered jokingly as the trio walked down the path to the center of the exhibit. They found a white house with a wax figure on the porch. They found a young girl who they assumed to be Danielle, the girl kidnaped by Paris Hilton, tied up to a tree.
"Hey," Sam called as he rushed up to check her pulse.
"She alive?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. Barely," Sam answered. Just then, the axe flew out of Dean's hands and embedded itself in a tree on the opposite side of the room. Leshi, in the form of Paris Hilton grinned and punched Dean in the face as he turned around. Dean was knocked to the floor and with a flirtatious hair flip, shoves Sam across the room. He collided with the house and was knocked unconscious. Bri dropped into a defensive stance but Leshi pushed her back into a fake tree with one perfectly manicured hand. She hit her head and slipped into unconsciousness.
"Awesome," Leshi remarked as she stepped on Dean's face with her stiletto.
When the three hunters awoke, Leshi was sitting at a tree stump, filing her nails with a dagger. After struggling, and failing to get free, Leshi smiled crazily at the hunters.
"A teen hunter, I'm underwhelmed. Oh and I'm so glad you're awake for this. This is gonna be huge," Leshi announced.
"Super, I wouldn't want to miss it," Dean joked. All three were pulling at their ropes carefully. Bri had popped a switchblade out of her jacket sleeve and was trying to force the blade out without slicing herself.
"I mean, I've been stuffing myself with fast food lately. So it's nice to do the ritual right. Prepare a nice, slow meal for a change," Leshi commented.
"Just like good old days huh?" Sam responded.
"You have no idea. People adored me. They used to throw themselves at me, with smiles on their faces," Leshi ranted.
"Fake or real?" Bri asked as she got the tip of the blade out. deciding that it was good enough she began cutting at her bonds.
"Yeah, I guess these days nobody gives a flying crap about some backwoods forest god, huh?" Dean replied. Leshi stopped filing her nails and glared viciously at Dean.
"No. Not since they cut down my forest and built a Yugo plant," Leshi hissed. Bri cut through a quarter of the first coil of rope.
"March of progress sister," Dean quipped. Leshi continued to file her already immaculate nails.
"For years now, I've been wandering. Hungry. Scared. Scrounging for scraps. So not sexy," Leshi pouted as she but the knife down, "But then, the best thing ever happened. Someone tripped the apocalypse. And I thought, what the hell, I'm tired of watching what I eat. I wanna pig out. So I found this little place. It's awesome. Adoring fans stroll right in the door."
"Yeah, but they're not your fans," Sam interjected.
"So? They worship Lincoln, Gandhi, Hilton...whatever. I'll take what I can get," Leshi shrugged.
"You know, I gotta tell you, you are not the first god we've met, but you are...the nuttiest," Dean commented.
"No, you, you people, you're the crazy ones. You used to worship gods. But this," Leshi gestured to her Paris Hilton disguise, "This is what passes for idolatry? Celebrities? What have they got besides small dogs and spray tans? You people used to have old-time religion. Now you have Us Weekly."
"I don't know, I'm more of a Penthouse Forum man myself," Dean responded with a wink and a mouth click. Leshi stalked over to Dean.
"Maybe, but...there's still a lot of yummy meat on those bones, boy," Leshi purred at the younger brother.
"Well I hate to break it to you, sister, but, uh...you can't eat me. See, I'm not a Paris Hilton BFF. I've never even seen House of Wax," Dean corrected. Sam frowned at Dean.
"No. But I can totally read your mind, Dean. I know who your hero is. Your daddy. Am I right?" Leshi guessed.
"Dean! I thought your hero was Chuck Norris!" Bri cried to distract Leshi.
"Wow, kiddo, you really thought wrong. I like you, I think you'll die slowly," Leshi decided. At Dean's lack of reply, she was stalking over the the axe embedded in the wall.
"And this belonged to him. Didn't it? Poor little Dean. All you ever wanted was to be loved by your idol. One distant father figure, coming right up," Leshi grinned sadistically. AS she reached for the axe, Dean pulled himself free. He tackled Leshi as Bri cut herself free. Leshi was kneeling on top of Dean as she punched him repeatedly in the face. Bri cut Sam free and Sam ran to get the axe. Bri yanked Dean out of the way by his collar as Sam brought down the axe five times on Leshi's neck. Her head rolled away from her body and Bri kicked it away in disgust. Sam breathed heavily, his face splattered crimson with blood. Sam and Bri grinned manically at Dean who held up a finger to stop them.
"Not a word," Dean ordered
"Dude. You just got whaled on by Paris Hilton!" Sam cackled.
"That's low man," Bri commented.
"Shut up," Dean muttered.
Dean Sam and Bri walked out to the Impala, each with their bags in hand. Dean was talking on his phone.
"Uh-huh. All right. Thank you," Dean responded as he hung up the phone.
"Sheriff Carnegie. Danielle's gonna be alright. She's sworn off The Simple Life, but other than that—" Dean trailed off
"No loss there,"Bri muttered.
"Glad she's okay," sam commented
"It gets better. Sheriff's putting out an APB on Paris Hilton," Dean chuckled, "That oughta be good." Dean unlocked the trunk and threw his bag in. Sam and Bri followed suit and Bri hopped in the back seat. She laid down and attempted to sleep off last night's exhaustion.
"Hey, listen, I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About me keeping too tight of a leash on you," Dean announced, "Hell, maybe you're right. I mean, look, I'm not exactly Mister Innocent in this whole mess either, you know. I did break the first seal."
"You didn't know," Sam defended his brother.
"Yeah, well, neither did you," Dean countered, "I'm not saying demon blood was a great way to go, but, you did kill Lilith."
"And start the apocalypse," Sam added.
"Which neither of us saw coming, I mean, who'd have thought killing Lilith would've been a bad thing?" Dean announced, "Point is, I was so worried about watching your every move that I didn't see what it was actually doing to you."
After a pause Dean mentioned, "So, for that I'm sorry."
"Thanks," Sam replied. Dean slammed the trunk shut and grabbed his keys.
"So where do we go from here?" Dean asked.
"They way I see it, we got one shot at surviving this," Sam announced.
"What's that?
"Maybe I am on deck for the devil, maybe same with you and Michael, maybe there's no changing that," Sam explained.
"Well that's encouraging," Dean commented.
"But, we can stop wringing our hands over it. We gotta just grab onto whatever's in front of us, kick its ass, and go down fighting," Sam added.
"I can get on board with that," Dean decided with a nod of his head.
"Okay. But we're gonna have to do it on the same level," Sam pointed out.
"You got it," Dean answered with a grin.
"I say we get the hell outta here," Dean suggested
"Hell yeah," Sam agreed. Dean turned to go to the drivers seat and Sam moved to the passenger side. Dean hesitated slightly.
"Hey," he called. They both turned around and Dean held the keys out to Sam.
"You wanna drive?" Dean asked. Sam looked at the keys in shock.
"You sure?" Sam responded.
"Yeah, I could, uh...I could use a nap," Dean announced. Sam grinned as Dean handed him the keys. They both climbed into the car and situated themselves.
"Wait Sam, why are you driving?" Bri asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.
(A/N) Reviews make me type faster so please, drop one in the box down there!