**Okay, so I'm satirizing a lot in this chapter and will continue to do so due to the nature of this story being a parody; therefore, I hope you enjoyed the words as much as I did. I also have worked at Fast Food, so I understand all the questions required by the job to ask people. I obviously exaggerated, but you get the point. The story takes place in the movie Breaking Dawn Pt. 2 and the events from Supernatural are in no chronological order; thus, making that part of the xover more of an AU. I'm also in university right now, so I have homework and several jobs that take up most of my time. So thanks for being patient with me and updating my stories might take a little longer than I want. Just for your info...thanks! Enjoy!

Cullens, Meet the Winchesters

AliZoe

AliZoe (c) 2014

Chapter One

Fast in my car

"Fast in My Car" by Paramore

The classic 1967 black Chevrolet Impala, whom Dean called "Baby", practically lived in Hell with them, driving back and forth, here to there, escorting them from one doom pit to another. It had been resurrected many a time from death as well. I guess it ran in the family.

The drives they took together often made their brotherly bond that much stronger, despite the constant replay of the same old school rock songs bellowing from the speakers with Dean's terrible karaoke voice. Sam mostly slept...or he tried to at least. Neither of them slept much these days. Hell literally haunted their dreams as the memories of their time there had thwarted any attempt at having a normal REM cycle.

Driving through the night seemed to be the only thing that would get them to their destination in a timely manner. Baby's headlights glared through the pitch black night on the winding roads that glided alongside the mountainside. What would make any sane man white-knuckled at the wheel, Dean skidded through the turns with ease as Baby's motor happily hummed to the tunes with him. "Highway to Hell" were the lyrics of the hour.

"Have you ever thought about these lyrics, Sam?"

"Not really," Sam moaned, resting his head against the window. The coldness of the glass soothed his mind as the question caused more damage than its innocent nature. "I was literally dragged down to Hell, Dean. So it's not something I care to reminisce often."

"Yeah, I saw the whole thing...and I was ripped to shreds to get there," Dean snorted as a passing remark while taking a bite of a Hostess cherry pie. Although horrible as it sounded, and it was, going to Hell strengthened their bond as the Winchester brothers. Being more open about the experience barely started trickling into their conversations.

Peeking out of one eye, Sam glanced over at Dean chomping away at the pocket of glucose and high fructose corn sugar. "You're going to crash in the morning and we'll both head back downstairs because of your stupidity."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We've been driving all night. A sugar binge won't last forever! You need something more sustaining if we're going to be driving this long."

"Since when are you a health nut?"

"Since always! Eat like an apple or something."

"Like apple pie?" Dean smirked through cherry globs.

"Jerk," Sam grinned at the sarcasm.

"B**ch." Those two words were the closest these brothers would say to love you bro that you could expect from their mouths.

Driving through the Rocky Mountains proved to be a beautiful sight, but the remembrance of Wendigos and random haunted log cabins in similar settings made them less glorious to behold. What else could possibly be lurking in those trees? Passing through the valleys and dips of Utah provided a lightness to the drive. The road felt more at peace and content here. Daylight had crept through the angles of the mountain range hours before. Nothing that scary snuck about this hour, and even if it did, with the vibes of these two master exterminators in the air, nothing dared penetrate the shadows.

"Should we take a pitstop in Vegas?" Dean asked, feeling eager.

"That's south; we need to head north, so no. Maybe on the way back," Sam grumbled as he readjusted himself on the seating. His long legs cramped against the dashboard. The knots in his muscles laughed at the discomfort and continued to wind and tense at every turn. "We should take a pitstop though. I need to take a break, stretch out, and definitely eat something other than your chips and pies!"

"Sounds great to me! What sounds good? Drive-thru? or sit down?" Dean's stomach slowly growled at the thought of food.

"I just said I need to stand up and stretch! Going through a drive-thru would be the exact opposite of that."

"Sit down it is…" Dean beamed as he swerved off the exit. Horns honked behind them as fists of road rage shook in the air, but the magnetic pull of some finger-licking food drove the manic steering. "It's probably better too; my leg is falling asleep…" Not seconds after they pulled off the exit, the bombardment of restaurants at every corner compelled the eye. "Hey! Look at the size of that burger on that ad on the window! Love me a good burger!" His stomach barked even louder out of lust for food.

"That's probably not even what it looks like in real life, Dean...besides, I'm not in the mood for fast food…" Sam half-rolled his eyes. He felt like his arteries were clogging just by looking at the picture of the carnivore's choice of a beastly sandwich. Frowning, he glanced across the street at the soup and salad joint with wanting eyes. "That looks healthier. I don't want to eat something and then have it sit like a rock in my stomach for the rest of the drive."

"Well, I'll grab me that colossal burger and I'll meet you at that salady place…" Dean waved his hand, blowing off Sam's opinion with an obviously forced smile. Shrugging his shoulders, Sam agreed.

Parking Baby in the shared parking lot of the two restaurants, Dean turned on his swag as he stepped out of his pride and joy. Placing some shades on his face, he popped his collar. OH yeah! Jealous eyes stared-you know dat's right! Rolling his eyes, Sam chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

"I'll save you a seat," Sam smirked. Clicking his tongue in his mouth, Dean showed off his pearly whites, inclining his head. Turning to go to their polar-opposite eateries, Dean strut into the burger joint like he owned the place. Layers of aromas ranging from grease, fries, and heaps of ground beef filled Dean's nose with intoxicating pleasure. His stomach, now ravenous, roared in protest, the FEED ME NOW impatience. The restaurant had an atmosphere of fast paced, sweaty, and loud as the workers behind the counter were fumbling past each other like a bunch of worker bees attempting to accomplish a million things all at once.

The line, although fast, felt like an eternity as he instinctively observed the people around him. They had no idea what crept out there in the world. They had no idea that the entirety of the world as they know it almost collapsed around them...twice! Between the evaded apocalypse to the destruction of the Leviathans, he knew he would never get a thank you, never feel that warmth of someone with gratitude. He was past caring about the "thank you's" and the fame and glory. He had Sam, Bobby, Castiel (when convenient), and all of the other crazy hunters who joined the madness. This was life.

Finally reaching the register, the petite overly zealous, overly bubbly 17-year old cashier girl oggled at Dean's ruggedness. "Welcome! What can I get for you?"

"I would like that burger on the window," he replied glancing over the menu of high caloric food.

"Is this in a combo meal today?"

"Uh, sure, why not?"

"Is that mega sized today?"

"Mega sized? Uh, yeah, whatever."

"Any tomatoes, onions, cheese, or bacon on your burger today?"

"It doesn't come with all that?"

"It's only $0.30 each and $1.00 for the bacon," she grinned flirtatiously.

"'Only'? Well, what comes on it normally?" Dean's stomach barked, not amused.

"Ketchup," her eyes opened wider as his mood became Hangry.

"Are you kidding me? It only comes with ketchup? For $7.50? How much for pickles and mayonnaise?" his eyebrows scrunched.

"Pickles are $0.10 each and mayonnaise is $0.20." Her smile was obviously fakely forced at his displeasure. He paused and stared at her in an unamused amazement, contemplating the exact total of the whole burger itself.

"Fine, I'll take the works."

"Is that three pickles?"

"Sure, yeah," his answers getting more abrupt and callace.

"Would you like ice in your drink?"

"Don't tell me I have to pay for ice…"

"It's $0.10," her smile, robotic at this point.

"Don't I just get it myself?"

"No, it's behind the counter. We get that for you."

"..."

"Did you want ice?"

"Fine…I'll have a Coke."

"We have Pepsi products…"

"...Pepsi will have to do…" he sighed.

"Great! For here or to go?"

"To go!" he replied quickly, not wanting to be charged to sit down or something obnoxious like that.

"Your total is $14.19."

"$14.19?!" his jaw dropped to the counter.

"Yes, $7.50 for the burger, $0.30 for a tomato, $0.30 for a slice of cheese, $0.30 for onions, $0.30 for three pickles, $1.00 for bacon, $0.20 for mayonnaise, $0.10 for ice, $3.00 to Mega-size, $0.20 for a to-go bag, and plus tax," she spat off like the speed of light ending with a wide grin. Dean blinked, not believing his ears. "It is ¾ of a pound of high quality beef between freshly baked buns. I just work here, I don't make the prices."

Grumbling, he pulled out his wallet and handed her a wadded $20. "That burger better be made out of pure gold!" he mumbled to himself.

"What was your name to call when it's ready?" she asked, handing him his small amount of change back.

"Don't tell me you charge for that too…!"

"Your name?"

"Steve Tyler…"

"Alright, Steve! We'll have that right out for you! Would you like to buy convenience napkins to put in your bag?"

"No!"

"Oh! And it looks like your food is ready! Here you go! Have a nice day and come back soon!" she beamed, handing him a paper bag filled with his million-dollar burger and an oversized sweating Pepsi. Snatching them out of her hands, he grumbled and hastily strode out like something was following him. Peering over his shoulder, he could have sworn that the preppy cashier girl's eyes flashed black. Demon? Blinking, he took another glance. Nothing. Just keep moving, Dean, he thought to himself. Purposely passing next to Baby, he stroked his hand across the hood as he walked, the previous tension fading with each step.

When he reached the salad joint, he was greeted at the door by a wide-grinned hostess. "Welcome!" she exclaimed, holding the door open for him. Glancing down at his sack of calories, her smile dimmed slightly.

"I'm meeting someone," he spat quickly and coldly at her reaction. Scooting past her, eyes continued to stare in an uncomfortable fashion as he found Sam at the register paying for his food. "Let's eat outside." Sam's eyebrows rose, not knowing the unpleasant mood where Dean abode. Shoving the door open, Dean took the lead as they found an empty, secluded table under the canopy.

"What's with you?" Sam inquired with furled eyebrows, his normal concerned face.

"I just paid a stupid amount for this! It'd better taste like heaven!" Dean carped while unwrapping the foil around his massive sandwich. Peeling the top bun off, mayonnaise and ketchup dripped off the sides as lettuce spewed over the edges. The smell of perfect meat instantly slapped them both in the face.

"Smells good," Sam smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Stacking french fries on the meat, Dean pulled out a tiny cup of pink sauce. Holding it up, he examined it, feeling a little confused.

"This isn't ketchup…"

"It's fry sauce. This region of the U.S. is known for it," Sam explained, stabbing his Chicken Chop salad as civilized as possible and shoving the flawlessly dressed greens into his mouth. Frowning and raising his eyebrows, Dean shrugged his shoulders and poured the sauce onto the his pyramid of fries. Smashing the top bun back on the burger, he wrapped his hands around the beast and opened his jaw as wide as he could. If only he was able to unhinge his jaw like a snake...then, stuffing his face would be that much easier...Taking an enormous bite, Dean teleported to his happy place of refined cow, starchy potatoes, and processed vegetables.

"Mmmm…." spoke enough for the satisfaction and sacrifice on Dean's behalf. Glancing through his peripheral vision, Dean jerked his head to the side as all of his muscles tensed up from the many years of monsters playing deadly games of hide and seek and cat and mouse. Castiel sat at the table with them. Sighing, Dean and Sam closed their eyes and both took deep breaths. You'd think they'd be used to it now-Castiel just appearing out of nowhere. "Da**it Cas! I had a mouthful of cow!"

"My apologies, Dean, but you did summon me here...I thought you would be expecting me," Castiel deplored monotonically through squinted eyes.

"Sorry, Cas, but we didn't summon you…" Sam breathed, stirring his salad between his fork.

"Dean said 'heaven,' so I assumed you needed me," Castiel explained as he glanced down at Sam's organized greens and Dean's sprawled out burger and fries.

"I just paid almost $20 for this whole meal, so I said, 'it'd better taste like heaven!' Didn't mean to cry wolf, Cas."

"What are you doing here?" Castiel asked with a flicker of curiosity in his usual poker face.

"We're on our way to a hunt up in Washington: a group of vampires. You game?" Dean expounded.

"Game? I was unaware we were participating in any game..."

"He means, did you want to come?" Sam smiled as Castiel's confusion squinted his eyes even further.

"If you need me, I will come," he replied sounding metaphorical and vanished in the blink of an eye. Not surprised at the sudden exit, they both sighed again and dove into their food.

"You really paid almost twenty bucks for all of that?"

"Yeah…" Dean groaned. "But it tastes like a dream...a good dream...and this pink sauce-"

"Fry sauce."

"Whatever. It's hitting the spot," Dean smacked through greasy teeth.

"If you need me to drive part of the way-"

"Don't even think about it," Dean's nostrils flared slightly, abruptly ending the conversation. The rest of the calm meal lasted in silence as they enjoyed their caloric pleasures.

With Dean's lead-foot, it wasn't long before they were in the boundaries of Washington State. Taking all the obscure exits to reach the little town of Forks proved surprisingly easier than anticipated. Coming to a random stop light, they waited, no one in sight behind or in front of them. Dusk was approaching as Dean glanced out at the horizon. Appearing in a blur, a pale, trendy yet classy-dressed woman with a dark brown pixie hair cut froze on her feet on the side of the road, staring back at him. Furling his eyebrows, Dean smacked Sam in the chest with the back of his hand. Peering back at where she stood, Dean's eyes shot back and forth, she vanished.

"What is it Dean?" Sam asked in alarm. Opening the door and stepping out, Dean took a full 360. Small dust clouds hovered above the dirt where the woman planted her feet. "Ghost?"

"No...she didn't phase in and out like the norm…" Dean responded. Slowly walking over to the dirt, he crouched, examining the barely visible footprints left as the only evidence anyone tangible lingered there for a moment. Scrunching his eyebrows even further, he noticed a second, larger set of footprints. They dashed southward. "There were two of them…"

"Demons or Angels?"

"No...they just disappear...these things just...ran…"

"Something we've dealt with before?"

"Not sure, but I have a strange feeling that Forks now knows we're coming."