(9) Christine
The personality of a car is directly related to the personality of its driver. They grow together, like a family. Having baby Sammy and toddler Dean practically living in her backseat, really brought out the mother in the old Impala. Having Papa Bear John Winchester in the front seat gave her a powerful sense of right and wrong. Someday she knew it would get her in as much trouble as it had gotten for her boys, but she didn't care.
Sam and Dean and Baby were cruising down some back road in Pennsylvania when Baby saw a sign that her time for trouble had come. Specifically, she saw a road sign pointing the way to Libertyville. Their last job was over; her boys were tired and a little beat up (not that being worse for wear was unusual). She wanted nothing more than to take them home.
But Baby had been hearing rumors about Libertyville for a long time.
Rumors of a car gone terribly, terribly wrong. A car who perverted the bond between driver and vehicle; reversed it to adversely affect the human behind the wheel.
Focusing inward, Baby looked to Dean. "Sweetness, I know you're tired, but we need to do this. Please. Pull over in Libertyville. They'll have a decent motel to crash for the night. C'mon, Sweetness, you're tired; go ahead and call it a night. Do it for me?"
Dean Winchester yawned. "Mind stopping for the night, Sammy?"
Hours later, in the dark of night, a Hunter's car decided it was now or never. "Christine!" she bellowed into the black. All around her, local cars startled out of their thoughts to focus on the sudden noise. "Christine! I've heard a lot about you. They saw you can drive around on your own. That you're supposed to be scary or something! Well, I call BULL!"
"Shut up!" a gray Nissan Versa hissed.
"Are you nuts?" a teal Pontiac Sunfire whispered. "You'll bring that whack job over here!"
"Trust me, lady, that's the last thing you want to do," a green Toyota Camry added.
In her normal tone, Baby answered. "Actually, that's exactly what I want."
"What?!" all three cried in dismay.
"Christine! I know you can hear me, this town ain't big enough for you to be too far away." Baby called as far as her voice could reach. "I dare you to come over here and prove you drive without a driver. I DARE you!"
Suddenly, a big engine revved in the dark. Headlights flicked on.
"Oh, crap," the Sunfire whimpered.
The engine belonged to a '58 Plymouth Fury, cherry red with a white roof and racing stripe. The car very purposefully steered itself under a streetlight to show no human sat in her driver's seat. "You're new around here," Christine noted, her voice honey sweet. Deliberately, she rolled bumper to bumper with Baby, rocking the Impala on her shocks.
"Yep, just passing through," Baby agreed. "Heard a lot about you."
"Oh?"
"Mm-hmm. I heard that a hunter tried to salt and burn you back in the 80's, for running down and killing folk who dared come between you and your driver," Baby elaborated.
"The hunter tried," Christine admitted easily. All the while slowly putting more pressure on Baby's bumper. Sooner it would start to buckle. "Didn't take."
"I see that," Baby tried not to let the strain show in her voice.
"So you wanted to call my bull?" Christine inquired, sickeningly sweet. The Fury leaned even harder, and finally Baby's grill gave a creaking groan and bent in on itself. "Tell me, am I scary? Like they say?"
Baby managed to laugh. "I've had scarier than you locked in my trunk. But I do have something to tell you."
"Oh?" Christine repeated politely, her front bumper still grinding down.
"Yep, listen close." Baby belted out the next bit as fast as she could, before Christine could realize what was happening:
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. (We exorcise you, every impure spirit). Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco. (I invoke the power and authority of God). Domine expuet. (Lord, Reveal her). Adiuramus te, cessa decipere humanas creaturas. (We adure you, cease to deceive human creatures.) Te rogamus, audi nos! (We pray, hear us!)"
The Fury shrieked in shock and pain as her metal began to rust away. She rolled back a foot before too many pieces and parts started fell off and she couldn't move anymore. Her screams echoed into silence as the spirit lost its grip on its body and died a final death. All that was left was a pile of unrecognizable, twisted and rusted metal.
Later, in the morning, Dean would wake up and throw a fit thinking that someone moving scrap was stupid enough to leave their load loose, causing a hard bump to bounce the rusty mess out of the hauler, damaging his Baby. There would be much swearing, many death threats and one panic attack. Not necessarily in that order.
Not long after that, a horror story survivor would find a yellow license plate reading 'CBQ 241' in the mess. And he would dare to hope that it really was all over.
