All Supernatural characters and settings are the property of lots of people, none of whom is me. If I had my hands on Sam and Dean, I'd treat them a lot nicer…a lot nicer…
The car stank.
It reeked out of the roof, the sides and the dash in an invisible, silent cloud. Sam glanced over at Dean, who sat trying to conceal his wince every time the draught from the window picked up the stink. The stench was so toxic that it continued to shock Sam that the vinyl of the seats hadn't begun to bubble and foam.
"For the love of God, Dean, we've got to clean this thing."
Dean glanced lazily over to his younger brother, "Nah."
"Man, this car is ripe. We've gotta do something soon or I'm gonna puke."
"You will so not be puking in my car bro'."
"Like you could notice the difference."
Dean's hand snaked out to clip Sam across the back of the head, his eyes never leaving the road. "Don't diss the car, man."
Sam snorted loudly in response and leaned further out the window in an attempt to find fresher air. The car's odour was the result of their last hunt. For years pets had been going missing in the Verde Hills area of southern Florida, only to turn up with their guts eaten out. In the past decade it had graduated to young children and adults who were sick or injured. The most recent victim had been Johnson Rami, a college basketball star had broken both his legs and right arm in a car accident. His buddy had left him that morning on the back porch. Rami had been gone when he swung by three hours later. After two days, his mostly eaten remains had been discovered by a search party in nearby parkland. Sam and Dean had soon picked up the scent – no pun intended – and arrived to deal with what turned out to be a zombie. Unable to locate the houngan who would have created it, they had planned to deal with the zombie with the more traditional methods of disposal, but as usual had run into some 'on the job problems' as Dean would say. It instead turned into a frantic race down an interstate highway that ended with the car fishtailing and smashing into the zombie, destroying it instantly. It seemed it had not been a typical drug-induced zombification, whoever had made the thing had reached into the beyond, because as the car slammed into it, the living corpse had disintegrated into a kind of brown and red chowder that had stunk. And which continued to stink, despite stopping at a 24 hour self-service car wash and four days of travelling.
"I swear Dean, if we don't do something about this smell the car is going to dissolve around us."
Dean didn't take his eyes from the road, but inside he most definitely agreed with his brother. The car did reek. Course, it'd be a cold day in hell before he ever let Sammy know. He noticed a road sign flash past, "Hey there's a town coming up called Greenville, we'll pull in there, stop for the night and see if we can find a car detail place so we won't offend your sensibilities. 'Kay, wuss?"
Sam rolled his eyes in a much-put-upon-younger-brother way he'd perfected years ago and silently urged the car to go faster.
It was another dodgy motel in the middle of another town that was just big enough to warrant being on the map. Greenville had started with some kind of industry once, but time had worn it down along with everyone who lived there. The main street was dotted with going-out-of-business sales and a number of houses had for sale signs. Ezy-Rest Motel sat on the outskirts of town, its red neon light blinking in an almost hypnotic rhythm, designed to lure travellers from the road and into its slightly seedy embrace. Dean gave his head quick shake as he strode out of the manager's office and towards the Impala. Damn man, he had to do something about these mental monologues. He wasn't the one who was supposed to be waxing poetic that was more Sammy's territory. The thought of his brother made him glance to where Sam slumped asleep in the passenger seat. He'd crashed about an hour ago, and hadn't moved. Dean paused briefly to look down at him through the window. He loved his brother fiercely, and he'd die for him without a second thought but sometimes, he didn't understand what was going on in his head. Take what had happened to Jess. There was something else that had gone on, something that had happened that Sam just wouldn't tell him about. In fact he'd flat out refused, claiming that there were some things he needed to keep to himself. Whatever the hell that meant.
Dean knocked sharply on the window causing Sam to jerk awake. "Hey, wake up and get your ass out of my car. We've got a room."
Sam groaned and opened the door, "I wasn't asleep, your car knocked me out with its stench. God, who'da thought zombies would stink so much?"
"Different kind of weird dead, different kind of fun quirks." Dean grabbed a couple of bags from the backseat and headed for the motel. "We'll find a car detailing place, get my baby fixed up nice and proper and head on out."
"Will a town this small have a car place?"
"Yeah, manager told me where to go while you were sleeping your butt off, and 'cause every things closing down, price should be nice too."
"I'll bet he told you where to go…hey, Dean."
"What, loser?"
"Come here and look at this." Outside their room was a newsstand with the motel's half-hearted attempt at a complimentary newspaper. The Greenville Gazette, like the town, had obviously seen better times but it still trumped the headline, "Fourth missing person – police stumped." Sam grabbed it from under its rusty cage and headed over to where Dean had opened the door to their room. "Seems the town's had a rash of missing persons."
"People go missing all the time. Doesn't necessarily make it one of ours." Dean tossed the bags on the floor and collapsed onto the bed. "Wake me when its morning," he cracked one eye open in Sam's direction, "and I mean a decent hour of the morning, not that five am crap you pull."
As Dean settled himself down to sleep, Sam stared at the paper in his hands. There was something else going on here. He could feel it.