"So, what did my fifty bucks get us?" Dean asked as he fiddled with the truck's radio. Every station he found either twanged country, or moaned oldies. After another quick run of the dial Dean shut the radio off and gave his full attention to his brother.

"Seems that there's a local legend about a haunted stretch of highway. It's kind of a local rite of passage to drive down there when the moon is full. Big John thinks that's where she's headed." Sam shook his head. "I guess we found our next gig."

"Haunted? What exactly are we talking here?"

"People have reported seeing an old black car just idling at one end of the road. If you try to continue down the road it races straight at you. It's sort of a version of chicken; see how long you can last before turning."

"Ghost chicken." Dean snorted. These backwoods folks really needed a better hobby. "Is this for real?"

Sam shrugged. "Apparently."

"Sounds like a recurring haunting. Did he know any history on this mysterious car?" Dean asked.

"We didn't get that far. I had to go help my jackass brother beat up some college preppies." Sam said dryly.

"Cute." Dean glared over at Sam before continuing. "So why take my car?"

Sam suddenly became very interested in the map he had splayed across his lap. "So far, no one has outlasted the ghost car. Everyone has swerved away, and when they look back the car vanishes into thin air."

Dean's eyes widened as realization set in. "You think she's going to use my classic 1967 Impala to try and beat this ghost car at chicken?"

"Why risk your own car when you can use someone else's?" A lump formed in Sam's throat as he envisioned the two black cars colliding head-on, the Impala exploding in a terrific ball of fire that not only killed the young blonde driver, but sent the few surviving scraps of his and Jessica's life together up in smoke. Swallowing past the lump, he said in a low voice, "Drive faster, Dean."

Dean put the pedal to the floor as they drove through the outskirts of town. Soon the full moon was the only source of light as they past the last few houses. Sam folded up the map and put it back in the glove compartment. "Slow down, Dean. We're almost there."

Dean's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Everything about this felt wrong. They were heading face first into a supernatural situation they knew next to nothing about, completely unarmed, undoubtedly with the cops hot on their heels.

Dean slowed the truck down to a crawl. "This is it?"

Sam nodded, his hazel eyes searching the surrounding area. "As far as I can tell."

Sam gasped his brother's name a split second before Dean saw the car. The Impala was parked diagonally on the shoulder, only the back tires were still on the road; the front tires rested on the grass. The headlights lit up the trees that lined the side of the road. As Dean pulled closer he saw the driver's door was wide open, as if beckoning him back inside.

Dean pulled the pickup up behind the Impala, breathing a sigh of relief as the glow from the truck's headlights revealed his car to be in no worse shape than when he left it. The truck still running, Dean leapt from the cab and bolted over to his car. He gave the outside a thorough once over before sticking his head inside. The keys were not in the ignition.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed as he slapped his hand against the steering wheel. Immediately realizing what he'd done, Dean's jaw dropped. Mumbling an apology, he lowered himself into the driver's seat and ran his hands across the leather seat. The scent of leather never smelled so good.

"Should I leave you two alone?"

Dean looked through the dirty windshield to see a smirking Sam leaning casually on the hood. "I'd appreciate it if you'd get your monkey paws off my car."

Dean waited until Sam stood up straight before leaning over and opening the glove compartment. A quick check of the cigar box inside revealed that none of their fake id's and badges had been taken. Dean glanced into the backseat and grabbed their father's journal, which lay splayed open on the floor. Dean closed his eyes in relief. Everything would be ok.

After readjusting the rearview mirror, Dean got out and headed for the trunk. He held his hand out to Sam and simply said, "Keys."

Sam pulled his set of keys from his pocket and let them dangle over Dean's open palm for a moment. "Try not to lose this set."

Wordlessly Dean snatched the keys and opened the trunk. A quick inventory revealed all of their gear to be in place. Dean grabbed a pistol and put it in the waistband of his jeans. He then grabbed a shotgun and a handful of their homemade rocksalt bullets.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked.

"If there's a ghost car out here somewhere, I'm not taking any chances until we know what exactly we're dealing with." Dean loaded a bullet into the chamber.

"I wonder what happened to Jennifer." Sam mused as he looked around at the surrounding darkness.

"Don't know, don't care." He handed the shotgun to his Sam and proceeded to load the other.

"We got lucky." Sam said gravely.

Dean slammed the trunk shut and said. "I know. This is the last time someone other than a Winchester drives my car. No more ghosts, shapeshifters, or blonde whores. That's it."

"We should hit the road before the cops find us." Sam said.

"Agreed." Dean handed the other gun to Sam and began to get in the car. He had one leg in when a bright light came out of nowhere, blinding him.

"What the hell…?" Dean put his hand up, attempting to shield his eyes from the intense light. As his eyes slowly adjusted he was just able to make out the outline of a large black car shining it's headlights directly onto the brothers.

"Dean? I think we found the ghost car." Sam shouted over the rumbling of the engine.

Although the black car was at least 250 feet away, the volume of the engine made Dean's stomach quiver. Shining it's high beams directly at the Winchesters, it seemed to be waiting for them to make their move. Well, it could wait all it wants; Dean Winchester wasn't about to put his baby through anymore grief. From the looks of things, the Impala had already had a go at the ghost car. Dean wasn't going to give it another chance.

"Dean!"

Ignoring his brother's alarmed shout, Dean took a few steps into the road and raised the shotgun. Not sure what effect the rocksalt would have, if any at all, Dean squinted into the bright light and squeezed off a shot. Almost instantly the lights dimmed, then went out altogether.

Peeking it's way through the clouds, the moon sent down a beam of light that illuminated the car just enough for Dean fully see it. Despite himself, Dean gave a low whistle of appreciation. It appeared to be a 1965 Mustang. Not a bad car. Of course, not even in the same league as his bad-ass Impala.

Sam's voice carried over the low hum of the Mustang. "Uh, Dean? I think it's moving."

Dean cocked his head to the side in disbelief, watching as the car slowly veered towards him. The moon ducked back behind the cloud, as if afraid to witness the events about to happen below. Dean raised the gun to his shoulder, taking careful aim as the Mustang began to increase in speed.

"Dean! Get out of the road!" Sam shouted frantically.

Dean aimed his first shot at the Mustang's front tire. After swerving wildly, the driverless car continued down the road. As he fired the second shot, he watched as his handmade rocksalt bullet seemed to cut through the air in slow-motion. A metallic bang echoed as it hit the grill. The car flickered in and out of sight a few times, reminding Dean of the old projectors his teachers had tormented him with in grade school.

The engine cut out abruptly as the car seemed to lose momentum. A moment later Dean yelled in pain as the headlights came on again, shining directly into his eyes. He took a step backwards as he brought his hands up to shield his eyes, dropping the gun. The roar of the Mustang's engine came back, so loud Dean felt for sure his eardrums would explode.

Overwhelmed by the assault on his senses, Dean stood helpless as the Mustang traveled the last twenty feet towards him.