AN: This is written for the incomparable Lena, whose screenname is Wildfire's Flame. I won't share the prompt itself until the end so I don't give anything away, but it starts immediately after the episode I think is my favorite out of all 327: season 11, episode 4, Baby.
I don't own the boys or other characters from the show, nor the car or places. I do own any and all mistakes.
Like just about everything I write, I rated this story T because of some language (mostly mild, but I do drop the f-bomb once in a while) and violence. Consider yourself warned.
This was all going to be one chapter, but I decided to make the first part a prologue, which is why you'll see two chapters showing up right away. LMK what you think, purty please with strawberries on top.
It took a full four days to get back to the bunker from Quaker Valley, Oregon. The boys required some fixing up. The car required more just to make her road legal, not to mention the blood they all sported was bound to draw the wrong kind of attention. Bruised, bloody, stitched up, jerry-rigged, and bandaged, the three limped back home. Fortunately, Cas was ready, willing, and able to fix up the two humans; in fact, he insisted despite the fact that he was still recovering from Rowena's spell.
Dean barely got out his thanks before he was on the computer and ordering parts for his baby. A few years earlier, he'd found a guy in Phoenix who had a seemingly endless supply of quality parts and a delightful tendency to ship quickly. KlassicKars12 probably thought Dean was restoring a whole fleet of '67 Impalas, but he certainly didn't complain about all the business.
While Dean started his search, Sam pulled out one of his extra cell phones, having heard a chirp indicating a new voicemail. Despite Dean's distraction, some instinct made him look up in time to see the blood drain from Sam's face.
"Sam?" Dean didn't realize he was on his feet until he was halfway around the table. He knew all of Sam's expressions, and this one screamed bad news. "Sammy, what is it?"
Sam's eyes flicked up for a split second, clearing communicating wait. The way he licked his lips and took a deep breath as he hung up the phone ratcheted up Dean's anxiety about ten more levels. Sam seemed to understand, because he didn't beat around the bush. "It's Ben Braeden. He's missing."