The morning was a quite affair and neither brother had much of an appetite. Having very little to pack they were back on the road quickly. Dean had listened as Sam explained his life as a hunter. A life in which he apparently ran around the country hiding from demons and killing monsters. It was absurd and he still couldn't quite get his head around it. Every part of him wanted to hold onto the belief that monsters weren't real but he couldn't ignore the fact that there had been one in his house. A monster had killed his father and, according to Sam, his mother.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence when Sam had finished, only the radio keeping them company. Dean quickly changed the station as his father's favourite song began to blare. The tapes Sam let him go through were all ones he had heard his father playing at one point or another. In fact, most aspects of the car reminded him of his father.
He turned to Sam who had spent most of the ride shooting Dean worried glances. "So all those years ago when Dad sold the car he really sold it to you and Mom?"
Sam shrugged. "Well she heard he was selling it and I think she just wanted to keep something that reminded her you two. She got a friend of hers to buy it for her so Dad wouldn't suspect anything." He paused for a moment, running his hand along the wheel. "She really loved it. I caught her talking to the car all the time and she rarely let me drive."
They fell into an uncomfortable silence. He had only been young when his Dad sold the car but he remembered how heartbroken the car had made him. At first all he could think of was a dead wife and son when he saw it. It had taken years before he could look at pictures again and by that time it had become almost an obsession of his. Dean supposed that over the years, as his memories faded, he had begun to associate the car with his love instead of his loss.
It was Sam who first noticed the car following them. There weren't many cars on the road at that point but it blended in with those around it, who would notice a little white car in a sea of similar vehicles.
"I think there's someone following us," Sam muttered, glancing in the rear-view mirror once again. "It's two cars behind us right now."
Dean turned in his seat. True to Sam's word a small white car sat behind the Jeep that was driving behind them. Dean vaguely remembered a white car pulling into the same rest stop as them some time back.
"I see it," Dean said. "Is it the guy that went after me before?"
"Yeah, it'd have to be the demon. No one else has reason to follow us."
Not wanting to raise suspicion they waited until they hit the next stop, pulling off into the car park. Sam stopped the Impala behind the building and, as they had discussed, walked off towards the store. Dean slid from his seat and leant against the car, making a show of stretching his cramped legs.
The white car pulled up across from him and a girl stepped out. She was pretty, her blond hair cut short and she was dressed in a red leather jacket, jeans and high heeled boots. Dean frowned, this didn't look like the other demon and she certainly didn't look evil. Catching sight of Dean, she smiled and sauntered over.
"Looking a little sore there," she said as she reached him.
Dean smiled, ashamed to admit it wasn't completely forced. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his hand closing around the handle of a wicked looking knife. "Road trips will do that to you."
She didn't have time to reply before Sam had slammed into her, shoving her into the car. One of Sam's hands jammed the strange revolver under her chin, forcing her head back. His other arm rested across her chest, pinning her against the car. Dean jumped out of the way, pulling the knife from his pocket. He scanned the parking lot but no one else had pulled in behind them and they were blocked by a wall from anyone inside the store. He didn't want to be here if someone had called the police, he'd had enough altercations with them in his youth.
The girl let out a terrified squeak, leaning back from Sam's imposing figure. "Look, you can have my money just let me go," she cried.
Dean stepped forward, ready to pull Sam back. Obviously, it had been a mistake, this girl was just that – a girl. They'd apologise and then get the hell out of there before police showed.
"Christo," Sam growled.
The girl froze and, to Dean's amazement, her eyes turned pitch black. They weren't like the other demon, whose eyes had turned yellow, but they roused the same revulsion in him. Dean stumbled back, bringing the knife up in front of his chest. It was smart, look like someone people could trust or someone innocent and no one would suspect a thing.
She let out a sigh, sending them a smirk. "Well look at that – you two aren't as dumb as you look." Suddenly Dean found himself airborne, flying backwards. He hit the wall of the rest stop and fell to the ground with a groan, his shoulder aching. He heard Sam slam into the demon's car and collapse, unmoving.
The demon surveyed a defenceless Sam, stepping towards him. Panicked, Dean pushed himself up. He had to get her attention away from Sam. "Leave him alone, bitch," he yelled.
It was only when she had turned towards Dean with a self-confident grin that he realised he didn't know how to fight a demon. Everything he had done during the fire had been useless, the demon had obviously had some kind of supernatural strength. Despite her size, he guessed this demon would be the same.
Frantically Dean looked around for Sam's gun. He caught sight of it lying near Sam's car, along with his knife. He'd dropped it when the demon blasted him backwards but Sam had made him stash one in his boot. It was wedged uncomfortably next to his foot and if he could just reach down he could easily pull it out. Dean would have to thank Sam later for being paranoid and over-prepared.
He pretended to clutch at his foot as if he had injured it, slowly pulling the knife free. He waited until she stepped right in front of him before jumping up and thrusting the knife into her abdomen. She stumbled back with a cry, her hands clutching at the handle of the knife.
Her shoulders began to shake and for a moment Dean thought he had done it - he thought he had killed her. Slowly she pulled the knife from her flesh and looked up, her mouth open in a silent laugh. "Now that hurt," she chuckled. "You know, it's rude to stab a girl."
"Lucky for me, you're just a black-eyed bitch," Dean ground out.
She clicked her tongue and moved faster than his eyes could track, ramming him back into the wall. She brought the knife up to his face, resting it just below his eye. "You break my heart Dean," she said. "Didn't your Daddy ever teach you manners."
He grit his teeth as she trailed the knife from his eye to the corner of his jaw, lightly enough that it didn't cut but left his skin tingling. She brought the knife back and tapped it against the corner of his other eye. "We could have so much fun Dean-o. Too bad I'm not allowed to kill you yet, though I don't remember anything about not hurting you and Sammy. I can't see why I can't have a bit of fun."
She lent in and Dean could feel the knife begin to dig into his skin. She was about to drag the knife down his face when Sam's voice cried out. Dean couldn't make out the words – they sounded like another language – but the demon froze. Her body began to spasm and she let go of Dean, the knife slipping from her fingers, and turned to face Sam. He was leaning against the car, one hand clutching at his side the other propping him up. Blood dripped down the side of his face from his hairline and he looked like a strong gust of wind would push him over.
"How dare you," she screamed, lunging towards Sam.
Dean leaped forward, pushing her to the ground. He quickly had her pinned. She thrashed and cried out but whatever strength she'd had before seemed to have vanished. Sam continued to chant, not once tripping over the strange words.
"…audi nos!" Sam cried.
The demon threw her head back with a scream and a cloud of black smoke erupted from her mouth. It swirled above their heads before vanishing into nothing, the last of the demons cries echoing around them.
Beneath Dean, the girl's body stilled, her eyes falling closed. He pushed up off her, collapsing to the side. He raised a shaking hand to the girl's throat but felt no pulse underneath his fingers. Her body was still and cold as if she had been dead more than a few seconds.
Dean glanced back over at Sam, his mind pleading for him to do something for the innocent girl the demon had possessed. Sam only looked back defeated. "Not many people survive being possessed. The demons ride them too hard."
Dean nodded, forcing his mind away from the girl. "You don't look too good, Sam," he said. It was true, whatever Sam had done had drained him and he looked even paler than before. Dean wondered if this was what his life had been like – hiding from monsters only to be thrown around by them when they caught up.
Despite that, Sam pushed himself onto unsteady feet. "I've had worse. Look, we need to get out of here before the police show up." Dean couldn't help but look back at the girl. He didn't even know her name. "There was nothing you could have done Dean."
Dean tried to shake off the guilt he felt over the girl and hurried over to Sam. He helped him to the car, ignoring his complaints that he was fine. Sam was his brother and he was not going to let him faceplant because the idiot was too stubborn to ask for help when he obviously had a concussion.
When Dean started guiding him to the passenger side Sam sent him a scowl. "I can drive," he complained, "and you don't even know where you're going."
"Well, you can direct me cause you sure as hell aren't driving this car when you can barely walk straight," Dean relied, opening the door. Sam continued to scowl but slid down into the seat, slamming the door closed.
Dean got into the driver's side and reversed, making sure to stay clear of the body. He pulled back onto the road and tried to keep his thoughts focused on the road or looking out for anyone else that might decide to follow them. He needed to be on his guard or someone was going to die.
And he really hoped it wasn't Sam. He couldn't lose the last of his family.
It wasn't until they pulled into Singer Salvage Yard that Sam relaxed. He'd spent the entire drive glancing over his shoulder, making sure they weren't followed, which hadn't helped his headache. He'd caught Dean doing the same thing. The run in with the demon had rattled both of them and he couldn't get rid of the image of the demon preparing to cut up Dean. If he had been slower it would have succeeded and he didn't think he could have forgiven himself.
Bobby's place had always looked slightly run down. Cars littered the yard haphazardly, each covered in rust and missing numerous parts. The plants had all died and shrivelled long ago. Even the house itself looked run down, covered in mould and half rotten. Yet It was the only true home Sam had ever had.
Dean shot him a questioning look as he parked the car out the front of the house. Sam could only shrug back. Dean wouldn't understand, he had grown up in a nice house with all the usual comforts of home. This had been the only constant in Sam's life, apart from his mother. The weeks spent here had been the best of his life.
Except for his last visit. Sam wondered if Bobby would be as inviting after their parting words. He hadn't really been angry at Bobby, just at his mother's death and her secrets, but that hadn't stopped him from saying some horrible things.
"Let's hope he's not still pissed," Sam muttered.
Dean spun towards him. "What? I thought this guy was a friend."
Ignoring him, Sam got out of the car and made his way towards the house. Behind him he heard Dean do the same thing. They stopped at the door and knocked. Once it would already have been open and Bobby would be standing there, a smile on his face.
Now, however, Bobby pulled the door open with a frown. The man was in his mid 50's, with greying hair and a beat-up cap. He was dressed in flannel, a light green jacket and jeans. He looked almost exactly the same as he had a year ago when they had last seen each other.
A million different words ran through Sam's head but everything that he had planned to say escaped him. "I'm sorry," Sam said lamely.
"I forgave you months ago," Bobby said with a sad smile, "and we were both hurting."
"We need help Bobby. The demons killed my Dad and now they're after us."
Bobby nodded, stepping back so they could enter the house. "That's what I'm here for." As they passed him he looked at Dean for the first time and Sam saw a spark of recognition in his eyes. Thankfully he remained silent, letting them pass without comment.
Bobby's house had always been full of books but it seemed he had collected even more. The books were stacked along the walls of the room in tall piles. Many of them had yellowed with age and Sam knew for a fact that they were hundreds of years old. Each contained detailed information on almost every type of monster, describing how to kill or banish them. Hunters from all over the country relied on Bobby for lore that couldn't be found elsewhere.
Sam and Dean settled down onto a moth-eaten couch while Bobby pulled up a wooden chair opposite them. Sam couldn't count the number of times he or his mother had sat on this couch while they were stitched up. In fact, he was certain a few of the more questionable stains had been from him.
Bobby cleared his throat. "I'm guessing this is Dean," Bobby said with grunts of acknowledgement from both boys. "I'm sorry about your Daddy but if the demon is still after you don't have time to grieve. I don't know why but it seems desperate to get you Sam and you can't let your guard down."
Sam nodded solemnly, feeling tears begin to form as all the events from the last two days caught up with him. "They died because of me Bobby. The demon was after me." He dropped his head into his hands, fingers pulling at his hair. "It's all my fault."
Before Bobby could even form a reply, Dean had leapt from the couch. He crouched down so that he was eye-level with Sam. Gently, he drew Sam's hands away from his face, meeting red-rimmed eyes. "That wasn't your fault Sam," he said. "It's not your fault that thing is after you and I don't blame you. I know Dad wouldn't blame you and I know Mary wouldn't blame you."
Sam nodded, using the edge of his sleeve to dry his eyes. He waited until Dean had settled on the couch again before launching into an explanation of what had happened. Once he had started he found he couldn't stop, the words tumbling out of him. Bobby took it all in, wincing sympathetically as he described his father's death.
They were all silent when Sam finished, each absorbing the words. Dean was the first to break the silence. "We need to kill that son of a bitch," he growled.
"I've got the Colt," Sam said, "but any time I get close he gets away. If he was distracted I might have a chance but I've never managed it."
"What if he thought you had the gun but I actually had it," Dean said. "If you could distract him and make him think you were the bigger threat I could sneak up on him. It only takes one shot from the gun to kill him?"
Sam nodded. "That could work but we'd need to make sure he didn't think of you as a threat. I've always had the gun when we went up against him so he would assume that I'd have it. What do you think Bobby?"
"That's an awfully big assumption, Sam, and he wouldn't fall for it for long," Bobby said with a furrowed brow. "What if we got a replica of the Colt made? You could distract him with that while Dean uses the real Colt to shoot the son of a bitch."
Sam and Dean nodded. "That could work," Sam said, ignoring the part of him that insisted that it would all end the same way as last time. He wouldn't let that happen – not again.
I've never actually been to America so my information is coming from the internet and my imagination. I'm sorry for any mistakes.
Let me know what you thought.