Confession Time: There will be four chapters to this story.
A/N: Sorry to be a day late. Either the site or my computer was wonky when I tried to post yesterday. Fortunately that gave Merisha an opportunity to give this chapter a good beta whack. All remaining erros are my own.

Being on top of a bus in highway traffic wasn't nearly as exciting as the movies made it appear. In fact, Dean thought, eyes screwed shut, it was mostly terrifying. The road was further down than it had any right to be, and each time the bus changed speed or moved in the lane, he would grip tighter, his eyes automatically locking on the edge of the roof just in case it decided to move toward him.

It was also deafeningly loud—cars honking, braking, engines working, and really big trucks kept speeding by right next to him, air horns blaring, the truckers themselves almost at his eye level gesturing and shouting, but any sense to what they were saying was lost in the roar and whistle of the wind streaming over the bus.

The bus shimmied in the lane and his breath caught. When Sam overcorrected to bring the bus back into line, he felt that in his stomach. Dean should have driven. Not that he wanted his brother up here… but Dean knew he was the better driver and by far the most experienced one. And who knows, maybe Sam could have looked at the fugly with that earnest puppy dog look and she would have walked right up to be roped and banished.

It all came down to making that twisted promise to Sam. He'd been angry since the Pierpont Hotel, was still angry even up on top of the bus, and he'd made a stupid decision. The only thing he could do now was to stop thinking about the promise, and move ahead. Finish the hunt. What he always did.

Dean pushed up onto his elbows, pushed with his toes, and started worming his way toward the center of the bus. The gaki was keeping its distance, moving on its hands and knees at the rear edge of the bus. She, it, whatever, was keeping a wary eye on him but was thankfully not doing anything overtly threatening. He was tired, dizzy, cold, and already panting from crawling—no way he could get up and fight until he got his breath back. And the world stopped rotating around him.

He reached his goal and with a low groan, rolled onto his back. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he waited for his head to stop spinning before reaching down to feel his side. The bandages were soaked, but were solidly in place despite his climb to the roof. He gave his makeshift wrap a tug, eyebrows up. He wondered what Sam would do when he found a pack of pantyhose in the first-aid kit. Smiling to himself, Dean looked up at the sky and the clouds pinking up to the west before wincing and hissing, with a hand pressed to his side, he rolled himself onto his knees.

"Hunter." Her voice sounded right next to him but she hadn't moved from her position at the rear of the vehicle. "Let me go. I won't hurt anyone else. Stop the bus and let me off."

"Fuck off, monster." He pulled his marker and the gaki sigil cheat sheet out of his pocket with a flourish. The page was covered with bloody fingerprints by the time he unfolded it and started to draw. The paper, madly fluttering, was finally torn from his hand as he finished, the wind spinning it up, down, under cars, over them, until to Dean's amusement, the page landed flat on the windshield of a Humvee.

Laughing hoarsely, he pointed towards the giant vehicle pulling to the shoulder. "Hey, gaki. You see that?"

It just looked at him, no expression he could read in its face. "What do you want, hunter."

His mouth felt too dry to talk. He hoped it was the wind, not blood loss sucking all the moisture out of him. He rasped out, "What do you think? I want to send you to the afterlife." He stopped, working his mouth and tongue to work up some spit. "Or hell, if you have one in Japan or China or wherever it is you come from."

"My parents are from Tibet. I grew up in Poughkeepsie."

"Poughkeepsie? A gaki… no, Tibet would make you a preta. A preta from Jersey. No, New York!" He was lightheaded and it probably wasn't all that funny, but that made him laugh so hard he listed to one side, onto his hip, gasping when the movement twisted the knife wound. The bus slewed to one side as if in reaction, sending him skidding toward the edge. He reached out frantically and caught the edge of an air intake vent, shaking his head to clear his vision. The preta was still on the roof, hunkered down, like a barnacle stuck to a rock.

He sat up, cross legged, and asked, "So, why'd you become a monster? And while we're at it, why do you brand people in Japanese?"

"Why do you care?"

He shrugged. "Time to kill. You aren't going anywhere. Few minutes, it'll be sunset and I'll banish you."

"You aren't going anywhere either, hunter, because you'll be dead soon."

"Or I could kill you now. Cleaner." He held up the athamé.

It came up on its knees, gesturing toward the cars around them, eliciting a new series of shouts and honks. "In front of all of these witnesses?" She pointed toward the flashing lights closing in on them. "In front of the police?"

"Sure. Easy." Dean rubbed his eyes. He lowered his voice, mock serious. "Why, yes, officer, I did stab a knife into this disgusting plastic replica of an alien. Why do you ask?" He put a hand to his ear, mimed listening. "Oh, on top of the bus?" He couldn't stop a yawn. "Too much perfume inside. Was making me sneeze."

"You still won't do it. When I get this rope off, I won't look like an alien."

"I'll worry about that after I kill you. Why women? Why older women?"

"That is none of your business."

"I get that you don't like male bones…." He started to giggle, rubbing his temples. "God, that's dirty."

"Still think you're going to last 'til sunset?"

"Just have to last longer than you." Damn, he was tired. He wished there was something to lean against. The bus swerved again and his fingers reflexively tightened on the cowling, a sharp edge slicing into his thumb. Hissing, he switched hands, and sucked on the cut. "Tell me. Why older women?"

"Osteoporosis makes their bones extra crunchy." It licked its lips suggestively. "I could make an exception for you."

"Yeah, right. We've been through this before." The bus veered onto the shoulder and immediately back into the right lane. Dean shouted and locked both hands onto the metal vent as his legs swung out and sent his feet over the edge. Heaving in air, he dragged himself back to the center of the roof and pulled out his cell phone.

As soon as the line connected, he yelled over the wind: "Sam! You almost dropped me in front of a Scion. Do not let me be killed by a car that looks like a pansy shoebox. At least wait for a convertible with a hot blonde driving."

"Um, hello?"

Definitely not Sam. Female. Crap. Who did he call? "Uh, sorry. Misdialed."

"No, it's okay. You didn't. I have Sam's phone. Hang on a minute."

"Hanging on is about all I can do! Put Sam on!"

"I can't."

He could barely make out what she was saying. "Who is this? Why can't you give Sam his phone?"

"I'm driving the bus and…."

"Oh, God. Carol? It's Carol, isn't it? Of course it is."

"I'm sorry about the lane switching, but Sam… look, stay there."

"Where is he? He'd better not be in the can."

"No. He's on his way."

"He's WHAT? You tell him to get his scrawny ass back in the driver's seat!"

Sam stared at Carol as if she had lost her mind. "He did what?"

"Uh, climbed out the window. After it." She pointed, biting her lip. "He's… up there."

His eyes were involuntarily pulled to the ceiling, as if they could laser right through the metal and see his brother. Sam glared at the road, at Carol, and at the police cars starting to pull alongside the bus. "Damn it." He hit the steering wheel and glared at it when his hand hurt. "We just need a few more minutes and this'll be over. We have to make sure he gets the time."

"What does he have to do?"

"Appease it. Read an incantation. Bribe it to move on."

"Sam? I, I don't think he wants to appease it. I saw him and that knife. He wants to kill it."

"Dean may have impulse control issues but he's the best hunter I know. He's stubborn but he'll do it. The ritual will make the gaki disappear. No body to explain." He huffed out a laugh when she rolled her eyes.

"So, you're the level-headed one? What are you going to do?"

"Call him." He pulled out his cell, dialed, and listened to the call ring through to voice mail once, twice, three times. He glared at the phone. "Shit. I have to get up there."

"Get up there? The roof? You can't. Who'll drive the bus?"

"You can."

"You said Dean had impulse control issues!" Her eyes were huge as she shook her head back and forth. "No, no I can't. I won't. I drive a sedan. I could never drive anything like this. There's got to be someone here that's driven a bus before."

He gazed at her seriously, and said, with all the sincerity he could muster, "But I don't trust someone else not to stop the bus. I trust you." Her expression softened and he pushed ahead. "There's nothing to it. I hadn't driven one until today either and I haven't crashed." He smiled and pointed. "I found the cruise control. All you have to do is go straight in this lane and not hit anything." He reached out one long arm and pulled her closer. "Don't slow down until we get to the rest area, then pull in and stop."

One hand on the wheel, he stood up and pushed Carol into the seat. "Fasten your seat belt." When she had clicked it shut, he put her hands on the wheel and removed his. "Steer."

She wailed, "I can't reach the pedals!"

The uniform hat hit the floor, the tie followed a moment later. Sam bent and adjusted the seat forward. "Better?"

Her nod looked almost reflexive. "I can't do this."

"You have to. Carol—I can't leave him up there. He could bleed out. The thing could attack him. I have to go."

"Who is he to you, really? A friend?"

"My brother."

"Go." She smiled and waved toward the road ahead. "I may kill us all, but I won't stop. Besides, I always wanted to take on the fuzz. This'll be payback for all those speeding tickets."

"You won't kill us. Thank you, Carol."

"Get going."

She tried to divide her attention between the road and the rear view mirror, watching Sam push his way through the crowd at the front and bolt for the back, throwing his too tight jacket onto a seat about half way back. Hearing a honk, she looked toward the road and swung the huge vehicle back to the center of her lane. She caught Judy's eye in the mirror.

"Can you see what he's doing?'

Judy nodded. "He's trying to get out a window." A nervous laugh and she looked back at Carol for a moment. "I don't think he can get through. He's trying one shoulder first, like the other guy, but he can't get out."

Carol looked back and saw Sam standing by the rear door, almost bouncing in place.

"Carol! Open the door! Carol!"

"He wants you to open the door back there," Judy repeated helpfully.

"I can hear him!" The control panel was a mass of dials and gauges, switches and levers, but nothing marked 'Open Rear Door'. To Sam, she shouted, "I can't find it."

Judy promptly echoed her to Sam. "She can't find the control."

Sam dodged back to the front of the bus and tugged a lever, opening the front door with a rush of air. "Hold it steady." Standing on the bottom step, he frowned suddenly. "Do you have a cell phone?"

"In my purse." She pointed back to her seat.

"Never mind. Don't have time to get your number." He tossed her his phone. "Keep trying Dean's number. Speed dial one."

He reached up and groped the area over the door, suddenly grinning. "Found something." He looked up at her from the foot of the stairs. "Hold it really steady."

She nodded and watched Sam pull a foot up on the metal wall separating the steps from the first row of seats. Movement in the corner of her eye dragged her attention to the left. A police cruiser angled directly toward the bus. Reacting instinctively, she pulled hard to the right, pushing the vehicle toward the shoulder. That dislodged Sam's foot, and left him dangling by one arm. He was pulled back into the bus, his legs swinging almost to the driver's seat.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO HOLDING IT STEADY?"

"Sorry, sorry!" Pulling the wheel hard to the left, the bus moved back into the right hand lane, tapping the cruiser's front panel, easily brushing it out of their way. Sam shouted again, momentum swinging his legs out the door and out and over the shoulder. Carol didn't scream, but most of the other passengers did, adding a cacophony of shrill voices to the roar of the bus and the wail of sirens.

Another cruiser, lights flashing, raced up the shoulder, pulling alongside only inches from the side of the bus. The officer driving reached out to grab Sam's feet. Her eyes locked onto Sam's pale face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his nostrils flared, jaw and neck muscles standing out, the muscles in his arms cording, visible even through his shirt. Her breath caught in her throat. He can't be any older than Allan. Maybe younger.

Sam blindly kicked away from the officer's hands and planted his feet on the upper frame of the car door. He bent his knees. She heard the grunt of effort and determination when he pushed off, pulling his head and shoulders up by main force. His chest, his legs, and finally his feet disappeared onto the roof.

He'd made it. She breathed out to the sound of cheering. Remembered to snick the door closed in case a policeman tried to climb in. Turning to the left, she waved through the window at a red-faced policeman in the cruiser next to her. He was holding a bullhorn, gesticulating frantically, pointing up, at her, toward the shoulder… She smiled sweetly and shook her head, cupped a hand to her ear, then pointed at an imaginary hearing aid.

Judy crept up to stand next to her. "Ah, Carol? I know you said we couldn't stop or that monster would get away. But the police… don't you have to stop now?"

"I have to hold it for another few minutes. There's a rest stop ahead. Sam told me to pull in there." She wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline making her hands shake or the relief, but she felt a lot lighter all of a sudden. She started to giggle.

"Carol, are you alright?" Judy reached a tentative hand out to rest on her shoulder.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Gulping in air, she held up Sam's phone. "I have to call Dean's phone." She almost dropped when it started to ring before she'd done anything. She pushed a button and held it to her ear.

"Um, hello?"

Something heavy fell on his shoulder. Startled, Dean dropped his phone and watched it skitter across the roof and disappear over the edge. Sure what he would find, he twisted to one side and found his behemoth of a brother hovering right over his shoulder. Sam was kneeling, hands up, his long hair whipping into his face and eyes.

"Sam? Warn me next time!" Pain spiked from the wound in his side, making his breath hitch. Wincing and sucking air through his clenched teeth, he ground out. "What the hell are you doing up here? You can barely drive the bus and you let Carol do it?"

"What?" Sam threw his arms out the sides, pulling them in quickly as the wind caught at them. "Who decided I would drive the bus again?" Dean shook his head, eyes down. When he looked up, Sam had crept forward on his hands and knees until they were practically nose to nose. "I called and called. You didn't pick up."

He shouted, "It's noisy up here! I couldn't hear it!" Even facing the wind, he could feel his cheeks burning. Adrenaline fueled anger was making it hard to see. "I've got things under control, Sam. Why didn't you trust me to take care of this?"

Equally red-faced, Sam yelled back, "Because you were stabbed!"

"Had worse and finished a hunt. You know that!" He was starting to hyperventilate, each breath felt like it was ripping him in two. "No, you came up here because you were worried I wouldn't live long enough to keep that piece of shit promise." Groaning he wrapped both arms around himself and rocked forward, resting his head on the cool sheet metal.

"No, that's not…"

The gaki's sly, hoarse voice interrupted him. "I don't know when I've seen a better floor show. Or, is that a roof show? You two should go on the road. Wait, you are on the road. I…"

In unison, they snarled. "Shut up!"

Without raising his head, Dean muttered, "Sam?"

Sam spoke in his ear, "Yeah?"

"Please tell me it's sunset? Because if she tries stand-up again, I'll throw myself off the bus."

A soft snort and a deep breath. "Five minutes."

"Thank god." Dean got his head up and glanced at Sam. "Let's smoke the bitch."

The bus lurched violently, air brakes hissing, right as Sam got back up on his knees. Thrown on one side, he'd almost recovered when the bus suddenly straightened and accelerated down the shoulder, flinging gravel in a cloud behind them. Sam was sliding on his stomach helplessly toward the roof edge, long fingers grasping for a hold, his fingertips squeaking on the roof as he tried to create enough friction to stop.

"NO!" Dean released the air intake and lunged after him, his legs swinging toward the rear of the bus. He got one bloody hand around Sam's wrist as his brother's hips went over the edge, long legs dangling over the middle lane of the highway, the other hand locked tight around another projection of metal on the roof. "Fuck, Sam! Are you trying to kill us?"

Sam threw his other arm up and locked his free hand around Dean's wrist. He was white faced and breathing raggedly but his gaze was steady on something over Dean's shoulder.

"Be... behind you."

Dean cranked his head around. His legs were past the ward on the roof. The gaki slid forward and ran a finger lovingly down his ankle.

The pain was drowning him, wave after wave of searing flame rushing up his leg into his side, his chest, his head. His muscles seized so tightly he thought his entire body would break. He couldn't twitch, couldn't breathe... he thought he felt something in Sam's wrist give as his fingers convulsed around it. Sam might have said something, yelled something, but Dean couldn't hear it over the ringing in his ears. Then his vision went white.

TBC