Sam had solved many mysteries in his young life, but this latest conundrum was proving to be beyond his capabilities. He tried to think rationally, but the pain in his head was making the task a formidable one. The first thing he had to work out was the reason for the all encompassing darkness. The lack of drafty air and damp stone ruled out a cave. Besides, what the hell would he be doing in a cave in the first place? Oh god, maybe he'd gone blind! Sam moved his hand, intending to perform the standard Waving One's Hand in Front of One's Face routine. Sam paused as his hand glided over what felt like a rug. It was then that he noticed the hard surface running the entire length of his body. Like a chubby six year old with crayons, Sam was finally able to connect the dots. He was lying on the floor. Which means he had probably been hit or knocked out. That would also mean that the darkness was due to the fact that his damn eyes were shut. Feeling like a fool he silently chastised himself. Brilliant deduction, College Boy.
Testing his hypothesis, Sam pushed open his eyelids, wincing as the bright light assaulted his sensitive eyes. Sam blinked slowly as the world slowly came into focus. He drew in a sharp breath as the unconscious form of his brother materialized before him.
"Dean!" Sam croaked, pushing himself up. He got as far as his elbows before a wave of dizziness hit him, forcing his head back down to his arm. Deciding it was best to stay in that position for a moment, Sam tried again to rouse Dean.
"Dean." Nothing. Sam pushed his vocal cords to their maximum. "Dean!!"
Dean's green eyes flew open, only to squeeze shut again. "Ow." he moaned.
"Uh huh." Sam muttered. He tried moving again, this time getting to his knees. One mighty push almost sent him backwards, but he was able to catch himself at the last minute. Now sitting upright, he turned his attention to Dean.
"Dean. You awake?"
"Don' wanna be." Dean slurred, his eyes still tightly shut.
"Yeah, well, join the club." Sam said ruefully. He craned his neck to get a closer look at the large lump on the base of Dean's skull. His hand went to the back of his own head as he found the evidence of his latest head trauma.
"Hey, we're twins." Sam said as he gingerly rotated his head.
That got Dean's attention. He opened his eyes, and stared blankly at Sam. "What?"
Sam pointed at Dean, then showed off his own bump. "We've got matching wounds." He sniffed his sticky hand before wiping it on the carpet. "There's beer in my hair." he said, mystified.
"Swell." Dean's voice was strained as he pushed himself to a sitting position.
The two Winchesters sat eyeing each other as more of what had transpired came back to them.
"You ok?" Sam and Dean asked at the same time.
"Fine." They answered jointly.
Dean barked out a laugh. "We're spending way too much time together."
The corner of Sam's mouth quirked up into a half smile. He picked up a piece of the broken glass. "So I take it I was hit by a beer bottle again."
"Yeah." Dean's eyes narrowed as he gave Sam a good once over. "You sure you're ok?"
Sam regarded him for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet. He refused to give in to the wave of vertigo, clenching his fists as the room settled beneath his feet. "I'm fine." He reached down to help Dean to his feet. "You?"
Sam held Dean's arm steady as the older man found his balance. Emerald green eyes blinked blearily at Sam. "Yup." Dean looked as rotten as Sam felt, but they didn't have time to deal with that now.
"So, Sean and George are gone, along with the hood ornament. Perfect. Just perfect." Dean grumbled. "That kid'll need his own wheelchair by the time I'm done with him."
"I should've seen it coming." Sam lamented. "George gave in way too easily. I should've known he wouldn't just hand it over. He has too much invested in this to sit on the sidelines."
"Yeah, well, we can worry about that later. Right now we have to get out there and stop them before George gets himself killed." Dean said as he checked his watch. The sun had set about an hour ago. There was a slight chance Marc wouldn't come after George, seeing as there was no physical way he could've rescued Marc all those years ago. However, the addition of the hood ornament into the equation left the outcome a little too fuzzy for Dean's liking. Fishing for his keys, he rifled through his pockets. His frown deepened as his search became more frantic. He looked up at Sam with frightened eyes.
"Sam, please tell me you have the keys." Dean pleaded as he continued to pat himself down.
"Oh crap." Sam breathed.
"Dammit, they took my car!" Dean yelled as he flung open the door. Sam raced after his brother, ignoring the shocked looks they received as they raced through the corridors. Using a spin move Emmett Smith would've been proud of, Sam neatly avoided a mother and her daughter as he ran through the lobby. He fought through the dizziness as he tried to catch up to his brother.
Dean tore through the parking lot, his head pounding in rhythm with every step. "I can't believe they stole my car!" he yelled. The words had barely left his mouth when he spotted the dusty black Impala right where he'd left it. Dean stopped in his tracks, his jaw slack.
"No way." Dean said. The Chevy still bore the dents and scrapes from the night before, but to Dean she'd never looked more beautiful. He grinned at a stunned Sam as he continued towards his car. "It's about damn time something went our way."
Sam winced. "Ah, Dean?" Unless Sam was seeing things, and given his latest head injury that was entirely possible, the car seemed a bit lower to the ground than normal. He walked behind his brother, not wanting to witness the crestfallen expression on his face once he noticed the tires.
"No. No, no, no, no, no!" Dean circled his car in dismay. "You've gotta be friggin' kidding me! It's not enough to take the keys; they had to slash all four tires? How the hell did they know which car was mine?"
Sam stood back as Dean continued to stalk around the car. "Uh, you sort of told him. The first time we came to see George."
Dean ran his hand along the top of the driver's door. After all the suffering his baby had endured over the last twenty-four hours, this latest attack was the final indignity. He really needed something to hit. He could only hope the Mustang left the Whites alone long enough for Dean to avenge the wrongs inflicted on his family.
Dean grabbed Sam's jacket and yanked him away from the car. "Come on. We've gotta find a new ride. Now." He gave his car one last look. "I'll be back, baby."
Sam knew better than to argue with his brother when he was this angry. He allowed himself to be pulled along towards the back corner of the parking lot where the cars stood in the shadows. Dean finally came to a stop in front of a silver Ford Focus. Sam used his tall body as a shield while Dean made quick work of the lock. In less than a minute Dean was in the driver's seat as the car peeled out of the parking lot.
"I still can't believe it." Dean muttered as he steered the stolen car through the town.
Sam shrugged ruefully. "It makes sense. George has had to deal with being the lone survivor of the crash, and the secret of how Marc really died for over thirty years. Then we came along and showed him a way to get absolution. I just wish he hadn't felt the need to bash us over the head to get it." he finished as he picked another piece of glass out of his hair.
Dean did a quick double take. "What? No, not that. Guilt and regret I get. What I don't understand is how he could slash all four tires like that. I mean, he had to have seen the state she was in. I mean, he's a classic car guy! A man just doesn't do that to another man's car!"
Sam looked at Dean in disbelief. "That's what you're pissed at? The man knocked me out cold, and you're mad about tires?
"Hey, I got hit too, remember? That kind of stuff happens in our line of work. Quite often, actually." Dean paused as numerous flashes of the two of them getting cold-cocked flashed through his memory. Shaking his head he brought himself back to the present. "That comes with the territory. But what he did…."
"You have issues. Really." Sam said. "If it makes you feel better, it had to have been Sean who slashed the tires. George couldn't have done it."
Dean smiled dangerously. "Oh believe me, I know. I'm keeping track of the score on that little bastard."
They fell silent as Dean blew through every yellow light, and even a few red ones. Sam's heart was racing as fast as the engine. What if they didn't get there in time? He voiced his fear to Dean, hoping his older brother would allay his concerns.
"I'm going as fast as I can Sam." Dean responded. "Don't worry. We'll make it." Dean was an accomplished liar to everyone except his little brother. He could tell by the tightening of Sam's jaw that he didn't believe the words anymore than Dean did. Gritting his own teeth, Dean pressed down hard on the gas pedal, willing the little car to go faster.
The closely laid houses began to give way to larger sprawling homes surrounded by lush trees. A mile after they passed the last house the headlights reflected off of the street sign for Blue Corner's Road.
"Dean! Turn right."
"I know, Sam."
"We don't even know what kind of car Sean's driving."
"Sam, in the past ten miles we've only seen one other car. Besides, they'll either be parked, waiting for the Mustang to appear, or…" Dean trailed off.
"Or it's already shown up, in which case we're probably looking for a smashed-up car with George's mangled body inside." Sam leaned forward, his hazel eyes searching desperately for George and Sean.
"Yeah." Dean said softly as he gripped the wheel even tighter. As the car climbed up a small dip in the road, Dean was able to make out two square red lights further up the road.
"Dean." Sam said in a strangled voice.
"I see it." Dean answered back just as tensely. A navy blue Cavalier sat on the gravelly shoulder. Dean was able to determine the little two-door held two passengers. It had to be them. Dean snorted in disgust. "A Cavalier. The kid drives a chic car. You'd think George, being the car guy that he is, would've talked him out of that choice."
Dean spun the wheel hard to the right, placing the stolen car directly in front of the Cavalier. Both Winchesters lurched violently forward as Dean slammed on the brakes.
Sam's entire brain seemed to be pushing against his forehead, as if trying to escape. After all Sam had put it through these last couple days, he was surprised it was functioning at all. Squinting through the pain, he gave his brother a dirty look.
"Was that really necessary?" Sam moaned as he pushed his fingertips against his brow.
Dean's elbows rested on the steering wheel as he held his aching head. "Yeah, that kinda sucked." he agreed.
Dean took a deep breath and looked to his left. The full moon hung low in the sky, illuminating the empty road before them. The Mustang hadn't shown yet, but the night was still early. They had to get the hood ornament back and get the Whites out of there.
Sam looked questioningly to Dean, who gave a terse nod in response. Dean would stay in the car just in case the Mustang showed before they could get the Whites to safety.
Sam approached the driver's side of the Cavalier. Sean rolled down the window just enough to be heard.
"Get out of the way."
"Sean, George, listen to me." Sam yelled through the crack in the window. "You're in serious danger. Please, give me the hood ornament."
George shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I got us into this, and I'm gonna get us out."
Sam resisted the urge to check for the Mustang. He had to focus all his energy on convincing George to give up the hood ornament. He shook his head. "You're wrong. Everyone played a part in this. It was Marc's idea for the game of chicken in the first place. It was the others who stood by while Marc died. You can't put all this on your shoulders." Sam swallowed to get the dryness out of his throat before adding his own confession. He gave them an abbreviated version of the events of last month. "Somehow my actions allowed it to become corporeal. That's when it started going after your friends." he finished grimly.
George blinked rapidly as he processed what Sam had just told him. He set his jaw stubbornly. "You can say whatever you want. This all falls back on me. You know it, I know it, and I'm sure Marc knows it. The fact is, I'm not lettin' some young kid risk his life to correct my mistake." George replied resolutely.
Sean looked conflicted, as if he wanted to speak up, but was afraid. Sam focused in on him.
"Sean, come on, this is crazy! Are you really going to stand by and watch your uncle get killed? Dean and I can handle this. If you let him go through with this, he will not survive. I can promise you that."
Sean caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Uncle George, maybe he's right. I mean, I don't see how--"
"Sean." George spoke so low Sam almost didn't hear him. But that one word held enough weight to lower Sean's gaze in defeat.
Sam was getting nowhere. If his words wouldn't do the trick, his actions would have to do. He searched to find something he could use to smash open the window. If they wouldn't give up the hood ornament, Sam would just have to take it from them.
"Dude, what's the hold-up?" Dean shouted from the silver car. Sam opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat. A bright light had appeared from behind him, followed by the loud roar of a revving motor. Sam froze, feeling quite literally like a deer in headlights. He'd recognize that sound anywhere. The ghost car and it's invisible driver had come to play.
Sean stared into the menacing light of the Mustang as a mixture of horror and fascination played across his features. He grabbed onto George's arm, but the older man didn't respond to the touch. George's lower lip trembled slightly; thirty years of emotional turmoil and secrets had led to this moment. He heard Sean say his name, but he was unable to speak.
Sitting behind the wheel of the tiny silver car, it was Dean Winchester who best summed up the situation.
"Oh shit."
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Only one chapter left! I just have to write the darn thing. I'm also going to work up the courage to start privately thanking the lovely people who have left reviews. However, if you don't receive an answer from me, it's only because I chickened out. So please know that I appreciate each and every review...they truly have meant the world to me.