Chapter 1
"It's the eye of the tiger! It's the thrill of the fight! C'mon, Sammy! Sing with me!" Dean Winchester shouted to his little brother over the car radio. Sam just rolled his eyes and smiled, not looking up from the newspaper he was poring over. Dean was drumming his hands on the steering wheel of his beloved '67 Chevy Impala in time with the music blasting from the speakers. They were heading north out of South Dakota, aimlessly searching for another case.
"Hey, Dean. Check this out," Sam said, as Dean turned off the radio to listen to a potential job, "A fourteen-year old girl committed suicide in a town in upstate New York."
"Hate to break it to you, Sammy, but that's not uncommon. Not really our thing," Dean said, moving to turn on the music again.
"Wait, you didn't let me finish. Her twin sister was, according to this, sitting by her grave, when the ground started shaking and her sister rose from the grave. She claims she checked her pulse seventeen times and the doctors had declared her dead," Sam read from the paper in his lap. Dean was silent for a moment and hadn't shown any indication he was listening until he said,
"Yeah. Yeah that definitely sounds supernatural. It's a few hours away, should we go check it out?" Dean asked his brother, taking his eyes off the road to glance at him, "I mean, if you're up to it. That last fight took a bit out of you."
Sam glared at Dean and said exasperatedly,
"Dean, I'm fine and you know it. You of all people should know I'd never give in to being his vessel. Just as I know you'd never give in to Michael."
"Yeah, of course, but I just want you to be careful," Dean said while nodding, "So, we're going to check this zombie case out?"
"Sure, here's the address," Sam told Dean while handing him a strip of paper. Dean studied it for a minute, then handed it back to his little brother. Sam took it and stashed it in his pocket for future reference as Dean turned the radio back on.
"I'm on the highway to hell. On the highway to HELL!" Dean started singing along and this time, Sam joined in, but not before shouting over the music,
"This song couldn't relate to us more perfectly!" while Dean nodded in agreement and bobbed his head along to the beat of the classic AC/DC hit.
Behind the two brothers, there was a flapping sound, but, the music being so loud, neither of them heard it. They didn't notice anything until a voice said,
"Dean." Sam jerked around to look at the intruder and Dean slammed the radio to turn off again. Dean turned around in his seat momentarily to see who had spoken. He sighed in relief when he saw a familiar face.
"Jeez, Cas, you can't just appear in the backseat unannounced," Dean said, trying and failing to sound angry, "It's been forever since you visited or answered my, sorry our, prayers. We thought you were dead." The angel in the dirty trench coat squinted his eyes and tilted his head.
"I'm an angel, Dean. I'm fine," Cas said as Dean rolled his eyes so only Sam could see, "I just came to say that Michael has been trying to recruit me. I said no, of course. But I heard him saying that if you resisted much longer, he is going to choose another vessel."
Dean looked at Sam then said to Cas, "Are you sure? Well, do you know who he's going to choose?" he looked at Cas in the rearview mirror.
"I do not yet know who it is. I will try to figure that out." Cas said and prepared to leave when Dean stopped him and said,
"Wait, Cas, buddy. Be careful, okay? You know he'll stop at nothing for power." Cas nodded and disappeared. After he was gone, Sam raised his eyebrows at his older brother but said nothing except,
"So, Michael's going to choose another vessel? Shouldn't we be figuring that out?"
"No. Let's go help the girl in New York. We can figure out Michael and Lucifer later. I say leave them to their cat fight," Dean said, looking at Sam with a smile on his face but sadness in his eyes. He reached to turn on the radio, but Sam stopped him.
"It's my turn to choose the station," he said and as Dean opened his mouth to protest, Sam continued with, "Yeah, yeah, I know. 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole. I don't care, it's my turn." Dean sighed in defeat and moved his hand away from the knobs. As Sam turned it to a more modern station these lyrics blasted from the speakers:
"Maybe I should cry for help, maybe I should kill myself, blame it my A.D.D. baby."
Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, but his younger brother just shrugged it off and tapped his fingers on his legs along with the beat.