Route 666
"Yeah, Bobby," I groaned into the phone. "Yes, I'm fine."
"You're…" He paused awkwardly, "healing?"
I knew what he meant. "It never hurt Bobby."
"You know what I mean." he scoffed.
"I thought no chick flick moments." I laughed at the man's grumbling on the other side. He was as nagging as my mom when I went out by myself. "I'm fine Bobby. I'm always fine."
The older man sighed on the other side. "Sure, kid. Call if you need anything."
"Yeah, thanks. Bye."
"Bye."
"What'd he say?" Sam looked up from the map he was checking out.
"The usual. Take care of yourself. Brush your teeth. Drink water. Eat food. Etc, etc." I left out the part where he asked me how I was recovering.
Sam chuckled. "Of course." He looked back at the map spread across Baby's hood. " I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just east of here. We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought." He grinned at his handiwork.
"Yeah. Problem is, we're not going to Pennsylvania." Dean came around from the opposite side of the Impala.
Sam and I frowned. "What? Why?"
"I just got a call from an, uh, old friend." I didn't like how he said 'old friend'. "Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing." 'Her'? Cassie? His ex? We were on the big black truck episode already?
"What?" Sam looked stunned.
"Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn't need us." Dean's eyes flickered to mine. "You wanna come along for this one?"
Of course I wanted to see who my husband had slept with before. Who didn't want to meet the ex of the man they were married to? "Yeah," I pushed my key into the ignition of the now repainted once again black bike. "Let's roll."
"Cassie said she was somewhere 'round here." Dean said as we walked up the stairs into an office building.
"She's your ex," I stated to no one in particular. Sam looked terrified.
Dean shifted uncomfortably. "I was nineteen. I didn't know I liked you like this then."
"I'm not mad or anything." Just that he kept in touch with her.
"We haven't talked in years." he tried to explain himself. But he didn't need to.
"He really hasn't mentioned her, ever. Just that one time when they…" Sam's voice trailed off. But he didn't have to cover for his brother either.
"I know. I'm not mad. I trust you." More than I trusted myself. "Really, Dean. I know." I gave him a smile. "You're not the kind to cheat."
We turned a corner and a bunch of voices were talking. We stood there patiently, waiting for them to be over.
"No, I think you're telling us what you want us to print and what you want us to sit on." a strong female voice with a stereotypical Black accent shot.
"That's her," Dean whispered.
"Cassie?" Sam asked.
"Yeah,"
"I know you're upset Cassie, I liked your dad a lot. But I think your grief is clouding your judgment." a man said, a little more authoritatively.
"Two black people were killed on the same stretch of road in the same way in two weeks." another man said.
"Jimmy, you're too close to this. Those guys were friends of yours. Again, Cassie, I'm very sorry for your loss."
The woman and other man backed down with a glare.
The more authoritative one walked out of the office, giving me and Dean a curt nod.
"Dean." Cassie said as she spotted him.
"Cassie," Dean smiled apprehensively. Dean looked away when Cassie's brown eyes seemed to bore into his. He quickly jumped to introductions. "This is my brother Sam." he tugged me closer by the sleeve of my flannel. "And this is my wife, Sharon."
"Wife?" Cassie's eyes widened slightly. "You settled?"
Dean nodded. "With her."
"Like with a house and everything? So you're no longer…" She lowered her voice. "Hunting?"
"Oh, yeah. She's a hunter too." Dean sounded proud.
I stood a little taller.
"Huh," she smiled at me. "Don't worry. We only dated for a couple of weeks."
Awkward. What was I supposed to say to that?
"So, uh," Sam came to my rescue. "Why don't you tell us what happened?"
We ended up at her house. Dean seemed irritatingly familiar with the layout and immediately headed for the larger couch in the living room. Sam and I sat down next to him on either side, the worn out sofa groaning under the weight of the three of us.
"Sorry 'bout your dad." Dean said quietly.
"Yeah, me too." Cassie said and got up. "I'll go get something for us."
"Beer," Dean said immediately.
"Coffee's fine." Sam smiled politely.
"Water, please." I sank into the sofa, hoping it would swallow me. Dean and Cassie didn't want to look each other in the eye, and every time they accidentally made eye contact, they would both flinch away.
"Comin' right up." Cassie walked into the kitchen, her hips swaying. Damn, she looked good from the back.
Dean cleared his throat. "Well, this is awkward," he said quietly.
"Do you guys want me to handle this?" Sam asked gently.
"No. No, uh," Dean shook his head. "It's fine." he shifted his gaze to mine. "If Sharon's fine with it."
"I'm fine with it." I cracked my knuckles. "We're here for a job right? I'm fine with that."
"And then we leave." Dean mumbled.
"My mother's in pretty bad shape." Cassie walked back into the room, carrying a tray. Two beers, coffee, water, and four slices of pie. Pie. She knew he liked pie. And she kept pie in stock. Dean blinked eagerly at the slices. "I've been staying with her. I wish she wouldn't go off by herself. She's been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about dad."
"Why?" Dean reached out for a slice of pie immediately.
"He was scared. He was seeing things."
I picked up my bottle of water and Sam started sipping on his coffee.
"Like what?" Dean asked.
"He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him."
Sam sat up a little straighter. "A truck. Who was the driver?"
"He didn't talk about a driver. Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad's car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big."
Dean popped open one of the bottles for himself. Cassie held hers out to him. Dean slowly took it from her to undo the cap and passed it back to her. Awkward.
Sam saved us all the awkwardness again. "Now you're sure this dent wasn't there before?"
"He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn't a scratch on that thing. It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from dad's car… leading right to the edge, where he went over." She tipped back the bottle. "One set of tracks. His."
"The first was a friend of your fathers?" Dean pushed another piece of pie into his mouth.
"Best friend. Clayton owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No Tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about dad. He 'lost control of his car.'" Cassie made air quotes with her fingers.
"Can you think of any reason why your father and his partner might be targets?"
"No."
"And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?" Sam asked to confirm.
"When you say it aloud like that… listen, I'm a little sceptical about this… ghost stuff… or whatever it is you guys are into."
"Skeptical." Dean snorted. "If I remember, I think you said I was nuts." He sounded bitter.
"That was then." Cassie protested. "I just know that I can't explain what happened up there. So I called you."
The door unlocked and an older woman stumbled in.
Sam, Dean, and I rose to our feet. Cassie immediately rushed to the woman's side. "Mom. Where have you been? I was so…"
"I had no idea you'd invited friends over." The woman scanned us like we were intruders.
"Mom, this is Dean, a… friend of mine from... college. And his brother Sam. And his… wife."
"Well I won't interrupt you." the woman hobbled upstairs.
"Mrs Robinson. We're sorry for your loss. We'd like to talk to you for a minute if you don't mind?" Dean attempted.
"I'm really not up for that right now." she glared back.
Sam, Dean, and I walked into our chilly motel room. We dumped our bags on the table and the fight for the shower ended before it even started.
Sam had sped into the bathroom, locking it behind him. Dean and I both huffed at the unfairness of the situation. He and I had to park our vehicles and lock them properly. Sam just chilled in the passenger's seat, unless he was with Jess. Then he was a strong independent man who did everything by himself.
"Jerk!" Dean yelled.
"Bitch!" Sam yelled back, and the shower started, drowning the room in its noise.
"Are you really okay with this?" Dean asked.
I took off my boots and stretched my toes. "Yeah. Like I said, I trust you. Was it really a one night stand though?"
Dean looked down. "Not quite. We slept together only once." He cringed. "Why am I telling you this?"
"Because I asked. And I trust you. And I want to know." I draped myself around his large shoulders.
His hand came up to join mine, the silver of his ring clinking with the one of mine. "We dated. I suppose. Two weeks. If you can call getting coffee between her classes and between a case dating."
"Oh."
"It was casual." He kept trying to defend himself. But why? Why was he being so defensive?
"Did you like her?"
He leaned his head back so we could see each other more clearly. "Not as much as you." he tilted his head so our noses brushed against each other's. "She was good. Nice, polite. But, uh, she wasn't the one."
"How did you know?"
"It didn't click. There was the flutter of the heart or whatever romance crap and then it vanished after we slept."
"Hm," I squeezed him tighter. The thought of him being with another woman even in the past rubbed me the wrong way. "And it stayed with me?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna make me say all that chick flick romance crap? Cause I'm not sayin' it."
"Come on," I whined playfully. I sagged against him. "I'm a chick, remember? I like those sappy romances. Just say it!"
"I have a better way." He kissed me on the lips. I closed my eyes and let him. He twisted so he was over me, and pushed me down on the bed. "You're the only one I want screaming my name."
I couldn't push down the blush that crept up my cheeks. "Kinky,"
"Says you." he smirked. "But seriously," He brushed his thumb over my cheek. I leaned into the warmth of his touch. "It doesn't feel right without you. Like it's all wrong." He brought his head down next to mine and groaned. "Can't believe I said that."
"No chick flick moments?"
"None, but here I am."
"How romantic." I laughed. The weight of him over my body was comforting. "You'll always be with me?"
"Yeah," he sat up so he was straddling my hips and started unbuttoning his flannel. "You're the only one who gets it up anyway."
I blushed at the comment. "What? We're doing it now?" I glanced at the door behind us, and strained my ear for the man inside humming something Dean would call 'hair rock'.
"Come on sweetheart." he smirked. "We both know Sammy takes an hour in the shower if the water's still hot."
"SAM STAY INSIDE, DON'T COME OUT!" Dean yelled for good measure. "GIVE US AN HOUR."
"WHAT THE FUCK, DEAN!" Sam yelled back, but the water poured louder, and the singing grew louder and more panicked. "FINISH FASTER."
"QUIT YOUR BITCHING AND USE THAT PRODUCT IN YOUR HAIR." He kissed me again. "Problem solved." Dean mumbled against my lips, and started tugging my shirt off.
His large hands were warm. But suddenly they weren't his hands. It was Christopher's smooth bony ones. Twisting and pulling at my skin until they were bruised black and blue. But it couldn't be him. No way. I looked up, hoping to ground myself in the green of Dean's eyes, but they were that sky blue that had charmed me the first time I'd seen them. Until they weren't so charming and full of crazed rage.
"Stop," I pushed at his chest. "Stop it,"
The hands were immediately gone from my bare skin and tugging on layers to cover me up. "Of course,"
It was Dean's voice. I was with him. He was here with me. I was safe.
In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.
I held onto his shoulder as I was picked up and placed sideways on his lap. Even after years of practice, he had put my bra back on wonky, I was pretty sure one of the hooks hadn't been clasped properly.
In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.
I focused on the ticking clock on the other side of the room. The world slowly stopped spinning, and the white noise in my ears started fading out. I felt Dean's lips on my head as he continued guiding me through my breathing exercise.
I looked up at him to see his green eyes locked onto mine worriedly. "You suck at dressing me."
His left cheek wrinkled into a smirk. "I specialise in undressing." The smirk quickly fell though. "What happened?"
"Nothing." I hopped out of his hold. "Just– not in the mood today."
He didn't press further. But I could feel his eyes digging holes into the back of my head even as I banged on the bathroom door.
"Sam! Get out of the shower!" I yelled. "I need the hot water!"
Cassie called us in for another car wreck. Sam, Dean, and I made our way through the crowd. We spotted Cassie's chocolate coloured skin easily amongst the pale white of the others.
I recognised one of them as the authoritative man from the other day. "Close the main road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that's what they are. Accidents."
We walked up to stand next to Cassie. "Did the cops check for additional dinting on Jimmy's car, see if it was pushed?" Dean asked.
"Who's this?" The man looked us up and down.
"Dean, Sam, and Sharon Winchester. Family friends." Cassie introduced. "This is Mayor Harold Todd."
The Mayor seemed content with the answer. "There's one set of tire tracks. One. . doesn't point to foul play." he answered.
"Mayor, the police and town officials take their cues from you. If you're indifferent about…" Cassie continued pressing.
"Indifferent!" the Mayor gasped.
"Would you close the road if the victims were white?"
I frowned. Not everything had to do with racism. People were sometimes mean, just because. There were quite a few people who absolutely hated my guts and they had been from the same community as me. And the people closest to me were often not even Asian. Race wasn't everything to disliking a person.
"You suggesting I'm racist Cassie?" The Mayor glowered. "I'm the last person you should talk to like that."
"And why is that?" Cassie challenged.
"Why don't you ask your mother." He spat.
I buttoned my suit up and slipped my tie through the knot. "She accused the Mayor of racism." I wondered aloud. "She's got guts."
"I agree, she's fearless." Sam nodded.
"Mm-hmm." Dean simply hummed. "Dammit." he cursed when the tie refused to slide all the way up to his neck.
"Here," I ushered him over to me. "She still likes you." I watched Dean for his reaction.
"Does she?" He looked uncomfortable. "Cause it didn't feel like that to me."
"She checks you out when you look away." Sam expertly slid his tie into place. "Where's my socks?"
"Fresh ones are in the laundry bag." I fixed Dean's tie and patted his firm chest. His heart sped under my touch. "Was it not a good breakup?"
His face was blank when he answered. "Don't you know already?"
Not gonna lie. It kind of hurt.
We walked down a pier where two old men were fishing. I trailed behind Dean along with Sam who constantly shot me sympathetic looks. But I was fine.
"Excuse me. Are you Ron Stubbins?" Dean said to the two older men.
One of the men nodded.
"Were you friends with Jimmy Anderson?" Sam asked as well.
"Who are you?" Ron demanded.
"We're Mr Anderson's insurance company. We're just here to dot 'I's' and cross 'T's'." Dean lied swiftly.
"We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?" Sam continued.
"What do you mean, unusual?" Ron squinted suspiciously.
"Well visions, hallucinations."
"It's part of a medical examination kind of thing. All very standard." Dean threw in with a thin smile.
"What company did you say you were with?"
"All National Mutual." I provided before the brothers butchered the name.
Dean tilted his head in my direction. "Yep. So tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?"
Awesome question. Not weird at all.
"What the hell you talking about? You even speaking English?" Ron snorted.
"Son, this truck," The other man said. "A big scary monster looking thing?"
Dean jumped at the sentence. "Yeah actually, I think so."
The man hummed.
"What?"
"I have heard of a truck like that."
"You have." Sam got excited. "Where?"
"Not where. When. Back in the '60s there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck."
Dean nodded. "They ever catch the guy who did it?"
The man shook his head. "Never found him. Hell, not sure they even really looked. See there was a time, this town wasn't too friendly to all its citizens."
"Thank you." Sam said.
The three of us turned away and walked back to our rides.
"Truck." Dean stated.
"Keeps coming up doesn't it?" Sam sighed.
"You know, I was thinking." Dean paused in his tracks to look at me and Sam directly. "You heard of the flying dutchman?"
"Ghost ship." I provided.
"Infused with the Captain's evil spirit. It was basically part of him." Sam added.
Dean nodded in acknowledgement. "So what if we're dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard's ghost, re-enacting past crimes."
"The victims have all been black men."
"I think it's more than that. They all seem connected to Cassie and her family."
Sam glanced at me and then Dean. "Do you guys want me to work that angle?"
"I'm kinda tired." I leaned against my bike and fiddled with the keys. "Dean can work it by himself, right?"
Sam looked horrified at the idea. "What? But–"
"They need to sort things out too. Feelings and all that." I brought my leg to the other side.
"Sharon." Dean started. "There's nothing to sort out."
"There is." I stared at him. "You need to get her to understand you're never going back to her. She thinks she still has a chance. Whether she realises it or not."
He frowned. "No she doesn't."
"How do you know that?"
"She dumped you." Sam suddenly cut in. "Oh my god. She dumped you."
Dean looked at the ground and sighed. "So what?"
"Why?" Sam questioned.
"How am I supposed to know?"
"So find out." I put on my helmet. "Don't come back to me till she knows." I pointed to the ring on his finger. "You're mine."
"You're mine." Sam repeated from across the table.
I threw an unused tissue in his direction. He laughed. "I didn't know you said cheesy things like that."
"I don't." I picked at the pasta that had been served to me. The alfredo was making my stomach cramp. "I need him to figure out that stupid relationship with Cassie."
"You're jealous."
I frowned at him. "Like you wouldn't be if Jess suddenly met up with her high school ex and had to go on a business trip with him." The pasta better be worth the sleepless night coming.
"That's… oddly specific."
"Ya think?" I waved my hands at the diner we were at. "Dude, Dean's literally on a business trip with his ex. In her house."
Sam nodded in amusement. "You sent him there. But in a way, you're right."
"Yeah. And if this were a novel. Then there's gonna be a super bad storm or something, and then Dean will be forced to spend the night at her house. And then the electricity will go out and Cassie will want comfort, so she'll go to Dean's bedroom, and then–" Okay, that was putting unpleasant images in my head. "Never mind." I felt my stomach churn as I pushed in another spoon.
"Should you be eating that?" Sam watched me eat.
I waved off his worries. "I'm lactose intolerant. Not allergic. I'll live."
"Alfredo is mostly milk."
"I know. The taste is worth it. I'm never giving up chicken alfredo pasta. Or pizza." I almost cringed at the salad he was eating. "And you're really vegetarian?"
"I'm not vegetarian." Sam mumbled. "I just eat healthy. You could be an almond mom with the number of nuts you've been consuming."
I frowned. "Fair." I swallowed the last one I could stomach without throwing up and pushed my plate away. "Man, I'm done."
"Leftovers for Dean?"
I nodded. "Always."
Sam continued munching on his leaves. He offered me an olive and I bit into the heaven of flavour.
"Dean's not over her, is he?"
Sam paused. "Sharon–"
"I know. He's loyal. To a fault. But still… I get the feeling he wished things worked out with her."
"He likes you." Sam emphasised.
"He dated her for two weeks." I picked at my nails. There was olive oil collected under it.
"It's the first long term relationship he ever had. Surely he felt something for her. And– I don't know. There's something going on. Like he's unsatisfied with how he left her. Or that he wishes things could be different, you know."
I called over the waiter. "We'll have three bacon cheese burgers to go. With a caesar salad on the side. And can y'all give me a take out container? For this?"
"Of course. Would you like a bag with that?" The waitress chirped.
"Oh, yes please." I watched Sam start putting on his jacket. "It'll take another few minutes for the burgers."
"I know. I'm gonna go get some beer." He stood up. "There was a store right next to this place. Might grab some whiskey too."
"Awesome. Meet me back here?"
"Yep." And with that, I was left alone to deal with the annoying grumble of my stomach. I licked my lips to get some of the sauce off my mouth. Yep, it was worth it.
3rd Person P.O.V.
Cassie looked up from her work when she heard the sharp knock on her door. She cautiously walked up to it and cracked it open. She relaxed when she realised who it was.
"Dean!"
"Hey,"
"Hey, come on in." she motioned for him to join her at the table in the lounge.
Dean looked around at the piles of paper on the table. The mess reminded him of the day he picked up Sharon to go search for his Dad together. The day he'd dragged her away from the semi-normal life she'd been leading. The papers strewn all across the floor and all the surfaces of Bobby's house. But Cassie was more organised. He didn't have any blue flowers sticking to his shoes. "So… you busy, or…"
"The paper's doing a tribute to Jimmy. I was just going through his stuff…" Cassie's shoulders stiffened as she kept her composure. "His awards. Trying to find the words."
"That's gotta be tough." he sympathised.
"For years this family owned the paper. The Dorians? They had a whites only policy. After they sold it Jimmy became the first black reporter. He didn't stop till he became editor. He taught me everything…" she trailed off and averted her eyes. "Where's your brother? And Sharon?"
Dean shrugged. "Not here."
"All right." Cassie said slowly. "So, uh, what brings you here?"
"Trying to find the connection between the three victims." He shifted his weight. Why was he even here? He should be back having dinner with Sam and Sharon. "By the way, did you talk to your mom about what Todd said about not being a racist?"
"I did. She didn't want to talk about it."
"Right."
"Is there a reason you came here alone?" Cassie took a small step closer.
Dean took a small step back. "Sharon was tired. Sam decided to accompany her. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing. It wasn't important."
Dean frowned. He didn't like how dodgy she was being. 'She still likes you'. Did she still like him? "Could it be because, without them here it's just you and me? Not you, me, Sharon and Sam, which would be easier?"
"It's not easier… Look, I…"
"No. Forget it. It's fine. We don't have to talk about anything." Even though he was here to talk. "We'll keep it strictly business."
Cassie stared at him. "I forgot you do that."
Dean looked at her confused. "Do what?"
"Oh. Whenever we get, what's the word...close? Anywhere in the neighbourhood of emotional vulnerability, you back off. Or make some joke. Or find any way to shut the door on me."
"Oh that's hilarious." Dean barked out a laugh. "See, I'm not the one who took that big final door and slammed it behind me."
"Ok wait a minute…"
"And I'm not the one who took the key and buried it."
"We done with this metaphor?"
Dean inhaled sharply. Sharon would have gone along with the metaphor. "All I'm saying is, I was totally up front with you back then, and you nailed me for it."
"The guy I'm with, the guy I'm hoping might be in my future, tells me he professionally pops ghosts and has a girl waiting for him back home." She accused.
"She wasn't my girlfriend at the time. And those are not the words I used!"
"And that he has to leave, to go work with his father."
"I did!" He was starting to get angry.
"You sounded like you were using me as a rebound! A way to forget her! All I could think was, if you want out, fine, but don't tell me this insane story."
He got threateningly close to her. "It was the truth Cassie, and I notice it didn't sound insane the minute you thought I could help you."
"Well back then I thought you just wanted to dump me." She glared defiantly back at him. Her attitude reminded him of her.
"Now let's not forget who dumped who, okay?" He reminded.
"Yeah, and now you're back." Cassie took a step towards him. His back hit the table. "You came here alone for a reason. You and I slept together once, but now you're with another woman. And yet here you are, alone. With me. In my empty house."
Dean swallowed. Her brown eyes looked like Sharon's. That was why he'd even been interested in Cassie in the first place. She looked like her, the woman that couldn't love him the way he would have liked. "No, Cassie. I'm with her now." He felt around for a way to escape. "Cassie. I don't want to use force. Not on you."
Cassie's eyes drifted to his hands that were balling into fists. She backed off. "You always did like her. Even when we were dating."
"What?"
"But you know what, Dean. I truly liked you. I really did. And I tried to make it work."
He remained silent. He knew she was right.
"Did you ever truly love me?"
He didn't have an answer.
"That's what I thought." Cassie walked away and sat down in the chair she was originally sitting on. "Did she ask you to talk to me?"
"She did." Dean remained standing. "She said to tell you I was done."
"Do you really like her?" Cassie's voice had gone quieter.
"I do." He took off his ring and showed her the inside. "We got married almost three years ago."
Cassie pressed her lips together as she read the words engraved inside. It wasn't her name. And no matter how much she wished it was, it would never be her, it never was. "Sorry." she whispered. "I didn't mean for us to end that way."
"Yeah, me neither." he slipped the ring back on.
"Tell Sharon I said sorry."
"I will." he walked to the door. "Goodbye Cassie."
"Goodbye Dean."
Cassie was right. He never loved her the way she'd loved him. He liked her, just enough. He'd liked her enough that he was willing to give a relationship with her a try. He'd hoped that with time, he would actually fall for her, and forget the woman back in Bobby's house that read to him almost every night. But despite having basically the same features other than their hair and skin tone, he didn't manage to feel the same attraction. And what little had been there disappeared the night they had sex. She wasn't the one he wanted screaming his name. She wasn't the one he wanted to be held by.
He got in the car and groaned at the tightness in his jeans. Fuck. He'd thought too much. Was Sharon even in the mood for sex? Dammit. He twisted the key into the ignition and felt the familiar jolt of Baby coming to life.
Now, he needed her. He wanted to sink his hips into hers and feel her flesh against his. Could he get them a separate motel room?
He sped down the road, dismissing the speed limits. He parked in front of their room and got out of the car, his hands fumbling with the keys as he locked Baby and unlocked the door to their room in rapid succession.
His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.
1st Person P.O.V.
"Oh, hi." I looked up at the man that had just entered through the door.
Dean crossed the room with his long strides and immediately knelt at my side. "What happened, sweetheart?" I lifted the flannel I'd stolen from his duffel to reveal an angry slash across my waist.
"Some guy was trying to force a woman to go with him. I called the police but they didn't seem to wanna do anything so I provoked the guy until he did something to me so I could claim self defence. Just didn't expect a knife."
Dean's hands ghosted over the cut. I hissed when his hand made contact with the edge. "Sorry." he let go. "I'll get the bandages.
Sam appeared out of the bathroom with the dental floss. "Oh you're here."
Dean glared at his brother. "And you let this happen, Sam?"
Sam looked guilty.
"It's not his fault." I defended the poor boy. "He was getting beer. I was in the diner. It's my fault if I just burst out by myself."
"Fucking hell." he looked angrily at the cut. "Don't do that again."
"It's just a flesh wound." I mumbled as he rushed around the room gathering a needle and a glass of whiskey to disinfect it.
Sam dipped his hands into the glass of whiskey and prepared the needle. I lay down on the towels spread over the bed and looked away from the needle.
Dean sat next to my head, right in line with my vision. "So? Who was the bastard?"
I took in a shaky breath when the needle pierced my skin. "Some guy. I don't know. It was a Black guy. Called the woman a racist for not wanting to sleep with him."
"Douchebag." Dean spat.
"I know. It's not always about racism. No means no." Christopher's face flashed in my mind. I brought my arm over my mouth. "Slow-slow down Sammy. Needle's too fast." The pricking and burning sensation were starting to get overwhelming.
"Faster I get this over with, the faster you can get moving."
"Fine." I closed my eyes and tok steady breaths. "What did Cassie say?"
"We're done." Dean answered.
I looked up at him. "So you did have feelings for her."
"No." he sighed. "I never did."
"Really?"
"Really." He frowned. "Why do you women doubt me so much?"
"Oh, I don't know. Your porn addiction?" I moved my foot to hit his.
"Sharon, stop moving." Sam reminded me.
"Sorry, sorry." I tried not to laugh despite the burning sensation.
"She told me to tell you she was sorry." Dean finally answered.
"Tell her I forgive her."
"What am I? The mailman?" he snorted.
I felt a tug on my skin. "Done." Sam said and stood up.
I twisted my neck so I could see the needlework. "You really should be a seamstress."
A pillow was thrown in my face. "Shut up. If I'm the seamstress, then you're my pincushion."
"Only one pin goes into her. It's mine and it's not thin."
Sam and I gasped, mortified at Dean's comment. "Dean!"
I was woken up by a shake of the shoulder. "What time is it…?"
"To work." Dean threw the covers off my form.
I frowned and curled up into an even tighter ball. Damn, it was so cold.
"It's snowing. Wear your coat." Sam said as he rushed by.
I groaned. "Goddammit."
Dean wouldn't let me drive in the snow. And Sam agreed. Traitor. I gingerly waded through the snowy road. My poor boots were gonna be soaking by the time this was over.
Sam, Dean, and I flashed our trooper badges.
"So, what happened?" Dean asked the cops.
"Every bone crushed. Internal organ's turned to pudding. The cops are all stumped, it's like something ran him over."
"Something like a truck?"
"Yeah, actually." the cop turned around to say something to the other one. "You are welcome to view the scene."
"Thank you." Sam nodded politely.
"Let's look for tracks." Dean started walking to the middle of the field, closer to where the Mayor had been found.
I kept a straight face at the bloodied snow. Poor man. But just as I'd expected. There were no tracks.
"No tracks!" Sam hollered.
"I got nothin'!" Dean answered as well.
"Same here!" I called back.
The three of us trudged back up to the car to discuss. "Why was the Mayor here?" I couldn't help but stare at the red snow.
"He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago." Sam answered.
"I thought you were supposed to know that." Dean said.
I looked down at my feet. "I don't know everything. Sorry. I completely forgot he died."
"It's okay. It wasn't your fault." Dean placed a hand on my shoulder. "But he's white, he doesn't fit the pattern."
"Killing didn't happen up on the road. That doesn't fit either." Sam pointed out.
Dean looked up at me. "Maybe it's not always about racism."
Sam and I flitted through piles upon piles of paperwork while Dean worked the computer.
Sam motioned us over. "Ok, the courthouse records show that Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family for, like, 150 years." he pointed to a certificate confirming their purchase.
"Dorian?" Dean leaned in closer. "Weren't they the family that used to own the paper?"
I nodded. "Yeah, Cassie mentioned them."
Dean shifted back to type on the computer. "Look at this." Sam and I leaned over his shoulders. "This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of ' case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then."
"I think I saw something on the Dorians." I sifted through the files I'd been looking at before coming across a dusty worn out one. "Here. The first thing he did was bulldoze the place."
"Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?" Dean said mockingly.
"There's a few news articles about it." I showed them the clippings that had been added to the court documents. "Bro made front page."
"Dates?"
"3rd of last month." Sam muttered. "The first killing was the very next day."
"Cassie?" I heard Dean mutter sleepily from next to me. I craned my neck up to look at what they were talking about.
His eyes met mine apologetically.
'It's fine.' I mouthed.
He frowned as Cassie continued to speak on the other side. He sat up straight. "We're coming, right away."
What?
"I need something stronger." Cassie said shakily when we got her a beer from the fridge.
"There's whiskey in the trunk." Dean got up. "I'll go get it."
Cassie sank down on the couch next to me. "You alright?" I asked her.
"No." she looked frantic. "There was a truck outside my house. Trying to break through the walls!"
"Right." I would be terrified of that too. "Um. I'm not good with comforting words, but… we're here." Cassie nodded. I couldn't even say 'you'll be okay'. Stupid Angel. "You're gonna have to stay strong." I told her. "Just breathe." On the other sofa, her mother seemed to be taking my advice. She had a cup of tea quaking in her bony fingers. Like Christopher's hands. I had to remind myself he wasn't here. Forget about him.
"I am." she snapped. She quickly apologised. "Sorry, I–"
"It's fine. Nerves tend to do that." I'd snapped at those worried about me my fair share too.
The four of us in the room took our time getting settled. Dean soon walked in with a bottle of whiskey in hand. Cassie immediately reached for it. She twisted the cap off without help and chugged down a good amount. "Ask your questions." she said, slamming the bottle on the table. Damn. She was good. I always did like her most out of all of Dean's hookups.
"You didn't see who was driving the truck?" Sam asked.
"It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone. Why didn't it kill us?"
"Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first." Dean noted.
"Mrs Robinson," Sam said gently. The lady looked up fearfully. "Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died."
She opened her mouth but no words came out.
"Mom?" Cassie whispered. "Please, we need to know."
"Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress." She was lying. "You can't be sure about what he was seeing."
Dean got into interrogator mode. "Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok? Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it."
I placed a hand on his arm to keep him from flying off at the poor lady.
Mrs. Robinson started rambling. "Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck."
Sam took over the questioning. "Did he know who it belonged to?"
"He thought he did."
"Who?"
"Cyrus. A man named Cyrus."
'Cyrus'. That name. I pulled out an article clipping.
"Is that Cyrus?" Sam continued.
"Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago." Mrs. Robinson closed her eyes at the memory.
Dean jumped at the inconsistency in statements. "How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson? The paper's said he went missing. How do you know he died?"
"We were all very young. I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin… in secret of course. Inter-racial couples didn't go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don't know, he changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening." She shuddered.
"The murders." Sam realised.
She nodded. "There were rumours. People of colour disappearing into some kind of a truck. Nothing was ever done. Martin and- Martin and I, we were gonna be married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn't want the attention."
"And Cyrus?"
"The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church." She burst into tears. "There was a children's choir practising in there. They all died."
"Did the attacks stop after that?"
"No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him, something terrible. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him."
Cassie walked over to her mother and pulled her into a hug. "Mom," she whispered soothingly. I'd never done that for my mother. And now I regretted it. I should have been nicer, should have expressed my love for her instead of bottling it all up.
"Why didn't you call the cops?" Dean asked next.
Mrs. Robinson continued to cry even as she confessed. "This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus' body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years."
"And now all three are gone." Sam told her.
"And so is Mayor Todd. Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?"
"He was a good man. He was a young Deputy back then investigating Cyrus' disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he… he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done."
Cassie's voice shook. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought I was protecting them. And now there's no one left to protect."
"There is." I looked at Cassie who had silent tears on her cheeks.
Mrs. Robinson clung onto her and continued crying.
The three of us leaned against Baby's hood, waiting for the big black truck to show up again. If it did. My memories of the episodes were fading with time. What luck.
Sam started lamenting. "My life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms."
Dean huffed. "Well I guess I saved you from a boring existence."
"Yeah, occasionally I miss boring." Sam looked at me. "I bet you miss boring too."
"My life was never boring." I waved my purple phone in front of his face. "Have you seen the fanfics downloaded on this thing?"
"Oh, right." Sam rolled his eyes playfully. "I forgot. You're crazy. And your friends just as much."
"So this killer truck." Dean started.
Only to be cut off by Sam groaning. "I miss conversations that didn't start with 'this killer truck'."
Dean cracked a smile. "Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years."
"So what woke it up?"
"The construction on his house. Or the destruction."
"Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless."
"Like that one theatre in Illinois." I piped.
"Mm-hmm." Dean hummed. "And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus' murder quiet and unsolved."
"So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood." Sam shivered in the cold breeze.
"Yeah I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway." Dean started pacing back and forth.
"This'll be fun." I was pretty sure there was a high speed chase at some point. Who didn't wanna experience that at least once in their lives?
"You know we're going to have to dredge that body up from the swamp right?" Sam looked at me teasingly.
I showed off my boots. "I'm wearing waterproof today."
"So." Dean tossed and caught his keys again. "We going or what?"
I drove our stolenborrowed tractor further away from the edge of the swamp. The machine groaned at the weight of the truck it was pulling up.
"A bit more… keep coming… slow down! A tiny bit more… Alright, stop!" Sam called.
I killed the engine and jumped off the tall thing.
"That's it?" I looked at the 'big black truck'. It might have been big for its time, but by the 2020s Texas standard for big trucks, this thing was a fetus still in its mother's womb.
"Yep." Dean opened the door to the truck, and a decayed body stared back at us.
I crinkled my nose at the stench. "We went from digging up graves to urban fishing for evil truck coffins."
"When you put it like that…" Sam cringed.
I shrugged. "I've texted weirder to my friends."
"Let's get this done." Dean was in business mode.
We salted and burnt the corpse. We watched it burn to ashes. I looked around. Wasn't the truck supposed to appear? And try to kill us? Where was it? We stood around for a few more minutes, enjoying the heat from the fire in the chilly night. Okay, so no car. Maybe that had been for TV highlights. All good shows needed at least one high speed chase, right?
I yawned. I checked my watch. 2:00AM. Really? Dude. I was ready to sleep. "I'm four hours past my bedtime. I call shotgun."
Sam frowned. "Hey!"
I dragged my feet through the mud and settled into the passenger side.
"Come on Sammy." Dean said with a chuckle as he got into the driver's side. "Or we'll leave you here and you can drive that truck back!"
A loud growl caught us off guard. I reached for my gun in my back pocket. What was it? I hissed when a pair of headlights shone directly into my eyes. My retinas burned as I tried to adjust to the sudden light.
"Shit, Dean! Sharon!" Sam yelled from outside the car.
Dean stuck his head out when the engine of the truck roared again. "That piece of crap! You gotta burn it!" Dean yelled.
"How the hell am I supposed to burn a truck?!" Sam cried.
"I don't know figure something out!" Dean turned to me. "Hold onto your hat, sweetheart."
"Hat? What hat– ah!" I was thrown forwards when Dean put Baby in reverse and slammed on the accelerator. Was it high speed chase time? But I didn't actually want to be in the car when it happened!
"Come on, Baby!" Dean patted the steering wheel and shifted to drive.
Suddenly I was plastered against the seat, trying to breathe even with the million Gs on my chest. "Oh my God." I gasped. I gripped onto the sides to keep myself from being thrown about. "We need to get seat belts in this thing."
"No, they'll make her ugly." Dean retorted. His eyes moved away from the road to the rearview mirror. The truck was right behind us. "Come on, come on, come on." He pressed harder. "You can do it, Baby." he encouraged the car. I glanced at the speedometer. We were going 130 miles per hour. That was Baby's max speed.
The phone rang. I pulled it out of Dean's pocket. "Hello, Sammy. Did you burn the truck yet?"
"I can't. It's too damp. Give me a minute."
I gasped when the truck managed to brush against the Impala. "I don't think we have a minute." How far had we gone?
"It's gonna get a bit rough, sweetheart." Dean's hand drifted to my thigh to keep me from being thrown around.
"Hands on the wheel." I smacked his hand away. "What you got Sammy?"
"I'll get back to you."
"Get back to me? Sammy!" I shrieked into the phone.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean slammed the wheel. His brows were pulled together in concentration as he tried to dodge the hits from the stupid truck. My heart raced at the craziness of the situation. It had been fun to watch on TV, but in reality? Hell nah.
"Will salt work?" I asked. How had I not thought of this before?
"Our salt bullets are too small for that." Dean grunted as the car swerved. "Shit."
I did my best to not fall onto Dean and bother his driving. Holy shit.
The truck knocked against us again. I let go of the sides of the car when it scraped against the barriers of the highway. Right below us was what seemed to be a frigging cliff. If we fell into that, we would die for sure. "Cliff on the right." I said.
"Fuck." Dean cursed. "Okay. Feet on the dash." He said.
"What?"
"Just do it!"
"Okay!" I braced my muddy boots on the scuffed dashboard. Dean suddenly turned the wheel to force Baby into the other lane and slammed on the breaks. My knees jolted as they absorbed most of the impact. His hand shot out to keep my head from banging against anything and the truck zoomed past. "Damn." I breathed. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Dean and I panted. But we straightened up again. We could hear the roaring that had grown distant start to get louder again.
"That son of a bitch is coming back." Dean said and spun the wheel to take a U turn.
And it was back angrier. My phone finally rang again and I picked up. "Bro you better have something or I will kill you."
"Where are you?" Sam asked.
"Uh. I don't know. The middle of the road in the middle of nowhere with a murderous truck tailgating and rear ending us?!"
"No, no. I need exact location. This is important."
"Important my a– my neck! How the fu– heck am I supposed to know! Am I google maps?!" I looked around for a sign. Anything. "Decatur Road!" I read the sign we zoomed past. I grunted as we were rear ended once more.
"You son of a bitch!" Dean cursed again.
"Okay, headed East?"
"Dean, are we heading East?"
"Learn to read a map, woman! Yes!"
"Shut up you man child! We're going East, Sam! You better have something!"
"Who are you calling a man child?!"
"Go right."
"Go right!"
Our wheels skidded as Dean did a quarter of a donut to skid into a right turn. The truck too followed, but it was slightly behind us now. Though it was catching up quick.
"Did you turn?"
"Oh my God, Sam, yes!" I said through gritted teeth.
"Okay, do you see a left?"
"The truck is on our left!" I got a look into the truck. No driver. The truck started brushing against Baby again. Shit. Fuck. Hell. Bitch. We were gonna die.
"Go left."
"I just said the truck is on our left!" But we had to take the turn. "Dean take a left!"
"How?!" Dean yelled but managed to break enough for the truck to cross us again and then quickly slammed the accelerator. I was thrown against the right window as we managed to go left.
"Now where?!"
"Seven tenths of a mile. And stop."
Right. The Church grounds. "Seven tenths of a mile. And stop." I told Dean.
"Stop?!" he shrieked.
"Yes, stop!"
"Seven tenths, seven tenths." Dean mumbled his eyes on the odometer. He spun the wheel 360 degrees and the two of us went slamming into Baby's sides. Once the car was facing the direction we'd just come from, Dean let one hand off the wheel. "You okay?" He tugged me over by the sleeve.
I settled in the middle of the bench. "Yeah." I rubbed my shoulder where it got hit. "You're bleeding."
He raised his hand to the wound. "Just a scratch." I pulled out a couple of fragile tissues from my pocket and pressed them to his forehead. He winced at the touch but let me hold pressure.
"Wait, what? You guys okay?" Sam said from the other side.
"Yeah, we're fine." I held the phone in one hand and stared at the road.
"What's happening?" Sam asked.
"Just staring at us." My heart hammered against my chest. The truck continued staring down at us with its bright headlights from in between the posts, revving its engine louder and louder.
"What do we do?" Dean said a little loudly.
I held the phone up to his ear. Sam said something, and that sent Dean's eyes flying to mine. "What?"
The tires of the truck screeched. Dean let go of the wheel and wrapped his arms around me. He pulled me against the crook of his neck and covered me with his body, as if he could absorb the impact from the truck crushing the Impala. His heart raced just like mine. We could die. Just in case Sam's plan didn't work out like it did in the show, I held onto Dean. If we were gonna die, I would like for us to die with each other.
He held me tighter when the truck finally sped up in our direction. I couldn't take my eyes off the blinding lights of the ghost truck even as it blinded us with each inch in our direction. Then, right before impact, the truck disappeared into thin air.
"Dean? Sharon? You guys there?" Sam said from the phone.
Dean took the phone from my shaking hands and spoke breathlessly. "Where'd it go?… What church!"
Sam explained the situation to Dean. I heaved a sigh of relief and leaned against the man that still held me tightly. He shouted angrily into the phone, but his hand was rubbing comforting circles into my side. He threw the phone to the backseat.
"Well it honestly didn't occur to me." He mimicked mockingly. "I'm gonna kill him!"
Despite my panic, I laughed. "Let's get back first. Baby might need new tires though."
I tried to balance my bike while Dean talked to Cassie.
"My mother says to tell you thanks again." Cassie said with a smile.
Dean nodded.
"And… Thank you Dean. For everything."
"Yeah," he turned back to see a gently smiling Sam. "Goodbye Cassie."
"Goodbye Dean." She paused to wave at me. "This is more permanent than the last one, huh?"
"Yeah," Dean exhaled slowly. "You take care of yourself."
"You guys too. I wish you two all the best." She turned around and disappeared from view.
"So where are we going next?" I asked Dean when he came back to the driver's side.
"I kind of wanted to head South." he settled into his seat. "I was thinking Oklahoma?"
I nodded and put my earphones in. "See you there?"
"Yep." Rock music blasted from the Impala, drowning out the synth beats of my earphones. "RACE YOU THERE!" Dean yelled.
"YOU'RE ON!"