Rewrite Of Supernatural Series: Season 1

Pilot - Part 2.

You were resting your head against the back window, legs spread all over the backseat. You were small enough to perfectly fit into this small space. You and the Winchesters were getting fuel in Baby while Dean got some fuel for himself.

'Hey. You both want breakfast?' he had a bar in his mouth and he showed you the chips packet he was carrying. 'No thanks,' Sam answered. You shook your head no, before closing your eyes, ready to get out of here. You missed your VTX, but it didn't have the luxury of just leaning back and relaxing. You left it at your old house you bought a few years back when you got married.

'So, how'd you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit-card scams?' Sam asked, going through Dean's cassette tape collection. Dean answered, 'Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career. Besides all we do is apply, it's not our fault they send us the cards.'

'Yeah?' Sam asked, settling back in his seat and closing his door when his brother sat in the drive's seat, 'And what names did you write on the application this time?'

You could hear Dean's smirk, 'Burt Aframian and his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal.'

'Sounds about right,' Sam smiled. He threw down the tapes in annoyance, 'I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette-tape collection.'

'Why?' Dean pouted.

'Well, for one, they're cassette tapes,' Sam stated. 'And two . . . Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica?' Dean snatched the Metallica tape from Sam's hand and put it in the car.

'The classics can never go wrong! Plus you know the house rules, Sammy,' you said, already knowing Dean's response so you say it for him, 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole!'

Sam looks back at you, 'You know, "Sammy" is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?'

Dean starts the car, increasing the volume of the music. He already knows your answer, so he returns the favor of saying it, 'Sorry, we can't hear you. The music's too loud!'

Soon, you were passing the sign "Jericho 7". You get off the phone, 'Thank you.'

You address the brothers, 'Alright, so there's no one matching John at the hospital or the morgue. So that's something, I guess.'

Dean slows down near a bridge. A few police cars are gathered around the authorities checking the place. 'Check it out,' Dean slows down to a stop near the side of the road. Dean gives the bridge a thoughtful look before leaning over and getting out a box from the glove compartment in front of Sam. He grabs a few badges, smirking, 'Let's go.' He gets out of the car.

You already have your own badges on you, so you follow suit. The brothers flank you from behind and you don't think you've ever felt safer with anyone else besides your late Dad and your sister, Namie.

You catch the tail-end of the officers' conversation, '. . . It's spotless, almost too clean.' On hearing that, the one who is leaning in front of you speaks, 'So, this kid Troy was dating your daughter?'

'Yeah,' the first man said. The second one asked, 'So how's Amy doing?'

'Putting up missing posters downtown.'

'You fellas had another one just like this last month, didn't you?' you butt in.

'And who are you?' the second man asks. Dean flashes his badge, 'Federal Marshals.'

The second man looks you three over suspiciously, 'You three are a little too young for federal marshals, don't you think?'

You chuckle, 'Thanks. That's awfully kind of you.'