Sammy, Pie or Impala: A Supernatural Fanfic

A little white lie never hurt nobody

"What's done in darkness always comes to light"

DEAN

With a buzzing mind and shaky limbs, Dean drove at a slow and steady pace on the Kansan road.
Had he acted out of rashness? Perhaps his father wasn't even alive, and this was all a foolish trick that would only test Dean on his loyalty and trust. But it was too late now. He had only a month to find his father or all would be ruined. And under no circumstances could he tell Bobby or Sammy.

The lights that lit the roadside seemed to flicker and blur and the pounding in Dean's head grew deeper and deeper, like a microscopic group of men had inhabited in Dean's brain and were digging through his neuron pathways.

The pain was excruciating and Dean forced himself unwillingly to pull off the road and kill the engine of the car.
He sat forward, breathing heavily and clutched his head in his arms. The street lights that were just blurry, now swayed back and forth like a wave of bright flames. Darkness threatened to eat the lights and everything was silent.

Dean felt a shiver travel down his spine. There was a creature looming overhead.
Jumping out of the car and clutching onto the doors for support, he opened the boot and rummaged through the duffel bag and weapon box. Coming out with a rifle loaded with rock salt and his signature weapon; the silver hand gun he kept hidden in his trousers, he quietly shut the door of the boot. The sound of the door colliding with the frame sent a painful shock through Dean's chest and he fell to his knees. Wincing with the pain, he managed to crawl to the side of the car so he was both contained yet had a perfect view ahead of him.

"God damn it, what the hell has come over me?" Dean grumbled as he rose to his feet. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as an eerie breeze passed him. Raising the rifle, he swiftly turned on his heel to the source of the breeze, a skill developed from his many years of hunting.
Through the nauseating pain, he slowly crept away from the car. Although it was only mid evening, the sky had grown darker and the temperature had plummeted to 50. Dean had to make do with his eyes as bright light and supernatural creatures didn't mix well.

As Dean ventured farther from the car, the air had grown colder. Reaching into his army jacket, he drew out the spirit detector. The red light signal was still only faint and made a small beeping noise. "This isn't the best time to screw me over, bitch," mumbled Dean as he wandered further and further onto the vacant road and into the forest that grew on the outside of the road. He hated the forests, as they were always the frightening place to go at night with monsters looming in the shadows.
But this was Dean Winchester and he was no ordinary mundane. He had serious balls. And guns. But especially balls.

The branches dug into Dean's arms and the beeping was starting to increase in volume. Dean heard a rustle in the branches and suddenly the detector was screaming and flashing crimson.
"Finally," thought Dean as he pulled back on the latch of his rifle. The click of the rifle echoed through the forest and a shadow crossed along the trees. Dean felt another overwhelming wave of pain strike him and he miraculously managed to stay on his feet. A figure stood before him now.
A woman in a tight red dress with sleek chestnut hair and fierce green eyes faced Dean.
"You foolish boy," she whispered. Her words were like icy tendrils running down Dean's body. Dean pulled on the trigger and rock salt exploded and impacted on the woman's chest. She staggered back and blood leaked from her wound. A flash of anger crossed her face. Closing her eyes, the woman's wound suddenly healed and when she opened them a sly laugh escaped her lips.
Taking a step forward, an invisible force escaped from her outstretched hand and Dean found himself pinned against a tree, unable to move.
"Dean, oh Dean. Your mommy didn't train you very well, did she?" the woman jeered as she circled Dean like he was her prey. "Why are they always women?" thought Dean.

"You know what happened her, whore," spat Dean. "Tell you what, I'll let you return to Hell where you belong and you release me and we can all go home for some pie, eh?"Dean looked at the woman with sarcasm written all over his handsome face.
The woman glared viciously at him. She stepped closer and opened her mouth. "Dean, I heard of your little 'request' at the crossroads, in fact it's the talk of Hell," she chuckled.
"Can I just ask you, why did you do it? Do you even know this father of yours, surely you must love him to go this far. Last time I checked, selling your soul was pretty high standard on the black market."
"I'm well aware of that, and I'm willing to make that sacrifice, I'm not as materialistic as your normal clients."

She looked at Dean lustfully and stepped so close that Dean could smell the mint off her breath.
"You could ask for anything, fame, money, the admiration of a nation dominating power," she cooed as she faced Dean. Her bare leg found itself sliding up Dean's body and she wrapped her arms around Dean, not in a loving way.

"But do you know what most ask for?"
Her mouth was just an inch off of Dean's and their breaths intertwined.
"Love."

And then she was kissing Dean, her mouth was cold yet her breath was hot and toxic. It wasn't pleasant to kiss a demon but Dean continued with the dirty deed. Lure her into the trap and then stab her in the back, that was his plan.
She suddenly pulled away, her head tilted back and forth and a sympathetic look burned in her eyes.
"Oh Dean, when's the last time you had a woman to call your own? It must be lonely living life on the fast lane."
Dean lifted his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"I get many women begging for the time of their lives every time I walk through the bar doors, many have called me the womaniser-"

"That's enough," crooned the woman. Her leg slid closer up Dean's body and she pressed him against the tree. A strap of her dress fell down and left her breasts unguarded. She smiled at Dean's expression and pressed herself closer to him.
"You like that, huh? I'll be kind and let you play around a little." She grabbed his hand and lifted it to her stomach, letting it slide further and further up her chest. At the moment he got his self control back, he slipped the spare dagger out of his sleeve and plunged it into her chest. The woman choked and an amber light glowed from her wound as her body crumpled to the ground.
Dean pulled the dagger back out and wiped the blood on his t-shirt.

"I don't fuck demons," said Dean as he walked back towards the Impala. He threw the rifle and gun back into the bag and climbed into the car. Bringing the engine to life, he drove back up the road to the bunker.

On arriving , he found the lights dimmed significantly as he marched down the stairs to meet Bobby who looked up from the laptop he was hunched over.
"Where the hell have you been?" he asked, his face scrunched in confusion.
"I got held up in town, thought I'd get the impala some new wheels while I was at it. She needs a treat too."
Bobby shook his head and smirked. He got up from the chair and turned off the lights.
"How many times do I have to remind you that car ain't a woman?" chuckled Bobby.
"Nobody puts Baby in a corner.We're married and you know it," said Dean as he sauntered off to his room.

Closing the door, he collapsed onto his bed and puffed out the breath he didn't know he was suppressing.
This was a risky game he was playing, and like all risky games, he had to play his cards carefully and wear a poker face. That was his plan for now, to play by the rules and keep a poker face. If he did that, it should all play out smoothly, he couldn't afford to fuck up anymore than he already had.