Monday, 31 January 2011
11:40:43 PM (GMT)
Dean jumped at a crash in the distance, it echoed within the squat. Someone had to
have been in the building, had they not been there wouldn’t have been such a
ruckus. He slowly sat up, looking around. He checked his flip phone, and then shined
it over at Sam. It was Two AM, a time he normally wouldn’t be up. Sam and Dean had
snuck into a rundown building and parked the impala behind it, and squatted in the
bowels of the building. He’d done this many times, though he’d rather have stayed
in the Impala but Sam protested against it because apparently after the heat broke he
couldn’t stand to stay in it after dark in such a cold area.
Dean grabbed his hand gun from under his pillow and held it defensively close as he
quietly padded along the cold, dry concrete to find where the sound came from. He
stood alert as he heard “Son of a bitch!” come from a few passageways over. He
slipped by, slowly, stealthily as to not make a single sound. He watched his
breathing, he couldn’t imagine letting anyone know they were there. Though the
Impala would be a dead give-away if someone went back behind the building. He
crouched behind a thrown desk, looked over it to see a shadow of a female figure. He
slipped by and called out, “Who’s there?” He asked, knowing well that they
weren’t going to answer. He groaned in slight fear, it was too late to feel safe;
“Dean? Is that you?” A voice called something so familiar it sent chills up his
back. But he didn’t know the voice; he couldn’t place it at all. It was so odd
and bothersome that it pissed him off. He saw a girl with long black hair come out
from behind a wall and look at him, “Dean!”
“H-Huh?” Dean started to the girl. She was naked, her skin was tanned ever so
slightly and her eyes were, they were glowing gold. “Who are you?” He asked.
“You don’t- Dean, it’s me.” Her voice was silky smooth, like her hair. It
was as black as his car was right after he took it through the car-wash.
Dean looked her up and down, “I don’t- I don’t know who you are.” He bit his
lip, trying to place it.
“Dean, you- You’re in me every day. I sing your favorite songs over and over
again, and you were there for me every step of the way when that asshole truck-driver
Dean had no idea who she was; she had to be playing tricks with him. Sure, he had a
lot of one night stands, and he’d had girls serenade him, but he’d never seen a
girl after an accident. He never slept with girls more than once, unless he was in a
certain place for an extended period of time. Then it dawned on him, but then he
thought it wasn’t true. His car- It couldn’t be alive, could it? “Turn
around.” He said.
She turned around slowly, Kaz-2y4 was branded on her lower back, and two demonic
traps were on her hips. She had SW and DW carved into her skin as soft pink scars,
and an army man tattooed onto her wrist. She was either a hard-core fan of Chuck’s
supernatural series or she was truly his car.
“I’m cold, Dean.” She said smoothly before setting her hand on his arm. Her
hand was chilly, as cold as metal, but it was as smooth as leather.
“You’re not- You’re not my car, are you?”
“Dean.” She said softly, brushing her long hair from her eyes. She bit her lip
Dean thought she was hot, no doubt. She had the figure of a model, but she was
built. She was muscular, especially her legs, and he loved it. She could probably
outrun the Olympic team, he thought to himself. He grabbed her wrist, “Come with
me.” He said, almost jerking away at how cold she was.
Making his way back into the room that he and Sam stayed in, he set his gun on the
ground and walked over to Sam before stepping on his chest and saying his name.
“Get up, loser.”
Sam sat up awkwardly, “yes?” he asked.
“Uhm, look at her.” Dean said as he motioned towards the girl, he found a
flashlight and turned it on, shining it on her. Her eyes dimmed down to a soft red,
Dean’s cheek curled. “She looks like anyone?”
“A pornstar? I got nothin’.”
“Sammy!” she said finally, getting on her knees and hugging him. She kissed
Sam’s cheek; Dean felt his body get hot with anger.
“Can you not do that?” Dean coughed.
Sam laughed, he knew his brother like the back of his hand. Dean was jealous.
“Anyway, who is she?”
“I’m Dean’s car, silly.” She said with a soft laugh before standing up and
looking at Dean, “Are you mad?”
He shook his head, “Are you sure, because I can tell when you’re mad.” She
said as she raised her arms to show the bruises on her forearms that looked like
someone had grabbed her roughly.
“I didn’t do that, did I?” Dean asked, his expression lightening up. “I’m
sorry babe.” He walked over to the impala, er, whoever she was, and took off his
Led Zeppelin concert shirt he had received from his dad, and pulled it over the
girl’s body. “You’ll need that.” He said.
Making his way over to his laundry bag he rummaged through the side pockets before
pulling out a bra and panties he “borrowed” from some girl back in Trenton.
“Here, try these.” He said to her, the bra should fit. Considering it was a D,
and she definitely had a set of airbags.
The girl didn’t decline, but simply pulled the clothing onto her body. She thanked
him with a hug before squatting down on the ground, “Dean, I need to rest.” She
said with almost an automated tone.
Dean nodded, “Right. He grabbed another shirt for himself, simply a brown tee
shirt from John when he was in the marines. He got back on the make-shift bed he made
before motioning for the girl to come over to him. He had her lay down with him,
wrapping the blankets around them and wrapping his arm around her.
“Night, Dean.” Sam said awkwardly before turning on his side.
“Goodnight Sam, Dean.” The girl said before falling asleep nearly instantly in
Dean’s arms. Dean just laid there, holding the chilly girl and thinking over the
nights worth in his head. He finally fell asleep somewhere around four, knowing that
he’d only get a couple hours more of sleep.