All the standard disclaimers….
Not mine. Never will be. Not making any money.
I just like to play with them!
Set immediately following the season finale "Devil's Trap"
The rain was coming down so fast and hard that it was virtually impossible to see more than a few feet past the hood of the truck. The high-beams were of little use, simply reflecting the rapidly falling rain back through the windshield and obscuring his vision even more. Even the wiper blades swiping across the windshield at full speed could not keep the glass clear long enough to properly determine what lay ahead.
All he could do was keep driving. And hoping that the road ahead was clear. That nothing lay ahead to impede his progress. Because the weather was slowing him down enough as it was.
As he sped onward in the suffocating darkness, he tried to ignore the high-pitched squealing of the wiper blades as they scraped against the windshield and the incessant pounding of the rain drumming on the roof overhead. Both sounds seemed to be taunting him. Mocking him with the knowledge that they were holding him back. And reminding him that he had to hurry. That he couldn't slow down. No matter what.
Because he might already be too late.
He had heard through the grapevine that they had gone to Jefferson. That's where the demon was rumored to be now. It had been in Salvation and they had tried to stop it there. But the demon had eluded them. So they had gone to Jefferson to search for it.
But that's where the information became clouded. No one knew why they had decided to confront the demon now. It had been well over 22 years. What would a few more months have mattered? Why couldn't they have waited just a little while longer?
At least waited until he contacted them.
He knew that they had been trying to find him. They had left voice messages, text messages, even tried to find him themselves. But he had avoided them. Always staying one step ahead of them and just out of touch.
Because it was safer that way.
At least that what he had thought. Right up until the messages had stopped when they left Chicago. After they had figured out that it was too dangerous for their family to be together. It had just seemed logical that it was probably too dangerous for any type of communication to continue. Because they all knew they were closing in on the demon. So, the fact that they had stopped trying to contact him had not been a concern.
Not until now.
Because now he was unable to contact them. He had been trying all night. But there had been no response. Not to his calls. Not to his messages. No one had heard from them. Not since they had left Bobby's house.
It was Bobby who told him what had happened and why they were headed to Jefferson. And he had spent the past two days trying to reach them on time. Before they found the demon. Before they confronted it.
Bobby was supposed to meet him in Jefferson. He was going to help him find them. And help them all defeat the demon. But he hadn't heard from him all day either.
And now he was afraid. Afraid for all of them. Afraid that the demon had found them. Tricked them. Or maybe even killed them.
He quickly swept those thoughts from his mind. Thinking like that wouldn't help. It would only make it harder to concentrate, to focus on all the things he had to in order to find them. And right now he had to pay attention to the road in front of him. To make sure he made it to Jefferson alive.
Because he wouldn't be any good to them dead.
He concentrated on the road, keeping an eye open for anything unusual that might be out there. Anything that might be on the road that shouldn't be. Because he knew that the demon would be monitoring his movements too. It would know that he was coming. And it would be waiting for him. Just like it had been waiting for them.
Most likely it would have set a trap to ensnare him.. Nothing simple and easy to decipher, but something dark and sinister. Just like it was. So he had to pay attention. And be ready.
Ready for anything.
The night was dark and the highway was quiet. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen another vehicle. The forest that surrounded the highway on both sides made it seem even more isolated and the darkness encompassed his truck, only halting where the headlights cut a path through the night. He was unfamiliar with this highway. He had never driven it before and the unyielding blackness gave the impression that an endless abyss existed just beyond the perimeter of the headlights' glow.
He caught sight of a road sign just before he passed it. A sharp s-curve lay up ahead. He removed his foot from the gas and slowed the truck so he wouldn't lose control. Still, he was going too fast and he hit the shoulder as he went around the first curve. He managed to pull the truck back onto the road before he made it to the second curve and he was able to complete the second turn without incident.
As the road straightened out in front of him, the headlights picked up the silhouette of a large object in the field on the right-hand side of the road. He slowed the truck to take a closer look and he recognized the object to be a transport truck. He could see the deep furrows in the ground where the transport had driven off the road. Judging by the cloud of smoke billowing behind the transport, the accident had just happened.
He pulled the truck to the shoulder of the highway and looked out at the scene. There was no one around which meant that the driver was probably still in the truck. Maybe he was injured – or dead.
He debated whether he should call the accident in to the local authorities. But, if the driver was hurt badly enough, they might not make it to him in time. So he decided to check for himself. Quickly. Before he ventured back on his way.
He exited the truck and was surprised to discover that the rain had stopped. The ground was barely even wet here. He must have finally driven out of the storm system.
He grabbed his flashlight and quickly surveyed the area. It was quiet and still; the only discernible sounds emanating from the transport. The transport truck was still running and the smell of diesel fuel permeated the thick night air.
"Hello?" he called out warily. But there was no response. So he cautiously started walking toward the transport truck. He went slowly up the side of the trailer, mindful that this whole scenario could be a trap. It was unlikely, but possible nonetheless.
As he got closer to the cab, he saw something else. Another vehicle. The transport truck had hit another vehicle and pushed it off the road. It was extremely difficult to see the car in the darkness but he could tell it had been hit hard. Broadsided and pressed tightly against the nose of the truck. One look at it was all it took for him to surmise that its occupants were probably dead. A car didn't stand much chance against an 18-wheeler.
So he decided to check on the truck driver before he even thought about the people in the car. He climbed onto the step of the truck and swung the driver's door open. He shone the flashlight inside.
There was no one there. The cab was vacant. The driver was gone.
He flashed the light around the small cab but there was no sign of the driver. And there was a surprising lack of blood anywhere in the cab.
Maybe the driver had gotten out to help the people in the car.
But no one had answered when he had called out from the side of the highway. And, surely the truck driver would have seen his truck as he approached the scene. If the transport driver was uninjured, he should have been watching for any approaching vehicles and met him at the side of the road. Or at least answered his call. Unless he was in shock.
He jumped down from the truck and proceeded over to the car. As he walked closer, he was startled to discover that he recognized the car. It was a black 1967 Chevy Impala.
Just like the Winchesters owned.
His heart jumped to the back of his throat and he ran around the car until he came to the driver's door. He bent down and shone the flashlight in the window. As he peered inside the car, he immediately recognized the blood-soaked driver. There was no mistaking his identity
It was Sam Winchester.
He quickly shone the flashlight through the interior of the car. There was a passenger in the front seat but the man was positioned away from him so he unable to determine who he was. The lone occupant in the back seat was leaning against the door, facing him.
He could hear a low, bubbling whistle coming from under the hood of the Impala. And he could smell gas. There was a good chance that the car would erupt into flames. And it might do that at any moment.
He had to get them out.
He grabbed the door handle on the driver's door. But it was stuck. He tried pulling on it to no avail. So he tried the rear door. He had to reach in quickly to stop Dean from tumbling to the ground when the door jerked open as soon as he lifted the handle.
As he held Dean securely in his arms, he kicked the door open the rest of the way so he could pull him out. He laid him gently on the ground before he dashed back to the Impala to get Sam.
He scrambled into the backseat and leaned over Sam's body so he could grab the door handle. He pushed against the door with his shoulder as he pulled up on the handle. Thankfully, the door opened. He got out of the car and went back to the driver's door. He carefully grabbed Sam and maneuvered him out of the car. He laid him down on the grass beside his brother.
It was then that he noticed a spark ignite underneath the Impala. He still had to get the other passenger out. But the car was wedged against the transport truck and it would be next to impossible to get him out through the passenger door. He would have to pull him out the driver's door.
He quickly made his way back to the car and climbed into the driver's seat. He could see small flames reflecting in the shiny metal of the 18-wheeler's grill. He knew it was only a matter of time before the flames spread and the car caught on fire. He had to get him out now. He yanked the passenger towards him. The sudden movement caused the man's head to roll towards him and he could see the man's face in the dim light.
He recoiled in the seat as he stared downwards into his own lifeless eyes.