By PaBurke

Distribution: The Nook

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended, no money made, no characters created.

Spoilers: Season 1 of Supernatural, all of Knight Rider.

Summary: It was always Sammy bringing home broken animals needing fixing, but Dean had the same soft heart. It just revealed itself in different ways.

Warnings: surprise angst, well, it surprised me

Word Count: 1200


Dean didn't know what it was about the junked '82 Pontiac Trans-Am way back in Bobby's yard that drew him, but it did. It looked like something had crushed the car and then sent it to salvage. It didn't have the classic lines of the Impala, it was newer. It also had a hell of a lot more electronics than cars half its age. He was never one for all the electronics in cars, it messed up the simplicity and beauty of a car's innards. For some reason, all the electronics belonged to this car.

Dean was stuck at Bobby's while he was healing from a thrice-broken leg (damned ghost). Dad was off on a hunt (no surprise) and Sam was off hunting normal (he was not going to think about that). Bobby didn't care what the hell he did, just so long as he didn't get into trouble. So Dean started fixing up the car. He quickly figured out that someone had at one time spent a lot of time and money making this car better than all of the others on the road. It wasn't a gas hog like the Impala and it had a lot of extras.

Dean just tinkered here and there. Taking it apart and putting it together as best he could. Bobby didn't have the electronics that he needed, so Dean went for a bit of a ride and found a place to suit his needs. Two hours of hustling pool made him enough money to buy three computers. He toted everything back to Bobby's and replaced or fixed every microchip that needed it.

He hadn't even realized that he had been talking to the car until it started talking back.

"You're not Michael," was the first thing the car said.

Dean scooted away. Idiot him, hadn't thought that he'd need his shotgun on Bobby's land.

"What's your name?" the car asked. Damn, it was friendly.

What was the harm in telling a car the truth? Especially one without any tires? It was possibly possessed, but with all the computers, he was guessing it was an AI. The car only started talking after he installed the sound card. "Dean."

"I am Knight Industries Two Thousand, K.I.T.T. or Kitt for short. Where is Michael Knight?"

"Don't know."

"I see from the GPS unit you installed that we are residing in South Dakota. All attempts to access the Knight databases are unsuccessful."

The car was actually starting to sound worried. "Dude," 'cause Dean was not going to call anything with that masculine voice a girl's name. "Check the internet to see if the business still exists."

"Of course," a slight pause. "This wireless modem you installed is actually faster than before."

"Computers have come a long way, baby."

"I will not respond to 'baby.' Please address me as KITT."

"How about BAC for bossy-ass car?"

"I prefer KITT."

"Whatever." Dean liked cars because they didn't boss him around, (or abandon him). He wasn't in the mood just now for a car to be talking. His stomach was growling and his leg hurt. He hauled himself to his feet (or foot since the casted leg was tied up in a garbage bag to keep it from getting too dirty) and hobbled to Bobby's house for lunch.

He managed to stay away from the talking car for eight whole hours. Dean sighed when Bobby went to bed, grabbed a shotgun and hobbled back out to the BAC.

The car was silent as Dean started puttering again. He fixed this and that.

Finally the car spoke. "Michael's dead."

Dean had guessed as much, probably the same accident that had killed the car, had killed the driver. Only, Dean was better at resurrecting cars than people.

"So is everyone at Knight Industries."

Dean just listened and worked.

"It appears to be a conspiracy. A bomb exploded in every office the day that Michael and I were…"

"That you crashed," Dean filled in.

"I do not crash," the car responded indignantly. "I was manipulated into sacrificing myself."

"Between how many semi's?"

"Semi's would not have created this much damage. We were forced off a mountain road to give room for bus. They also buried us in a rock slide."

Someone really wanted them dead. It was pretty much how Dean would have gotten rid of an AI car. Only he would have used explosives. Lots of explosives and then he would have dismantled the car and salted and burned everything.

"What am I to do?"

"Suck it up." Dean was so not having a chick flick moment with a car. "Find the bastards that did it, find their weakness and destroy them."

KITT was silent. "Money, of course, would be the easiest trail to follow."

"Whatever." Dean went to work on replacing the muffler.

They hammered out a system. Dean would offer a human perspective whenever KITT got lost on the electronic trail, but other than that, they stayed silent. Dean bribed the car into using the radio for some good music with the highest grade oil possible. He fixed whatever he could and scrapped what he couldn't. KITT programmed all the new electronics, so Dean didn't have to worry about it. The car loved the advances of the Internet. It had found the banks of Knight Industries and had started siphoning money to retrofit itself. Dean and KITT agreed that none of the new parts should come directly to the salvage yard, so Dean filled out the paperwork for a series of PO Boxes in conjoining counties and the car ordered parts and had then sent to one of the Post Offices in the area. Then KITT found out that Michael had had a son. He was quiet for days.

Bobby noticed how involved Dean was, but chose not to mention anything until the day he had gotten word that John was driving back through. Dean's cast as due off any time now and it would be time for them to go hunting again. He walked out to where Dean was putting tires on the already waxed car. He was impressed with the complete restoration of the Trans-Am.

"You giving up on the Impala," he asked.

Dean glared. "No."

"What about this?"

Dean shrugged. "It doesn't need a driver."



Bobby waited for an explanation but the Winchester stoic, stubbornness had set in. "Is it possessed?"

Dean smirked, looking more like the young man he had been before Sammy ran off to college. "Perhaps."

Dean was a hunter and wouldn't allow anything dangerous to survive, let alone help it along. "Boy."


"What the hell are you up to?"

"Mending a broken leg." He patted the hood of the car twice and Bobby swore that he whispered 'Goodbye.' Then Dean swung an arm around Bobby and grinned. "Are you going to cut this damn cast off me now?"

John came and left with his son. Bobby watched them go. When he went out back to put the Pontiac into storage for Dean's return, he was infinitely surprised that it was missing. Judging from the tire tracks, the car had driven itself away.

What the hell had Dean let loose?