By: Karen B.

Summary: Simply what the title says. A freak storm. White-line fever. A car wreck. A little bit of hurt Sam. A little bit of hero Dean. A little bit of Bobby -- and a little bit of crazy -- all mixed well and served straight up.

Disclaimer -- Not my fault Kripke's twister keeps sucking my house up into his funnel and dropping me somewhere Supernatural. Hope I don't land on the brilliantly-wicked man.

Note: Written 'cause I love the rain, and a good storm. This story is complete -- will post more very soon.

Sunshine always, even in times of stormy rain,



I opened my eyes -- wide awake and alert. Life sure could change in the twitch of... I glanced down.

"What the?" I looked to my left.

One minute you're rescuing Kelly Clarkson from the paparazzi and thinking of creative ways she could repay the favor -- the next -- you're sitting in the passenger seat, listening to Meatloaf's Paradise By The Dashboard Light, staring at your oversized, Sasquatch for feet little brother who just so happens to be sitting behind the wheel of your priceless, classic car.

"Damn it, just when the dream starts to get interesting." I stretched, sitting up and scrubbing at my eyes. "Utter lunacy." I dug around on the seat next to me. "We out of water?"

"Uh-huh," Sam mumbled.

"Man, I must have been in dreamland for awhile." I shivered against the chilly night wind blowing in through my half-rolled down window.

"Not long enough," Sam mumbled.

"Hysterical, Sam." I rolled my eyes. "I love this song." Cranking up the tune and singing along. "Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night I can see paradise by the dashboard light. "Clearing my throat, I glanced at the clock. "What time is it, anyway? One in the morning," I answered myself. "Shit. No wonder I'm starving to death." I cranked the window up, leaving it open just a crack and noting how jet-black everything was -- not so much as a streetlight. A thick fog rolled across the road nearly covering the double yellow line dividing the deserted highway. "Yikes, this weather sucks."


I dug in my jacket pocket finding my last stick of Big Red next to my traveling toothbrush.

"Where are we, anyway?" Unwrapping the gum, I popped the stick in my mouth -- chewing happily.


"B.F.E." I surmised, cracking a bubble.


And now our bodies are oh so close and tight. It never felt so good, it never felt so right. And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife. C'mon! Hold on tight!C'mon! Hold on tight!

"Boy, I'd love to see Kelly Clarkson by the dashboard light," I waggled a brow at Sam.





The universal signal for The Emergency Broadcast System put an end to my favorite Meatloaf song.

"This is a test, this is only a test," I garbled over the announcement. "If this were an actual emergency… you would be instructed to: put- your- head -between- your- knees- and -kiss your- ass- good bye, right Sam?" I laughed, darting a look at baby brother -- Sam wasn't amused, just kept studying the road ahead.

"Bro, loosen up." I stopped laughing, listening to the radio announcer.

"The tropical depression will seriously affect the entire listening area. With hurricane force wind gusts that could reach speeds of 60-70 miles per hour."

"That's going to slow us down."


"Residents are instructed to find shelter and stay indoors, stay away from downed power lines, and avoid flooded roads until the storm passes. Now we take you back to our regular programming," The announcer concluded.

"Damn it." Meatloaf had ended, and some chick named Patsy Cline took over.

'Crazy, crazy for feeling so lonely. Crazy. Crazy for feeling so blue.'

"Ewww, gawd, I'll go crazy if I listen to this song." I flicked the knob, turning the radio off.

We continued down the twining, long, black river of a road that was lined on either side with trees. Withered, crunchy leaves blew across the pavement, tumbling about, fooling Sam a time or two into thinking they were living entities as he veered to avoid them.

"Guess we won't be hooking up with Bobby or those beers anytime soon." I spit my gum into my palm, stuffing the wad out my cracked window.


I stared at the guy behind the wheel. That was one to many 'uh-huh's' -- native Sam for -- 'not tonight, honey, I have a headache.'

"What's your deal?"


"Hey, man." Sam was sheet white, dark circles underlining glazed eyes. "Can you talk?" I asked. "Speak-a-de-English? Seen my baby brother? Tall guy." I waved a hand over the top of my head for emphasis. "Tibetan Yak hair-do, talks non-stop -- like a girl?"

"Shut up, Dean."

"I like you better when you're Sleepy -- Grumpy," I chuckled. "So really, where are we, Dopey?" I leaned forward searching for a road sign.

Sam shrugged.

"You got us lost -- didn't you?" I questioned in annoyance, not seeing one road sign. "Mister, I can spin in a circle three times blindfolded, and still find my way to the donkies balls, is lost?"

"Ass, Dean. You pin the tail on the donkies ass… and I'm not lost." Sam ducked his head, in his lame attempt to hide his embarrassment. "Just forgot for a moment where we are, that's all."

"Uh-huh," I teased.

"Dude." Sam shot me 'the' look. "Like you never got turned around or missed an exit."

The wind picked up more, scattering branches and debris about the graveyard of a highway. My baby's tires crossed from pavement to gravel shoulder -- bumping roughly along.

"Damn it, Sam! Keep her on the friggin' road." I held on to the dash.

"Crappy tires. She needs a wheel alignment," Sam simply stated, easing us back onto the pavement.

"Sam, those are fighting words. Don't listen to him, baby." Ungluing my fingers, I gave baby a reassuring pat, relaxing back. "Your wheels are aces with me," I laughed, nudging Sam with an elbow jab, he didn't even complain. Just kept staring out the windshield intently. I stared too, wondering what he was seeing. " Hey there, you okay?" I got serious.

"Fog's thick," Sam uttered in a hoarse voice, squinting through tired eyes, and I felt the car pick up speed.

"Your head's thicker."


"Sam, how many hours have you been driving without a break?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"I'm fine, Dean," I copycatted, using a piercing whine that was sure to irritate my brother. The storm outside continued to blow things around and an eerie feeling crept over me as flood worthy rain began to fall. "You have white-line fever, man. I should drive for a while, pull over."

"You're not the only one who knows how to drive, Dean."


The wind grew stronger, louder, carrying the occasional branch, leaves, Kmart bag, -- flying monkey. I sat forward peering out at the winding road ahead. Something much larger came at us out of the darkness. "Whoa!" I slammed back in my seat, watching a large plank of wood narrowly miss the windshield, and sail up over the roof of the car.

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, staring at Sam. "You see that?" I asked, Sam didn't even look like he'd flinched.

"I missed it, Dean -- didn't I?"

"Pull over, man, before a house lands on my baby."

"No," Sam stubbornly argued.

"You suck," I shot back.


"Just do it."


"Look here, kid… because… I'm older and wiser."

"No." Sam half-smiled, knowing damn well he was grating on my last nerve.

"Not funny, man. You know I don't have a very high tolerance for that word, Sam, so pull the freak over -- now!

"Where do you want me to pull over to, Dean?" Sam growled. " I don't see a bar, strip joint, or all girls school anywhere near by -- do you?" Sam gave a sidelong look my way.


"I can handle driving in this, okay?"

"Okay, Jeff Gordon. Just… will you at least slow your Nascar-ass down. Crash and burn -- equals no checkered flag," I clued Sam in. "And try to avoid hitting anything that might fly our way."

Sam slowed down a few notches, per request, but the storm didn't. The wind whistled, the driving rain now falling like an ocean. If I couldn't see the road, I knew no way Sam could. I flipped the radio back on, only getting static. The headlights were next, flickering, then dimming, then going completely black.

"This does not feel like an ordinary storm," I mumbled. "Seriously, bro, maybe we should try to find…"

There was no time to find the Jolly Green Giant standing in the center of Central Park, wearing a hard-on -- let alone avoid the runaway bullet disguiesed as a large tree trunk heading our way out of the dark


Story is complete. Will post more soon.