Author's Note: So, I saw someone get pulled over and it gave me the idea for this fic. I mean, the Impala has an arsenal in the trunk! What would Sam and Dean do if they got pulled over? This is set in Season 1, before the episode "Skin," so neither of the boys are wanted by the police.
I'm sorry if this isn't very funny. It's my first attempt at writing humour and it didn't turn out quite the way I planned it to.
I may add another chapter to this, with Dean the one drugged up. I'm not sure yet. For now it's done, so let me know if you want a second chapter.
Disclaimer: Sadly, they still aren't mine.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Dean hissed under his breath, glancing in the rear-view mirror at the flashing red and blue lights behind the Impala. Just what they needed: to be pulled over by the cops. He glanced over at Sam who was sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, a blanket tucked around him and a pillow under his head, resting against the door. They were on the way to their motel from the hospital, where Sam had just spent a week following a nasty encounter with a poltergeist.
"Just pull over Dean, it's only a cop doing a traffic stop," Sam's quiet, tired voice came from the depths of the pillow his head was leaning on. The words had a slight slur to them, a clear indication that the pain meds they'd given Sam were kicking in. Grimacing, he shifted and turned his head to look at Dean. "It's not like you were doing anything wrong. Old ladies were passing you."
"Yeah well, you'd complain if I went any faster," Dean replied, though there was no anger in his voice. Driving faster had bothered Sam, which was why he had slowed down. The younger Winchester had gotten nauseous. Besides, Dean was in full big-brother mode, which meant driving slow enough that nothing jerked, jolted, or bounced his little brother and caused him pain.
Slowing down and flicking on his signal (there was a cop on his tail after all, he might as well do it by the book) Dean pulled onto the shoulder and let his baby roll to a stop. He shifted into park and killed the engine, then rolled down the window and pulled out his license and registration.
A minute later he heard the police car's engine shut off and the crunch of gravel. "Good afternoon gentlemen," the cop said when he reached the driver's window, bending down and peering into the car.
"Beautiful evening," Dean replied with a charming smile. "Was I driving too slow?"
The police officer shook his head, producing a piece of paper with a serious look. "You were driving rather slow, but you weren't breaking the law," he replied. "The state of South Dakota is currently conducting a drug program on our roads. This is a warrant that allows us to stop and search any vehicle at our discretion."
Taking the paper Dean tried not to gulp, glancing over at Sam who was peering sleepily at the cop, trying to process the happenings through his exhausted and drugged-to-the-gills brain. Yup, pain were definitely kicking in.
"So you stopped us and you want to search our car?" Dean asked after a minute, hoping to stall the cop a little. There was one little problem with having the Impala searched: he couldn't remember whether or not he'd closed and locked the weapon's compartment. The rush to the hospital and everything he'd done was a little hazy; he mostly remembered Sam sheet white with pain and blood loss in the seat next to him. It wasn't like he had paused to check the status of the trunk.
He was kind of regretting that now and glanced over at Sam for help, needing another minute to think about what to do. Actually, he was hoping Sam was still in even remotely coherent shape. The kid was the one who had done pre-law, not him. He'd understand all the crap written on the paper.
Unfortunately Sam's sleepy, confused look had turned into a wide smile. "Dean, there's a police man standing outside the car," he stated seriously, his smile vanishing.
"Yes, Sammy, I know there is," Dean replied evenly, trying to keep his face neutral. "Just go back to sleep, ok?"
"No, not sleepy. What does the police man want?"
He was going to kill his brother, slowly and painfully, Dean thought when he looked back to find the cop staring at Sam with suspicion. "Sir, I'll need both of you to step out of the vehicle for the search if you don't mind."
The "if you don't mind" wasn't a request, it was an order, so Dean climbed out of the car and moved around to the passenger side. "Come on Sammy, gotta get out for a few minutes, ok?" he said, reaching in the open door and pulling Sam up by his uninjured arm, bracing him against the car when his legs started to give out. "Just for a few minutes, then you can sit back down again."
"Kay," Sam replied, his head rolling on his neck to face the cop. "Hi, I'm Sam," he said, his smile returning. Rolling his head back to Dean he pushed his face close to his brother's. "Dean, that police man has black eyes. I think it's a demon. We should gank it. I'll get the holy water, you get the exorcism ready."
Dean's eyes almost bugged out of his head and a quick look told him the cop's had. Sam probably thought he'd been whispering but he had been all but shouting. He shot a look at the cop to find the man giving them a suspicious look, his hand still resting on his gun.
"He ok?" the cop asked, his tone cautious.
"He just got out of the hospital. Hiking accident," Dean explained. Shifting Sam slightly he eased his little brother down to the ground, propping him against the tire. "Stay there Sammy, ok? Leave the policeman to me. I'll take care of it."
"Ok, Dean. You sure you don't need backup?" Sam watched him intently, still serious.
Dean shook his head. "No, it's a low level demon I think bro. I can handle this." Turning to the cop he shrugged in apology, putting on the innocent older brother face. "He fell down a hill; dislocated his shoulder, busted his collar bone and got a branch shoved through his side," he explained. "They gave him some heavy-duty meds for the ride back to our hotel so he's a bit out of it."
The cop nodded, relaxing slightly but not much. "Sorry to hear about the mishap. The hiking around here can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing." Moving around to the back of the car he motioned to the trunk. "Mind if I look in the trunk?"
"Sure, go ahead," Dean replied, tossing the keys over. He tried to sound and act casual while he frantically tried to remember whether or not he'd remembered to close the weapon's compartment. He couldn't look when the cop opened the trunk, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Mind telling me why you have a 20 lb bag of salt in your trunk?"
Opening one eye Dean stared at the cop, his mind in overdrive trying to think of an answer. "Uhh.. buddy of ours has a cabin in Wyoming. We're headed there. He asked us to pick him up a bag of salt for salting down fish." He prayed the lie would work. It was a pretty thin one, one of the worst he'd ever come up with. He didn't even know if they salted fish in Wyoming.
The cop seemed to buy it though, and Dean was about to relax when he pointed to something else. Peering in Dean realized it was a crucifix, two pine stakes and a jug of holy water, clearly labelled in Sam's neat writing as "Holy Water – July 2, St. Thomas Church."
"Well...you see...uh...." Dean faltered. How the hell was he going to explain why his trunk looked like Buffy the Vampire Slayer had packed it?
"Dude, is he a vampire?"
Spinning around Dean gave Sam an incredulous look. The younger Winchester was standing up, swaying slightly, staring at the cop with the calculated look most hunters gave their prey.
Hurrying back to Sam and grabbing the kid before he fell down Dean eased him back to the ground. "You are so not helping here Sam," he hissed. "He's not a vampire, and he's not a demon. Just sit here and be quiet before we get arrested."
Dean took a deep breath. "No."
"Rakshasa? You know they can disguise themselves as people."
"No, Sam. He's not a Rakshasas."
"Rugaru? Dude, has he eaten any raw meat? He hasn't tried to bite you, has he?"
Sam! He's not a Rugaru, a Rakshasas, a skinwalker, shapeshifter, or anything else supernatural!" Dean finally cried. "He's a cop, one who might just ship us off to the funny farm if you don't shut up!" It wasn't fair yelling at Sam, but his brother was really not helping matters.
Sam gave him a tremulous look. "I'm sorry, Dean. Don't be mad, please? I'll be good, I promise." A fat tear slipped down his face, followed by another until his face was drenched, his lower lip was trembling and he was blinking rapidly. "Didn't mean it."
God, just shoot him now. Reaching out he pulled Sam to his chest, patting his back and whispering that it was ok until he settled down. "Just stay here, ok Sammy?"
"Wanna stay with you," Sam replied, staggering to his feet when Dean stood and swaying dangerously, clutching at Dean's hand like he was five years old again.
Dean just sighed. There was going to be no arguing with Sam, not when he was high on painkillers. He always got clingy and emotional, wanting to cuddle and chick-flick over the moon. "Ok, but you have to be quiet. No talking. Let me handle the cop. And for God's sake, if you do talk, speak English," he added on an afterthought. The last thing he needed was the younger man speaking Aramic or Latin or starting some sort of exorcism ritual. Leading Sam to the back of the car he shook his head. "Kid can't hold his drugs at all," he told the cop with what he hoped was a convincing exasperated look. It wasn't hard, he was exasperated.
"Are you sure he's ok?" the cop asked, taking in the tearstained younger Winchester and frowning.
"Yeah, he always gets like this." Shrugging to get Sam's head off his shoulder Dean tried to ignore the constant stream of whispering Sam was doing, suggesting creatures the cop could be from a Rugaru again to a bugaboo that somehow made itself look like a person. The cop just stared at Sam with something between concern and humour. "He's got a degree in mythology," Dean added in an attempt to explain things away.
"Anyway, back to the search if you don't mind," the cop said after a minute of staring at Sam, and Dean nodded.
"The holy water and stuff was a joke. Same buddy who wants the salt. I figured we'd give him back his holy water and stakes so he can go play Buffy," he explained. Thank God Sam had given him time to figure out a response.
Nodding, the cop pushed around, peering into duffle bags and prodding at the sides and floor of the trunk, shining his flashlight around and doing a thorough search. Dean was relieved when he didn't find the closed weapon's compartment and sent up a prayer to any God that was listening that he had remembered to close it. There was a close call with the weapon's duffle but the cop missed it, tucked at the back under Dean's duffle bag.
"Mind if I check the backseat?"
"No, go ahead. Can I put him back in the car though? He needs to sit down," Dean replied. He jerked his head to Sam, who had his own head resting on Dean's shoulder again despite all of Dean's shrugging and was sagging considerably, already mostly passed out. Dean kept having to grab Sam's hand when he reached out to the Cop, looking like he wanted to hug.
"Yeah, go ahead. Sorry about keeping him out here," the cop replied with a nod. While he went about searching the backseat Dean re-settled Sam, slipping a pillow under his head and wrapping a blanket around him. He also took a second to slip his glock from his waistband and tuck it behind Sam in case the cop searched him, as well as the box of fake Ids which he'd left sitting on the seat. He didn't have any worries about his brother attacking the cop; the kid was completely out of it.
"Well, that's enough. Looks like you're clean. I just have a few questions for you before I let you go," the cop said after a minute, pulling out of the back seat with a wrinkled nose. Dean glanced in and wasn't surprised. They really needed to clean back there. Half empty pop bottles, fast food wrappers, crumpled papers and spilled M&M's littered the seat and floor. He briefly patted his baby, promising her a good cleaning before shutting Sam's door and joining the cop on the driver's side.
"First, I need your name and some IDs from you, for our records."
"Sure. Name is Dean Johnson," Dean said, producing his and Sam's most recent ID from the car. "That's my brother Sam."
"And where do you live, Dean?"
"Me and my brother are on a road trip, so we don't really have a fixed address." Taking the IDs back when they were handed to him he shrugged nonchalantly.
"Where are you headed to?"
"Right now up to Wyoming. Like I said a friend of ours has a cabin up there. We thought we'd do some fishing, maybe hunting." They were on their way to Wyoming, and they were going to hunt, just not exactly what the cop thought they were. But he really didn't need to know that.
"Alright, thanks. That's about it. Looks like you two are clean so you can head on your way." Holding out his hand to shake the cop glanced back in the car at Sam. "Take care of your brother now."
"Sure thing officer. Have a good Day," Dean replied. Climbing into the car he pretended to be fussing over Sam until the cop pulled away, then sagged in his seat with relief. That had been close; way too close.
"Vampire gone? You deal with it?" Sam slurred from the passenger seat, opening one bleary eye to look at his brother.
"Yeah, Sammy. It's all taken care of, now go to sleep," Dean replied with a chuckle. He'd have to tell Bobby about this one. Starting the engine he eased the car back onto the road, a wide grin on his face.