Nothing Else Matters

Mar 24, 2012 16:54

Title: Nothing Else Matters
Fandom: Supernatural, Transformers (the general premise)
Characters: Dean, Impala (Metallicar)
Rating: Teen and up
Word Count: 680
Spoilers: Season 2: All Hell Breaks Loose
Warning: crack, AU, swearing, angst
Disclaimer: I own neither Transformers or Supernatural.
Summary: Because there are some things that can't be changed.
Author's Note: Well this was so far left field for me to write that I'm not even in my usual ball game.


Nothing Else Matters

She knew it was coming.
            She knew it the same way she knew the sun would set and that the moon would rise. Not because the past dictated a rhythm to the day, but because if it didn’t Metallicar would have expected the sky to fall or that she was actually dead and hadn’t caught on yet. It was just the way things happened. Event A meant Event B would happen.

That simple process is what made Dean predictable about some things.

And as his car- the only one who had always been there for him- Metallicar had known from the moment Sammy’s lifeless body was placed in her backseat that Dean was going to do something stupid (A to B, Sam’s dead to Dean’s gone stupid). And if the decades she spent pretending she was just a car had taught her nothing else, it was how to be patient.

So she waited. And waited. She watched Bobby leave. She waited; knowing exactly what was in the cards. Knowing that- with Sam and John gone- it fell to her to protect Dean, to keep him alive and safe. Just like how he kept her safe and Sammy out of trouble. It was her turn to act like the eldest sibling she was. The waiting paid off.

When Dean stormed out of the ramshackle house he was crouching in, Metallicar knew it was almost time. Days of waiting, and planning (so much planning. Trying to figure out exactly what stupid thing Dean was going to do. She had settled on Dean trying to bring Sammy back- not through witchcraft but probably through a deal. Which would not fly) were about to pay off.

The door slammed hard enough to shake her entire frame. In the following echo, she locked the door silently. Dean didn’t notice.

With more force then necessary, Dean jammed the keys into the ignition and turned. There wasn’t even a cranking choke from the engine. A stormy expression built on Dean’s face, “Turn over.”

Damn, she hated when he was quiet and mad. That was always a bad sign. Then again, Sammy was dead. And if her oil clogged a little it was because it got cold at night. “No. Not when you’re going to do something stupid.”

Dean didn’t say a word, instead trying the door. It didn’t budge. “Let me out or let me drive.”

“No.” Metallicar repeated, and she would do so as many times as it took, “Not when-“

“Listen to me, you damn car. Sam’s dead!”

That stung. A lot. But whatever, Dean was upset. He didn’t mean it. “I know. But you can’t-“

“Shut up.” It was quieter than the shouts from before, and Metallicar fell quiet, “You don’t get it. Sam was my responsibility. It was my job to protect him. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“By doing what?!” She shouted back, taking full advantage of all her speakers,  “Huh? What do you think my job-“ Metallicar stopped. Dean wasn’t listening.

No. Dean was reaching around in his seat, stretching towards the backseat- no, under the backseat. She didn’t know what was back there that he could possibly want. There were only guns, bullets- regular and rock salt, and salt (the essentials, on the off chance the boys didn’t have time to reach her trunk).

Dean apparently found what he was looking for. When he turned back around a shotgun was in his hand. Metallicar was briefly worried he’d aim for one of her windows. Only briefly of course, because she knew Dean and he would never hurt her-

Fuck.

She did know Dean.

“I’m going to bring him back,” Dean said, loading the gun with a sharp click that echoed.

Well, there really wasn’t any options was there? Metallicar had no choice. She started, her engine rumbling loudly but not loud enough that Dean couldn’t hear her quietly say, “You do this and I’ll never forgive you.”

Dean placed the shotgun in the passenger’s seat, gaze lingering, before settling into his usual driving position. “I don’t care.”

impala!verse, metallicar, supernatural, oneshot

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