Fanfiction - Tales from the Metallicar [Oneshot]
Title - Tales from the Metallicar
Author - lightning_skies
Rating - FR15 (British Swears)
Fandoms - BtVS/Supernatural
Words - 972
Notes - Written for August Fic-a-Day Challenge at twistedshorts
Disclaimer - I don’t own BtVS or Supernatural, but season 4 comes out on DVD on Sept 1st, so it’s only a matter of time. Also none of the bands or music mentioned are mine.
Warning - Post S7 BtVS, Vague timeline Supernatural, Implied slash
Summary - How many strong personalities can you fit in a Metallicar?
The black Impala raced down the highway, grasslands and cornfields passing by in an endless stream of classic scenery straight out of a postcard book from the Midwestern states. Appropriately enough, the sounds of Kansas flowed out of the speakers, much to the annoyance of at least one of the passengers.
"All we do,
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see,
Dust in the wind,
All we are is dust in the wind..."
"Now, I KNOW you’re bloody well trying to torture me. First that AC/DC bollocks, now this shite.” Dean just smirked in his infuriatingly smug aren’t-I-just-adorable way at the irate vampire glaring at him from where he was sitting in the passenger seat. Sam and Xander had argued against it, but Spike had brought all of his numerable and questionably talents of persuasion, intimidation and blackmail to bear and there was no way Dean was giving up the drivers seat, so the younger hunters had been shoved in the cramped back seat.
“I dunno Fangless, I’m rather fond of the imagery.” Xander wore a matching smirk as he leaned forward over the back of the driver’s seat as they both sang along, enjoying Spike’s sour expression. Sam chuckled at the new turn to an old familiar argument.
“Dust in the wind, all YOU are is dust in the wind…”
“Right, ‘cos you are the picture o’ a reputable expert in all things music, whelp.” The bleached blonde gave a disdainful snort, “You forget- I’ve heard the rot you listen to in that sodding basement o’yours. Bleeding heart, guitar accompanied whinging.”
“Hey, Patsy has a lovely voice. At least it’s better than the Screeching Weasels, or whatever it is you listen to.”
“The Screeching Weasels?” There was definitely a note of morbid curiosity in Sam’s voice and even Dean looked intrigued. “There’s actually a band that called themselves the Screeching Weasels? Was it a self esteem thing or are they really as terrible as they sound?”
“They’re not as bad as all that. Nothing as good as the Pistols or the Clash, but not total shite like this crap here.” The vampire made to grab for the radio’s knobs, but his hand was intercepted and slapped away by Dean.
"Oh, Hell no. There will be no rodents, screaming or not, in my baby.”
In retaliation, Spike dragged his pack of Morley’s out of his duster and lit up right there in the car. He took a deep unneeded breath and petulantly blew a big cloud of smoke right into the faces of his tormentors.
Xander sat back with an exaggerated cough, waving his hand to clear the air in front of his face. “Hey, no fair. You’re the only one here that’s not gonna get cancer from that thing.”
“Dude, are those mentholated? Now, I’m gonna smell like minty fresh burning plastic until we get a chance to do laundry.” Sam whined from behind the vampire.
“We went over this already. Rule 3 - There is NO smoking in my car. Don't make me put you back in the trunk."
"Oi, do you have any notion how uncomfortable it is back there? Downright vamp unfriendly, it is. Like to see one of you lot try to relax all curled up next to that rack o' holy water. S'like I’m bunkin up next to a rack o' acid or summat, innit."
"It's a weapons storage space not Chez Vampire. It's not designed to be comfortable. In fact it's pretty much supposed to be as harmful to demons as possible. Present company included." Dean still had issues with the whole ‘souled vampire’ shtick, but he’d stopped trying to stake the blonde in his sleep.
He’d mostly decided that it really wasn’t worth the double trouble of twin sets of puppy dog eyes from Sam and Xander. Well, eye in the latter’s case. That one eye still managed to do the job of two though, especially when it came to guilting Dean into or out of something.
When the sounds of ‘Carry on My Wayward Son’ cut through the argument, Sam turned to his brother incredulously. “More Kansas? Jesus Dean, what is it with you and the best of 70s mullet rock? You weren’t even born yet when these songs came out.”
“S’right. Act like you’ve been around a bit, but yer just as much a baby as the whelp an the jolly giant.” Spike pulled the I’m-the-oldest card nearly as much as Dean used to. Sam really loved how much it pissed his brother off that he couldn’t use the automatic authority being born first gave him anymore.
"Shut up for a second." Dean shuffled in his seat a little as he pulled his cell phone out of his jeans. He glanced at the display for a moment before answering, "What's up, Ellen?"
The other three continued bickering in the background as she replied, “You boys are going to need to turn around. Ash says it looks like the omens and signs are moving north. Another woman was found beheaded in Sandridge two days ago. You gotta get this thing fast Dean, the killings are coming closer together now.”
“Yeah, we’re on it.” The tinny second hand music coming over the phone suddenly changed as the Allman Brothers Band abruptly gave way to what sounded like the Ramones.
“You brats so did not-” The line went dead as Ellen pulled it away from her ear to look at it speculatively. Hanging it up, she turned to look at the MIT dropout watching her from the bar.
"A souled vampire, John's boys and a one eyed Watcher traveling the country fighting evil together. That's got to be the punch line to some sort of cosmic joke. God help us all if they ever realize how much sexual tension there is in that car."
Author - lightning_skies
Rating - FR15 (British Swears)
Fandoms - BtVS/Supernatural
Words - 972
Notes - Written for August Fic-a-Day Challenge at twistedshorts
Disclaimer - I don’t own BtVS or Supernatural, but season 4 comes out on DVD on Sept 1st, so it’s only a matter of time. Also none of the bands or music mentioned are mine.
Warning - Post S7 BtVS, Vague timeline Supernatural, Implied slash
Summary - How many strong personalities can you fit in a Metallicar?
The black Impala raced down the highway, grasslands and cornfields passing by in an endless stream of classic scenery straight out of a postcard book from the Midwestern states. Appropriately enough, the sounds of Kansas flowed out of the speakers, much to the annoyance of at least one of the passengers.
"All we do,
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see,
Dust in the wind,
All we are is dust in the wind..."
"Now, I KNOW you’re bloody well trying to torture me. First that AC/DC bollocks, now this shite.” Dean just smirked in his infuriatingly smug aren’t-I-just-adorable way at the irate vampire glaring at him from where he was sitting in the passenger seat. Sam and Xander had argued against it, but Spike had brought all of his numerable and questionably talents of persuasion, intimidation and blackmail to bear and there was no way Dean was giving up the drivers seat, so the younger hunters had been shoved in the cramped back seat.
“I dunno Fangless, I’m rather fond of the imagery.” Xander wore a matching smirk as he leaned forward over the back of the driver’s seat as they both sang along, enjoying Spike’s sour expression. Sam chuckled at the new turn to an old familiar argument.
“Dust in the wind, all YOU are is dust in the wind…”
“Right, ‘cos you are the picture o’ a reputable expert in all things music, whelp.” The bleached blonde gave a disdainful snort, “You forget- I’ve heard the rot you listen to in that sodding basement o’yours. Bleeding heart, guitar accompanied whinging.”
“Hey, Patsy has a lovely voice. At least it’s better than the Screeching Weasels, or whatever it is you listen to.”
“The Screeching Weasels?” There was definitely a note of morbid curiosity in Sam’s voice and even Dean looked intrigued. “There’s actually a band that called themselves the Screeching Weasels? Was it a self esteem thing or are they really as terrible as they sound?”
“They’re not as bad as all that. Nothing as good as the Pistols or the Clash, but not total shite like this crap here.” The vampire made to grab for the radio’s knobs, but his hand was intercepted and slapped away by Dean.
"Oh, Hell no. There will be no rodents, screaming or not, in my baby.”
In retaliation, Spike dragged his pack of Morley’s out of his duster and lit up right there in the car. He took a deep unneeded breath and petulantly blew a big cloud of smoke right into the faces of his tormentors.
Xander sat back with an exaggerated cough, waving his hand to clear the air in front of his face. “Hey, no fair. You’re the only one here that’s not gonna get cancer from that thing.”
“Dude, are those mentholated? Now, I’m gonna smell like minty fresh burning plastic until we get a chance to do laundry.” Sam whined from behind the vampire.
“We went over this already. Rule 3 - There is NO smoking in my car. Don't make me put you back in the trunk."
"Oi, do you have any notion how uncomfortable it is back there? Downright vamp unfriendly, it is. Like to see one of you lot try to relax all curled up next to that rack o' holy water. S'like I’m bunkin up next to a rack o' acid or summat, innit."
"It's a weapons storage space not Chez Vampire. It's not designed to be comfortable. In fact it's pretty much supposed to be as harmful to demons as possible. Present company included." Dean still had issues with the whole ‘souled vampire’ shtick, but he’d stopped trying to stake the blonde in his sleep.
He’d mostly decided that it really wasn’t worth the double trouble of twin sets of puppy dog eyes from Sam and Xander. Well, eye in the latter’s case. That one eye still managed to do the job of two though, especially when it came to guilting Dean into or out of something.
When the sounds of ‘Carry on My Wayward Son’ cut through the argument, Sam turned to his brother incredulously. “More Kansas? Jesus Dean, what is it with you and the best of 70s mullet rock? You weren’t even born yet when these songs came out.”
“S’right. Act like you’ve been around a bit, but yer just as much a baby as the whelp an the jolly giant.” Spike pulled the I’m-the-oldest card nearly as much as Dean used to. Sam really loved how much it pissed his brother off that he couldn’t use the automatic authority being born first gave him anymore.
"Shut up for a second." Dean shuffled in his seat a little as he pulled his cell phone out of his jeans. He glanced at the display for a moment before answering, "What's up, Ellen?"
The other three continued bickering in the background as she replied, “You boys are going to need to turn around. Ash says it looks like the omens and signs are moving north. Another woman was found beheaded in Sandridge two days ago. You gotta get this thing fast Dean, the killings are coming closer together now.”
“Yeah, we’re on it.” The tinny second hand music coming over the phone suddenly changed as the Allman Brothers Band abruptly gave way to what sounded like the Ramones.
“You brats so did not-” The line went dead as Ellen pulled it away from her ear to look at it speculatively. Hanging it up, she turned to look at the MIT dropout watching her from the bar.
"A souled vampire, John's boys and a one eyed Watcher traveling the country fighting evil together. That's got to be the punch line to some sort of cosmic joke. God help us all if they ever realize how much sexual tension there is in that car."