In which they hit the road.
[Cowritten with smart_alec494. Dean = hasperkynipples. Set after THIS.]
Alec would give Anna one thing. She knew how to travel. And she had made sure he had everything he would need by the time they left the Wal-mart. And it all fit into the duffle bag and back pack they'd also bought. He followed Dean and Sam out to their car.
He stopped and thought he might be salivating. Just a little.
Dean glanced back at him as he was loading the trunk and grinned. He never got sick of people gaping at his girl. Because he took damn good care of her, and he wanted to make sure everyone knew it. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"
"Hell yes. " He ran a hand over the glossy paint job. He didn't know much about cars culturally, but he knew what he liked appearance wise. He noted the model name. "A bit misnamed. She looks like she could eat most other cars."
"She probably could if she wanted to," Dean replied, offering to take his bag to put in the trunk. "But she's not the type. She'd really rather just drive."
He handed the bag off, but sniffed. "You sure 'bout that?" He raised an eyebrow and canted his head towards the trunk.
"That she'd rather drive?"
"Dude, I can smell the arsenal."
Dean smirked slightly. "Bag'll still fit, but if you'd rather have it in the backseat you can."
"Not saying it wont fit. Just saying that it's a lot of ordinance. I mean, admit, it's a little odd."
Dean shrugged. "You haven't started the job yet." He pulled back, picking up the false bottom so that they could actually see everything, then started pointing things out. "Rock salt buckshots for spirits and demons, silver bullets for werewolves and other shifters, machetes for vampires, flamethrowers for rugaru, changelings, wendigos. Regular bullets for the crazies who are just trying to kill you. Gasoline is for torching the corpses to get rid of the spirits, hex bags for poltergeists and to keep demons out, holy water for demons -- you never know what you could run into out there."
He looked, cataloging what was there and where it was. "The weapons I'm good with, though I've never had to handle a machete. Hex bags? Dude, you got a users guide for this crap?"
Dean bit his lip for a moment, before pushing through the junk and pulling out a journal. "This is my dad's journal. This is pretty much everything you need to know about anything supernatural."
He takes it with both hands. He can tell when he has something that is important to someone. He and his sibs all have very few of those things. And he'd left all of his behind. "Thanks."
Dean nodded slowly. "Just let me know when you're done with it."
He nods. "Sure thing."
Dean finished what he was doing in the trunk, before closing it and shouting it back over his shoulder. "Sam, let's get a move on. It's a long trip to Jersey."
"'bout 28 hours. Not to bad."
Dean shook his head as Sam came out of the house. "Still a long drive. And Sam takes forever."
"I don't take forever," Sam rolled his eyes. "And you just don't like Jersey."
"I've never really been to New Jersey."
"It sucks," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "The only good part about it? You can swear like a sailor and they won't even blink. Otherwise -- sucks. And it smells."
"It does not smell," Sam rolled his eyes. "You only think it smells, because everyone says it smells."
Alec cracked a grin. "I'll let you know what I think. My nose is better than yours."
Dean shook his head as he started to climb into the car. "Oh -- and the girls are ridiculously easy too."
"Dude. Stereotyping," Sam sighed. "This is why I can't take you out in public."
Alec climbed into the back seat. "Anyone is easy if you pay them enough."
Dean leaned over the driver's seat and gave him a look, before shaking his head. "They're easy without you having to pay them."
"Gotta say, I don't have much in the way of experience."
Dean raised an eyebrow slightly, and Sam looked at his brother. "No."
"What?"
"No. Just -- no."
"Do I want to know?"
"No," Sam replied. "Can we just go?"
Dean sighed, before turning around to start the car. "Yeah, yeah -- we're going."
". . .okay I do kinda want to know. Curiosity. Cats. you know how it is."
Sam was about to answer before the opening strains of "Misty Mountain Ho" started blaring through the speakers. Sam shot his brother a look, and Dean just shrugged, before starting to pull out of the driveway.
And Alec stops moving. And listens. One of those hazy memories trying to sift to the surface. Not of this music, but of other music. Pianos. And how much he loved it.
Dean had his eyes on the road, but Sam was watching Alec over the back of the seat, and he tilted his head to the side slightly. "You okay?"
"I. . ." He wasn't sure what he was meaning to say. 'I think I can play the piano.' 'I think I've getting some memories back.' 'I think Psy-Ops fucked me up.' He settles for "Who is this?"
Dean's head snapped back at that, wide eyed, before turning his head back to the road. "Led Zeppelin."
"I think I like it." There was slight pause. "Why did you look so shocked?"
"Zeppelin -- they're classic," Dean replied. "It's a very small percentage of the population who doesn't know who Led Zeppelin is."
"They're very careful in what we are exposed to culturally. Music, fiction, most media really, might give us ideas."
"Well, you're about to get a whole new experience," Sam smirked. "You're gonna need a pop culture reference book to deal with half the things that Dean says."
"Do they make pop culture reference books? 'Cause that would be super handy. Otherwise you're have to get used to me giving you funny looks."
"I don't think they do," Sam sighed. "I'll try to keep you in the loop as much as I can."
Alec nodded and then watched the road between the two brothers int he front seat for a couple of minutes. He waited until there was an empty straightaway. "I've never seen any movies either."
"Well, I've got the cure for that. Bad cable," Dean smirked as he turned and started to head onto the highway. "There will be plenty of that in the motel rooms between here and the hunt."
"I thought you were worried about the time?" People that were worried about how long something took didn't get motel rooms.
Dean raised an eyebrow slightly at that before, shrugging. "The motel we're crashing in when we get there, and if we decide not to drive the whole way through in one night, the one there. Have you ever driven for twenty-eight hours straight?"
"Driven? No. Not that long. But I've been up and moving that long. Drive, walk, fight, whatever. I'm solid for thirty six hours. Okay for forty-eight. I mean, I like sleep, but I'm okay without."
"Yeah, well -- when you're driving, you aren't up and moving. You're just sitting there, driving. After a while, you need to stretch your legs, get something to eat -- get a shower." Dean made a face, before jerking a thumb over at Sam. "This one always starts to stink after twelve."
Alec snorted. "Hey, never said I haven't held still for that long, just that I've never driven for that long. And . . . I'm just gonna let that other comment go. I apparently will need a translator for you."
Sam smirked, and Dean shot his brother a look, before shaking his head. "We'll probably grab a room for the night somewhere around Kentucky, then blow through the rest of the way tomorrow."
"Cool. I'm never stayed in an American motel room."
Sam tilted his head to the side slightly. "You've traveled overseas enough to make that distinction?"
"Yeah. I like French one's better. The architecture is more open."
"Well, don't expect much," Sam snorted. "They're nothing special.
"As long as there are fewer bugs inside than out and something between me and bare ground I'll take it."
Dean laughed at that. "Well, we do have a bit better taste than that."
Alec grinned. "Awesome."
"Glad you approve," Dean smirked, before kicking in the speed and roaring onto the highway.
Alec would give Anna one thing. She knew how to travel. And she had made sure he had everything he would need by the time they left the Wal-mart. And it all fit into the duffle bag and back pack they'd also bought. He followed Dean and Sam out to their car.
He stopped and thought he might be salivating. Just a little.
Dean glanced back at him as he was loading the trunk and grinned. He never got sick of people gaping at his girl. Because he took damn good care of her, and he wanted to make sure everyone knew it. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"
"Hell yes. " He ran a hand over the glossy paint job. He didn't know much about cars culturally, but he knew what he liked appearance wise. He noted the model name. "A bit misnamed. She looks like she could eat most other cars."
"She probably could if she wanted to," Dean replied, offering to take his bag to put in the trunk. "But she's not the type. She'd really rather just drive."
He handed the bag off, but sniffed. "You sure 'bout that?" He raised an eyebrow and canted his head towards the trunk.
"That she'd rather drive?"
"Dude, I can smell the arsenal."
Dean smirked slightly. "Bag'll still fit, but if you'd rather have it in the backseat you can."
"Not saying it wont fit. Just saying that it's a lot of ordinance. I mean, admit, it's a little odd."
Dean shrugged. "You haven't started the job yet." He pulled back, picking up the false bottom so that they could actually see everything, then started pointing things out. "Rock salt buckshots for spirits and demons, silver bullets for werewolves and other shifters, machetes for vampires, flamethrowers for rugaru, changelings, wendigos. Regular bullets for the crazies who are just trying to kill you. Gasoline is for torching the corpses to get rid of the spirits, hex bags for poltergeists and to keep demons out, holy water for demons -- you never know what you could run into out there."
He looked, cataloging what was there and where it was. "The weapons I'm good with, though I've never had to handle a machete. Hex bags? Dude, you got a users guide for this crap?"
Dean bit his lip for a moment, before pushing through the junk and pulling out a journal. "This is my dad's journal. This is pretty much everything you need to know about anything supernatural."
He takes it with both hands. He can tell when he has something that is important to someone. He and his sibs all have very few of those things. And he'd left all of his behind. "Thanks."
Dean nodded slowly. "Just let me know when you're done with it."
He nods. "Sure thing."
Dean finished what he was doing in the trunk, before closing it and shouting it back over his shoulder. "Sam, let's get a move on. It's a long trip to Jersey."
"'bout 28 hours. Not to bad."
Dean shook his head as Sam came out of the house. "Still a long drive. And Sam takes forever."
"I don't take forever," Sam rolled his eyes. "And you just don't like Jersey."
"I've never really been to New Jersey."
"It sucks," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "The only good part about it? You can swear like a sailor and they won't even blink. Otherwise -- sucks. And it smells."
"It does not smell," Sam rolled his eyes. "You only think it smells, because everyone says it smells."
Alec cracked a grin. "I'll let you know what I think. My nose is better than yours."
Dean shook his head as he started to climb into the car. "Oh -- and the girls are ridiculously easy too."
"Dude. Stereotyping," Sam sighed. "This is why I can't take you out in public."
Alec climbed into the back seat. "Anyone is easy if you pay them enough."
Dean leaned over the driver's seat and gave him a look, before shaking his head. "They're easy without you having to pay them."
"Gotta say, I don't have much in the way of experience."
Dean raised an eyebrow slightly, and Sam looked at his brother. "No."
"What?"
"No. Just -- no."
"Do I want to know?"
"No," Sam replied. "Can we just go?"
Dean sighed, before turning around to start the car. "Yeah, yeah -- we're going."
". . .okay I do kinda want to know. Curiosity. Cats. you know how it is."
Sam was about to answer before the opening strains of "Misty Mountain Ho" started blaring through the speakers. Sam shot his brother a look, and Dean just shrugged, before starting to pull out of the driveway.
And Alec stops moving. And listens. One of those hazy memories trying to sift to the surface. Not of this music, but of other music. Pianos. And how much he loved it.
Dean had his eyes on the road, but Sam was watching Alec over the back of the seat, and he tilted his head to the side slightly. "You okay?"
"I. . ." He wasn't sure what he was meaning to say. 'I think I can play the piano.' 'I think I've getting some memories back.' 'I think Psy-Ops fucked me up.' He settles for "Who is this?"
Dean's head snapped back at that, wide eyed, before turning his head back to the road. "Led Zeppelin."
"I think I like it." There was slight pause. "Why did you look so shocked?"
"Zeppelin -- they're classic," Dean replied. "It's a very small percentage of the population who doesn't know who Led Zeppelin is."
"They're very careful in what we are exposed to culturally. Music, fiction, most media really, might give us ideas."
"Well, you're about to get a whole new experience," Sam smirked. "You're gonna need a pop culture reference book to deal with half the things that Dean says."
"Do they make pop culture reference books? 'Cause that would be super handy. Otherwise you're have to get used to me giving you funny looks."
"I don't think they do," Sam sighed. "I'll try to keep you in the loop as much as I can."
Alec nodded and then watched the road between the two brothers int he front seat for a couple of minutes. He waited until there was an empty straightaway. "I've never seen any movies either."
"Well, I've got the cure for that. Bad cable," Dean smirked as he turned and started to head onto the highway. "There will be plenty of that in the motel rooms between here and the hunt."
"I thought you were worried about the time?" People that were worried about how long something took didn't get motel rooms.
Dean raised an eyebrow slightly at that before, shrugging. "The motel we're crashing in when we get there, and if we decide not to drive the whole way through in one night, the one there. Have you ever driven for twenty-eight hours straight?"
"Driven? No. Not that long. But I've been up and moving that long. Drive, walk, fight, whatever. I'm solid for thirty six hours. Okay for forty-eight. I mean, I like sleep, but I'm okay without."
"Yeah, well -- when you're driving, you aren't up and moving. You're just sitting there, driving. After a while, you need to stretch your legs, get something to eat -- get a shower." Dean made a face, before jerking a thumb over at Sam. "This one always starts to stink after twelve."
Alec snorted. "Hey, never said I haven't held still for that long, just that I've never driven for that long. And . . . I'm just gonna let that other comment go. I apparently will need a translator for you."
Sam smirked, and Dean shot his brother a look, before shaking his head. "We'll probably grab a room for the night somewhere around Kentucky, then blow through the rest of the way tomorrow."
"Cool. I'm never stayed in an American motel room."
Sam tilted his head to the side slightly. "You've traveled overseas enough to make that distinction?"
"Yeah. I like French one's better. The architecture is more open."
"Well, don't expect much," Sam snorted. "They're nothing special.
"As long as there are fewer bugs inside than out and something between me and bare ground I'll take it."
Dean laughed at that. "Well, we do have a bit better taste than that."
Alec grinned. "Awesome."
"Glad you approve," Dean smirked, before kicking in the speed and roaring onto the highway.