Bad Company

Home : Stories by Mick : Supernatural AU : Bad Company

Summary: The Winchesters have a run in with a new set of hunters.

AUTHOR: Mick
EMAIL: mick@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG
CHARACTER: Carl Edwards, Jamie McMurray
SERIES: Supernatural AU
COMPLETED: March 27, 2008
WORD COUNT: 2,629
DISCLAIMER: If I owned them, I’d be too busy to write this stuff. Just fiction, folks. I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
DEDICATION: To my future hubby for his mind corruption. Enjoy!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is just the beginning, I promise there’ll be more. Consider this the set up to what’s going to wind up being a series. Completely AU, seeing as NASCAR boys aren’t popping up on Supernatural every week and I’m not sure where in the series this is going to take place yet.
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Somewhere between Little Rock, Arkansas and Muskogee, Oklahoma

Why it always happened on dark, deserted, backstretches of highways was beyond him. It’s just how things worked in their little world, their little bubble, and he learned to stop questioning it years ago. Every new town they entered, every new highway tore up in the Impala was just one more road for some grease monkey in a muscle car to come zooming up next to them, wanting a race. Wanting to prove their worth, boost their pathetic little ego just one more tick by beating him in a drag race that usually had his baby brother ready to piss himself by the time they reached the finish line. Most of the time, he just shrugged off the would-be opponent, but every now and then the cabin-fever, the broken record of mile after mile got to him and he just had to do it. Had to let his baby run wide open, feel the horses stampeding through him and out into the wide open blackness of the world around them.

Tonight was one of those nights.

They’d been on the road for hours, four at least, booking it from a hunt in Arkansas to another haunting Bobby had given them word of in Oklahoma. His eyes had been burning with much needed sleep, the hair metal blaring from the radio doing nothing to help keep from nodding off, and his baby brother was snoring peacefully in the passenger seat. The bitch. Were it not for his paralyzing fear of something happening to his car by handing the wheel over to someone else, he’d happily swap places with Sammy for a night, so it could be him well rested and bright-eyed when they arrived from point A to point B. Of course, just the thought of Sammy behind the wheel sent a sick feeling right through him and he knew that unless he was at death’s door, it’d always be him with his foot on the gas.

The headlights came seemingly out of nowhere. One minute the world was dark and the only thing he could see was the road within his headlights. The next thing he knew, a set of high beams blared into his rearview and momentarily blinded the elder Winchester. The driver of the car behind him was running wide open, the engine roaring magnificently. The sound sent a shiver down his spine and he tightened his grip on the wheel, peaking back in his rearview again. It was obvious whoever it was had no intentions of slowing down as their car hurtled closer and closer, leaving him with one of two options: Speed up or pull over.

Backing down wasn’t in Dean Winchester’s repertoire.

“…Dean?” Sam’s groggy voice cut into his silent war cry as he floored the gas and took off down the highway, watching as the speedometer slowly crept up higher and higher. They were nearing 95mph and his newfound foe was still right on his tail.

“Buckle up, Sammy. We got ourselves a live one!” Dean’s voice was thicker and raspier than usual, a combination of lack of sleep and adrenaline flowing freely through his body. The car behind him was accelerating faster than he could and in seconds it swerved out into the only other lane the highway had to offer; the one for oncoming traffic. Dean watched in amazement as the car, a vintage Ford Thunderbird, zipped by them and easily held them off for the next several miles. The guy was playing with him and it was pissing him off. Every time he thought he could get ahead, the T-Bird would take off again, leaving the Winchesters to suck exhaust fumes.

“Dean, would you slow down!? This is insane, stop it! You’re going to wind up getting us killed!” Sam’s pleading fell on deaf ears, and he cringed and gripped the dashboard tightly as they swerved along a curve in the highway. If one of the cars didn’t spin out, they would surely go flying off the road and into the dense woods surrounding them. He cursed loudly and attempted to tighten his seat belt as Dean swerved into the oncoming lane and attempted to pass the Thunderbird for the umpteenth time. Why his big brother felt that drag racing was a suitable way to pass the time was beyond him.

It went on for what seemed like hours. The sun was coming up by the time the Thunderbird finally backed off the throttle and signaled that it was leaving the highway. To say Dean was frustrated was an understatement. He’d been toyed with for miles, left in the dust over and over, and now his opponent was just going to give up? He was throwing the towel in and leaving him to just keep on driving like it never happened? His jaw tensed and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel even tighter than before and in a last second decision followed the Ford off the highway. Sammy was still pleading with him to let it go, to move on with it and get to Muskogee before the poltergeist could kill Bobby, but Dean was having none of it. If anything, he needed to at least see the face of the guy who had made a fool out of him. It wasn’t often Dean Winchester lost a fight, so when he did it left a bad taste in his mouth.

The Thunderbird pulled into a beat up looking rest stop a half mile from the highway exit. One of those old trailers-turned-diner spots with two rusty old gas pumps out front, and a bait and tackle sign dangling slightly askew over the door of the gas station’s tiny shack of an office. Dean pulled up behind it at the pumps, ignoring his baby brother’s incessant whining as he killed the motor and slid out of the Impala, his leather jacket keeping out the early morning chill of the Midwest. As he rounded the back of the Thunderbird, he could make out two bodies in the car, two guys who seemed to be arguing and oblivious to the fact that Dean was now making his way to the driver’s side.

What emerged from the Ford took Dean by surprise. Two men, in perfect unison, pushed their doors open, climbed out, and slammed them shut again. It was an unsettling resemblance to he and his brother’s mannerisms. The passenger was a twig of a guy compared to the driver. He’d obviously fallen out of the short tree and hit every branch on the way down, had spiky blonde hair, and his eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses almost as big as his head. His clothes were rumpled, a sure sign that they’d been on the road just as long as he and Sammy, if not longer.

The driver was the one to really catch Dean’s attention. Tall and sculpted, he had the body of an Adonis, a baby face that was no doubt misleading and came in handy during bar brawls. The sleeves of his t-shirt strained around bulging bicep muscles and icy blue eyes shot right through Dean with an intensity he’d never seen before in another man. He seemed to match Dean in height, a respectable 6’1”, but as far as brawn went, if it came down to a fight Dean was pretty sure he’d wind up knocked out with just a punch.

After several tense moments of sizing one another up, Dean felt the presence of his brother behind him, just over his right shoulder. Sammy was only two inches taller, but he always managed to make the most of the height difference, seemingly towering over his big brother as if it were six inches instead of just two. The short blonde came around to back up his driver, a move that seemed ridiculous and humorous to the Winchesters. The guy looked like a rodeo midget compared to his counterpart, and looked like he could cause about as much damage as one.

“Those were some pretty fancy moves you pulled back there,” Dean broke the silence, tilting his head back in the direction of the highway as he slipped Sammy some money to bring to the station attendant. His brother eyed the duo warily before making his way to the building obediently.

“Weren’t so bad yourself.” The driver of the Thunderbird mimicked Dean’s actions, handing his passenger a few bills before sending him off in the same direction Sam had just gone. He moved to open up his gas cap, eyes not leaving Dean, “Not so sure how bright you are, following us out here like you did…”

Dean immediately went on the defensive at the tone in his rival’s voice. If he wanted a fight, Dean would more than happily give him one. Even if he only got one hit in before getting knocked out, he wasn’t going to back down. This meathead didn’t scare him. He was too stubborn to know when to be scared off by another human. If demons, deadly sins, and ghosts couldn’t pull him down into hell, then no way was some protein-shake-drinking-gym-rat going to get the best of him. He balled his hands into fists, his arms and shoulders tensing, “Hey, you’re the one that-”

“Dean don’t start.” Sam growled under his breath as he started pumping gas into the Impala. Little brother to the rescue, folks! Once again, charming little Sammy Winchester comes to the aid of big bad brother Dean. He gritted his teeth and swallowed down his argument. Sammy was right; now was not the time to be starting a fight. They had more important matters to be attending to, like Bobby and his poltergeist. He snuck a look at his newfound foe, giving him the dirtiest look he could muster.

Had it not been for Dean’s growling stomach and his incessant need for greasy food, the Winchesters would have been merrily on their way. Unfortunately, this was not the case and Dean puppy-eyed his way into breakfast before hitting the road again. Sam sighed heavily as he followed his big brother into the old trailer, completely aware of two sets of eyes buried in their backs. They took a seat in a booth next to a window which gave them a view of the duo and their T-Bird outside, once again arguing amongst themselves.

“What do you suppose they’re going at it about?” As was his custom, Dean was once again talking through a mouthful of half-chewed food. On this particular morning it was a western omelet with extra onions and a short stack of pancakes, soaked with maple syrup. He crammed another forkful into his mouth before swallowing it all down with a gulp of black coffee and Sam cringed, fighting back the urge to hurl. His brother’s eating habits often left him with no appetite.

“Does it really matter, Dean?” Sam sat up straight, glaring at his brother, “You could have gotten us killed back there! For all we know you pissed them off and now those two idiots are going to tail us all the way to Muskogee!” He leaned in toward Dean, the irritation clear on his face, “All I wanted was one night of peace, not having to wake up parked outside some bar while you try to get laid or get thrown out by a bunch of bikers. One night without incident. Is that so much to ask?”

“Aw, c’mon now, Sammy. You know you enjoyed that little race as much as I did. Hell of a way to wake up, get the blood pumping! Better than any damn cup of coffee!” He slurped down the remainder of his mug and motioned for the waitress to come refill it for him.

Before Sam could reply, the little bell above the door jingled and the brothers were joined in their booth by the Thunderbird Duo. Not in the least amused by their actions, the Winchesters began to protest, a brief exchange across the table enough to tell them each was ready for this to come to blows if it had to. Dean glared at the musclemag centerfold seated next to him, giving him a menacing glare as he growled out, “Think you boys need to go find your own place to sit, pal.”

Disregarding Dean’s warning as if they were lifelong friends who had just met up for breakfast, the beefcake relaxed his arm along the back of the booth, his other resting comfortably on the table, “Name’s Carl. Carl Edwards. This is my buddy Jamie McMurray. You boys are pretty far from home, aren’t ya? Plates out there said Kansas.”

“What do you know, muscles here can read, Sammy. Pony up that five bucks you owe me.” Once again it was Dean’s sarcastic wit lighting up the room. He gave the occupants of the booth his signature smirk, holding his hand out to Sam for the money they’d never actually bet on. If Carl and Jamie wanted to start something, who was he to keep from adding fuel to the fire?

“Lookie here, Jamie. We’ve got ourselves a regular class clown,” Carl was quick to snap back. His counterpart cackled softly and nodded his approval.  This was going to get ugly, and fast. He straightened up in the booth, turning to better face the elder Winchester. There was a warning tone in his voice, deep and menacing, “It was a race, pretty boy. You lost. I suggest you get over it, lick your wounds, and take your boyfriend back to the car. Get out of our town and don’t come back.”

“We’re BROTHERS!” Both Winchesters exclaimed in perfect unison, with indignant looks on their faces. It never seemed to matter what else was said to them; as soon as someone insinuated that the siblings were a couple, all else seemed trivial. It was a peeve they shared, something they just couldn’t understand. Why the hell did everyone always think they were gay?

Jamie cackled again, looking Sam over purposely, “Mhmm, and I’m Mother Theresa. You two can’t fool us. I’ve got- OW!” The spiky-coifed man with the effeminate lisp suddenly howled in pain and hunched over  so he could rub his shin, “Dammit Carl what did I tell you about that?!”

One stony glare was all it took to stop Jamie in his tracks and he slumped down in defeat. Dean gave Carl an impressed look, for the moment forgetting just how annoyed he was with the guy sitting next to him. For several long, tense seconds, no one said a word. Instead, they all looked one another over, silently sizing each other up. Dean was the first to make a move, tossing some money down on the table.

“It’s time for me and Sammy here to be moving on anyway. Got some business to take care of in Muskogee. You boys have a good day.” He exchanged a look with Sam, who  nodded in silent agreement and followed his lead. They waited for Carl and Jamie to move from the booth before sliding out and heading for the door, not looking back even once. It was a bold move, one that said they were confident the two wouldn’t try anything, and by the time they reached the Impala they could both feel the laser stares in their backs.

In perfect doublemint twins synch, the doors of the Impala opened, two bodies slid into the car, and the doors slammed shut. The engine started up, the gas hit the floor, and the brothers zoomed out of the rest stop and back to the highway. Without looking at his brother, Dean tightened his grip on the wheel and proclaimed, “This isn’t over Sammy. Not by a long shot.”

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Mick - mick@cryptoffic.com