It all started the day I met him. Dean Winchester. He was the nicest guy I have ever hunted with, and I have been a hunter for almost twenty years now. He would always have a back up plan, same with Sam when Dean went away.
The Impala, it was never a sore sight, especially from the inside, watching as all other cars go by, wishing they could have been us, but they wouldn't know what to do if a Vamp attacked, or if a Wendigo go loose of in the Appalachian mountains, but we did. We knew.
Arlington, Texas. Arlington was where it all started. I was working a Vamp nest, but that was when I was caught sneaking around. Just as I was about to pull out my blade to cut his head off, I heard a thumping noise, and that was when my new best friend appeared, machete in hand, and vamp head on the floor. Dean had saved my life.
"Are you one of them?" He had asked me, with a serious tone.
"No, I'm a hunter. Just like you." I replied pulling my shirt down so he could see my anti-possession tattoo.
"Good. I'm tired and just want a beer."
"I would kill for some cherry pie though."
"Me too, but it looks like I already did." He had said with a sarcastic tone.
After we left the nest, Dean in his Impala, and me. Me in my 1970 Dodge Charger.
"Wanna race to the local diner for some pie?" Dean asked rolling down his window, while revving his engine.
"If you can keep up." I say revving mine back.
So we raced. We drove as fast as possible, as deadly and dangerous as we were driving, we still made it to the diner in one piece, with no accidents.
"I let you win." Dean said as we opened the doors to our cars and walked in. "Sam, you coming in?"
Sam looked as spaced out as anyone could get. We later found out he was starting to think about hell, after so long of being back in the real world.
