Perdition

Part 7

"This bag weighs a fucking tonne." Dean mumbled under his breath as they entered into town. Most of the stores were shut up for the sabbath. The sidewalks were bare as the townsfolk gathered in their chosen places of worship. Dean had never seen such a religious town.

"We have better things to worry about than your bag." The old man grumbled, scratching at his old beard. "If they have the Impala then they have all your equipment and enchanters can be crazy sons of bitches."

The weight of the situation hit Dean and a black hole began twisting inside his gut. Bobby was right; they'd be screwed if they found all his gear in the trunk. He squeezed his hands into fists and his brow creased.

They managed to make it back to the motel in record time as the feeling of anticipation was beginning to claw at the insides of Dean's stomach. He hurried so the older man increased his speed to keep up.

Dean headed straight for the main reception where an elderly woman was sat with her eyes fixed on the old, crackling television on the desk. The back of the hunter's mind registered that she was so enthralled by a livestream of a church service.

"Have you seen a black Impala '67 drive through here?" He barked out before the woman had even pulled her eyes off the fuzzing screen. His green eyes bore into the side of her spectacled face.

She slowly turned her head as though her neck was controlled by mechanisms rather than muscle and flesh. Her eyes were cold and hard, marbles in their sockets. She squinted, suspiciously.

"What?"

Trying to hide his sigh, Dean spoke, "A black vintage car. Has it passed through?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Her eyes migrated back to the sermon. Her priorities clearly in a strict order.

The hunter had to bite back his tongue before turning to leave. He had some choice words for the woman but had better manners than to just speak them allowed.

---

"What now?" Bobby asked, allowing himself to rest the throbbing behind his knee caps by dropping onto his bed. It released a deep groan as the hunter put his weight into it. He pulled the bag off his back and his shoulders relaxed back into their natural position.

"I guess we will just-" He cut himself suddenly as though someone had stolen his words, "Shit, Sam!"

"And?" The older man frowned, creating deep creases in his forehead.

"Remember! I promised I'd meet Sam today and show him Baby." He groaned, messing up his hair as he combed his fingers through.

"Well, now you don't have the car so problem solved. Call up and cancel." Bobby wasn't usually one for playing an authoritative role when it came to Dean, he didn't want to become like the boy's father.

Dean pinched his lips together before a clear decision was made, "I'm gunna go up there and see him. If anyone could help in this town, it'd be Sam."

----

Bobby couldn't believe he'd been fooled into walking again but distraction came when they finally made it up to a huge house with large garden and driveway. The old man's jaw dropped. It was at least five times the size of his house.

"You work here?" Bobby hissed under his breath, fearful that someone might overhear. Was he even allowed on the premises?

Dean shrugged, he couldn't quite hide the pride that glimmered just beneath the surface, "It's a nice house." It was a good job in a nice house, he wasn't blind. He knew.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" The older hunter was hesitant. He wouldn't be impressed if some random man turned up on his door step so why should Mr Wesson.