SPN one-shots

The Impala

And she'll sit there. She'll rust, fall apart. In a junk yard in a small town. Kids will pass by, run their hands across the rumpled metal that lost its shine after one too many rains. The grass beneath her, pale and dead. No one will look at her and give her a second thought. It'll be the car that's always been there. But really, there was a time, so far back that no-one remembers now, when two boys rode in that car. They drove for so long, all their lives, wheels hot, and the windows rolled down. Old songs, so old that no-one remembers the words anymore. So many memories cling to the falling paint, and the worn leather. About the two boys that loved her. Who were good. Who saved the world a few times. Who fought the monsters people refused to see. But of course, they were also the boys that died.

And sometimes the weird guy in the trench coat will visit her. Thats when the parents call their children back inside as the man sits on the hood, legs folded up beneath him. Just sits there unmoving for hours. Theres a rumor that before he leaves, he caresses her side gently and whispers: "Thank you, for taking care of them."

But then one day a person ran past it. He paused, looked closer, peered inside, circled it. And then he saw it, The oh-so noticeable markings on its body.

"Unbelievable." He muttered. It was only a story, an old fairytale his father had told him. A story of two brothers who saved the world, with a little help from some friends of course. He reached out, touched it. Felt the warmth left from the sun that had died long ago. For a brief moment he saw it: Two brothers, sitting on the hood, drinking a beer. And he smiled. Went on. But he didn't forget. Two weeks later he came back with a tow truck he borrowed from her brother. He didn't know why she was doing it, why it was so important. He did it anyway, took it home, fixed it up. And just for a split second, before he turned the engine on after so many years, he saw him.

Maybe you've seen him too. He's been there just as long as the car. An old man, an Angel they say. Standing guard in the shadows of the forest. And he realized, He'd been there all along, guiding him to this moment. He was gone in the blink of an eye. The only thing left of the lonely Angel, was an outline of his wings, resting on the trees of the forest, a symbol of his protection.

He turned the key and the old car roared to life. It's engine settled to a low purr and the radio clicked on. It began to blast a long forgotten song, the speakers humming in protest. The old music filling his soul as he pulled out of his driveway and she gave off a low growl as he drove slowly down the road. He drove until there were miles of straight open roads in front of him. He switched on the headlights and paused before gunning the engine until she was roaring in his ears and he tore down the stretch of road laughing. He could see the older brother doing the same, face alight as his brother flipped through a leather journal. The thought made him lean forward in the old leather seat and let out the throttle. The speedometer needle flicked forward even more as the car seemed to flatten out and lean forward.

"I see you're just like Dean." A soft voice came from the seat next to him. He jumped letting his foot off the gas pedal and slamming on the brakes. He turned once the car had stopped and there was the old man. But not quite as old, his hair as a deep brown and his eyes a bright blue. He was wearing a tan trench coat over a white dress shirt and black pants.

"You really are just like him." The man sighed running his hand over the dash.

"Who are you?" He asked hostilely. The man looked at him sadly.

"I am Castiel, I am an angel of The Lord.... and I fought alongside the Winchesters."