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Traffic begins to slow an hour from the bunker, becoming in a matter of minutes a wall of solid red tail lights as far as the eye can see. Dean slams the Impala’s steering wheel in frustration, eyes glued on the rear-view mirror to make sure no idiot who’s not paying attention is about to rear end his baby. The oversized pickup behind him slows on pace with the Impala and coasts to a stop a half car length behind. Dean blows out a breath and relaxes a hair. He really doesn’t want to shoot anyone today.
Sam stirs groggily in shotgun, raising his head from its rest against the window and squinting into the late morning sunshine. He stretches as well as the confines of the front seat will allow and bats Dean’s hand away as it reaches for his forehead.
“I’m fine,” he says, a pronounced rasp in his voice the only remaining symptom of the raging cold he’s been fighting for the last week or so. “My temperature’s back to normal so stop mother henning me.”
Dean eyes his brother for a moment and then shrugs and nods. Sam’s not sweating, he’s got a little color in his cheeks and he’s not coughing up a lung. Can’t ask for much more than that after the plague like week they just spent holed up in a motel in Billings. “No more chicken soup for you, got it.”
Sam fishes a water bottle from the cooler in the back and takes a deep swallow. “Accident? Construction?” His gaze follows the line of traffic into the distance as it disappears up a hill and around a corner.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Dean sighs and switches off the Impala’s ignition. “Not moving even a little bit, so probably an accident.” Cars are whizzing past in the opposite direction and Dean gives them a sour glare. He’d pull a U-turn but concrete barriers between the lanes block that plan.
All around them engines are going silent as folks realize that they’re going to be here for a while. Sam opens the door and hauls himself out, leaning on the door a little too much for Dean’s liking. Sam’s not back to full strength no matter what he says.
"Well," Sam says, taking in their surroundings, "if you're going to be stuck in traffic there are worse places." He looks around and inhales deeply, only coughing a little as he exhales.
Dean nods in agreement. It's sunny but mild and a grass covered hill rises just off the road. On the other side of the moving traffic a meadow dotted with bushes sways in the breeze. "You got that right. Remember the six hours we sat on the Jersey Turnpike?"
“Ugh.” Sam shudders and coughs reflexively. “We were spitting up diesel fumes for days.”
“And the words we heard,” Dean says with a snicker, getting out to stand beside his brother. “Even I learned a few new swears.”
“New Jersey drivers certainly are, um, creative.” Sam peers at his phone in the sunlight and taps the screen as he talks. “Police account says a tractor trailer jackknifed with a couple of fender benders behind it. Might be some cargo spilled, it’s kind of vague. Going to be a couple of hours at least.”
Dean’s close enough to hear his brother’s soft sigh and notes the dark circles settled in under Sam’s eyes. His bed in the bunker is going to have to wait, but he can still be more comfortable than either standing or sitting in the Impala in the mean time. There are already people wandering up the hillside with dogs on leashes or small children by the hand. A young couple sets up a picnic basket on a brightly colored blanket. A trio of teenagers begins to toss a frisbee. Apparently Sam’s not the only one to access the police report.
“All right, let’s go.” Dean pops the trunk and digs around until he locates the tarp buried beneath a plastic container containing a few precious parts he’s managed to scavenge for the Impala and his tools. He pulls it out and grins at Sam. “Grab the cooler. Might as well be comfortable while we wait.”
“Dean,” Sam hisses, grabbing his brother by the arm. “We had a rawhead wrapped in that last week. We can’t spread it out where people can see!”
“Relax, Sammy,” Dean says, shrugging out of Sam’s grasp. “While you were curled up in your blankies sweating out your germs I went to the car wash and hosed it down. Clean as a whistle.”
Sam leans down and takes a good sniff. There’s a strong odor of disinfectant mixed with the funk of the Impala’s trunk and just the faintest whiff of barbecued rawhead.
“Come on, we’ve bedded down in stinkier places.”
Sam can’t argue with that so he grabs the cooler and heads up the incline, Dean close on his heels. They spread the tarp downwind of the other hill sitters and Sam makes a pillow of his jacket and flannel shirt before settling back and staring at the clouds.
“Wish MIracle was here.” Dean’s staring at a stacked blonde walking an even blonder curly coated labradoodle.
Sam follows his gaze and snorts. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“Hey, no need to be cynical. Miracle’s my bud and I miss him. He was expecting us back a week ago.”
“Uh, huh. Good thing Max is flexible with his pet sitting. Also, he’d make a great conversation starter with that very attractive woman over there.”
Dean just laughs. “I’d sneak him bacon under the table anyway, but he has come in handy that way a time or two.” He takes a beer from the cooler, handing Sam another water before twisting the top of and taking a long swig.
Sam lets out a long breath and looks around. “Nice, isn’t it?”
“What, talking to hot women?” Dean pretends to flinch as Sam whacks him with the back of his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s nice. Not often we get to hang with folks just having fun.”
“Mostly having fun.” Sam looks past a little girl approaching them with what looks like a butterfly net, to a pair of teenagers arguing near a beat up sand colored Toyota parked a few cars in front of the Impala. Their voices carry up the hillside over the cacophony of roughhousing dogs and children playing tag.
"I told you we shouldn’t have turned it off!” The boy waves his hands in the girl’s face before slamming one down on the car's hood. He looks about seventeen, worn khakis and a black tee shirt hanging on his skinny frame.“What if it won’t start again!”
"Would you rather we ran out of gas?”
The girl’s a bit older, nineteen, or maybe twenty. Her voice is just as loud but much less angry. “She seems like the reasonable one in this relationship,” Dean says.
Sam looks at him and snorts. “She’s wayyy too young for you, grandpa.”
"Yeah, yeah.” Dean eyes her form fitting jeans and the chestnut hair cascading down her back and sighs. “I hope Junior there knows how to handle her. Maybe I should go and offer some of my devastating charm and unmatched expertise in car repair.”
The little girl has just about reached them and she waves her net in their direction at Dean's words. “You fix cars?”
"Some cars," Sam says, dodging the butterfly net. "Is that car yours?"
The girl follows his pointing finger and nods. "It’s Matty's. Daddy bought it for him to drive to work but he's got to fix it up himself." She leans forward and lowers her voice. "He's not very good at it. Sasha's better but Daddy says no daughter of his is going to be a mechanic and if Matty wants to keep it he'd better figure it out. Sasha still works on it though, when Daddy's not around."
"Good for her," Sam says with feeling and shrugs as Dean shoots him a grin. "Father issues. The circle of life, I guess.
"I guess." Dean turns his attention to the girl. "What's wrong with your car, sweetheart?"
She leans in closer and lowers her voice even further. "I think it's haunted."
"Really?" Sam raises up so he's leaning on his elbows. "Why do you think that?"
"The lights blink on and off sometimes when we're driving. I saw on one of those ghost hunter shows that happens when places are haunted."
"Kelly!" The arguing older siblings have obviously noticed their sister is halfway up a hill in conversation with two strange men and are headed their way full speed.
“Nice to meet you, Kelly,” Sam says. “I’m Sam and this is my brother, Dean. Now you can introduce us when they get here.”
Sasha reaches them a few steps before her brother and pulls Kelly back a bit by the strap on her overalls. “What have we told you about talking to strangers?” She shifts her attention to Sam and Dean. “Sorry if she was bothering you.”
“No bother.” Dean crinkles his eyes as he smiles and she gets a little less tense.
“This is Sam and Dean,” Kelly says, gesturing at the brothers. “They fix cars. And this is Matty and Sasha.”
“Kelly was telling us about your car trouble.” Sam pushes himself into a full sitting position.
Matty laughs and tugs on Kelly hair, the same auburn as her sister’s, but in a short bob. “Did she tell you it was haunted? She needs to stop watching those silly ghost hunter shows.”
Dean couldn’t agree more that no one should watch that crap, but that doesn’t mean that, though it’s more likely a loose battery connection, the car is not, in fact, haunted.
Kelly’s looking at her feet now and Sam reaches out to tilt her chin up. “Hey. There’s a lot of weird things in the world and it’s good to keep your eyes out for them even if other people don’t believe.”
"Now,” Dean cuts to the chase. “Let’s take a look at your car.”
"Oh, no,” Matty says. “We don’t want to impose on you.”
Dean waves his arm toward the line of stopped cars. “Do you want to be sure that you’ll be able to leave with the rest of us?”
All three siblings nod and Matty and Sasha exchange a look.
“Dad will kill us if he has to come out here to pick us up and get a tow.” Sasha lets out a deep breath. “Yes, please, see if there’s something you can do.”
“All right.” Dean heaves himself up off the tarp and extends a hand to Sam, who ignores it and clambers to his feet on his own. “Sammy, I’m going to check on the engine and you check on that, uh, other thing.”
“You mean the ghosts?” Kelly brightens up as her siblings roll their eyes.
“There will be no ghosts in your car by the time we’re done,” Sam promises as he heads for the Impala.
“Grab my tools too, would you?” Dean grins as Sam makes a sarcastic bow before opening the trunk.
*
When Sam gets to the Toyota, Dean is already rooting around under the hood. He sets the tool box down and Dean digs around for his multimeter and takes a minute to show Matty and Sasha how it operates.
“Did you see how that worked? Which lights lit up? That means you’ve got a good charge in your battery." He hands it to Matty to try and then his sister, nodding approvingly as they do it right. "Most likely loose wires so we'll check those out next."
Sam leaves them to it, and with Kelly at his heels, opens the driver's side door and pops the trunk. He keeps her small frame behind him as he activates the EMF meter. Just because he's pretty sure nothing's there doesn't mean he's going to be careless. The reader stays dark and silent and they move on to the interior. With Kelly's wide eyed gaze following his every move he slowly goes over the seats and floorboards, finishing up with a thorough scan of the glove compartment.
"So far, so good," he says and Kelly gives a little sigh of relief. Just have to check under the hood when they're done up there."
"Ghosts are scary," Kelly says, clambering backwards off the front seat.
"They can be," Sam agrees. "But hopefully you'll never really run into one."
By the time they circle around to the front again, Dean’s got the loose wires hooked up correctly and is lecturing them on how to keep the connections clean. Matty’s taking notes on everything he’s being told and Sasha is leaning over the engine, shoulder to shoulder with Dean.
"Want to step back for a moment?” Sam gestures with the EMF detector and Dean clears the area, taking Sasha along with him. With the engine compartment gone over as carefully as the trunk and interior Sam is confidently sure there are no ghosts and Kelly claps her hands when he tells her so.
“Okay, start her up.” Dean looks like a proud parent when Matty gets behind the wheel and turns the key in the ignition. Sam thinks, not for the first time, that in another life his brother would have made a great high school auto shop teacher. The engine rumbles to life with no stutters and the headlights shine bright. “Awesome!”
Sasha gives Dean a high five and hugs her brother when he gets out of the car. “Dad is not going to kill us,” she says into Matty’s shoulder. “This time.”
“Where are you all headed?” Dean asks, exchanging a glance with his brother.
"Portis.” Matty disengages from his sister. “Thanks man, seriously. I don’t know what would happen if we got stuck out here.”
“We’re in Lebanon.” Dean writes his number on the pad Matty was taking notes on. “Only about a half hour from Portis. You two need help finding parts at a good price or someone to talk you through any repairs you just give us a call. Not a lot I like better than making an engine purr.”
“That would be great.” Sasha gives Dean a hug that he doesn’t return too enthusiastically under both brothers’ watchful eyes. “We will definitely take you up on it.”
"Can I come?” Kelly’s tugging on the hem of Sam’s shirt and he looks down into her hopeful face.
“Sure,” Sam says, though he’s got no idea why. Kids are really Dean’s thing. “We can hang out at the library while they work on the car. I’ll show you some not so scary ghost books.” Sam’s sure there are such books out there for normie children.
After the plans are tentatively made, Matty and Sasha go off with Kelly to continue her interrupted butterfly hunt and Sam and Dean return to the tarp. An hour and two beers later, when slow movement begins in the distance, they pack up and return to the car. It’s a while longer before their section of road gets started and it’s slow going even after they get rolling. Dean’s glad because it keeps him behind the kids until they turn off on the road to Portis, Kelly waving at them through the rear window.
"Well, that was the most productive traffic jam we’ve ever been in.” His day in the sun has put some pink back in Sam’s cheeks. “Definitely better than New Jersey.”
“Helping people, fixing things.” Dean raises an eyebrow in his brother’s direction. “Could be a new slogan.”
“Could be.” Sam glances at his watch. “I like it. Hey, if we book it we can still pick up Miracle before Max closes.”
Dean smiles, an uncommonly light feeling in his chest as he guns the Impala toward Miracle and home.