The road so far...

[Dean Winchester]

”Nobody gonna take my car, I'm gonna race it to the ground. Nobody gonna beat my car, it's gonna break the speed of sound. Ooh it's a killing machine it's got everything! Like a driving power, big fat tires, everything.” Dean had decided to take his time on the drive to town and had switched tapes a little while ago. The windows were rolled down all the way to try and create some sort of forced breeze, Dean wasn't sure how gas stations figured into this place so using the AC was out.

”Nobody gonna take my head I got speed inside my brain. Nobody gonna steal my head now that I'm on the road again. Ooh I'm in heaven again I've got everything! Like a moving ground, throttle control and everything.” Dean was tapping his fingers on the steering with along with the beat of the song. It sure was quiet out here, usually he would have Sammy or Cas filling up the silence. This was different though, much different. They weren't heading down the roads of America to save the world, this time it was just Dean. As for the world? He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do to it, but he sure as hell was going to enjoy the ride. Whatever he was going to do he knew Sammy wouldn't approve.

Dean growled at the thought. No, this was his time to shine. No rules, no boundaries, and sure as hell no Sam to try and 'make him better'. Dean felt great, better then he had in his entire life. He was faster, stronger, he felt like he could take on anything and win! At this point he could probably take on God! Not the little gods he had hunted in the past but God God, capital G.

“Or at least the closest thing this place has to one” he growled before realizing he was starting to talk out loud. He was thinking too much, time to change the mix. Ejecting the Deep Purple tape and tossing it into the box Dean got a new one and popped it in the player. He listened until a familiar sound started off the song, he couldn't help but sign along.

”It's all the same, only the names will change. Everyday it seems we're wasting away...”

..............

“And I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back. I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back.” Dean was still singing along as his black Impala pulled into town. As he drove through the streets of town folks just seemed to stare at him, as if this wasn't the strangest thing they had seen. Hanging out the window as he drove, he started pointing at random townsfolk as he sang.

”Cause I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride! I'm wanted, WANTED, dead or alive! As the song finished Dean turned off the radio and pulled over next to a couple townsfolk. The duo, who were apparently playing checkers or something, didn't even look up at him. Dean was even sure that one of them had spit at his car! His anger started to rise to the surface, but he used everything he had to push it back down. Killing someone in the middle of town might have a slightly different reaction then in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't the townspeople that made Dean hesitant, he just had no idea how many so called 'Primes' were around. Then again maybe these other folks would want him dead just as much if he started causing too much trouble. It was probably best to get the lay of the land before raising Cain.

”Would either of you classy gents know where I can get a beer 'round here?” As expected all Dean got for an answer was a gesture down one of the near by streets. ”Right. Thanks.

Putting his foot down on the gas pedal Dean intentionally spins the tires, kicking up dirt and rocks at his less then helpful guides. A string of curses followed him as he drove down the street, at least he got them to talk!

It took him asking three other people on the way but Dean finally pulled up to what he assumed was the bar. He pulled the Impala up in front of one of those things you saw in Westerns, the posts where they tied horses up. It would do in the place of any actual parking spots. Getting out Dean locked the doors and went inside, heading straight to the bar.

”I need a beer and a freaking bottle of whiskey. The sooner the better.” Dean turned his back to the bar, not really seeing who the bartender was, to take a look around. There seemed to be a few folks here of varying sizes and colour. This place was getting stranger by the moment. When he turned to face the bar again there was still no sign of a bartender, but there was a beer and a bottle of something he was assuming was whiskey. Whoever this bartender was, Dean was starting to like them a bit! Now if he could only get a cheeseburger too.