On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville- a blue two-door Caprice.
There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car- no, the most important object- in pretty much the whole universe.
She was first owned by Sal Moriarty, an alcoholic with two ex-wives and three blocked arteries. On weekends, he'd drive around giving Bibles to the poor "gettin' folks right for Judgement Day". That's what he said. Sam, Dean, and Ellie don't know any of this, but if they did, I bet they'd smile.
After Sal died, she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a friend. I guess that's where this story begins.
And here's where it ends.
⁘
Sam was sitting on the hood of the Impala, drinking a beer and Dean and I came out to join him.
"Hey," Sam greeted us.
Dean and I were both silent, grabbing our own beers from the cooler. I hopped up onto the hood next to Sam while Dean just leaned against the side of the sleek black exterior.
"Guys? What's going on?"
"I'm in," Dean said.
"In with...?" Sam questioned.
"The whole 'up with Satan' thing. I'm on board."
Sam looked at his brother then over to me, not fully processing what Dean had just said.
"You're gonna let me say 'yes'?"
"No. That's the thing. It's not on me to let you do anything. You're a grown- well, overgrown- man," Dean said and I snorted. "If this is what you want, I'll back your play."
Sam looked over at me again.
"Hey, I already told you I'm on board. This is all him."
"That's the last thing I ever thought you'd say," Sam addressed his brother, attention back in that direction.
"Might be. I'm not gonna lie to you, though. It goes against every fiber I got. I mean, truth is... You know, watching out for you... it's kinda been my job, you know? But more than that, it's... it's kinda who I am. You're not a kid anymore, Sam, and I can't keep treating you like one. Maybe I got to grow up a little, too. I don't know if we got a snowball's chance. But... But I do know that if anybody can do it... it's you."
"Thanks."
"If this is what you want," Dean added. "Is this really what you want?"
"I let him out. I got to put him back in."
"Okay. That's it then."
⁘
Bobby and I were standing outside a warehouse that contained Sam, Dean, Cass and some dead demons that they were draining the blood out of.
"I'm still mad I'm the shortest one again," I grumbled as they emerged a few minutes later, Dean coming over while Sam and Cass loaded jugs of blood into the trunk of the Impala.
"Oh, you've always been the shortest in my book, Ellie Bear," Dean grinned, ruffling my hair. "But, I do gotta agree, I still can't get used to seeing you at eye level."
"So, was I right?" Bobby asked him.
"As always, Yoda. Two stunt demons inside, like you said."
"Did you get it?"
"Yeah," Dean nodded at the pair loading jugs into the Impala. "All the 'go juice' Sammy can drink."
"You okay?"
"Not really," Dean admitted, and I looked up at him. "What do you got?"
"Not much. These look like omens to you?"
Bobby grabbed a newspaper, handing it to Dean, and he angled it so I could read as well.
"Cyclone in Florida, temperature drop in Detroit, wildfires in L.A.," Bobby listed off.
"Wait. What about Detroit?" I asked, Dean's attention also piqued.
"Temp's dropped about 20 degrees, but only in a five-block radius of downtown Motown."
"Better get used to the chill, Ecclesia. I tend to run cold," Lucifer's words echoed in my mind.
"That's the one," Dean said. "Devil's in Detroit."
"Really?" Bobby asked skeptically. "As far as foreboding goes, it's a little light on the loafers. You sure?"
"Yeah, we're sure," I nodded.
⁘
We were driving along the highway an hour later, heading in the direction of Detroit. Sam and Dean were up front and Cass was asleep in the backseat, using my shoulder as a pillow.
"Aw, ain't he a little angel?" Dean commented, finding my eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Angels don't sleep," I replied.
"Sam, I got a bad feeling about this," Dean addressed the man in the passenger seat.
"Well, you'd be nuts to have a good feeling about it."
"You know what I mean. Detroit. He always said he'd jump your bones in Detroit. Here we are."
"Here we are," Sam repeated.
"Maybe this is him rolling out the red carpet, you know? Maybe he knows something we don't."
"Dean, I'm sure he knows a buttload we don't. We just got to hope he doesn't know about the rings. Hey, um... on the subject, there's something I got to talk to you two about."
"What?" I asked.
"This thing goes our way and I... Triple Lindy into that box... y-you know I'm not coming back?"
"Yeah, we're aware," Dean nodded.
"So you got to promise me something. Both of you."
"Okay. Yeah. Anything."
"You got to promise not to bring me back."
I voiced my consent, but it went unheard as Dean blew up.
"What? No, I didn't sign up for that!"
"Dean-" Sam sighed.
"Your Hell is going to make mine look like Graceland," Dean snapped. "You want me to just sit by and do nothing?"
"Once the Cage is shut, you can't go poking at it, Dean. It's too risky."
"No, no, no, no, no. As if I'm just gonna let you rot in there."
"Yeah, you are," Sam insisted. "You don't have a choice."
"You can't ask me to do this," Dean shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Dean. You have to."
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"You and Ellie... You go get yourselves a house. You have barbeques and go to football games. You two go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean. Promise me."
YOU ARE READING
She Talks to Angels | {BOOK 2}
Fanfiction-BOOK 2 IN THE DAWSON'S DAUGHTER SERIES- ___ It's been four months since Dean went to Hell, and they've all taken it pretty hard. However, when Ellie hears her angel's voice in her head for the first time since the attack, it starts a chain of event...
