Figment of the imagination



Figment of the imagination

Dean was driving down the road after he had gotten a package from the post service. As usual he had music playing loud and clear from the cassette player. He was tapping the wheel while listening to the music and then he glanced to the back seat at the package that had already been opened. It had been found from the ruins of Bobby’s house and it had his name on it. So, of course Dean went and opened it.

He didn’t know was it the police or a new resident that had delivered it to the post office. When he opened it though a blast of some kind of a powder blow up on his face. There was a glass jar that was broken and the writing had already vanished from it. Good thing Dean didn’t worry about small things so he had just picked up the package and and left. Also he stopped by to shop while he was on the road back to the bunker.

As his focus was still on the back seat he suddenly heard a loud bang and the back right tire had blown flat. Dean gripped the wheel just in time but he still ended up in the side of the road to the grassy ditch. Dean grunted and slapped the wheel.

Dean: Son of a bitch!

He opened the door and stepped out. Well, this trip was going peachy… Dean took off his jacket and shirt as it was a warm summer day anyway. Seems like manual labor was in front of him so better to be prepared. He walked around and kneel to check the tire while he held on to the trunk.

Dean: Yeah, that is totally busted…

Luckily the car hadn’t gone through the wooden fence that bordered the road. Dean stood up and walked to the drivers side. He glanced the road towards where he came and to where he was going. Air above the road was making waves because of the heat. He opened the back door and picked up a soda from the green cooler and he flicked the cork off taking a gulp from the bottle. He wiped his forehead to his arm from sweat.

For what ever reason; maybe because it was a beautiful day or Dean just decided to relax a bit he sit up to the hood and lied there staring to the distance and drinking the soda. He closed his left eye and looked at the sun as he covered the sun with his hand while a sweat drop was flowing down his cheek. Eagle was flying around in the sky and there was only few small clouds at sight.

The dreaming ended though as his phone started to ring in his pocket. He picked it up , checked who it was and answered the phone.
Dean: Sam?
Sam: Hey, was there any trouble? You are taking a while to come back.
Dean: What, is Cas giving you trouble with the research?
Sam: No, no nooo, we are doing fine.
Dean grinned. He knew that tone with Sam. Cas was driving him nuts.
Dean: Anyway, no trouble at all. I just got a flat tire and I am just going to change it. I will be back in a bit.
Dean heard a car and it pulled in front of the Impala.
Dean: Sam, got to go. I got company.
Sam: Alright. See you later.

Dean jumped down from the hood and he put up his charming smile. The one that pulled over opened the door from the black 2-door 1986 GMC Sierra Grande pick-up truck. Dean glanced at the car and then up at the driver as a familiar and uneasy feeling crept up to him.

Stranger: You need some help son?
If it was possible Dean would have passed out on that spot. Second instinct was finding a weapon or anything to use. Or some holy water.

Stranger: Cat cut your tongue?
Dean: No sir… I mean I got a flat tire. I can handle it.

The man walking to him was the splitting image of John “freaking” Winchester.
Stranger: Lets get to it then. You have nice wheels. Michael Halen.
He offered his hand to Dean and he was still reserved and paranoid staring the man like a dumb struck. Dean was careful and shook his hand.
Dean: Dean… Smith… My baby is 1967 Chevrolet Impala. It was passed down to me by my father. It has 327 Engine and a Four Barrel carburetor…
Michael: A thing of beauty then. So, the jack and spare tire are in the trunk?

Halen was heading that way but Dean jumped between finally when he got away from being stunned for his father’s look-a-like.
Dean: I can get them!
Dean walked and opened the trunk just in time to cover all the weaponry from the drifter. He didn’t leave his eyes from the stranger for one second when he picked up both from the trunk. He also dipped the wiping cloth to holy water and kept it ready for a proper time. The rock music was still playing as both of them got to work to get the tire under the car. Both of them got sweaty while changing the tire. Dean offered the cloth to Michael and he did take it and wiped the sweat away. He also cleaned his hands to it.

This situation made no sense to Dean. “The man was not a demon but how could he look just like his father. Was he a shapeshifter? Come on Dean, focus.” He was thinking to himself.

Dean: I need to check something. Hold on.
He leaned inside the car and opened the glove compartment. He picked up some stuff and handed them backwards.
Dean: Can you hold these a bit?
He handed Michael some sweets, papers and his old silver ring on his hand palm. That didn’t have any effect on him either.
Dean: Found it. Thanks.

Dean picked up the lighter and put it in his pocket. He took all the stuff he took out back and then offered Michael a soda. He leaned on the side of the car while Michael gulped from the soda.

Dean: So, where are you heading?
Michael: Home. I was in a business trip. Brought these to my three boys.
He picked up something from his jacket pocket and tossed it to Dean. Dean jumped a little but as a reflex he caught the lollipop from the air. Michael laughed like his father.
Michael: I guess I can spare you one.

Dean took a breather and took the wrapping off. He put it in his mouth and smiled like Eastwood in westerns.
Michael: I guess you are good now?
Dean: Yeah, thanks for the help sir.

Michael grinned and walked towards his car. He stopped and looked back for a moment the smile fading a little bit from his face.
Michael: You better wash that powder well off your face, you hear. It makes you see things that are not there.

He turned and for a moment his face flashed different. Dean reacted immediately but his shirt was caught between the door so he turned to open the door and when he turned back the car and the man had vanished.
Dean: Dad?..

The road was empty again and weak wind had started to blow from the east. Dean stared to the distance and he had that old, young and sad look on his face that he gets when past comes haunting for him.

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