Maria says, "Hey," and elbows Sandy's side. "Look at that."

"At what?"

Maria points. "That."

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 is a black muscle car, parked up ahead on a grassy stretch of soft shoulder. Its chrome glints gold in the late afternoon sun.

It was ditched in a hurry; windows rolled down, rear tire half on the pavement. Weird, since the only thing along this leg of the county highway is an old township cemetery, long abandoned.

"Pretty cool," Maria says.

Sandy touches the fender, frowns when her fingers come away gritty, dust-covered. The car's filthy, has been out here at least two weeks.

"It'd be cooler if it was running," she counters. They've been walking for over an hour, since their piece-of-crap truck sputtered to a stop a few miles outside Sioux City. "Figures that the first car we see is a junker."

A gust of wind swirls around them, something that blows in from the cemetery, hot and stinking of ash. Weird, since the air has been still as death all day.

Sandy shivers; cemeteries creep her out. She says, "C'mon. Let's go."

"Scared?" Maria teases.

"We shouldn't have come this way." Their truck died on US 20, just as the county road peels off toward Cushing. It loops back to US 20 near Holstein, where Sandy hopes to get enough cell service to call their aunt. "We should've stayed on the highway."

Maria snorts. "And get honked at by perverts?"

"Whatever," Sandy says, shrugging. "If we don't get going, we'll still be walking after dark."

"Yeah, alright." Maria pauses, gives the car another once-over. Then: "Wait. There's a note on the windshield."

"What?"

"Yeah, here."

"No way," Sandy says. "It has to be a joke."

Maria leans through the open drivers-side window. "The keys are in the ignition."

A horn blares up on the highway. Sandy shakes her head.

As filthy as the car is, it's obviously been kept up. There's no chance the owner wouldn't try and sell it, even if it doesn't run.

"A joke," she says again.

Maria smiles at her. "Maybe we're finally getting lucky."

𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺. Sandy almost laughs. They haven't had a single stroke of luck since heading out to Vegas to find their dad. They blew a tire in St. George, and once they finally got to Sin City, they wasted the rest of their cash on a private eye that turned out to be a crook.

Sandy lifted a few wallets for the gas money home, but she only pulled in about ninety bucks. Maria danced over a weekend to bring in the rest, long nights at some smokey, sticky-floored dive miles from the Strip.

When they got back to Sioux City, their mom was drinking again. She started screaming at them right in the driveway, so Sandy pulled out and got back on the highway. They were making for their aunt's place in Fort Dodge when their truck finally gave up.

Maria's already in the driver's seat, so Sandy sits shotgun, her bag between her feet.

Baby's warm inside, smells like sun-baked leather and dust.

She starts up with a low growl.

"This," Maria says, roaring onto the county road, "is way better than walking."

Baby's low on gas, so when they hit Holstein Maria swings into a travel center that looks like an oversized barn.

She asks, "How much've we got left?"

"About fifteen." They'd used most of their stash to fill up their truck in North Platte. "Might have some quarters in my bag."

Maria waves that off. She says, "I'll take care of it," and climbs out of the car.

Sandy follows her out and into a late-afternoon heat that shimmers off the pockmarked tarmac. Sweat beads across her forehead, down the side of her neck.

Maria ties her tank-top under her bra, pulls her long brown hair over one shoulder. After a quick glance around the parking lot, she approaches an older guy a couple pumps over.

They chat for a few minutes. Sandy leans against Baby's hood, keeps her hand on her knife.

Maria comes back smiling. Sandy asks, "How much?"

"Fifty."

"Jesus. What did you tell him? That our mom needs a new liver?"

Maria snorts. "Like I'd give her a dime. She'd probably smack me if I offered." A jingle for buy-one-get-one donuts blares over the speakers as she continues, "I told him the truth -- that our dad disappeared and we hit a rough patch trying to find him."

"K."

"I'm getting a Coke while I'm in there," Maria says. "You want anything?"

"A pack of smokes."

"You said you were going to quit."

"Yeah, and mom said she'd quit drinking."

Sandy waits for Maria to pay, drumming her fingers on Baby's hood as she sweats through her t-shirt. Her collar clings to her throat. Her hair is a damp heat at the back of her neck.

Maria walks out of the store. As Sandy turns to the pump, she spots a guy watching her a few feet away.

He has dark hair, is wearing a heavy, shapeless trenchcoat in spite of the weather.

Sandy snaps, "Can I help you?" and reaches for her knife again.

"I'm sorry," the guy says. He has a voice like a rough patch of road. "I didn't mean to startle you. I was just admiring the car." He stares at Baby for a moment before asking, "Is it yours?"

"I--yeah," Sandy replies, her pulse pounding in her throat. She'd known it was a joke. She'd 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘵. This guy's probably the real owner, or knows the real owner, and now he's going to call the cops. "Mine and my sister's."

The guy blinks. "Your... sister."

"That's me." Maria's all smiles, but her body language says she's ready to smash the guy's jaw with her Coke. She asks Sandy, "Everything alright?"

"He's... admiring the car."

"It's beautiful." After a pause, he adds, "I'm glad someone's taking care of it," and walks away.

Stupidly, they don't check the trunk.

They don't see what's in the trunk until three days later, when their sharing a joint behind their aunt's shed. Sandy opens it thinking she'll find a blanket to sit on.

Instead: "What the fuck?"

"What?" Maria asks.

"Look."

Maria looks. "What the fuck?"

It's an arsenal. A 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 arsenal. Not just knives and guns, but machetes, daggers, stakes, rosaries, jugs of water, canisters of salt, an ancient-looking bottle of what smells like oil.

Maria stares at the stuff, open-mouthed, then walks around and yanks open the passenger-side door. She fishes around the the glove compartment, comes back with a cigar box and a handful of paper.

"She's registered to a Gregory Allman."

"What about the box?"

"IDs," Maria replies, shuffling through them. "Lots of IDs. FBI, NSA, Forest Service, DHS. Two guys and like... twenty different names." She holds one up, turns it until it catches the light from the porch. "They're kinda hot. Old, though."

Sandy snorts and shoves Maria's shoulder. Then: "You think they were criminals?"

"Scammers, probably. Like us."

"We've never hurt anybody," Sandy says, although that's not entirely true.

(A few bar fights. A few hustles that ended with Sandy showing a knife. That one handsy douchebag that Maria cold-cocked with a pool cue)

"We've got to get rid of it," Sandy insists.

"Yeah." Pausing, Maria relights their dead joint. "You know that guy I go out with sometimes? Martin?"

"Yeah."

"He's got some land near Storm Lake," Maria says, smoke trailing from her mouth. "We could take it up there and bury it."

They never get around to burying it.

Their mom calls the next day, swearing she's sorry and sober. Sandy doesn't believe it--hasn't believe anything their mom's said in the last ten years--but Maria 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 to believe it, so they climb into Baby and drive to Sioux City.

But their mom is their mom: she's on the porch with a beer in her hand when they pull up, and she picks a fight about Baby, wants to know what happened to their truck. They didn't bother going back for it; Sandy figures DOT has towed it by now.

"That was your father's truck," she slurs, like Sandy and Maria have somehow forgot. "He supported this family with that truck."

He'd hauled scrap metal after his job at the factory and on weekends, and their mom had always complained about how little money he made doing it.

"C'mon," Sandy tells Maria. The sun is setting, streaking the sky pink and purple. "Let's get out of here."

A siren wails in the distance. Maria says, "Yeah, let's go," and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand.

They end up at one of the crappier bars on 7th, looking to make some money. Pool pickings are pretty slim, so Sandy waits out the guy chatting up Maria. Once he starts swaying on his stool, she pinches his wallet.

They leave through the back door, heading into the alley that threads between the bar and a no-tell motel with a broken, buzzing sign. The motel's dumpster is overflowing, buzzing with flies.

Two guys in jeans and leather jackets are standing beside Baby.

"I thought they were dead," the tall, blond one says. "Like, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 this time."

His red-haired pal shrugs. "Who knows. I mean, there are rumors about them dying every other month."

Tall Blond says, "Yeah, but," but cuts off as Sandy and Maria approach. He looks them up and down and says, "Hello, ladies. Looking for some fun?"

"No," Sandy says, reaching for her knife. "We're just here to get our car."

Ginger makes a noise in his throat. "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 car?"

"Yeah," Maria snaps. "𝘖𝘶𝘳 car."

"What about the Winchesters?"

"Who?"

"The Winchesters."

Slowly, Sandy starts easing her knife out of her pocket. "We don't know any Winchesters."

Tall Blond snarls, "Sure, you do," and flashes a mouthful of sharp, impossible teeth.

Sandy freezes; she doesn't understand what she's seeing. Her knife clatters to the ground. Maria takes a stutter-step back and grabs at Sandy's arm.

Before the men can speak, a rough, almost-familiar voice barks, "Get away from them."

It's the weird guy from the travel center, still wearing the same shapeless trenchcoat.

"You," Ginger says warily. "You're supposed to be dead."

"I was," Trenchcoat replies. "Now I'm not."

"What about your boyfriend? And his brother?"

"Currently, they're indisposed."

"So, dead."

Trenchcoat says, "I'm working on it," and grabs both of them by the throat.

The air crackles, shifts. After a beat, blinding streaks of blue-white light start flaring out of them, searing their eyes and noses and mouths.

Another beat, and another. Trenchcoat drops the bodies on the ground.

He wipes his hands on his coat as he asks, "Are you all right?"

"What--what were they?" Sandy asks. She feels like she's shaking out of her skin. "What are 𝘺𝘰𝘶?"

"Don't worry about that right now. You need to get out of here."

Maria stares at him for a second. Then: "Have you been following us?"

"Yes," he says flatly.

"Why?"

He gestures at Baby. "This car belonged to--"

"--your boyfriend," Sandy cuts in. She's still shaking. "We heard."

Trenchcoat just continues: "It belonged to some friends of mine. They were... well-know in certain circles. I've been worried it would attract unwanted attention."

Silence. A train whistle whines to the south. Slowly, Sandy tries to breathe her pulse back to normal. Beside her, Maria is wide-eyed, white around the mouth."

Trenchcoat says, "I'm giving you an address for a woman named Jody. She'll help you. Tell her Castiel sent you."

Whoever Jody is, she lives ninety-miles away in Sioux Falls. By the time Sandy and Maria get there, it's almost three in the morning--way too late to be banging on a stranger's door.

As they pass the Biggerson's off I-29, Sandy nudges Maria's arm and says, "Pull in here."

"Why?"

"We should eat something. Chill here 'till the sun comes up."

They grab a booth by the window, order some chicken strips and cheese sticks. When the food comes, the greasy smell turns Sandy's anxious stomach.

She cradles her coffee in both hands, doesn't really drink it. Nearly an hour passes before she works up the nerve to say, "The teeth. Did you--?"

Maria just looks at her.

"Maria," Sandy whispers. "What the fuck were those things?"

"Vampires," someone says.

It's a chick about nineteen or twenty with a leather jacket and a lot of blonde hair. "Hi. I'm Claire. And this --" she gestures to the shorter, dark-haired woman behind her "--is my girlfriend, Kaia. Cas called ahead. He though you'd be to spooked to ring our doorbell so late."

"And you... came here?" Maria asks.

Claire laughs. "Not much else is open this late in this crappy town. It was this or the Denny's, and the car kinda gave you away."

"That fucking car," Sandy mutters.

Claire says, "Sweet, isn't it?" and glances at Baby through the window. "I asked Dean if I could drive it once and he told me to go to Hell. Mind if we sit?"

Before Sandy can respond, Kaia slides in beside Maria. Claire snags a nearby chair and plops down blocking the aisle.

Maria fiddles with her coffee as she says, "So, the trenchcoat guy--"

"Cas."

"Cas. He--what is he?"

Claire hesitates for a second. Then: "He's an angel."

"I," Sandy says. A few beats pass before anything else comes out. "Like... an 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭? From--?"

"From Heaven, yeah. Although, he doesn't spend much time up there." Claire rolls her chair closer to Kaia, rests her hand on Kaia's thigh. "That's probably why he's relaxed a little over the years."

Sandy blinks. That's--𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? "Relaxed?"

"Trust me, he used to be really, really uptight."

"He nuked some dudes right in front of us."

Claire shrugs. "If he hadn't, you'd be vamp food right now."

"Vampires," Maria says slowly. She looks white around the mouth again. "Like... Twilight?"

Kaia snorts. "No, like 𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴. Real, actual bloodsuckers."

"That," Sandy starts, "that's--"

"Not possible?" Kaia finishes.

"Look," Claire says. "Cas thought you'd take it better from me, but there's really no easy way to have this conversation. But you haven't been possessed by an angel so he can fight the demon possessing your mother, so you're already doing better than me. And I was like, eleven."

Kaia snorts again and pinches Claire's arm. "What she's trying to say it, there are monsters in this world. Ghosts, werewolves, shapeshifters, ghouls.. All kinds of terrible things. And the guys that owned that car--Dean and Sam--they fought those things for a living."

"So do we," Claire adds. "And so does Jody, who's--she's pretty much my mom. She says you can crash at our place until we figure out what to do about the car."

"What about the car?" Maria asks.

"Sam and Dean--they were like... the best in the business," Claire explains. "And that car isn't exactly subtle. There isn't a monster alive who doesn't know about it. As long as you're driving it, you'll have a target on your back."

Exhausted, Sandy says, "Take it," and gestures for Maria to hand over the keys. The wallet she lifted tonight was pretty fat; they can afford bus tickets home. "Just take it."

"Yeah, not so fast," Kaia says. "Those vamps had a buddy working at that bar. And he skipped out before Cas could go back for him."

"C'mon," Claire says, standing. "Jody lives just up the street."

Jody turns out to be a short-haired woman pushing fifty who is unbothered by strangers showing up at her house at the asscrack of dawn.

"I'm a sheriff in real life," she explains, her voice cracking around a yawn. "I honestly get more sleep when I'm hunting."

As she ushers them in, she asks, "Bed or breakfast?"

"I vote breakfast," Claire says.

"My other daughter's vegan," Jody explains, "so we have real bacon and fake bacon. Real eggs and fake eggs. Bagels with real cream cheese and fake cream cheese."

"The cream cheese is weird and gross," Claire warns.

A voice down the hall says, "I heard that," followed by a dark-haired woman wearing scrubs. She continues, "Hi, you must be the new girls. I made up the hide-a-bed in the den. You'll have to share, but it's a queen."

Sandy opens her mouth. Closes it. Maria saves her by saying, "Thanks," in a strained voice.

Kaia brews a pot of coffee. Jody, Claire, and Alex cook. It's warm and domestic in a way Sandy hasn't know since she was ten and her mom first started crawling inside a bottle.

Halfway through breakfast, the doorbell rings. It's the angel, Cas, who bustles in with soot on his trenchcoat and a plastic Save-A-Lot bag in his hand.

"Dude," Claire says, looking him up and down. "Where've you been?"

"Hell," Cas replies, like that's perfectly normal.

And it must be: Jody doesn't even blink as she says, "Since you're alone, I'm guessing the boys weren't down there?"

"No. And Rowena hasn't heard anything on the demon... grapevine."

"And they're not in Heaven?"

"That's what Jack said."

"What about the Empty?" Claire asks.

Cas shakes his head. "The Empty wouldn't hold a human, not even to spite me. Besides, I believe I would've sensed them while I was there."

"Dean, anyway," Claire murmurs.

Cas shoots her a look, but she just smiles and puts a piece of bacon in her mouth.

"So, what's left?" Kaia asks. "You said Chuck opened up some kind of portal before he died."

"Purgatory," Cas says grimly. "I think they're in Purgatory."

Jody heaves out a sigh. "I guess that means we're driving to Maine."

"Not me," Alex singsongs. "I have work in an hour."

"So... six of us, plus Sam and Dean," Claire says thoughtfully. "Two cars? The Impala and your truck?"

Jody shakes her head. "I'll borrow a van."

"Wait," Cas says. He holds up the bag. "I thought I'd try opening a portal in your garage first."

"Purgatory?" Maria asks, some time later. She looks and sounds as tired as Sandy feels.

"Purgatory," Claire confirms. She's cleaning a knife as long as her arm at the kitchen table. "It's basically monster Heaven. They have to fight each other for eternity, or something."

"And you've been there?"

"Me? No. Dean spent like a year there, though."

"Why?"

Claire pauses. "You know, I'm not really sure."

As Maria starts to ask something else, the back door creaks open. Jody sticks her head in and asks Claire, "You got any graveyard dirt?"

"Yeah. Wooden box on my desk."

"Great. You just saved me a trip to St. Michael's."

Humming to herself, Jody heads down the hall. Tiredly, Sandy watches her go. After a beat or two, she asks Claire, "So you guys just... do this? As a job?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Claire shrugs. "Someone has to." She puts down the huge knife and picks up a dagger that looks like it's made out of bronze. "How did you end up with Dean's car?"

"We found it," Maria says.

"Where?"

"It was parked on the county road with a finders-keepers note."

"Seriously?" Claire asks, laughing. "He 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 must've thought he was going to die. Like... for real, this time." She picks at a gouge in the dagger with her thumbnail. "What were you guys doing out there."

"Walking home. Our truck broke down on the way back from Vegas."

"Vegas?"

"Yeah," Sandy says. "We were looking for our dad. He's been missing for months. He's got family out there, so we thought--"

"Missing?" Claire asks. She sets the dagger down and sits up straight. "Missing how?"

"Like, he just disappeared."

Kaia looks up from the game she's been playing on her phone. "Disappeared?"

"Yeah," Maria says, nodding. "We woke up one morning and he was just gone."

"Anything weird about it," Claire presses. "Flashing lights? Funny smells?"

A weird, cold feeling settles in Sandy's stomach. She says, "Yeah," in a shaky voice and glances at Maria. "The bathroom--it smelled like rotten eggs."

"Rotten eggs," Claire says slowly. "That's--"

Something explodes in the garage.

"Shit," Claire says, standing. "That's probably them."

The garage smells like dirt and charred wood and something both musty and sickly-sweet--some kind of spice. A light flares against the back wall, and two figures walk out of the smoke.

They're the dudes on the IDs Maria found, looking dusty and tired and rough.

The shorter one--Dean--says, "Cas," in a choked voice and pulls the angel into a hug.

A beat passes. And another. And another. Finally, Cas turns to the other guy and says, "Good to see you, Sam."

Sam huffs out a laugh and throws his arm around Cas' shoulder. "Good to see you too. Looks like you called in all the reinforcements."

"Who are the newbies?" Dean asks, pointing and Sandy and Maria. He looks at Jody. "You taking in strays again?"

Cas says, "Dean," in a rough voice and touches Dean's arm. "Maria and Sandy found your car."

"Baby?" Dean breathes. "Is she here?"

"She's right outside," Jody says.

Dean makes a beeline for the door, with Cas right on his heels. Everyone else starts to follow, but Sam clears his throat.

"I'd, uh--I'd give them a minute. The said some pretty heavy stuff to each other before Chuck pulled the plug."

Claire mutters, "Finally," before turning her attention to Jody. "I think a demon possessed Sandy and Maria's dad, so we're heading out."

"Alright," Jody says, sighing. "But we've had a really long night-slash-morning. Sleep for a few hours, and I'll pack you some snacks."

(hey, so. this ended up longer both time-wise and length-wise than i anticipated when i started. thanks to everyone who liked, retweeted, commented through this absolutely ridiculous marathon )