Alone

I get a call from Gary about halfway back to town,"Hey, the shop's been a little slow since you left, and I had some free time. I fixed a few things on your car. It's most of the heavy lifting stuff, the things you wouldn't have been able to do, so whenever you come back she'll be ready for you."

"Thanks, Gary! I'm actually on my way back right now. I'll be there in about 3 hours," I tell him. He replies with a 'sounds great' and hangs up. I set the phone into the cup holder and go over the speed limit as much as I can to not get picked up so I can get there faster. I want to see how much he's done. I would really love to finis up that old beauty by next week so I can go hunting on my own, and not drive this crappy red Ford. I don't really have anything against Fords, but this one's a piece of crap.

I get to the shop in about 2 and a half hours and park the car and run in. I look around for Gary, and he's under an old Chevy. "Hey, Gary! Where's the old beauty?" I hear a loud slam, then followed by him yelling 'Ow!' He slides out from under the car and gets up and walks over to me.

"She's right over there," he says, and points. I raise my eyebrows and try to say something, but I'm speechless. He fixed it all, he took care of everything. He painted her the color I was talking about. Cherry Red. He redid the interior. I run over and pop the hood. He got the motor I was looking for. He did everything, perfectly!

"Gary, I-I, GARY! You did this all in a matter of two days? Gary you're awesome!" I tell him, still gazing at my new car. "How'd you remember all the stuff I wanted? How'd you do this?"

He chuckles from behind me. "I didn't do it all myself, I have some help from a few friends. Here in this town, everyone's willing to help, many stopped by just to see how we were doing. I don't really know how I remembered it all, I just did, it came easy," he tells me. "But there is one last thing that's left to do. I thought you'd want to do the last touch." I look over at him and raise my eyebrow. He goes over to the table and grabs a rear-view mirror. I look back into the car and, sure enough, it's missing the rear-view mirror. I smile as he hands it to me. I get into the car and he hands me the tools I need. It's a simple fix, that why I'm guessing he let my do it. As soon as I get done, I get back out and hug Gary, thanking him. He lets out a chuckle.

"I can't thank you enough, Gary," I tell him. He just smiles back.

"I was pretty bored, everyone is in this town, you don't need to thank me, thank everyone else," he says. I look from him to my newly fixed car.

"Can you send my condolences? I know it's bad of me to want to leave in such a rush, but I gotta go, I wanna drive this beauty," I say, and rub the hood the the car. He laughs and nods his head.

"I sure will," he says, and takes out the keys of his pocket and hands them to me. I smile at him. I thank him again and get into my new car. I pull out of the garage and wave to him goodbye. He waves back and watches me drive away. I can't believe a man I'd just met did all that for me. Well, he had some help, but it was his idea. He turned a car I could barely drive three miles, into a car that could drive 30 on one tank. I shake my head. Maybe I do like people. I turn on the radio and find the classic rock station. I listen to it as I drive, somewhere, anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~

It's been two years since I last saw Sam and Dean. After I left we talked some, we called, talking about our hunts, but we soon grew apart. We got caught up in our own stories, our own messes. I've saved dozens of people since then on my own, and I'm sure they have too. I don't know where they are, or what they're doing, but I honestly hope they have the best, whatever they're doing.

I hop onto the bar stool and wait for a bartender to come over. "Hey pretty lady," I hear a voice say to my left. I turn my head and see a rather large, older man. He's obviously drunk, and if the way he tried to grab my hand didn't give it away, there's no escape to the alcohol on his breath. I'm soon saved by the bartender. She's a woman in her early 30's.

"What can I get ya," she asks.

"Budweiser," I tell her, simply. She nods her head and gives me a bottle. I thank her and she goes off to her own business. I look out of the corner of my eye and sure enough, the old man is still sitting right nest to me. He's staring at me, so I decide to tell him off, because I don't like people who stare. "Hey, man, take a picture. It lasts longer," I tell him, coldly. He raises his eyebrows and throws his hands up and walks away. I nod my head, content with myself. I take another sip, looking down at the bottle.

It's a few more minutes before I hear another voice. "I haven't seen you here before," they say. I turn around and see a fairly attractive man, in his late 20's. I smile up at him.

"Well, I don't come here often. I've never been here, actually," I saw as he sists down next to me. He nods his head. He looks at the bartender and holds up two fingers, and she grabs to beers, as if he does this regularly.

"I can tell you aren't from here," he says. I raise my eyebrow. "You don't have the accent. Or the aura. Where you from?"

"Damn, I just met you. You wanna know my dad's name too?" I ask him, chuckling. He laughs.

"I'm just making conversation," he replies. I nod my head.

"Fair enough. I'm from Sioux Falls, South Dakota," I tell him, and take a few more sips of my beer. I'm somewhere in Oklahoma. I just drove somewhere after hunting a fairy. Yeah, a fairy.

"What are you doing here?" the man asks. I still haven't learned his name, but he already knows where I'm from. He looks pretty put together. He's wearing an old baseball cap with a Mountain Dew logo on it. He has stubble which looks quite good on him, and from what I can see, bright blue eyes. He's wearing a black t-shirt and jeans with a noticable belt buckle. There's on finishing touch to his whole redneck outfit, cowboy boots. I smile as I knew it before I saw it. I seemed to always have a thing for cowboys. My dad always asked before I even talked about the boy,' He another cowboy?'

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm just visiting family," I lie. He nods his head. "What's your name? You seem to know everything about me."

"My name's Blaine. Yours?" he holds out a hand for me to shake.

"Regan," I shake his hand. He nods his head, smirking.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Regan," he says, widening his smirk into a smile. I return his smile with one I really haven't had in awhile. "You want to get out of here?" I look around.

"As long as you take a for a ride on your big green tractor," I joke, winking. He laughs and hops off the bar stool, holding out a hand to help me off. I take it, following him.

"Whatever you want," he says, looking back, winking at me. We get to his pickup and he surprisingly opens up the door for me. I thank him and he runs to the driver's side.

"So you're the full on redneck? Boots, tractor, fourwheeler and all?" I ask him. He laughs.

"I'm actually not a redneck," he tells me. He suddenly changes into a very familiar face right before my eyes. "Trickster," he says, waving a finger in front of his face. I turn around to get out of the truck, but he locks it. I try to unlock it, but everytime I do, he locks the door again. I finally stop and roll my eyes.

"What are you, five?" I ask him, still quite mad. I'm not scared of a trickster. They don't usually kill you, they get other things to, and unless some stupid clown comes up from the back of my seat and cuts off my head, I think I'll be good.

"Just a few hundred years off, sweetheart," he tells me. I roll my eyes and sit back into the seat.

"What were you planning on doing with me, anyway? The was smooth, by the way. The whole,' I'm not a redneck,' thing. Good one," I say. I'm trying to stall for myself to try and make up a plan to get out of here. I look around the pickup, but occasionally glance at him, pretending like I care.

"Thanks, girlfriend. I don't know really. I was pretty bored tonight," he tells me, and sits back into his seat, resting one hand on the steering wheel.

"Get out of the car, asshole," I hear a voice say. I turn my head in the direction of the Trickster. I just see a gun pointed into the window. Like that's going to hurt him. The Trickster tenses up, obviously pretending to look scared. He opens the door, and the gun follows him in the open window as he gets out. The Trickster turns towards whoever's pointing the gun. I soon hear a bloodcurdling sound of something going through the Trickster's heart. Huh, smooth.

I unlock the door and get out of the truck and walk over to whoever just killed the Trickster. I get halfway around the hood when I hear footsteps running away. i yell,"Wait!" but whoever it is keeps running. I look down and see the plain asphalt. I look around me to see if anyone saw what just happened. I see no one, so I hurry and go to my car, and quickly pull out of the parking lot of the bar. Like always, I don't know where I'm going, but I just don't want to be here anymore.

I make it to a small town in Nevada by about 4 in the morning and park in a random parking lot and lie down in the front seat of my car. I lock all of the doors and just try to get some sleep before looking for another case. I drift off into a painful sleep with the seat belt buckle poking into my back. I try to ignore it as I fall into a deep abyss of my own thoughts.

I wake up to the sound of my radio blaring, I quickly sit up, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the bright morning light. I grab the ignition to pull out the keys, but there aren't any there. I try and turn down the radio, but it doesn't work. What's even worse is that it's not any music. It's all static. I cover my ears and try to get out of the car but all of the doors are locked. I knock on the windows, screaming. I realize that I'm completely alone, and will need to disconnect the radio to get the static to stop. Right before I bend under the steering wheel of the car a voice starts. "Are you Regan?" A deep, gravely voice asks. I sit straight up and look at the radio. "Is this Regan?" The voice repeats, it's coming from the radio. I don't know if I should answer or not. The voice is very obnoxious with the surround sound in my car.

"Who is this?" I ask, first. I have no idea what this could be, no demon or monster has ever been seen or heard doing this.

"This is Castiel, and angel of the Lord," the voice says. I blink my eyes, taken back.

"Angels don't exist," I reply. In all my years of hunting, I've never seen an angel, and seeing out now seems a little unlikely.

"I don't need your approval of my existence," Castiel says. Wow, sassy. "I am a friend of Sam and Dean's. They've spoken of you a few times when I've been with them, and they are now missing, and I thought maybe you'd want to come and assist in my finding of them."

"They need help, again?" I say, astonished. Maybe they did really need me. How could two of the best hunters ever born need help for the second time since I've left?

"Yes...again," says Castiel, not sure on the second word. "I will be with you in a matter of seconds if you promise to help."

I scoff," 'A matter of seconds' okay. See you then." I laugh to myself and sit back, waiting for this 'Castiel, angel of the Lord.'

I hear a small puff next to me and there's suddenly a man right next to me sitting in the passenger seat. He's wearing a trench coat, and has messed up black hair. I let out a small scream, but cover my mouth soon after. He looks at me.

"I did tell you I was coming in a matter of seconds, didn't I?" He says. I roll my eyes and calm myself down.

"So you really are an angel?"

"That is what I told you," he says, not impressed. "Are you of any mental retardation?"

"Excuse me? I'm very smart, thank you," I cross my arms and scoot away from him. "Are you of any rudeness, maybe?" I saw, mimicking his deep gravely voice. He squints his eyes and examines me.

"I don't really know. I'm told I'm quite nice," he replies. I groan and roll my eyes.

"So, Sam and Dean, what's up with them?"

"I just old you minute ago, they're lost," he says, confused by how stupid I must seem to him.

"Oh for god's sake, man. I meant what do you know about them? If you're an angel can't you just see their location with your CPS in your head? I mean, hell, you can transport."

"It doesn't work that way, but I do have a start," Castiel says. He pulls out a map from one of the many pockets in his trench-coat.