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SAMpala

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Summary: Sam wishes he was the damned Impala, at least he might get some Dean love that way. Comedy/crack!fic, Sampala/Dean, Wincest, incest, slash

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories(Past Donor)CasFR18212,143022,0845 Jan 1010 Jan 10Yes

Chapter One

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Our thanks to angelinchains.com for hq screencaps

Fandom: SPN
Title: The Sampala
Authors: Cas and Fetish
Pairing: Dean/Sam/Impala!Sam
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; Slash, incest/wincest, PWP, crack!fic
Characters: The characters are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Concrits: welcome in comments.


"Game? Nah, I'm gonna go take care of the car," Dean said, wondering why Sam was giving him the 'bitch face.' Deciding he'd woken up pissy and that he wasn't gonna deal with it, Dean didn't ask. Leaving the motel room door open behind him, he walked to the parking spot right in front. Sliding his hand across the body of the car as he walked, he reached the trunk and opened.

Sam turned his head, watching as Dean walked out of the room, frowning at him. Pulling to his feet with a huff after Dean walked out, Sam walked toward the door.

"Don't you worry, baby, by the time I finish polishing and waxing you, you're gonna shine so bright, I'm gonna need sunglasses," Dean chuckled as he got everything he needed out of the trunk. He barely glanced at his brother, now standing in the doorway, basically filling it with his great big sasquatch body. Rolling his eyes, he brought the bucket he'd filled with water to the car.

Baby? Really? Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, still frowning at Dean. He really carried this love of that damn car too far sometimes. Hell, he treated that thing better than he did him, his own brother! Well, then again he had to admit, he realized Dean probably didn't know that he wouldn't mind being his brother's baby... but that wasn't the point.

Using a big sponge, Dean started to hand wash the car. It wasn't filthy, but he needed to get all the particles of dust off if he wanted that super shine that his baby deserved. He squeezed the sponge, water dripping onto the hood, and then started to sweep the sponge over it in big circles, carefully making sure he got every spot.

By the time he got to the side of the car, he decided he was hot and pulled his tee shirt off. Dropping it next to the bucket, he made short work of the doors and rims, then stood up. As he washed the roof of the car, his chest slipping against the wet window, he noticed Sam was still there... still wearing that same look. Shaking his head, he ignored his brother and concentrated on getting the car nice and clean.

Your shirt off!? Okay, now he was just being an ass. Maybe he did know. Yeah, it wouldn't surprise Sam if Dean somehow had figured it out and this was his way of picking on him about it. With a huff, Sam leaned a shoulder against the door frame, still frowning at Dean and hating that damned care more and more by the second. What the hell had it ever done so right to warrant such treatment from his brother.

Well, for one thing, it doesn't want to fuck it's own brother. Sam huffed. Oh shut up.

Once he'd washed and dried her, he went to the back and got himself a cold brew out of the ice chest in the trunk. "Want one?" At Sam's nod, Dean moved closer and tossed it to him, then turned his attention back to his car.

Sam had nodded hoping maybe Dean would actually walk over to him, not hurl the damned bottle at him like a friggin grenade. It was a good damn thing he was a decent catch. Christ! Yeah, don't let me tear you away from your sweetheart. Sam glared down at the beer bottle as he opened it, making faces and mimicking Dean's sweet talk to the car under his breath.

As Dean started to polish with a soft cloth, he whispered about how nice and shiny she'd look once he was done. A sense of peace settled around him every time he went through the process. It was so familiar, just like breaking down a gun, cleaning and oiling it. And this car here, it was one of the few things that he owned that he couldn't bear to part with.

By the time the polishing was over, he was all sweaty. He should have waited for the sun to start going down before he started this. Oh well. He went for the wax and started polishing his car again. "This... this is gonna make you pop," he promised, the high gloss surface of the car making him grin like fool.

Sam huffed as he continued to watch his brother. "Yeah, I'd like something to pop alright," he grumbled under his breath, stuffing a potato chip, from the bag off the table, into his mouth.

When the car had the perfect mirror shine, he finally stopped. "Beautiful," he pronounced, grabbing his stuff. As he waited for Sam to make room for him in the doorway so he could get inside, he pointed. "Don't get finger prints on her."

Sam continued to frown at Dean as he walked up, his gaze tracking his brother as he stepped inside. Trying to not look like he was looking at him. At Dean's finger prints comment, Sam's mouth opened, an argument about how that car wasn't gonna die if he touched it on the tip of his tongue, only to swallow it back with a huff as he stepped out of the room, slamming the door after himself.

Walking over to the car, Sam glared down at it. "I hate you," he nodded, "which is stupid, cause you're just a hunk of metal, but I don't care. I hate you anyway," he spat, voice lowered so he wouldn't look like a complete and utter moron in case anyone were to walk past.

Kicking the tire, Sam's lips curved into a satisfied smile as he gazed at the smudge print his boot left. "Stupid car." he muttered, turning back toward the room. "Wish I was the damn Impala. Maybe then I'd get a little attention," Sam mumbled with a huff.

* * *

He'd taken a shower and a short nap, expecting to find Sam had brought them some dinner. Instead, Dean woke to an empty room. "Sam? Sam?" he repeated, raising his voice. When there was no answer, he sat up on the bed, leaned over to see the bathroom door was partially open. Dry scrubbing his face, he got up and walked to the door. Looking out, he saw the parking lot was empty and there was no one near the vending machine.

Muttering under his breath, he phoned his brother. Sam wasn't picking up, but he heard the phone ringing. His head jerked up as he listened for it. His gaze focused on his car, and he strode to it. Sure enough, the ringing was from inside.

Perplexed because he was sure Sam had the phone on him, and hadn't left it in the car, he opened the door and reached in to grab it.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam asked, confusion clear in his voice. He wasn't sure what exactly was going on. One minute he had been about to walk back into the room, feeling slightly vindicated at having kicked the stupid car tires and now... well, he wasn't sure where or what he was.

"Sam?" Dean's eyebrows went up as he leaned over the seat back to look for Sam. "Sam?" When he turned back, he saw the flashing orange light on his dashboard. "What the fuck is that? I am gonna kill someone," he said through clenched teeth, his worry about Sam eclipsed by the damage to his car.

"Wait, Dean! I'm right here. What's going on? Kill someone? Dude, I'm okay, I... uh, just don't exactly know where I am.... do you?"

It took a couple of seconds for things to click. "The car... you're in the car, no I mean you are my fucking car. Get out!" He frowned and ran his hand over the dashboard with the new lights. "I don't like it all douched up." He was worried, but he was a little more worried that Sam was playing a joke on him and his guess was all wrong.

"I can't get out! Believe me, I would if I could! I wouldn't want to 'douche up' your damn car! IT'S A FUCKING CAR!" Sam yelled, the horn blowing long and loud afterward.

Dean looked around, his hand hovering over the horn, though he was on the passenger side. "Cut that out. What the hell..." He tried to think it through. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Sam thought about that. "Well, I came outside, cause you were being a jerk," he huffed, remembered kicking the Impala's tire, but was so not going to mention that. "Um, I dunno I walked around a little, muttered under my breath and started to back in. That's it, why? How am I in the fucking car!? Where am I in the -" Sam stopped talking abruptly as it hit him what happened. But how? Sure he'd said it, but hell he'd said a lot of things in his life. He said once he wished they were rich too and that never happened. Wished they could have a normal life and this was about as far from normal as life could get.

"Uh, Dean... I'm not in the car, I am the car," he cleared his throat and the engine revved. "Oh, sorry."

"What?! Stop that... it's not good for the car!" Dean snapped, realizing the key wasn't even in the ignition. "You're... you changed into... Oh great, I'm feeling a little weirded out by the fact I'm inside you." Okay, he couldn't resist the joke, but he was worried and a little upset. "Theories?"

"Yeah, our lives are fucked to hell." Sam spat. "Inside... you are NOT inside me!.... well wait, I guess you are... well, kinda more like leaning on my back sort of."

Dean stepped out of the car. "Stop arguing and start thinking. What the fuck happened here. Cursed wax?"

"No," Sam whined, "that's not it."

"A witch? The last one we ran into loved to turn people into inanimate objects... we killed her. Think there's a chance she..."

"No, I don't think that's it either." Sam sighed, "I actually think I know what happened, but... you know, I'm kinda hungry. Think we could go eat?"

"You know what happened, and you want to eat? How're you gonna eat?" Dean rolled his eyes, and slapped the roof of the car with his palm, leaning to look inside at the orange lights that jumped each time Sam spoke. "So... what is it? What the fuck happened?"

"Ow! Stop hitting me!" Sam spat just as the glove compartment flipped open knocking Dean in the head. "I dunno what that is, I can't see it. What are you looking at? What else is wrong with me?"

"Ow. Bitch," Dean bit out, touching his head. "No, I mean how did this happen? You said you know, care to share? I mean how the fuck am I supposed to help you if you..."

"No, I really don't want to tell you how it happened. You'll - you'll just get pissed, make fun of me. No. Now get in, I'm hungry." Sam grumped.

Taking a deep breath, Dean walked around the car, to driver's side, and got in. "It's still... weird," he muttered, and checked to see how much gas he had. "You gotta be kidding me... I'm half full." He ran his hand over the steering wheel, looking irritated as his eyes were drawn to the orange light again.

"So I'm half hungry." Sam mumbled, "Oh! And just so you know, you have a lard ass."

Dean got half way up off the seat, looked behind him, and shook his head. "Shut up." Starting the car, he looked in the mirror and started to pull out of the parking stall. "I won't make fun of you, tell me what happened."

"You will, or you won't understand, think it's stupid. I just," Sam sighed, "I said something and obviously something supernatural heard me and poof here I am. Leave it at that."

"I can't leave it at that, how am I supposed to get you back?" He was incensed at the suggestion. "What does that mean, something supernatural *heard* you?"

"I dunno... I muttered something and... it heard me. Maybe it thought it was granting me a wish or something... I dunno. STOP hitting so many damn potholes! That hurts! I'm gonna take over driving if you can't do a better job!" Sam yelled.

"You're making my car 'grumpy'... stop it." Dean glared at the lights on the dashboard. "And I think you need to be more specific than that. What do you mean granting you a wish... you mean a wish demon?" They were rare but there was a lot of lore about them. "What the hell did you wish, Sam? Dude, I never knew you had a car fetish... especially for my car."

"I don't." Sam bit out. He didn't say anything again for a long while. Long enough that he was pretty sure Dean was either going to scream or just ignore him, or hell maybe pull over and leave him there. Oh wait, he was his 'baby' now, guess he wouldn't leave...

"Yeah, a wish demon, Or something like it. A fairy jonesing for some fun and frolicking? Hell, I dunno. But, yeah, could be a wish demon.... uh dude..." Sam snickered, "you have a boney ass. Heavy AND boney."

"One minute it's lard, and now it's boney. I think the screws in your engine are a little loose..." Grinning, he pulled into a gas station. "Now stop talking, I don't want to look like a freak."

Getting out, he inserted some schmuck's credit card into the machine and was soon putting the nozzle into the car and starting to pump the gas. He looked around, a little self consciously and leaned into the car.

"What are you doing?" Sam whispered, "Why are you leaning on me? And dude, the gas? It feels like I'm being fed through a straw. Yeah, I'm gettin' full, but there's not taste, no texture and I think I'm gonna burp soon..."

"I'm filling you up, what the hell you think I'm doing?" He looked at the numbers flying by and shook his head. "Stop complaining so much." Once the car was filled, he pulled the nozzle out, and used his jacket clad arm to polish over the drips on the freshly polished car.

"Really? Wiping me after you feed me? Ya gonna wipe my ass later too? Oh wait.... I think you might need to look under the hood while we're here... I feel somethin' funny." Sam told him, smirking to himself. If Dean was going to worry this damn much about his car, then while he was cursed to be his car, maybe he could get a little out of it too.

"What What do you feel? Everything should be fine... was fine." Yeah, but Dean wasn't gonna take any chances. Capping the gas tank, he went to pop the hood. Putting the bonnet up, he started to look around, using a rag he started to check the oil. He pulled the metal rod out, cleaned it and dipped it down again.

Sam gasped in a breath and moaned, the engine revving, "Mm, do - uh, do that again. I think you missed somethin'." Sam told him, feeling like Dean had just thoroghly manhandled his balls.

"Just checking the levels," Dean answered, pulling the stick out and looking at it. "You... IT should be fine. But on the off chance that Sam was right, he dipped the stick inside again, his body pressing against the front of the car. He pulled it out. "Nah... there's enough oil. What the..." The radiator cap was steaming!

"No, don't..." the engine revved again as Sam moaned softly. "Don't stop looking. I think I need a systems check." The Impala rolled forward a little, tiny rocks crunching under the tires, making Dean lean against the car more. "There, yeah, really get in there and look around."

"Sam..." Dean's eyes widened as he thought he was going to be driven over, but Sam seemed to be in control. "It... hurts? Alright..." This was the weirdest thing ever, and the only thing he could think of was maybe Sam was itching and didn't know how to explain it, and that the rod felt good. Still... feeling very foolish, he repeated the motions a few more times, one hand on the side of the hood, keeping him balanced.

Not waiting for Sam to argue with him though, after a few moments, he tightened the cap, wiped away extra oil that had dripped, and started to check the water.

"I - I hurt now," Sam whined, though his voice was huskier, deeper, "ache. I - I think you broke something."

"I didn't break anything, Sam." If the engine hadn't been hot, he might have stroked it. He fiddled with a couple of caps and tightened them, wiping everything clean as he worked. "Better?" Okay it was the weirdest conversation ever, but he thought Sam was serious now. "We'll fix you... get you out of this," he promised.

"Uh, yeah, Mm, s'okay..." though Sam's voice sounded almost pained. "I, uh, don't you have stuff, tools, you could look at me with? Don't stop yet, it still feels..." Sam cleared his throat and the engine revved again, "weird."

"Tools?" Dean let out a sigh. He knew his baby was in tip top condition, he'd taken care of her recently. Maybe Sam invading her had fucked something up? "They're in the trunk." Patting the car again, he headed for the back.

Opening the trunk, he started rummaging through the stuff, finding and opening his tool box. Grabbing a wrench, he walked back. "Stop revving the engine like that, jeez." He looked at the red light traveling back and forth across the grill of the car and almost sighed. When the hell had he turned into the Knightrider?

As soon as Dean looked back into the engine, Sam moaned long and loud, the engine revving loud and hard over and over again. Had he been able to his eyes would have likely rolled up in his head. Did headlights do that? Well, probably not seeings as this wasn't a Corvette.

"Nn - no, go back. I think you need to go back." Sam barely kept himself from shouting. When Dean didn't move, he did shout, "PLEASE!?"

"Go back... for what?" Looking at the wrench and seeing it was the right size, but he did need the smaller ones if he was going to be thorough. Dean huffed, "how the hell do you see that? I thought you couldn't see?" Leaving the wrench on the edge of the engine, Dean went to the back. As he searched around once more in the trunk, the revving started again. "Dammit, you're going to choke me with exhaust," he shouted, barely able to see what he was looking for.

"Mm, why - why don't you get in there more?" Sam asked him, voice rough, soft, "yeah, jus' climb up in there." There was a long silence between them filled only by the revving of the engine. "OhGod..." Sam groaned..."I - I think there's pie in there! There is! There's pie in the trunk! Search! Search harder! Harder!"

It wasn't like Sam knew what it would feel like if he weren't a car, but he was pretty damn sure that Dean was in his ass, and holy shit... If it wasn't for the fact that every part of him was hard as steel, he was sure that his dick... whatever hunk of metal that was, would be rock hard right then.

"The engine's idling... stop that," Dean snapped, but then he heard pie. "What pie... from where?" He leaned further, still hardly able to see because of the smoke. "It's not even my birthday... treasure hunt?" He laughed, and started to move more stuff around, barely noticing Sam wasn't answering his stream of comments and questions. "Sammy?" Palm down in the bottom of the trunk, Dean braced his weight. "You alright?" His hand slipped some, and he pulled it back.

The entire car's suspension shook, the shocks squeeking before Sam suddenly groaned and the engined revved long and loud, oil gushed from under the car onto the ground, large squirts of it. "Oh Yeah...." Sam moaned softly as the car continued to... tremble?

All at once, the engine shut off and the car stilled to a dead silent.

"Sam? Sam?" Pulling out of the trunk, Dean walked to the front of the car. The car was off, but the red light was still traveling back and forth. "Talk to me," he said, half afraid something had gone wrong.

"Mm? Whassa matter?" Sam asked, sounding tired and nearly woozy.

Letting out a breath of relief, Dean finished up checking out the engine, and brought the bonnet down. "We gotta go back to the motel, figure out how to get you back. I don't like my cars talking to me," he said. Taking his tools to the back, he put them away in the trunk, then closed it, using his ass to half sit on it and make it close tight.

"Sss..Ow!" Sam grumbled, but still too happy about his recent orgasm to complain too much.

Wiping his hands off, he took the driver's seat and headed back. His eyes kept straying to the orange lights which seemed to be dancing more than before. "Guess I ...fixed you, huh?"

"Huh?" Sam asked, suddenly snapping out of the happy little world he had thrown himself into, nearly humming, if a car could do that. Of course, the engine was purring most happily as they drove. "Fixed me?" he cleared his thoat and the engined revved a bit, the accelorator lowering under Dean's foot on it's own. "Um, yeah, guess so," he replied nervously, feeling rather self conscious suddenly. If he could, he'd be looking out the side window to hide his face. As it was, he WAS the side window... and the front window, and the seat and the dashboard and... Sam huffed, falling into a silent brooding.

"Don't go depresso-boy on me, I promised you we'd get you back," Dean said, his brows furrowing. "It could have been worse. You could have gone evil... now that's always a hard one to deal with. Now you have a nice sleek body, and your engine's purring... road is out ahead of you, what else could you want? Plus, I'm here to take care of you. You could have ended up like one of the cars in a junk yard..."

"No, no I couldn't. It wasn't what I asked for." Sam huffed, "Nevermind. Jus' - jus' drive." He sighed and the heater kicked on. "Dammit."

He took it for as long as he could, punching the buttons on the dash to try to turn the damned heater off, but he couldn't take it. "Sam.... cut it out." He had the window rolled down, but the outside air wasn't cooling the inside fast enough. The silence got to him. "Sam... seriously, this? It's not my fault, so stop giving me the damned silent treatment."

Sam sighed and it made the damn engine rev again. "It is your fault actually," he mumbled, just before the heater turned off. "Sorry 'bout the heater," he grumbled.

"My fault? Just how the fuck is it my fault?" He demanded, pulling into the motel lot. "I was minding my own business taking a shower and a nap."

"Nothing," Sam mumbled, "just forget I said anything. It's fine. You're right. It was me."

He knew Sam well enough to realize he was probably wearing his bitch face and sliding into his 'pout mode.' Shifting gears, he slowed, and pulled into the spot right in front of their room and cut the engine. "I'll do the research and let you know what I come up with."

He didn't expect an answer... and didn't get one.

*

A half hour later, Dean was deep into his research. He had a cup of java and was determined to find a way to get his brother back. And his old dashboard back. He was driven to find answers, but first he had to distinguish between information and misinformation. The net was rampant with both.

Sam sat... no was parked just outside the door to their room, but it wasn't like he could even see Dean, didn't have anyone to talk to. Nothing to do besides listen to the sounds of his engine cooling and wondered briifly if it was anything like 'listening to ones arteries hardening', not that a person could really do that... still, it was just as annoying.

After another few moments, Sam shouted, which was nothing more than the horn blowing... loudly.

Apparently he could talk, but loud bouts of shouting came out as the horn blowing or some other damn car function. He sighed and the engine cranked trying to turn over. "Oh just stop it already," he mumbled to his new metallic body. Now he thought he had a pretty good idea how a Transformer would feel, if they were real. Of course, even they could transform into something close to human. He was stuck... like this. Alone. The horn blew again. "Deeeean..." Sam whined softly before falling into silence once more.

At the second horn, Dean raced out, pulling his jacket on and then stumbling to a stop near the car. Nothing. There was nothing. "What the fuck?" He opened the passenger door and looked in. "What's the matter?"

"I'm lonely." Sam pouted.

"You're what? Lonely," Dean sliced his hands though the air, turned around and went back inside. What the hell. This time, he left the door open so he could see the car. Wish demons... he better get Sam back soon, or little brother was gonna drive both of them nuts.

The engine turned over and Sam started to creep closer to the door, front tires rising up over the sidewalk and then across it as he slowly pulled closer. "Dean? Talk to me."

"Sam! You can't do that!" Pushing the lap top away, Dean walked out and looked around. "Get back," he hissed. "You know better. I'll be out here as soon as I get an answer... just... backup like a good little car."

Sam started slowly backing up into the parking space again. "But, I don't have anyone to talk to. I'm bored," he huffed and the engine revved, tires squealing on the sidewalk just before they pulled off of it, bouncing as they hit the asphalt.

"Well listen to the fucking radio. I'm not sitting on my thumbs, I'm researching," Dean answered, giving the hunk of metal... his hunk of metal a stern look. "And no climbing sidewalks... its not good for you... the car... argh, you know what I mean."

Turning on his heels, Dean went back to his research. Three more times, after that, Sam honked, had him come checking, until he was so frustrated, he brought the lap top to the car, sat on the hood and did the damned research there. Good think it was getting dark, or the sun's glare would be making this impossible.

Sam was silent for a long moment, just sitting there, or parked there, or whatever, glad to finally have some company, even if Dean wasn't speaking to him. "Dean? Are you mad at me?"

"Irritated. That's different," he scrolled down, biting his lower lip.

Sam was silent another long while. "M'sorry." He fell silent another minute. "Um, you know you're sitting on my chest, right?"

"On your..." Dean got up. "No, I didn't know that. Was I performing open heart surgery earlier," he asked with a laugh. Moving around the car, he sat in the driver's chair, legs still out of the car.

"Mm... I don't think so." Sam answered, remembering the feelings and the way he had actually cum. Cum... as a car. Yeah, if that wasn't friggin weird as hell, he didn't know what was. Well, okay he did, this entire situation was friggin weird with a capital 'W'. Sam cleared his throat and again the engine revved. "Sorry, you're just..." he snickered and the hood popped open. He giggled. "You're tickling me. Sitting on, I dunno... my hip maybe?"

"You don't have a hip." Rolling his eyes, Dean tried to keep it serious. This was serious! "Huh, okay, so it looks like most people are in agreement that wish demons are not dangerous. Well, that's relative, at least they don't intentionally kill. They're more about teaching a lesson. Now, the lesson is different depending on the demon." He looked over at the orange lights on the dash. "Kinda like shapeshifters, I guess, their motives aren't the same."

"Uh-huh..." Sam mumbled, tires starting to roll slightly forward and back, making Dean teeter totter on the bench seat, as Sam enjoyed the sway and weight of Dean on him.

"Stop fidgeting." Dean rolled his eyes. "Sometimes the lesson is that the 'grass is always greener on the other side'... teach the person they don't really want what they think they want." He glanced again at the lights. "Did you wish for speed or... heh heh... beauty." His car was both those things.

"No, and fuck you." Sam spat back.

"Other times its sort of a training... trying to get the person brave enough to face their desires. Desires? Huh, anyway... you get the drift. Sounds like the spell wears off once the lesson is learned."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'brave enough to face their desires'? So I gotta..." Sam clammed up, not saying another word, the only sound that of the wooshing light on the front of the car.

Dean wiped his hand over his face. "Gotta what? Makes no sense, huh? I'll keep looking, maybe there's a way of reversing it without having to do whatever the crazy wish demon wants." He patted the steering wheel, hoping to comfort Sam. "I'm gonna go get something to eat."

"Eat something for me too, huh?" Sam asked him, adding in a more dejected tone. "Just... because..." he sighed and the engine revved again. "Would this thing stop!" Sam nearly yelled making the horn blow. "Pull a spark plug, cut some wires, do something!"

He'd been starting to pull out of the car, and startled, Dean hit his head on the door frame and cursed. "Would you cut it out? It's not the car Sam, it's you." He laid an arm across the roof of the car and shook his head. "Come on, give the engine a rest. I'll be back soon." Setting the lap top on the roof, he closed it and prepared to walk away.

He didn't want to be left alone again, didn't want to sit out there with nothing but the sound of crickets, his own damn engine and Dean's greatest hits of mullet rock to keep him company. "Wait!" Sam called to him, "I - I think you missed something... before. Um, maybe you should take a look for me again. At the engine, maybe... and you could get your tools from the trunk."

"Engine's fine, Sammy, I looked. I checked very carefully, you're gonna be fine," Dean said. "Just sit tight."

Water bubbled and hissed seeping out of the hood of the car, running down the side as Sam gave a long lengthy, very fake, groan. "No, I'm not." Sam supposed this was a car version of forcing onces self to throw up, but he couldn't be sure. More water bubbled and grurbled out, splashing over the side of the front fender to hit the ground with a smack as the car lurched forward and back. "See? I'm siiiick," he whined.

"Alright, I'll take a look under you. Oh God that sounds vaguely dirty," he muttered more to himself as he went to the trunk and pulled out some of his tools and a roller to lay on. As the revving continued, he shook his head. "You know I can't check you out if you keep the engine on, right?"

Oh yeah, don't stop. Just stay back there a while.

"Huh? What?" Sam asked, just before the car took off forward, front tires going up and over the sidewalk before it came to a screeching halt. "Oh, sorry. Um, I think you missed something in the trunk."

"Missed something? You know if you can't control yourself, you're gonna end up running over me." He looked at the open trunk. "What did I miss?" Glancing inside, he moved some of his stuff around, but none of the tools he needed was loose or anything. His car was going senile...

Moving to the side, he snapped. "Cut the engine. Now."

"But, I-" Sam sighed and the engine revved, before he cut it off, waiting silently. Hearing Dean's foot steps behind him, Sam mumbled out, "Sorry, Dean."

"Just... keep it under control." He knew he was doing this for nothing, but he also knew if their situations were reversed, Sam would do everything he could to make him feel better. And who knew, maybe there was something wrong under the car... no harm would come from checking before it got too dark.

Getting down and laying back on the roller, he grabbed the flashlight. Sam couldn't see, but Dean had a worried look as he moved under the car. "Remember, don't kill me..."

"I won't." Sam told him, the ting ting of the engine cooling ringing in his ear. Ears... like a car had ears...

"Okay." Under the car, Dean studied the engine, running his hand along rough metal parts as he searched for anything that seemed out of place. "Huh," he rubbed the metal and looked at his fingertips. "Looks like there might be an oil leak," he said, perplexed.

"O-oil?" Sam asked, "um, yeah, I dunno about that. Maybe run your hand along that same area again... slower." Sam wasn't really sure where Dean was rubbing, his groin? Maybe somewhere else, all he knew was that it felt fuckin' good. Kinda weird, but good. And he was getting excited again.

"I am," he answered, moving his thumb over the area. "Don't see a hole... what the?" He moved his hand in widening circles, hoping his sense of touch would show him something he wasn't seeing, it made no sense. "Did you say 'slower?'" Shaking his head, Dean complied, still finding nothing but a little bit of unexplainable oil. "Did you hit the bottom when you climbed the sidewalk?"

Sam found it hard to talk right then, feeling as though Dean was massaging every fucking eroginous zone he had at once. "Hm? Yeah..." Sam panted out, "maybe. Don't stop looking."

"I'm not... but why don't you know." How the hell didn't he know? Bet Sam had hit the bottom, and wasn't admitting it. Finding some sort of crack, he started exploring it, then figured out it wasn't a crack but something stuck to the car. Now he tried to clean it off, applying more and more pressure.

The engine roared to life revving long and loud before the trunk popped open, the back shocks starting to bounce up and down. "Yeah, yeah, right there... just like that... like that..." Sam panted, the horn blowing loud just before great squirts of oil spurt from the car, splattering out in large glops. "Oh YEAH!"

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!" Dean shouted, pushing out from under the car. He didn't know whether to fear for his life, be embarrassed about all the sounds the car was making and drawing attention, or be disgusted by the oil splattered all over his face! He wiped at it, complaining profusely. "It's the last time I'm checking anything under you... sonova... if you could see my face, dammit Sam." He strode to the back and roughly pushed stuff out of the way in the trunk as he put all the tools away, still cursing.

Sam gasped, the car rocking on it's shocks. "Dean, Dean, stop... too much... too sensitive..." Sam gasped, panting, the engine still revving.

"Huh?" With his head deep in the trunk, he hadn't heard the words coming out of the radio speakers. Shrugging, he continued, then closed it. "Now you behave, alright? I gotta wash this oil off... and then I'm getting dinner and a freakin' drink... you'd need one too if your car talked to you and ... yah."

He strode inside the motel room and slammed the door shut.
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