rating. pg, gen.
notes. for the
100_ghosts prompt perfect storm.Halfway between Cheyenne, Wyoming and Green River, Wyoming, the Impala ran out of gas, gauge broken. As soon as Dean stepped out of the car the clouds greyed over and everything started pouring, and as soon as he skittered back into the car the tape deck died, flipped over to a local radio station. Something twangy and country, howling about a dead dog.
Dean looked over at Sam - face pressed up against glass sleeping, body curled loose towards the center - and he poked hard. Sam sat up, sputtered, set a hard jaw and glared.
"We're screwed."
"Fuck."
That summarized every situation precisely.
