A Supernatural Fanfiction.

On the Road Again

I ditched the Impala just after I crossed the state line into Iowa. If there was one Hunter I knew that could stay alive, it was Garth.

When I first started Hunting, Garth helped me with my first case. The ghost wasn't the problem, it was the ghost's wife that gave us a run for our money. At first, we thought that there was only one ghost haunting the hotel. But after burning the bones of the owner, his wife showed up and that's when the truth came out. Legend had it, he supposedly killed his wife and disappeared with the insurance money, never to be heard from again. Later we found evidence that it was the wife who murdered him to inherit his wealth through the hotel, bank accounts, and stocks he had. In an attempt to destroy the will, she accidentally set fire to the hotel and died, both the will and her were burnt to a crisp. Apparently, she was so angry with whatever was written into the will, her spirit decided to stick around and torment her husband. Garth saved my ass when he showed up a few days after I had. I've kept tabs on him ever since.

I knew he had to be in Iowa because there was a children's mental health convention being held in Des Moines. Hopefully, I would be able to find him there and get him to help me get off the radar. If the boys thought Bobby was hard to find, they would never be able to find me.

At the diner with a neon sign flashing "Free Pie," I ditched the Impala. Dean was bound to find it eventually, especially if there was a pie sign right above it.

I waited around for two hours after shift change to see if the blue Honda Civic had a driver. Unless the person was working a double, it didn't. With a purpose, I walked to the rusted hunk of metal and pulled the unbent wire hangar from the back of my jeans. Straightening it out, I jimmied it between the door and window until the lock popped. I grinned and peered inside.

The interior was torn up, but not in that bad of shape for a car from the early '80s. Everything was manual. I grinned when I saw a glint of metal between the roof of the car and the passenger visor. Whoever owned this car left me the keys.

Snatching them from their hiding place, I locked the door and went a few parking spaces over to the Impala. From the trunk I took out the basics: salt and iron rounds, a bag of salt, Holy Water, sawed off, two silver knives, and a jar of dead man's blood. Making sure the doors were locked, I tossed the keys in the trunk and slammed it closed. If Dean came looking for me, at least he's get his car back.
The two door hatchback creaked when I opened the trunk. A bag of stale Doritos was spilled, and they must have been from the '80s too. There was an old towel that I could pull over the gear, and a trash can I could dispose of the ancient chips in.

Before I drove away, I scanned the lot. No one was even remotely interested in what I was doing. If you don't act suspicious, no one will be suspicious.

The car smelled like chalk. You'd think it would be mildewy, or funeral homey. Nope. Just chalk. It wasn't unpleasant, but I could never get used to the smell. Thankfully, I only had a three hour drive time before I made it to Des Moines. It took another 45 minutes before I found a parking spot to get into the convention center.

It was only $20 for an adult ticket to get in. When I walked into the main area, I stopped mid step. This place had to have been the size of a football stadium. It was HUGE. Finding Garth might be a little harder than I thought.

The first stop I made was at a booth with pamphlets for how to deal with a childhood trauma. I pretended to read one while searching for Garth. Nada. Tucking the folded paper in my back pocket, I meandered along the edge of the room and scanned the crowed.

Dead center, at a craft table, Garth was helping kids bead jewelry. I smiled and hurried over.

"Is there an age limit on making a bracelet?" I asked.

He didn't look up. "No, you can have a seat anywhere. We're happy to share, aren't we kids?"

They all chimed at the same time. "Yeah!"

"Garth." I touched his shoulder.

He finally looked up. "Carrie! Man, it's been too long." He stood and pulled me in for a hug. His bony body had gotten a little more meat on it since the last time I'd seen him, and I was glad. He was scary thin.

"It has." I glanced at the kids beading their threads. "Think I can talk to you about some business of mine?"

"Sure!" He sat back down and patted the seat next to him.

I crossed my arms and nodded toward the kids. "Garth..."

"Oh right!" He stood up again. "JulieAnn, can you take over for me for a few minutes? I'll be right back."

He led the way thought the crowd to a room labeled 'employees only.' There was a round table, vending machines, a sink, and a tv in the room. More importantly, there was no one besides us.

"Garth I need some help." I said taking a seat.

"What's got you scared into running?" He asked.

"I'm not running!"

He smiled at me. "Carrie, you look like you haven't slept in days, there's weapons plastered all over you, and you're holding the keys to a Honda."

I leaned my head back and sighed. "Alright, but this is gonna take a while."

"I've got time."

I crossed my legs. "It all started at a diner..."