The Bed and Breakfast was a quaint little home just across from the gas station, although, considering the population of the town was in the twenties, the majority of the town was just across from the gas station.
However, despite the small size of the place, it had a large, comfortable bed, an en-suite bathroom, and much to Flack’s pleasure, cable TV, which he promptly flopped on the bed and started flicking through. Taylor rolled her eyes and went straight into the bathroom, to run the water in the shower hot. She stripped down to her underwear, conveniently red and lacy, and went back to the bedroom, leaning against the door. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Uh-huh,” said Flack, not taking his eyes of the programme he had settled on.
Taylor let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, I guess I shall have to soap this body myself.
“Uh-huh,” said Flack. He looked at her, flicked his eyes back to the television, and then did a double take. He licked his lips. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“And why ever not?”
“Well, you heard that guy in the café – there are rats in this place. I couldn’t let you go in there alone.”
Taylor nodded. “You’re right.” She started walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask Sam if he wants to protect me from the rats,” she told him, innocently.
“Over my dead body,” Flack roared, leaping off the bed and over to Taylor, where he pushed her back against the door to the room, pressed his body against hers, and placed a hand against the door, either side of her head, “Sam isn’t going anywhere near your body.”
Taylor stared straight into Flack’s icy blue eyes and smiled slightly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I should ask Dean. He looks like the better offer. He looks like he knows how to handle a bar of soap,” Taylor sighed, still staring up at Flack. “Or maybe I should invite the both of them to join me. I’m sure I can find something for each of them to be occupied.”
Flack had heard enough. He slipped his thumbs between the lace of Taylor’s French knickers and the curve of her ass and clamped his hands over the firm flesh pressing her even further into him. “Not on your life, woman. The only person who’s going to be having fun with you and a bar of soap is me.” He brought his lips down onto her and kissed her possessively.
With his lips still firmly attached to hers, he picked her up, effortlessly. Taylor wrapped her legs and arms around him and allowed him to carry her to the shower. Cute as both Dean and Sam were, there was only one man for her.
However, despite the small size of the place, it had a large, comfortable bed, an en-suite bathroom, and much to Flack’s pleasure, cable TV, which he promptly flopped on the bed and started flicking through. Taylor rolled her eyes and went straight into the bathroom, to run the water in the shower hot. She stripped down to her underwear, conveniently red and lacy, and went back to the bedroom, leaning against the door. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Uh-huh,” said Flack, not taking his eyes of the programme he had settled on.
Taylor let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, I guess I shall have to soap this body myself.
“Uh-huh,” said Flack. He looked at her, flicked his eyes back to the television, and then did a double take. He licked his lips. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“And why ever not?”
“Well, you heard that guy in the café – there are rats in this place. I couldn’t let you go in there alone.”
Taylor nodded. “You’re right.” She started walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask Sam if he wants to protect me from the rats,” she told him, innocently.
“Over my dead body,” Flack roared, leaping off the bed and over to Taylor, where he pushed her back against the door to the room, pressed his body against hers, and placed a hand against the door, either side of her head, “Sam isn’t going anywhere near your body.”
Taylor stared straight into Flack’s icy blue eyes and smiled slightly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I should ask Dean. He looks like the better offer. He looks like he knows how to handle a bar of soap,” Taylor sighed, still staring up at Flack. “Or maybe I should invite the both of them to join me. I’m sure I can find something for each of them to be occupied.”
Flack had heard enough. He slipped his thumbs between the lace of Taylor’s French knickers and the curve of her ass and clamped his hands over the firm flesh pressing her even further into him. “Not on your life, woman. The only person who’s going to be having fun with you and a bar of soap is me.” He brought his lips down onto her and kissed her possessively.
With his lips still firmly attached to hers, he picked her up, effortlessly. Taylor wrapped her legs and arms around him and allowed him to carry her to the shower. Cute as both Dean and Sam were, there was only one man for her.
* * *
Several hours later and there was no hot water left and more water on the floor than there should have been. Taylor was laying on the bed, next to Flack, her head resting on his chest, listening to his heart beat, whilst tracing her fingers over his still-pink scar on his abdomen. Flack had his eyes closed, although not asleep, his cheek resting against her freshly washed hair, content in holding her in his arms.
“Don,” Taylor muttered.
“Hmmm?”
“I want to tell you something.”
Flack peeked an eye open. “What’s up?”
“I’m happy.”
“Okay,” he said slowly.
Taylor looked up at him. “No, I mean, you make me happy. Really happy.”
“Um, any time?”
Taylor sighed. “This. I know we… I just wanted you to know,” she trailed off. She had been about to tell him more, but something was holding her back. Instead, she turned her attention elsewhere and glanced at her phone and cursed.
“What’s the matter?” Flack asked her, watching as she pulled on some clean underwear, a fresh pair of tight fitting jeans, a long, black camisole, and a shorter hot pink camisole over the top.
“Battery’s low. I’m going to get the charger from the car.”
“Use mine.”
Taylor arched an eyebrow. “And where is yours?”
Flack frowned, “Oh. The car.”
“I’ll be right back,” she told him, planting a kiss on his cheek, before leaving the room. Outside she saw the Impala. Taylor stared at it, appreciating the beauty of a classic, and then she rolled her eyes at it as she realised who it belonged to. They clearly didn’t have a problem with rats.
She crossed the road, thankful that the rain had eased off into a cool drizzle. She shivered in the cold March night air and hurried to get the charger out of the trunk. Inside, wrapped in Flack’s arms was a very appealing option at that moment. She shut the trunk, charger in hand, and was about to cross back to the B&B when a scream pierced the night air.
Taylor’s head whipped around in the direction the scream came from. Uphill and out of the town. Forgetting about the cold, she set off at a run up the hill towards where the scream had originated from.
It turned out, that just over the crest of the hill there was nothing but smouldering trees and ground: piles of grey ash and burnt wood. Standing in the middle were a woman and a man, a couple, holding hands. However, they were also dead. Taylor could see through them. After Vegas, seeing a ghost out of New York wasn’t a big surprise. That being said, Holly wasn’t with these two. And neither were Maddy and Aiden.
“Please,” begged the woman. “You have to stop them.”
Taylor frowned. “Stop who?” she asked cautiously.
“Stop them, and stop it,” the man added.
“It?” Taylor asked, a knot forming in her stomach. And then there was a bang, and it looked like something exploded in the ghosts as they disappeared. Something which Taylor noticed as a hand was wrapped around her arm and she was yanked out of the way. “What the hell?!” she cried, trying to catch her balance as she stumbled straight into somebody’s chest.
“Are you alright?”
Taylor looked up and found herself staring into Sam’s concerned hazel eyes. She quickly wrenched herself away from him and turned to face Dean who was staring at her, smoking shotgun in his hands. “Are you crazy?” she asked him. “You can’t just go shooting things. Someone could get hurt.”
“They were dead,” Dean told her, rolling his eyes. “And it was rock salt, so the only thing that was going to get hurt was the ghost.”
“Salt, lead – it’s still going to hu…” Taylor’s eyes widened. “You could see them?”
Dean looked at her like she was crazy, “Of course we can see them.”
Taylor whipped her head back to Sam, “And you could see them?” Sam nodded. Taylor took a step back and narrowed her eyes at the two men. “What is going on? And I want the truth. Not some stupid story about cops evacuating a town.”
“There is nothing stupid-”
“Fine,” Sam told her, interrupting Dean. “But not out here.”
Taylor sighed, realising they were right. “My room.”
“Don,” Taylor muttered.
“Hmmm?”
“I want to tell you something.”
Flack peeked an eye open. “What’s up?”
“I’m happy.”
“Okay,” he said slowly.
Taylor looked up at him. “No, I mean, you make me happy. Really happy.”
“Um, any time?”
Taylor sighed. “This. I know we… I just wanted you to know,” she trailed off. She had been about to tell him more, but something was holding her back. Instead, she turned her attention elsewhere and glanced at her phone and cursed.
“What’s the matter?” Flack asked her, watching as she pulled on some clean underwear, a fresh pair of tight fitting jeans, a long, black camisole, and a shorter hot pink camisole over the top.
“Battery’s low. I’m going to get the charger from the car.”
“Use mine.”
Taylor arched an eyebrow. “And where is yours?”
Flack frowned, “Oh. The car.”
“I’ll be right back,” she told him, planting a kiss on his cheek, before leaving the room. Outside she saw the Impala. Taylor stared at it, appreciating the beauty of a classic, and then she rolled her eyes at it as she realised who it belonged to. They clearly didn’t have a problem with rats.
She crossed the road, thankful that the rain had eased off into a cool drizzle. She shivered in the cold March night air and hurried to get the charger out of the trunk. Inside, wrapped in Flack’s arms was a very appealing option at that moment. She shut the trunk, charger in hand, and was about to cross back to the B&B when a scream pierced the night air.
Taylor’s head whipped around in the direction the scream came from. Uphill and out of the town. Forgetting about the cold, she set off at a run up the hill towards where the scream had originated from.
It turned out, that just over the crest of the hill there was nothing but smouldering trees and ground: piles of grey ash and burnt wood. Standing in the middle were a woman and a man, a couple, holding hands. However, they were also dead. Taylor could see through them. After Vegas, seeing a ghost out of New York wasn’t a big surprise. That being said, Holly wasn’t with these two. And neither were Maddy and Aiden.
“Please,” begged the woman. “You have to stop them.”
Taylor frowned. “Stop who?” she asked cautiously.
“Stop them, and stop it,” the man added.
“It?” Taylor asked, a knot forming in her stomach. And then there was a bang, and it looked like something exploded in the ghosts as they disappeared. Something which Taylor noticed as a hand was wrapped around her arm and she was yanked out of the way. “What the hell?!” she cried, trying to catch her balance as she stumbled straight into somebody’s chest.
“Are you alright?”
Taylor looked up and found herself staring into Sam’s concerned hazel eyes. She quickly wrenched herself away from him and turned to face Dean who was staring at her, smoking shotgun in his hands. “Are you crazy?” she asked him. “You can’t just go shooting things. Someone could get hurt.”
“They were dead,” Dean told her, rolling his eyes. “And it was rock salt, so the only thing that was going to get hurt was the ghost.”
“Salt, lead – it’s still going to hu…” Taylor’s eyes widened. “You could see them?”
Dean looked at her like she was crazy, “Of course we can see them.”
Taylor whipped her head back to Sam, “And you could see them?” Sam nodded. Taylor took a step back and narrowed her eyes at the two men. “What is going on? And I want the truth. Not some stupid story about cops evacuating a town.”
“There is nothing stupid-”
“Fine,” Sam told her, interrupting Dean. “But not out here.”
Taylor sighed, realising they were right. “My room.”
* * *
“About time you got back,” said Flack as Taylor walked through the door. His happy expression was replaced with one of concern and confusion as Sam and Dean followed her in. “Taylor?”
“Don, this is Sam and Dean,” she told him, pointing to the respective guys.
“Sam and Dean?”
“Winchester,” Sam added.
“The cops?” Taylor had filled him on the conversation in the café.
“No,” Taylor told him. “Surprisingly, they’re not.”
“We’re hunters,” Sam told him.
Flack frowned. “What on earth are you hunting around here?”
“Evil,” Dean told him, shortly.
Flack snorted. “Evil?”
“They can see ghosts,” Taylor explained, shooting Dean a withering look.
“We have a problem.”
Taylor whirled around. Behind her was Aiden. Unfortunately, everyone in the room also saw her, and Dean reacted, pulling a hand gun out of the back of his jeans and pointing it. Remembering what Dean had said about salt bullets, Taylor reacted as Dean fired, jumping in front of Aiden and taking the bullet for her.
As Taylor fell to the floor, Flack grabbed his Glock and pointed it at Dean. Seconds later, Sam was pointing a gun at Flack. “You shot my girlfriend!” Flack cried, trying to see how Taylor was whist keeping his gun trained on Dean.
“She jumped in front of it!” Dean shouted back.
“Everybody just relax,” Sam called, trying to calm the two men down. “It’s just salt,” he told Flack. “It’s going to sting like a bitch, but your girlfriend will be fine.”
As if on cue, Taylor groaned and rolled over, clutching her shoulder. “Note to self,” she muttered. “Salt hurts.” She sat up and inspected the wound. It was nothing more than what was going to be a bruise with a few cuts. What made it hurt more was the fact some of the salt had make its way into it.
“Are you stupid?!” Dean shouted at her.
“Hey!” Flack objected, the gun still trained on him.
“Can we all just put down the guns before someone else gets shot?” Taylor pleaded. Sam looked from Dean to her, and then sighed, putting his gun back in his jeans and hurrying over to Taylor to help her to her feet. “Thanks,” she mumbled, lowering herself into one of the chairs.
With a final glare, Flack holstered his weapon.
Dean sat down in the chair opposite Taylor and put his gun in his lap. “Do you normally jump in front of guns?” he asked, glaring at her.
Taylor glared back. “Only when it’s about to be used to kill one of my friends.”
“Friend?” Dean cried incredulously. “It was a ghost. And it was dead. You can’t kill something which is dead!”
“So I have dead friends. But you said that salt-”
“Would hurt it!” he exclaimed.
“To ‘kill’ a ghost, you have to sprinkle their bones with salt and the burn them,” Sam explained. He perched on the end of the bed. “Most people seem a little shocked when they encounter a ghost, but you seem to be friends with them.”
“Yeah, what’s the deal with that? Ghosts are evil.”
“Ghosts are dead,” Taylor said scathingly, using Dean’s words. “They can’t be evil. They’re a reflection of what the person was like in life. If the person was evil, then so are they. Now,” she said. “Why are you shooting them?”
“What’s your business with them?” Dean shot back.
“Do you normally answer a question with a question?”
“Our mother was killed by a demon,” said Sam.
“Can it, Sammy.”
Sam shot Dean a glare, “It’s Sam.”
Taylor shut her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“After that, our dad raised us to hunt evil: demons, monsters, ghosts. We travel around, keeping an eye on the papers for unexplainable deaths.”
“It’s a real life Mulder and Scully,” Flack muttered, earning him another glare from Dean.
“And Centralia is a hub of unexplained deaths?” Taylor asked sceptically. “Caused by monsters and demons and ghosts?”
“No, just a demon,” Dean told her.
“A demon?” Flack repeated.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
“We think it’s a demon,” Sam inputted. “It’s the only thing we can think of as to why the fire has been burning all this time.”
“The guy at the desk said it was because it’s in a coal mine, with plenty of oxygen inlets, and the fire service can’t get to it to put it out,” Flack told them.
“That is what we call a cover story,” said Dean, rolling his eyes. “Jeeze, I thought you were supposed to be one of New York’s finest.”
“What’s your story?” Sam asked Taylor, before Flack could say something back to his brother.
Taylor shrugged. “I’m a journalist for the New York Daily. Just over a year ago, I saw my first ghost. They come to me so I can help the CSIs to solve their deaths.”
“So you’re a real life Nancy Drew,” snarked Dean.
Flack smirked. “You need to find a new one, because that’s old.”
“Anyway,” Taylor continued. “I’m helped by my best… dead… friend, and an ex-CSI – who you shot at,” she said, pulling a face at Dean. “But demons and monsters?”
“How did you end up in Centralia, then?” Sam asked.
“Needed to fill the tank up,” Taylor shrugged.
“Well, Joe said the car would be ready at seven,” Flack said.
Taylor shook her head, “I’m not leaving, Flack. When we were out there, two ghosts appeared asking for my help.”
“I think I’m going to agree with your boyfriend,” said Sam. “It’s not safe.”
“We can’t just-”
“We can, Taylor, and we should” Flack cut her off. “Battling demons is not your job.”
“Fine,” Taylor agreed with much reluctance.
“Alright, I’ll go talk to Joe, and you can pack up our things.”
Taylor shook her head. “I’ll go talk to the mechanic,” she told him firmly.
Flack frowned. “I was the one-”
“Who thought that there was something wrong with my car.”
“There was,” he insisted.
Sam shook his head. “Actually, there wasn’t.”
Taylor and Flack turned their attention to him. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“Sammy,” Dean warned.
“Dean, they should know.”
Dean rolled his eyes, “To keep the demon happy and to stop him from burning the town up, the townspeople send it a human sacrifice.”
“And?” Taylor asked slowly, not sure she was liking where this was going.
“They use couples as sacrifices,” Sam finished.
“All the more reason to get out of here,” said Flack.
“It means that the mechanic did something to your car intentionally,” said Dean. “Which also means it’s more than likely not repaired.”
Taylor got to her feet. “Right, well, I’m going to fix it myself.”
“I should go,” Flack pressed.
“Don,” she said softly. “You know more about bikes. I’m the one with the 411 on cars. I’ll go see the mechanic. It the worst comes to the worst, I can make a temporary patch job on the radiator myself. One that should hold until we get to another garage.”
Flack sighed. “You’re right.”
Taylor leant over and gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Dean, grabbing his gun and getting to his feet. “It’s not safe for you to go alone, especially if you’re the sacrifice. Sam can stay with Flack.”
Taylor nodded and hurried out of the door, Dean close behind her.
The car was still parked up outside the garage which was deserted. Taylor unlocked it, popped the hood and stuck her head into the engine well. She groaned when she saw that the crack in the radiator was still broken.
Dean followed her as she headed to the trunk and pulled out the tool box. “You clearly didn’t learn the mechanics off your boyfriend,” he said, taking the box off her and carrying it around to the front. “Younger brother?”
“Older, actually.”
“Hmmm,” he said, taking a wrench out. “I had you pegged for the older sibling.
“A wrench isn’t going to do it,” she said, pulling out a roll of duct tape. “Not if we’re to leave now. The duct tape should hold for a few miles. We can keep replacing it.”
Under the hood, Dean gave her a sharp look as she joined him. “A hot chick that has a hot car, and knows how to look after it? This engine is in perfect order.”
Taylor smiled. “Actually, my brother restored it before… I’m driving it from San Diego to New York. I learnt everything off him.” She leant over and began wrapping the duct tape around the crack.
Dean leant over. She could feel his breath on her neck. “Do you and your boyfriend always fight like that?” he asked her.
Taylor turned her head. His face was actually inches from hers. “Yeah,” she told him. “But we only do it to make up afterwards.”
“And the other trust issue,” he licked his lips.
“He didn’t believe in ghosts.”
“Interesting,” Dean straightened up. “I’ll get some water to fill the radiator up.”
Taylor bent back over to continue her patching. Not long later, she could sense him right behind her. “That was quick,” she told him. Only, when she turned, it wasn’t Dean. She barely caught a good look at the guy as something came flying at her head, knocking her unconscious.
“Don, this is Sam and Dean,” she told him, pointing to the respective guys.
“Sam and Dean?”
“Winchester,” Sam added.
“The cops?” Taylor had filled him on the conversation in the café.
“No,” Taylor told him. “Surprisingly, they’re not.”
“We’re hunters,” Sam told him.
Flack frowned. “What on earth are you hunting around here?”
“Evil,” Dean told him, shortly.
Flack snorted. “Evil?”
“They can see ghosts,” Taylor explained, shooting Dean a withering look.
“We have a problem.”
Taylor whirled around. Behind her was Aiden. Unfortunately, everyone in the room also saw her, and Dean reacted, pulling a hand gun out of the back of his jeans and pointing it. Remembering what Dean had said about salt bullets, Taylor reacted as Dean fired, jumping in front of Aiden and taking the bullet for her.
As Taylor fell to the floor, Flack grabbed his Glock and pointed it at Dean. Seconds later, Sam was pointing a gun at Flack. “You shot my girlfriend!” Flack cried, trying to see how Taylor was whist keeping his gun trained on Dean.
“She jumped in front of it!” Dean shouted back.
“Everybody just relax,” Sam called, trying to calm the two men down. “It’s just salt,” he told Flack. “It’s going to sting like a bitch, but your girlfriend will be fine.”
As if on cue, Taylor groaned and rolled over, clutching her shoulder. “Note to self,” she muttered. “Salt hurts.” She sat up and inspected the wound. It was nothing more than what was going to be a bruise with a few cuts. What made it hurt more was the fact some of the salt had make its way into it.
“Are you stupid?!” Dean shouted at her.
“Hey!” Flack objected, the gun still trained on him.
“Can we all just put down the guns before someone else gets shot?” Taylor pleaded. Sam looked from Dean to her, and then sighed, putting his gun back in his jeans and hurrying over to Taylor to help her to her feet. “Thanks,” she mumbled, lowering herself into one of the chairs.
With a final glare, Flack holstered his weapon.
Dean sat down in the chair opposite Taylor and put his gun in his lap. “Do you normally jump in front of guns?” he asked, glaring at her.
Taylor glared back. “Only when it’s about to be used to kill one of my friends.”
“Friend?” Dean cried incredulously. “It was a ghost. And it was dead. You can’t kill something which is dead!”
“So I have dead friends. But you said that salt-”
“Would hurt it!” he exclaimed.
“To ‘kill’ a ghost, you have to sprinkle their bones with salt and the burn them,” Sam explained. He perched on the end of the bed. “Most people seem a little shocked when they encounter a ghost, but you seem to be friends with them.”
“Yeah, what’s the deal with that? Ghosts are evil.”
“Ghosts are dead,” Taylor said scathingly, using Dean’s words. “They can’t be evil. They’re a reflection of what the person was like in life. If the person was evil, then so are they. Now,” she said. “Why are you shooting them?”
“What’s your business with them?” Dean shot back.
“Do you normally answer a question with a question?”
“Our mother was killed by a demon,” said Sam.
“Can it, Sammy.”
Sam shot Dean a glare, “It’s Sam.”
Taylor shut her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“After that, our dad raised us to hunt evil: demons, monsters, ghosts. We travel around, keeping an eye on the papers for unexplainable deaths.”
“It’s a real life Mulder and Scully,” Flack muttered, earning him another glare from Dean.
“And Centralia is a hub of unexplained deaths?” Taylor asked sceptically. “Caused by monsters and demons and ghosts?”
“No, just a demon,” Dean told her.
“A demon?” Flack repeated.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
“We think it’s a demon,” Sam inputted. “It’s the only thing we can think of as to why the fire has been burning all this time.”
“The guy at the desk said it was because it’s in a coal mine, with plenty of oxygen inlets, and the fire service can’t get to it to put it out,” Flack told them.
“That is what we call a cover story,” said Dean, rolling his eyes. “Jeeze, I thought you were supposed to be one of New York’s finest.”
“What’s your story?” Sam asked Taylor, before Flack could say something back to his brother.
Taylor shrugged. “I’m a journalist for the New York Daily. Just over a year ago, I saw my first ghost. They come to me so I can help the CSIs to solve their deaths.”
“So you’re a real life Nancy Drew,” snarked Dean.
Flack smirked. “You need to find a new one, because that’s old.”
“Anyway,” Taylor continued. “I’m helped by my best… dead… friend, and an ex-CSI – who you shot at,” she said, pulling a face at Dean. “But demons and monsters?”
“How did you end up in Centralia, then?” Sam asked.
“Needed to fill the tank up,” Taylor shrugged.
“Well, Joe said the car would be ready at seven,” Flack said.
Taylor shook her head, “I’m not leaving, Flack. When we were out there, two ghosts appeared asking for my help.”
“I think I’m going to agree with your boyfriend,” said Sam. “It’s not safe.”
“We can’t just-”
“We can, Taylor, and we should” Flack cut her off. “Battling demons is not your job.”
“Fine,” Taylor agreed with much reluctance.
“Alright, I’ll go talk to Joe, and you can pack up our things.”
Taylor shook her head. “I’ll go talk to the mechanic,” she told him firmly.
Flack frowned. “I was the one-”
“Who thought that there was something wrong with my car.”
“There was,” he insisted.
Sam shook his head. “Actually, there wasn’t.”
Taylor and Flack turned their attention to him. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“Sammy,” Dean warned.
“Dean, they should know.”
Dean rolled his eyes, “To keep the demon happy and to stop him from burning the town up, the townspeople send it a human sacrifice.”
“And?” Taylor asked slowly, not sure she was liking where this was going.
“They use couples as sacrifices,” Sam finished.
“All the more reason to get out of here,” said Flack.
“It means that the mechanic did something to your car intentionally,” said Dean. “Which also means it’s more than likely not repaired.”
Taylor got to her feet. “Right, well, I’m going to fix it myself.”
“I should go,” Flack pressed.
“Don,” she said softly. “You know more about bikes. I’m the one with the 411 on cars. I’ll go see the mechanic. It the worst comes to the worst, I can make a temporary patch job on the radiator myself. One that should hold until we get to another garage.”
Flack sighed. “You’re right.”
Taylor leant over and gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Dean, grabbing his gun and getting to his feet. “It’s not safe for you to go alone, especially if you’re the sacrifice. Sam can stay with Flack.”
Taylor nodded and hurried out of the door, Dean close behind her.
The car was still parked up outside the garage which was deserted. Taylor unlocked it, popped the hood and stuck her head into the engine well. She groaned when she saw that the crack in the radiator was still broken.
Dean followed her as she headed to the trunk and pulled out the tool box. “You clearly didn’t learn the mechanics off your boyfriend,” he said, taking the box off her and carrying it around to the front. “Younger brother?”
“Older, actually.”
“Hmmm,” he said, taking a wrench out. “I had you pegged for the older sibling.
“A wrench isn’t going to do it,” she said, pulling out a roll of duct tape. “Not if we’re to leave now. The duct tape should hold for a few miles. We can keep replacing it.”
Under the hood, Dean gave her a sharp look as she joined him. “A hot chick that has a hot car, and knows how to look after it? This engine is in perfect order.”
Taylor smiled. “Actually, my brother restored it before… I’m driving it from San Diego to New York. I learnt everything off him.” She leant over and began wrapping the duct tape around the crack.
Dean leant over. She could feel his breath on her neck. “Do you and your boyfriend always fight like that?” he asked her.
Taylor turned her head. His face was actually inches from hers. “Yeah,” she told him. “But we only do it to make up afterwards.”
“And the other trust issue,” he licked his lips.
“He didn’t believe in ghosts.”
“Interesting,” Dean straightened up. “I’ll get some water to fill the radiator up.”
Taylor bent back over to continue her patching. Not long later, she could sense him right behind her. “That was quick,” she told him. Only, when she turned, it wasn’t Dean. She barely caught a good look at the guy as something came flying at her head, knocking her unconscious.
Originally posted 11/06/2007