More than Magic

[lovestheimpala]

Once upon a time, there was a species of supernatural beings who liked to watch over the ones with deep desires in their hearts. If they were good, they would grant them wishes, and help them on the way to finding true love and happiness.

In the old days, they were so loved and revered that stories would be told of them. But the fairy godmothers, as they were known amongst those who held them dear, grew to be more and more presumptuous about the wishes of their wards. In short, they got cocky and more and more of the granted wishes backfired. It got so bad that people stopped loving them, stopped telling stories about them, and when they finally stopped making wishes to them the species started die out. Without the wishes giving them the power, there was nothing to keep them in existence.

But of course, some stories alive and there was always the occasional wishes dropping in from little children that had yet to stop believing, so a few stayed a live. A handful at first, then only a couple, and finally just the one.

The very last of the fairy godmothers is a mess to behold.

He's fading, there's no doubt of that, and his once gloriously sparkling gown hangs in tatters. His beautiful mane of silver and cream has lost all luster and is falling out by the handfuls. His wings barely function anymore, and he's generally had one too many hits of Mumbo Jamma Juice. Bothering with wishes isn't really a thing anymore. Occasionally, he will come across something that catches his attention enough that he uses the last drops of his power to try to grant it.

Sadly, he rarely gets it right.

Like when he comes across this semi-young hunter with a plethora of the most sore and sad wishes in his scarred and broken heart. The hidden longing for love and family and home, reminds the fairy godmother so much of the princesses he used to cater to thousands of years ago, that he can't resist the need to want to bring just those things to the hunter.

Except, again he gets it wrong. He gets those wishes all garbled up and can't differentiate between love and home and safety, and he thinks the best thing he can do for this one called Dean is to turn his beloved car into a human. And the face the old fairy picks, is the first one he can pluck out of what lies in Dean's heart.

Comments

[lovestheimpala]

Dean doesn't comment on the flopping just because- Well, it could be so much worse and frankly he's seen weirder. He hurriedly shoves his things into his duffel bag (because those things are good any time) and contemplates this name thing.

And as much as he hates to admit it, his gut feeling is to call him 'Baby'. Anything else he can think of sounds wrong, especially now that there's an ever increasing chance that the thing rolling around on the bed might be his... car? Okay, no. His brain is not ready for that part just yet. Let's focus on the easy bit for now.

"Okay, fine. I'm gonna go with Baby, if you listen to Frank and get your clothes off." Which he still disagrees with, but if it'll keep both queens happy, he's fine with it.

[james_kirk]

Baby looks at the two of them blankly, a complete lack of comprehension on his features. He wants to listen to Dean and have Dean call him by his proper name, which would make both of them happy, but he honestly has no idea what they're talking about.

Clothes? What clothes? Cars don't have clothes. Do they want him to take off his paint? HE CAN'T TAKE OFF HIS PAINT. HE'S SUCH AN UGLY GREY COLOR UNDERNEATH.

So, he covers his body with his hands like they're some kind of creepy, old perverts and looks absolutely aghast.

[bigvessel]

His exhale is as dramatic as Baby's little display and rolls his eyes. "Fine whatever. Nobody is seeing me-him like that. He's going to have to go in the trunk."

And that's a task he'll leave entirely to Dean.

[lovestheimpala]

"He's not gonna fit in the trunk- Is he?" That's Dean's only objection. And there's only one way to find out.

"Come on, Baby. We're gonna go meet Frank's car," he says and holds his hand out for him. He won't say a word about the clothes thing as long as no one else is going to push it. Because again, he likes the whole leather thing.

[james_kirk]

Baby trusts Dean, so he stands up and takes Dean's hand. Meeting a new car? That sounds interesting. Baby likes meeting other cars and seeing what they can do. Sometimes, they're fast and sometimes they're just loud.

And does this mean Assbutt's name is Frank? Assbutt sounds better. More accurate. "Okay," he agrees.

But, you know, he hasn't missed the part about going in the trunk. He's been right here. "Please don't trunk me."

[bigvessel]

"It's a roomy trunk." Of course it is, the thing has no damn backseat, there's plenty of space for their bags and pinocchio here. And yeah, he answers after Baby's protest. "We don't have room anywhere else. And I can't drive around town with a face twin on the bitch seat of my car."

[lovestheimpala]

"It'll be fine," Dean says to Baby.

He scans the room one last time to make sure nothing's been forgotten, and then walks out to the Spyder. He'll even turn to give Baby a reassuring smile. "It's not far, and it's a lot safer for you to be in the trunk. No bugs on your windshield either. Frank's right."

[james_kirk]

Everything makes sense when he follows Dean out to the other car. The other car is newer. More streamlined. Prettier. Definitely faster.

That's why Dean likes Assbutt.

"Oh," he says and sounds somewhat disappointed and a little hurt, but then he rallies himself and rumbles out a growl. He's supposed to take Dean to LA, not this... this harlot.

So he walks over to Dean and scoops him up and starts walking out towards the highway like it's perfectly normal. ...He doesn't remember Dean being this heavy.

[lovestheimpala]

There's no denying that Dean likes FDR's car. He greets the girl with a gentle stroke across her trunk and this little... smile. But that's got nothing to do with why he likes this asshole of a CIA agent that at one point had him arrested and tortured.

And liking either one doesn't mean he has anything but absolute and undying love for his own car.

"You can go in the trunk-" he starts to say when he finds himself scooped up and carried off. Dean lets out an indignant yelp and immediately starts squirming and writhing to try to free himself, but that doesn't seem to be working- "FRANK!"

[bigvessel]

There's one thing to remember when calling a CIA agent for help, and that is that he helps in the most proficient way possible, which just happens to be pulling his tranq gun out of from the fake bottom of his trunk and shooting Baby in the back of the neck with it.

[james_kirk]

There's a startled yelp and Baby whirls around to face his attacker. He can't drop Dean. Don't drop Dean! Do not eject the driver from the vehicle!

He gets all of three steps towards Assbutt, anger written all over his features and with every intent of slamming the guy in the face with his door, and then his legs give out and he keels over. Right on top of Dean, in an ungainly heap on the sidewalk.

And then the snoring begins, quiet, like the idling purr of an engine.

[lovestheimpala]

There's a slight cry when he's falling (that he'll never admit to) and then he's crushed under the car.

Luckily, the Impala is a lot easier to move these days and he rolls the guy off of him before jumping to his feet.

He should probably be angry at the tranq gun, but... why? This solves all their problems.

"Hey, come help me dump him in the trunk. Sonofabitch is heavy."

[bigvessel]

He tosses the tranq gun back in the trunk and fixes the top over it before heading over to the body. With a quick glance at Dean just to make sure he's not more than scruffed up he bends down and checks Baby's pulse. There's only a small margin of error for tranq darts to the neck. Instant crash or death. But, he's pretty confident in his aim and the snoring is a pretty good sign he's not slowly dying. He plucks the dart out and tucks it in his pocket before he's helping Dean carry him to the car and tucking him into the trunk.

"You're welcome."

---

A sleeping car saves them a lot of trouble and the ride back to his part of LA goes smoothly enough. And thanks to having the insight of a damn elevator in his house, it's not even that difficult to get Baby inside and laid out on his couch.

But the whole almost dragging Dean out on the freeway and making roadkill out of them both puts him on FDR's dangerous list. Which means he won't be sleeping anytime soon with it in his house.

[lovestheimpala]

Shh. There was totally an unspoken 'thanks' there.

On the way to LA, Dean explains to FDR everything that Sam said about how it's not entirely unheard of that inanimate objects have been turned into living things, but that requires masterful spell work, and if they're talking about a living, breathing human being... then the culprit is probably something slightly more powerful than your average hex-bag hag.

As there's no other species of weirdness that really fits with everything Dean told him about Baby, Sam's currently going with "It's probably the car" and trying to figure out what could have that kind of power. And more importantly: How to hunt it, and make it reverse the spell.

Because Dean is absolutely adamant: He wants his car back.

-

Once they reach FDR's turf, Dean goes into a minor shut down. After depositing Baby on the couch (and after Dean has tucked him in lovingly), he goes straight for the liquor. He has the decency to stay away from the good tequila, but he does grab one of the other bottles with every intention of emptying it.

And so he does, glass by glass as he clicks away on his computer, doing his own research into cars spontaneously growing human. With the given consequence that within a few hours that bottle is empty and Dean is blacked out in a chair. FDR might not be able to sleep for a while, but Dean's not gonna come back to consciousness for at least the rest of the night.