Thanks again to the fantastical MoonClaimed for fixing up my messy chapter.

I own nothing.

"I hate snow! Can't see a god damn thing…" Dean muttered as he navigated the Impala through white streets.

"Motel should be coming up on the right."

"Do you see it?"

Sam squinted to try and make out the passing buildings through the flurrying snow. "No, I don't – there! Hundred feet or so."

Dean cautiously maneuvered the Impala into the parking lot.

"Is this even a spot?" Sam asked once they had stopped, peering out of his window.

"It is now. C'mon, grab your stuff." Dean stepped out of the car and made it two steps before slipping on the ice and falling flat on his face. He let out a high-pitched yelp and then cursed, "Son of a motherfucking bitch!"

"Hey, you okay, man?" Sam called.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the older hunter grumbled. "Freaking rock salt."

The next day the Winchesters had spread out in a local diner to review what they'd found so far.

"But get this: Marissa's father bought the car a month ago." Sam handed his notes over to his brother across the table.

"Right when the deaths started back up again," Dean said, finishing his brother's thought.

"Exactly. Freddie's haunting the car."

"Okay, so it's just a basic salt and burn. No problem" Dean commented as he added some salt to his burger.

"Except he was cremated."

Dean stopped mid-bite to face the gravelly voice. "Come again?"

"The article says he was cremated. There's no body to burn, Dean," Cas said.

"Okay, so we just have to find the item he's haunting and-"

"Dean," Sam said gently, "it's the car."

"We don't know that!"

"I'm afraid your brother's right. It seems the only logical choice."

"No. No way. I am not burning a '69 GT!" Dean growled.

"Dean-"

"No, Sam! Look at her! She's got original parts and everything!"

"I know, I get that," Sam said, "but we don't-"

"And what'll Baby think of me? She'll never trust me again!"

"It's a car, Dean!" Sam sighed and turned to face their resident angel. "Cas, help me out."

"I am sorry, Dean," Cas said solemnly, "but we do not have a choice. If we don't burn it, more people will die."

"But…" The demon sighed. "Fine, you can burn the damn car." He took a bite of his burger to console himself—it didn't work. "Shit, salt, son of a bitch that hurts!"

"Seriously? Again, Dean? That's the third time this week!" Sam exclaimed.

It had been a long day and tomorrow would likely be even longer. Dean shuddered at the memory of the classic car burning. What a waste. "You salt the doors, Sam?" he asked after collapsing back onto his bed.

"Yes, Dad. I'm not a kid, you know. I know the drill."

"Excuse me for wanting to keep you safe, man. You know what's out there."

"I know, but are you sure this is a good idea?" Sam asked, concerned. "What if something happens? You're stuck in here."

"Quit being such a girl," Dean grunted, rolling over onto his side. "Nothing's gonna happen."

No sooner had the sentence left Dean's mouth, then a flaming pancake landed on his bed. Dean jumped up and glared at Cas. "What the hell, man?"

"My apologies, the pan and I had a bit of a disagreement."

"Um, guys?" Sam pointed to the burning comforter. "We should probably put that out."

"Ready to get out of here?" Sam asked as he climbed into the car and handed his brother a cup of coffee.

"Hell yeah. And remember," Dean said, raising his cup to his lips, "no more Michigan. Ever." He took a sip and immediately spit it out of his window with a cry of pain. "Dude, what the hell?! You put salt in my coffee?"

Sam laughed. "You should have seen your face!"

Dean glared at his brother. "I'll remember this."

"Brink it on, bro. This time, I'm going to win."

"Pff," Dean said with a taunting grin. "That's what you said the last three prank wars."