Quite a few people have mentioned that they miss the earlier Supernatural episodes, before the demons & angels and the Apocalypse. So I thought I'd try my hand at writing some fanfiction that takes place about two years before the show starts, it was harder than I thought it would be!

Life in the Fast Lane
Chapter 1 - Surely make you loose your mind...

Dean swore under his breath as his gaze momentarily drifted up to the rearview mirror, his eyes instantly focusing on the flashing lights that lit up the dark road behind him. His foot was practically on the floor, but he couldn't seem to shake the determined cop that had been trailing him since Scythe. On any other night after any other hunt, it wouldn't have bothered him in the least, after all; it wasn't the first time the long arm of the law was on his tail but tonight was different, and they had him in their sights for much more than the regular theft, fraud and forgery. With one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other applying pressure to the open wound in his side, his mind was racing just about as fast as his car was devouring the country road ahead. The night as far as he was concerned, couldn't get any worse. Though his father wasn't there with him he could already hear the tone in his voice, the anger and disappointment following every other word as he pointed out one mistake after another. Dean sank down into his well worn leather seat as the inevitable confrontation circled in the back of his troubled mind. He knew what his father would have to say when they did eventually meet up, and just the thought of it had his stomach in knots. At twenty-four, it was time for him to clean up his own mess.

"Damn it Dean, think." He growled to himself, the sound of the Impala's roaring engine and the blare of the police car's sirens drowned out by the heavy rain pounding hard against his windshield. When the cell phone on the seat next to him rang he barely gave it glance, he had other things on his mind, but it was the name he saw on the display that forced him to do a double take. He hadn't spoken to his younger brother since the night Sam announced that he was leaving for Stanford. Though two years had gone by he could still recall every detail of the fight Sam had with their father, THE fight that saw them part ways. For good. He'd checked in every chance that he got but kept his distance. Needless to say, for Sam to give him a call out of the blue, he knew something had to be terribly wrong. So when his cell rang once again, Dean sucked in a breath, wiped the blood from his right hand onto his jeans and reached over to grab the phone from the seat beside him. "Sammy?" He started, his heart in his throat. "What's wrong are you alright?"

"Unbelievable." Sam was quick to reply, passing a hand through his hair as he straightened out in his chair. "I'm the one that calls and the very first thing you ask, is if I'm alright? " He continued, closing the book that was open on the desk in front him.

"Why else would you call?" Dean snapped, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. "It's not like you'd call just to chat, especially not after all that stuff you said the night you took off. If I remember correctly you wanted nothing to do with..."

"Dean I'm calling to ask what the Hell you're doing all over the late night news!" Sam cut in, his gaze drifting back to the television screen in the corner of the room. "Cops in Wyoming are looking for a suspect in the shooting death of a Sheriff... they've got the dash-cam footage from her car, Dean, they're on a manhunt for a cop-killing suspect and that suspect is you!"

"News sure does travel fast." Dean casually remarked, his gaze drifting up to the rear view mirror as the cop car made another approach, another attempt to force him off the road. He was trying to keep his cool, trying to put up the front his younger brother was use to, but he could hear it in his own voice. He wasn't fooling anyone.

"Dude, this is serious!"

"It's not what it looks like, Sammy." Dean calmly started, watching as the speedometer needle climbed and the Impala once again pulled ahead of the police cruiser. "It might have looked like a cop, but the thing I killed wasn't even human." "Well I assumed it wasn't but the general public doesn't know that now do they? All they see is some punk-ass thug pulling the trigger on a Sheriff! " Sam paused for only a moment as the newscast once again played the short clip, pleading with the public to help identify the unknown gunman. For something that had happened only a few hours ago, the news had spread like wildfire. Maybe it was because the victim was a Sheriff, or because it had happened in a small town where everyone knew everyone else. Whatever had led to the media frenzy, Sam knew his brother was in trouble. He let out a sigh as he got up from his seat and reached over to shut the TV off. "Dean you've worked jobs all over this country, chances are someone out there, somewhere, is going to recognize you."

"I somehow doubt that." Dean replied, wincing in pain as his car hit a pothole in the road. "Most dash-cam footage is grainy at best, I can tell ya right now that anyone is going to have a hard time making a positive ID off some static filled screen-shot."

"You shot a cop in clear view of a camera!" Sam cut in as he started to pace the floor of his tiny apartment, angry that his older brother seemed to be brushing off an incident that had put him in the headlines. "Dude, what the Hell were your thinking!"

"You really want me to answer that?" Dean asked, the question followed by an awkward and almost eerie moment of silence. "It wasn't a cop it was a Shapeshifter and a damn smart one at that. I'd been tracking the thing for the past three days, Sam. It got the jump on me twice and there was no way in Hell I was going to let it get the best of me again. Yeah it looked like a Sheriff when I pulled the trigger but I saw her body, I knew she was already dead when that damn THING stepped out of her car. I wasn't going to let that Shifter get away from me again." "Yeah I get that." Sam cut in as his voice started to rise. "But a Shapeshifter isn't what they're going to see, Dean! They see you take aim at a cop. If they get their hands on you, they've got you on the hook for murder!"

"You think I don't know that?" Dean growled as he eyed the dark road ahead, doing his best to ignore the flashing lights behind him. When the Impala hit another pot hole in the road, he couldn't help but swear under his breath, the jolt of pain reminding him of the open wound. He could feel the blood streaming down from his left side and when he took a quick glance down, he could see that it had now started to soak through his clothes; pooling on the leather seat next to him and following the seems over the edge. Putting the call on speakerphone, he set his cell phone down beside him and grabbed a handkerchief from the floor, applying pressure to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "I screwed up, okay? Thanks for pointing it out like I was oblivious to the situation I've put myself in. Is there anything else you think I should know Sam?" There was a moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but pause in his steps, among the engine noise and the pounding rain something in the background had just caught his attention. "Dean are those sirens?" He finally asked, the delayed response sending chills down his spine.

Dean couldn't help but swallow hard, the last thing he wanted was to drag his little brother into his mess but Sam had just backed him into a corner. "Yeah, there's a cop car riding my ass." He explained, his blunt tone of voice leaving nothing to doubt. "Guess I shouldn't have stopped for that last drink on my way out of Scythe. Someone in the bar must have called me in."

"So you took off?" Sam asked as he started to pace again. "Dean, evading police doesn't seem like the best idea. They probably already have a roadblock set up down the road, they're gonna..."

"What the Hell am I supposed to do?" Dean shouted, instantly silencing the other man. "You want me to pull over, hope the guy doesn't shoot me again and tell him that the Sheriff I killed was one of two Shapeshifters that got away from me the first time around?" Sam swore to himself as he passed a hand over his face, the more he heard the worse it seemed to get. "He shot you?" "Yeah he shot me!" Dean barked, putting both hands on the wheel as he eyed a curve in the road up ahead. The wet pavement at those speeds was like a sheet of glare ice and every corner he took he could feel the back end kick out, the weight of the car determined to keep it going in a straight line. "You saw the headlines, armed and dangerous right?" He asked, drifting into the corner at seventy miles per hour; praying that the tires would grip the pavement and send him where he wanted to go. "As far as they know, I killed a cop in cold blood. Well they're going to take any shot at me that they can get." He continued, the Impala violently swerving left to right before finally straightening out. "He winged me as I was getting into the car, hurts like hell but I'll live."

There was another short pause and though Sam had been determined to put hunting behind him, all he wanted at that very moment was to be sitting in the car next to his brother. Just like the old times. It was something Dean would never admit but without him there, his older brother was just plain reckless. Sam took a deep breath as he leaned back against his kitchen table, the sound of the police sirens now the only thing he could hear on the other end of the line. "Where's Dad?" They were simple words but they made the breath catch in the back of Dean's throat. If Sam had found out about his current situation on the news, surely their father had as well. "Dad and I split up." He said simply, wincing in pain as he straightened out.

"You mean he left you." Sam replied, his tone of voice laced with disappointment and anger as his gaze momentarily drifted over to a family picture on the desk nearby.

"No Sam, I mean we split up." Dean growled, knowing exactly what his younger brother was implying as his mind drifted back to one of the last jobs they worked together. They had been hunting down an vengeful spirit and the moment they located the remains they needed to salt and burn, their father announced that he would drive ahead to check out the next case while he and his brother wrapped things up. It was no big deal to him but for Sam, it was just one more order for them to follow without question or choice. "This is my job, I let those Shapeshifters slip through my fingers so I stayed behind to finish them off." "Dean, I hate to say it I really do, but the man ditched you. Instead of finishing the job like he should have, he jumped to the next one and left you behind to clean up. When are you going to see that he treats you like..."

"Listen Sammy, I'm sorry but I've really got to go." Dean cut in as he reached for his phone, flipping it shut before the other man could say another word. Though he knew his younger brother had good intentions, the last he needed right now was to be lectured. Their father was far from being perfect but he wasn't the one that had a problem with the way they were treated. That was Sam's problem and it was one of the only things he and his brother didn't see eye to eye on. What he saw in the man and what Sam saw, were two very different things.

Sam swore under his breath as the line went dead, he didn't regret a word he said he only regretted the way he had said them. Eyeing the only family picture he had from across the room, he pulled a chair and took a seat at the round kitchen table, sucking in a breath and pushing all emotions aside as he prepared to do something he hadn't done in at least two years. Call his father. He was still bitter about their last fallout and he could still hear the tone of his voice in the back of his head; John telling him that he was turning his back on family and if he wanted to leave, not to bother coming back. But this wasn't about him and the man that had dictated the past twenty years of his life, this was about Dean and he needed help, or at the least a voice of reason he was willing to listen to.

As the phone rang and rang, Sam started to have second thoughts about making that call. What exactly was he going to say to the man anyway? It wasn't the first time he'd left before the job was done. Tapping a finger on the table as he tried to find the right words, he let the phone ring a few more times and then finally hung up. It was late, his father was probably sitting at some bar somewhere, too busy getting drunk and hustling pool to check in on Dean and the hunt he'd dumped on him. Sam let out a sigh, starring at his phone for a moment before punching down his brother's number, hoping to get him on the line again but knowing that the other man would more than likely not pick up.

The storm wasn't letting up, if anything it was getting worse and the wipers could barely keep up with the rain pounding against the windshield as the Impala tore down the road like a bat out of Hell. Ignoring the phone that was ringing on the seat next to him, Dean once again glanced up at his rear view mirror, momentarily eyeing the police car that was trailing him and trying to think of a way to loose it. "Come on." He growled to himself, the situation he was in quickly getting out of hand. He didn't even know where they were anymore, they hadn't passed a house for miles and when he'd peeled out of the bar's parking lot in Scythe, he hadn't even taken notice of the direction he was heading. Whatever backwoods highway he was on, he was sure the officer behind him knew exactly where they would end up and surely there would be a blockade waiting for him when they got there. Spike belt and all. If it came to that he knew he would have to turn himself in but until it did, he was ready to make a run for it. He was already in over his head anyway.

Though he knew what his car was capable of and he was confident behind the wheel, the driving conditions he faced were less than ideal and he knew the Impala would handle much differently on the wet curvy road he was on, than it would on any straight and dry stretch. "Alright Baby..." He said quietly, well aware of the risks he was taking as he put his foot to the floor and watched the needle climb. "Let's see what that plastic piece of crap can do." The engine opened full throttle with a snarl and in an instant, the Impala started to pull away from the police car that had been only two or three car lengths behind it. Pushed back into his leather seat, Dean couldn't help but cringe as he pulled his right hand away from the wound in his side to grip the steering wheel instead; feeling the blood ooze out from between his fingers as he tightened his grip. The water pooling on the pavement was concealing everything from potholes to ruts and each time he hit one or the other, he could feel the car shake around him, each vibrating turning into a painful jolt.

Cresting a hill the Impala momentarily soared, the flashing lights in his rear view mirror disappearing; the police car was falling behind and with the distance between them growing, Dean was convinced that he was only one curve away from being out of sight. That's all he really needed, so when he saw the road up ahead take a turn towards the left, he knew that he was far enough ahead to simply vanish into the night. His plan was simple; pull off the road and cut the lights, wait until the blaring sirens passed and then pull a U-turn to head back the same way he'd came. His plan might have been simple but things were about to get complicated.

Going into the corner Dean knew right away that he had no control of his car. He could feel her hydroplaning across the wet pavement like a stone skipping the surface of the water and there was nothing he could do about it. The back-end kicked out, the Impala started skidding sideways and though he had the steering wheel cranked as far left as it would go, the massive car was still heading for the ditch at 90mph. Swearing under his breath, he took his foot off the gas but didn't dare touch the brakes, not wanting to lock up the rear wheels and make a bad situation even worse. If anything good would come of this; he thought to himself, watching through the passenger window as the tree line approach at an alarming rate of speed, was that those trees and underbrush would be enough to hide him from the cop he was outrunning.

Though it all happened so fast, Dean had enough time to take it all in as the wheels left the wet pavement and started spinning in the dirt on the shoulder of the road. When the tires finally did find traction, he straightened the wheel and the car spun around, narrowly missing a tree as it started down the embankment head first, the headlights lighting up the dark of night and illuminating the trunks of trees as they flew by. He slammed on the brakes, but the mud was just as slick as the wet pavement had been and the car refused to stop or even slow down. When his eyes focused on a tree directly in front of him, Dean couldn't help but swear under his breath, knowing that this would be the one to stop the Impala dead in it's tracks. Never before had he felt so helpless as he did right then and there, staring down a tree he knew he couldn't avoid. Unable to do anything about it, he cut the engine, shut the lights and braced himself for the inevitable impact.