Cassiee, this is for you - I hope it puts a little smile on your face.

Note to everyone else - crack fic below. Unbetaed, because that would remove the crackiness of crack fic. Enjoy.
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Garbled noise with nothing that approaches the sound of any word (English, or foreign), but said in a no-nonsense female voice can be heard from the backseat.

“No,” Crichton says.

The dog barks repeatedly. “Definitely no, and don’t you even think about it, Sparky, or I’ll have you neutered at the first vet we see.”

More strange sounding words from the woman.

“Frell, Aeryn. How many times do I have to say it? No. Unless you like white coats that buckle on the back.”

Dean glances at Sam and mouths the words, “Lunatics,” and “You’re fault.” Sam just shakes his head.

“So where are you headed?” Sam says in an attempt to make conversation that he can understand.

It must be his imagination, but the woman actually appears to be smiling as they wait for Crichton to answer. “My family is in Florida,” Crichton answers. The woman says something and Crichton rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll ask. Exactly where are we right now?”

“The northwestern corner of Kansas,” Sam answers.

“We have a job in Wyoming,” Dean adds. “Since it’s not your direction, we’ll let you out at the first truck stop.”

Sam takes the time to punch Dean’s shoulder, before replying. “So what do you two do when you’re not falling out of the sky with the family dog?” He was right before – the woman is definitely enjoying the show.

Crichton shares a glance with her, his own lips twitching, before replying. “It’s a bit of contract work – protection details for convoys, testing security systems for banks, that sort of thing.” The woman coughs into her hand, or at least, Sam thinks she does. The way her language sounds, she could be trying to communicate a dissertation. “And the two of you? What do you do when you’re not shooting innocent people with salt and talking about demons?”

Sam looks at Dean, but his brother has his eyes fixed firmly on the road. He’s not even trying to catch a glimpse of the woman’s well-fitted leather outfit. Sam’s definitely on his own. “Oh you know, driving, sleeping and eating.”

“As scintillating as this repartee is, it’s putting me to sleep. So try to keep your mutt from howling,” Dean says before Crichton can follow up with another question. He hits power on radio, and soon Queen is blasting from the Impala’s speakers.

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It’s sixty miles to the next travel plaza with a working pay phone. Sixty miles of very loud music combined with Dean’s singing voice and that of their male hitchhiker, Crichton.

Sam just slides further down in his seat, attempting to find a position where his jacket will muffle the noise. In the side mirror, he can see the woman watching Dean and John with a bemused expression like she’s just meeting them for the first time. At a sci-fi convention. And they’re dressed like Andorians.

Sam winces as Dean misses yet another note. No, Vulcans. They’d be dressed like Vulcans. He’s pretty sure anyone that pulls out grey face paint would be able to hit musical notes in order to NOT embarrass themselves further.

“Thank God,” Sam says as they pull to a stop at the plaza.

“Sparky, stay inside the car,” John orders. Sam makes a face at the whimpers that the thing answers in. “Because, Buckwheat. They aren’t going to leave us so long as you’re in their car.”

“At least not until we throw it’s ass out,” Dean says quietly to Sam. Sam looks up just in time to see the glare from the woman. Aeryn, he thinks John called her. Being a good ten feet away and still in the car, surely she couldn’t hear Dean. Then again, her eyes say differently.

“You do that. I wouldn’t mind watching her kick your ass again,” Sam replies. Aeryn smirks.

“She got lucky. It’s not every day I get distracted by freaks dropping out of the sky onto my baby.”

Aeryn shakes her head. Then she gets out of the car. Even Sam can’t help but notice that the leather she wears hugs all the right places.

“Why don’t you go get us some food while he’s on the phone,” Sam says.

“Why don’t you go do that, Sammy. Me, I think I’ve got something more important to do,” Dean answers.

Sam looks at his brother and sees sign of imminent horndog activity. “Oh no. Look, it’s obvious they’re together. If you piss both of them off and they try to kill you, I’m not going to save you.”

“As if,” Dean says before sauntering off. Sam looks past him to where Aeryn is leaning against the trunk of the Impala. Sam’s been told before (by Jesse. And a couple of others) that he’s crap at reading women, but he doesn’t think it takes a rocket scientist to read the expression on her face. She knows what’s coming and she’s amused as hell by it. And for once in his life, Dean Winchester’s charm doesn’t stand a chance.

TBC as the muse wills