Fic: Baby Come Back

[auntmo9]

Title: Baby Come Back
Author(s):
auntmo9 and
tari_roo
Artist:
eyestoowide
Recipient:
mamapranayama
Rating: PG-13 due to language
Genre: Humor, minor Angst, with a side of schmoop, slight Het
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Impala, Sam, mentions of Gabriel
Spoilers: General Season 7
Word Count: 5,872

Prompt: The Impala gets turned into a human, but it turns out she's a complete bitch. She constantly complains about the way she's been treated over the years and she's got a potty mouth on her that rivals Dean's. Both Sam and Dean can't work fast enough to get her turned back into a car just so they can shut her up.

Summary: The Leviathans are after the Winchesters, Baby has been left behind and she is not happy. Once, she was given a chance to become human and make her presence known. She figures now is as good of time as any to take that opportunity.

Artist Masterpost

A/N: Written forspn_bigpretzel's Spring Fic Exchange.

I owe so many people huge thank yous. First of all, thank you to my amazing artist, eyestoowide. She did such an wonderful job, especially with only having an unfinished fic to go off of. Make sure you go check out all of her posters, banners and icons over at her art masterpost. It is all awesome! She also helped give me feedback on my "work in progress to the last second" fic and went above and beyond the call of duty for an artist!

Next, I need to thank my fabulous co-mod ficwriter1966 who did some beta work for me and made some good observations.

Finally, I need to also thank tari_roo. She started out as a beta, and insisted she did not want co-author credit. But in the end,we worked together to make this fic better. She gave me ideas, I gave her ideas and we built on one another. Plus, without her, this fic would not have been finished on time with an awesome ending. RL has really been kicking me in the pants lately and without her help, there is no way I could have done this. She deserves co-author credit on this (though I will take the blame for all the mistakes).

To mamapranayama, I hope this fic fills your prompt. I tried to keep with the spirit of it, but I think at some point, like all stories, it did take on a life of its own.

Last but not least, yes, there really is a place called Crappy's, and I, regrettably, have been there.



Then

“Look, doll. I’m not giving you a choice here. I have to get through to those muttonheads of yours that avoiding their destiny isn’t going to work. I need your help to do that,” the strange little man with golden eyes explained as he tapped her hood gently. “But since I am sticking a Samsquatch-sized human inside of you, the least I can offer you in return is a chance for you to play human sometime down the road. I will leave it in your engine for you to choose the time. You’re just going to have to want it bad enough.”

Now

She was going to kick his ass.

She could do it, too. Kick his ass, that is. Even though she’d saved him many times, had wrapped her arms of steel so lovingly around him and protected him every time that they had been tossed around by some monster truck or scary-ass demon, he still treated her like she was nothing more than a toy, an object. So yeah, she could do it. She could let her gears slip as he was raising a cup of coffee to those sweet lips and jerk the two of them around, so it would spill all over him as he desperately tried to protect his manhood. Or better yet, let him take a curve too fast and smash one of his precious pies to smithereens. It would be worth getting cherry filling all over her upholstery just to see the look on his face. He deserved it after what he had done to her this time.

He left her behind!

Of course, that would mean he would have to come back for her again. How long had they been apart this time? Not nearly as long as the year he had put her under a tarp in that garage in Indiana. This was worse. At least then, she could hear him when he was in the garage working on other things, humming a song when she longed to have him turn on her radio. And there had been the boy. The boy would sneak in and visit her. Take the tarp off and admire her, dream about being with her one day. He even left a baseball cap in her backseat.

She missed the boy.

It was always the waiting with him. Forty-five years since she’d rolled off the assembly line. And she had spent most of that time waiting for him. Thirty-six years, four months, sixteen days, nine hours, twenty-two minutes and eleven seconds of her life waiting on him. Waiting for him to come to her, to grow up, to finish a hunt, to leave some fleabag motel and get out on the open road with her.

She hated waiting.

Now was not much different, except that she was completely alone. No music or news coming from her radio. No boys bantering or bickering in the front seat. How dare he stick her here in the backwoods of Missouri in a glorified storage shed! What did he think leaving her to rot with all of the other abandoned playthings the Pikes had left behind in their Ozark vacation home when they moved out West would gain? She had water skis piled on her roof and lawn chairs leaned up against her doors. Her nose was jammed up against the back wall, and to make matters worse, a family of sparrows had redecorated her hood and a couple of spiders were giving Charlotte a run for her money with the webs they were spinning on her passenger side. At least her man had been put off by the accommodations before he had left her all alone. He was worried about marring her beauty. But Sam had said it would be better if it looked like she had been here a long time, just like everything else in this run-down shed. Like she cared about any of Sam’s suggestions! Ever since she had to share a body with him, he acted like he knew what was better for her than her man.

Stupid Sam!

As angry as she was, she knew it wasn't entirely his fault. No, she blamed that skank. The bitch that dared to parade around town dressed like her, wearing haughty jewelry that caught her man's eye and fake plates from the state that sends all of its governors to jail. The wench even dared to cart around boys that looked like hers but clearly were as evil as the day was long. If it hadn't been for that hussy, she would still be with him.

So she was done with the waiting. She had one shot to help her man to get his head out of his duffel bag and turn this thing around, and by golly she was going to take it.



“Seriously?” Sam asked him with patented bitch face number thirty-three firmly in place as he looked up at the sign above the door. “You seriously expect me to eat dinner at a place called Crappy’s?”

“It’s the word of the day, Sam,” Dean offered as he stepped through the door of the bar. “We had a crappy case, right here in Crapsburg, Illinois, driving around in a Dodge Crapavan. Might as well carry the theme through to our food.”

Sitting down at a table, Sam picked up a menu and looked over the standard bar fare it offered, and muttered more to himself, than Dean. “You know, it was a legitimate case. Most people don’t welcome ghosts into their homes. We couldn’t have known that the guy was letting the ghost stay in his house so it would scare off his daughter’s boyfriends.”

Dean grunted, uninterested. Sam’s words just became more background noise when Dean looked up from his spot at the table and he saw her walk in and take a seat at the bar. She threw a casual glance their way before ordering herself a beer. Compared to the rest of the women in the bar, she looked like a goddess to him, despite the fact that she appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. She was dressed all in black, from her boots to her jeans, t-shirt and her black leather jacket. Her dark hair fell in waves across her eyes. Dean continued to ignore his brother as he stood from the table and walked across the bar to greet her.

"Oh, for Pete's sake,” Sam exclaimed, but Dean had his eye firmly on the prize.

As she looked up at him, the song in the jukebox changed over to Foreigner’s “Cold As Ice” and Dean felt a strange chill run down his spine. But he brushed it off as he put his best foot forward. “You know, you might be asked to leave soon,” he said with a smile. “You’re making the other women look really bad.”

She looked at him with a hint of disdain as she twirled the bottle of beer in her hands. “Really? After all this time and you’re still trying those cheesy pick up lines? Trust me, babe. It’s the smile, not the line."

“Yeah, well, I am adorable,” he responded as he leaned in closer to her and turned the wattage up on his smile even brighter. Then it dawned on him. “Hey! Wait a minute… how did you…”

She shot him a knowing smirk, and slipped off her barstool, leaving him stammering in his place as she took her beer and went to join his brother at the table. Dean quickly regained his senses and followed her.

“Look, lady, who are you and just what makes you think you know how I pick up women?” Dean demanded as he sat back down at the table. Sam watched in amusement as his brother squirmed at the implied rejection he did not usually face with the ladies.

The lady shrugged innocently, lounging back in her chair. "You know, I find it rather insulting that you don’t recognize me. Afterall, I gave you some of the best rides of your life, sweetheart. And the last one… was only a few months ago." She winked at Sam, who shot her a semi-smile of unease tinged humor.

A deep blush washed over Dean’s face. “Um, no offense, lady, but cougars aren’t my type. So I think I would remember if we had, um, you know… met before.”

Sam choked back a laugh as he saw the woman scowl. “Cougar! I am not a cougar,” she ground out. “I’m more like a gazelle! Long clean lines, fast! Not some stupid cat. Maybe you don’t recognize me because this isn’t a parking lot, motel or some other woman’s garage!" She slammed her drink down and pointed a sharp angry finger at Dean as she fussed with her beer, long nails tapping on the unopened cap.

“You are nine kinds of crazy if you think I have ever laid eyes on you before you walked into this bar before tonight,” Dean shot back, becoming increasingly agitated. Sam kinda snorted in his beer.

“Yeah, suddenly I’ve got legs instead of wheels, a whole different type of wax job and now you don’t know me! Aren’t I still your Baby?” she yelled, shoving that sharp finger into his chest.

Sam and Dean sat there in stunned silence for a moment as the woman glared at Dean. That is, until she began coughing. She was coughing severely enough that Sam jumped up to get her some water, but she just waved him off, as she soon began to breathe a little bit easier. After the coughing fit died down, Sam looked at her with concern. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“Yeah,” she answered with a tired smile as she side-eyed his brother. “Just sometimes, I have a little trouble breathing. That is what happens when you have Legos lodged in your ve-… lungs. And the air in this bar isn’t doing me any favors. Between the smoke and all the people, it smells like a combination of a burned out motor and the two of after one your slimy hunts.”

Dean’s eyes widened in horror before narrowing in on her. “No. You…you’re seriously going try to claim you’re my car, walking around in the flesh?”

“You think I am making that up, jerk?” she spat out as her eyes narrowed in on him in anger. “If you’re having trouble believing the Legos, you’re not even going to want to hear where Sam’s army man ended up.”

”You’re right, I don’t want to know, because I think you are a friggin’ nut job that fits right in a town where people welcome ghosts into their homes as bodyguards.”

Furious, Dean stood up and turned to go, but she grabbed him by the arm. “Wait a second,” she pleaded before turning around and pulling up the hem of her shirt.

“Whoa, lady! Put the brakes on for a second,” Dean exclaimed as he held his arms up in alarm. “I don’t need to see any tramp stamp!”

“It’s not a tramp stamp,” she snorted in derision. “It’s a scar, where the two of you geniuses carved your initials in me.”

As she lifted her shirt up further and turned around, Sam and Dean could clearly see the scars of the initials S.W. and D.W. on her lower back that looked eerily familiar to them.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Dean said as he grabbed her arm and lead her out of the bar. “We are not going to have this conversation here. We are going to head back to the motel and finish this conversation there.” Momentarily stunned, Sam belatedly stood and followed them, finishing his beer. He had a notion he was going to need the buzz for this.

“A motel? Oh, goodie,” she said with a smirk. “Maybe now I’ll get to see what I have been missing out on all these years while I have been freezing my taillights off hanging out on the asphalt.” Dean shot her an angry ‘what the hell look’ and shoved the bar door open, the rush of cool night air fresh and brisk.

As he led her across the parking lot to their current vehicle, she stopped dead in her tracks, yanking him to an abrupt stop. “You asshole! I knew you had to have another car, but you’re cheating on me with this? This run-down, busted-up piece of soccer mom hell?” She waved angrily at the mini-van in the lot.

“He didn’t have a choice,” Sam tried to explain. ”It was this or a Vespa scooter. And there was no way I was getting on the back of one of those things.” Sam had been fairly certain that Dean had been kidding about the Vespa, but he wouldn’t put it past his brother to steal one, just to torment him.

“I am not cheating on anyone!” Dean moaned, rubbing his hand through his hair. “Why are you buying into this psycho’s fantasy, Sammy?”

“I am not a psycho,” she growled. “And believe me, seeing you behind the wheel of a minivan is no fantasy of mine. It’s a frigging riot, but no fantasy!”



The short ride back to the motel went by in silence, with Dean and the woman trading cold glares at one another. Sam briefly considered trying to make small talk and then thought better of it. He did not want his head bitten off. When they walked into the motel room, Dean didn’t waste any time before turning on the brunette, “So, if you are my car, do you mind telling me how it is that you managed to become a woman? And how, as a woman, you managed to find us and get here without being a car?”

“One question at a time, hot-shot,” she answered as she sat down on the nearest bed, bouncing a little. “First of all, this is really soft - like softer than I’d thought. No wonder you like sleeping in here. But really? The décor, come on! Western scenes, weird ass lamp and what is that supposed to be?” She pointed at the vibro-matic slot machine at the head of the bed.

Dean paled, blushed and exclaimed, “Ignore the room!”

“Like you ignored me? No. Back to your inane questions - I am a car, therefore I know cars. They at least listen to me! Getting another to start up for me is like having putty in my hand.”

“You hot wired a car?” Sam asked, his eyebrows shooting up in curiosity as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Oh, please! Like either of you have clean hands,” she shot back. “How exactly are you getting cars like that soccer mom-mobile to start up for you since you got rid of me?

“But a car hot wiring another car,” Dean began with a look of horror on his face, “isn’t that like cannibalism or something?”

She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth with a retort, but before she could say a word, Sam interrupted her in an effort to delay the argument. “So that is how you got here, but how did you know where to find us?”

“I just know, okay? I have always known where you are. Or at least where Dean is,” she answered, quietly looking away, and for the first time with no hint of anger in her voice.

“And the human part,” Dean pressed, sitting down next to her as it began to sink in that she might be telling the truth. “How in the world did that happen?”

“Oh there was this angel who was trying to teach you muttonheads a lesson. God only knows why, because that never ends well for them,” she said turning back towards them with a half-assed smile. “Anyway, part of his ingenious plan included stuffing me full of Sam and letting him talk to you instead of me.”

“So Sam was inside of you and you remember that,” Dean said thoughtfully. Turning to his brother, he asked, “Do you remember Baby from when you were inside of her?

“That is something I would rather not discuss,” Sam answered as he squirmed uncomfortably. “How is this even our lives? We are talking to our car about how a dead archangel stuck me inside of her.”

“First of all, Baby is mine, not ours,” Dean said, glaring at his brother before turning to his favorite gal. “And secondly he is apparently still screwing with us, dead or not. How is it that he factors into this?

“So I’m Baby now?” she said with a smile. Dean shrugged and motioned for her to get on with her explanation. “Fine, he told me he felt bad that he had to stick a Samsquatch-sized human in me, so he gave me the chance to become human, if I wanted it bad enough.”

“That was a few years ago,” Sam huffed in annoyance. “Why did you choose now of all times to become human?”

“You mean besides the fact that you ditched me in the middle of nowhere and left me in a shed full of crap?” she snorted, folding her arms and glaring at him.

“Hey, look,” Dean said holding his hand up trying to appease her. “We’ve got half the world thinking we’re wanted criminals, and driving you around is the school yard equivalent of taping a ‘Kick Me’ sign to our backs.”

“Like that hasn’t happened before?” Baby said, rolling her eyes. “Slap a new license plate on me and let’s get back out on the road.”

“I don’t think that will work this time,” Sam answered. “Last time it was just the FBI who was after us. Now it’s monsters who can be anyone, including the FBI. We’ve been on the run from them since we left you.”

“Well, that’s the dumbest reason I have ever heard for keeping me in a friggin’ shed!” she shouted, leaping up from the bed to move away from Dean. “Besides, since when have you guys run from the monsters? They should be the ones running from you!”

“Monsters don’t usually run the place, sweetheart! They’re everywhere! And it was temporary, I swear! I was gonna come back and get you the first chance I could,” Dean yelled.

“And the times you wrecked me?” the Impala countered in anger as she glared at him.

“Demons! Both times!” Dean shouted back at her, pushing off the bed to stand nose to nose with his car. “And I spent months fixing you both times!”

“Except for that little hiccup when you beat the crap out me when your dad died,” she reminded him, taking a step back, vibrating with anger.

“You always hurt the ones you love, Baby.”

“I cannot believe you are having this conversation,” Sam interrupted as he settled in at the table with his lap top. “This is beyond surreal.”

“Shut up, Sam!” they both shouted.

Dean sighed and turned back toward the bed, sinking back down on it. He mumbled from behind his hands, head buried in an attempt to ignore the She!Impala. “So did that half-pint midget angel tell you how long this would last? You being all… fleshy?”

The Impala shrugged, “Why? You feeling uncomfortable, guilty, like an ass? Oh, oh, I’m leaking oil!”

Sam’s head snapped up from his laptop and man alive, he hoped it never came alive, because it would kill Dean dead. Or love him. “You’re leaking? What? Where?”

The Impala was staring at her crotch and Dean had gone a distinct shade of white. Sam paled himself and said, “The bathroom! The bathroom, go… there!” He pointed at the slightly ajar door and the Impala nodded, not really concerned and ambled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Dean stared at the closed door, and turned wide-eyed to Sam, “I had visions of having to show her how to pee. And then having to have the talk… about … girl parts and boy…”

“Dude, she’s your car. She knows all about girl parts and boy parts!”

Sam’s voice was a little loud and maybe a little squeaky, but Dean’s face was priceless. “Shi… Dude. She’s my car!”

The door of the bathroom was snapped open and the Impala stood framed in the doorway, her wild hair in disarray. “You humans are weird, that was weird and now I’m hungry.”

“Did you wash your hands?” Sam chirped and Dean and the Impala stared at him. “What? Like she would know!”



“Dude, you have got to find a way to change her back,” Dean pleaded Sam as he glanced into the bathroom to watch Baby furiously try to wipe up the water from all over the counter and the floor as the result of her hand washing experiment.

He didn’t want to think about what a shower for her would entail after having watched the bar of soap slip from her grasp, slide across the counter only to have both of them reach for it. Except that they bumped heads and when backing away, Baby managed to slip on the water she had splashed on the floor. When Dean went to try and catch her, they both ended up on their asses instead, Sam just standing in the background quietly snickering the whole time.

“What? You don’t want me here anymore?” Baby demanded walking back into the main room.

“No, it’s just that…you’re my car. You’re not supposed to be flesh and blood.”

“Yeah, well I am not supposed to be left behind in a shed either,” she shot back as she plopped back down on the bed. “And you aren’t supposed to be wandering aimlessly across the country without a plan. So I guess neither one is doing what we are supposed to.”

Silence fell over the room and Dean sighed. “Well, we can just … wait then, I guess. Sam can research and …”

“What, you’ll give me a tune up? Change my oil? Fill me up!” Baby snorted and flopped backwards on the bed, hair sprawled out behind her. Swallowing his automatic retort, Dean said slowly, “No… how about a drink, a beer?”

“A beer? Really? Sure.” Baby beamed. “I ordered one at the bar because I heard you rave about them, but I didn’t really…

Grateful to have found something to distract her, Dean pulled a cold one out of the cooler in the room, and handed it to her. She instinctively flipped the cap off using one of her rings, and smirked at him. Dean though just raised his eyebrows in impressed surprise.

Baby took a long pull of the beer and let out a long sigh of delight. “Nice. Almost as good as a fresh pint.” She took another sip, but missed the lip of the bottle and spilled most of the beer over her top. “Shit, crap! No…”

She shoved the bottle at Dean, who fumbled for it, and grabbed her t-shirt, watching the black material darken. “I… I .. you usually pour it in for me, how.. how do you monkeys co-ordinate four limbs and a mouth! This is ridiculous! Now I’m even more wet after that mess with the stupid hand-washing … I hate being wet!”

Dean couldn’t help himself, “But you’re metal.”

Baby grabbed her beer back and pointed it at him, “On the inside, you twit! Like you, I don’t like wet upholstery. And this is wet upholstery. Smelly, too. Bitter and earthy. Beer is not like water.” She pointed at her wet t-shirt and very ample assets underneath the…

Dean looked away and said, “Sorry, it comes with practice, I guess.”

“You guess,” Baby mumbled into her beer, finishing the bottle with one last gulp. She peered at it, swirling around the dregs at the bottom and pouted. “I hate being empty. Hate being still. Supposed to be … ya know… moving. Going.”

“Open road,” Dean added, on automatic.

“Yeah, open road, flat top, horizon going on forever and …”

Unbelievably, a large, very wet tear fell and trickled down Baby’s face. She stopped, reached up and hesitantly touched it. “I’m leaking again?”

Dean gulped, and stammered, “Ahh… Sam?”

Baby sniffed, and more tears fell, and she blinked rapidly, “Wha… how come there’s no wipers, man? I need to see… can’t see!” More tears, and more sniffing and Dean didn’t know what in the hell to do. Baby was ‘leaking’ like a waterfall and wiping her eyes systematically.

“Stupid manual wiper system. You suck, you know that. Suck!”

Dean handed her one of Sam’s clean t-shirts and went for soothing, “It’s just tears, nothing to worry about.”

“Tears?” Baby exclaimed. “I’m crying?”

From across the room, behind his laptop Sam yelled, “Would you two shut up! Trying to work here.”

Dean flipped his brother off and grinned sheepishly at Baby, “Yeah, you are. Crying.”

“Why?” Baby wailed, wadding up Sam’s t-shirt and blowing her nose. “I’m supposed to be kicking your ass, not crying. Are you sure I’m not hemorrhaging or bleeding, or something else more… serious. Crying, really?”

For a brief second Dean had images of Baby being human long enough to reach a certain time of the month and it would be totally up Gabriel’s alley to make him have to explain that… but Dean shoved that thought aside and awkwardly patted Baby on the arm. “Rather crying than bleeding, sweetheart.”

Baby slapped his hand away and growled, just like a down gear shift, “Then it’s angry crying. Mad, furious!”

“Sure, sure,” Dean winced, snatching his hand away, “that’s fine. Or maybe you’re drunk.”

She paused mid-nose blow and stared at him, eyes red, nose red and looking gorgeous, hair wild but somehow… wonderful. “I had one beer.”

“Your first though,” he said with a smirk.

“I can handle gallons!” she countered. “Burned through thousands out on the road, that you poured in me yourself!”

“Not beer,” Dean chuckled with a shake of his head.

“I am going to hurt you,” Baby growled as moved toward him.

“Not likely!”

“I had an ass load of guns and ammo, remember!”

Dean backed off, not really wanting to know how ‘that’ translated into human form. Probably mad krav maga skills. “Sammy?”

“This is kinda out there, Dean and Gabriel’s dead! Not like the answer is on Ask Google!”

Baby belched loudly and sighed, “Gah, that feels better. Now I’m really hungry.”

“Seeing how you handled a beer, we’ll take it slow on the food,” Dean suggested as he fumbled in his jacket pocket, his face lighting up after when he pulled out a Hostess fruit pie and tossed it to her. “Pay dirt! Look, it’s not the best pie you’ll ever have, but it will do in an emergency.”

She gave him an odd look, but tore open the package and sniffed the pastry before taking a tentative bite. She seemed pleased with the taste and when it didn’t spill all over her, she proceeded to take a larger bite. And that is when disaster struck.

The shell crumbled in her hands, and the red cherry pie filling splattered across her chin and down her shirt. ”Gah! Does all of your food leak?” She demanded as she licked her fingers. “Why can’t you just drink your food like everybody else?”

“No,” Dean said, suppressing a smile. “But some of it can be tricky.”

“Look,” Sam said. “I hate to break up this little Anthropology 101 class you have going, but I am not finding anything. So, um…Imp…Baby, did Gabriel say anything else about this little gift he gave you?”

She stopped wiping off pie filling and looked at Sam thoughtfully. “He said I could become human sometime down the road and he left up to me to choose the time. He said I just had to want it bad enough…that I had to want to get something I could only get as a human.”

Sam considered this for a minute. “It couldn’t be that simple, could it?”

“What are you talking about Sammy?” Dean asked with a huff of annoyance. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”

“Dean, this is the angel that wanted us to ‘play our roles’ in TV land, remember?” Sam pointed out as he began to get excited.

“How could I forget, Sam? All those shows, especially the one where I worked in a sandwich shop and had to take an order from this anal retentive dude in a Green Lantern t-shirt complaining about having the right ingredients in the wrong order.”

‘Yeah…well anyway,” Sam continued shaking his head at his brother. “Gabriel was willing to let us out of TV land if we agreed to play our roles, if we hadn’t trapped him first. Maybe if the ca… Baby get what she wants, as a human, she will go back to being a car.”

Dean stared at his brother. “Well, it is worth a try.” Turning to his lady he asked, “So what was it that you wanted, that you could only get as human.”

“You,” she stated simply looking Dean in the eye. “I wanted you.”



“Whoa...you’re my...my Baby and all but…” Dean stammered out as he turned a deep shade of red.

“Oh not like that dumbass,” she said as she gently shoved him. “I wanted to talk to you, tell you off for leaving me, to be with you. To try to get you to see that I am part of the team…that I need to be out there with you hunting, instead of gathering dust in someone else’s shed. I can’t do that as a car. I can… can’t talk to you.” The Impala deflated a little, some of the fire in her eyes fading.

“Well,” Sam stammered, “You’ve done that - talked to him. Told him off, right?”

“I, I guess,” she sniffed. Dean rolled his eyes, shooting Sam a ‘get out of here’ look. Sam stared at his laptop and the dozens of open tabs on objects becoming animated, transformation spells, and well… drugs that induce mass hallucination. And then he looked up at Dean and Baby. His Baby. Their Dad’s Baby.

But what he really saw, in a flash of utter clarity was the moment in Lawrence’s graveyard. The toy soldier in the arm of the door. A thousand happy memories inside the Impala. A hundred desperate unhappy ones. The hairs on his arms stood on end and Sam slowly nodded and stood.

The Impala was staring at Dean like he was the only thing that mattered and maybe for her, he was. Sam reached out and touched her shoulder and as she turned, he said softly, “I’m going to pop out, pick up some food.” She looked up at him, huge dark eyes boring into him and she smiled.

“Thanks, Sammy.”

Caught up in the moment, Sam bent and awkwardly gave her a one armed hug and whispered quietly in her ear, hoping Dean didn’t hear, “You saved my life.”

Her smile was radiant.

As Sam closed the door behind him, and looked out into the dark night, the stars overhead dim and blurry, he wiped his nose, sniffed back the rise of tears and walked off.



The sound of the door shutting was loud in the quiet that fell as Sam left. Baby stared at the door for a second, and then turned back to Dean. He was also staring at the door, at the now absent Sam and he asked slowly, “What did he say?”

“Never you mind, Dean Winchester.”

His eyes snapped back to hers, an array of emotion surging through them. It was strange, seeing him like this - flesh looking at flesh. Usually she could only feel him, his raw emotions seeping into her, his hands on her wheel, her hood, tinkering with the engine. Now - now he was looking at her.

“I get it, I do,” she said. Dean quirked an eyebrow at her. “I know why you left me, hid me - and that it was temporary. But…”

His smile was gentle, a little encouraging, “But?”

“You died. I was right outside and you died. I carried you, one last time. But you were dead. I… I never expected to see you again.”

The rise of embarrassed, uncertain flush colored his cheeks. “Baby, I…”

“And then you came back. And everything was ok. Sure, there was weird shit and the usual crap you deal with but you were back and…” Baby paused, disconcerted with the torrent of emotion rising up within her, like her radiator was leaking or faulty or something.

“I miss you.”

Baby’s head snapped up, the storm of tears and anger held in check. “What?”

“I do. I miss you, babe. I really do.”

“Promise?”

Baby stared at her Dean, her boy and blinked as he leant forward, his hands holding her face gently. The kiss was gentle at first, then firmer, harder as she ran her hands over his shoulders, up into his hair. Baby poured every desperate, empty feeling she had into that kiss, holding on as tight as she could, and she felt the same need pour back, the promise of returning, coming back, never forgetting.

They broke apart with a gasp, Baby’s heart thudding inside her chest like she was pushing 100, accelerator flat.

“Shit.”

Dean’s smile was sad, “You have a foul mouth, babe.”

Baby touched his face, her fingers lingering over his cheek, and then lips. “Don’t forget.”

“Never.”

The room faded abruptly, the sensation of body, muscles, blood, tissue disappearing and the more familiar, harder, sturdier sensations of metal, wood, moving parts and oil returning. She was back in Missouri, alone, abandoned.

But as the Impala’s engine settled back into utter stillness, the sensation of Dean’s lips remained and she clung to that memory, polishing it, burying it into her chassis.



When Sam opened the door, a bag full of day old doughnuts in one hand and a tray of to-go coffees in the other, he half expected to still see the Impala, Baby in the room. Instead though, it was just Dean, laying flat on the bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Sam dumped the shopping on the table and glanced back at Dean, uncertainty twisting his gut. “So… “

Dean didn’t move, but his fists clenched and he growled, “We find Dick, kill him and go get my Baby.”

Sam nodded, hands on his hips and hmmmmed, “Kay.”

A car hurtled down the road outside the motel, the sound thudding through the room, the distant fading beats of heavy bass almost indistinct. Sam felt like he should say something… something to break the moment’s tension. “Strange night.”

“Craptastic night.”

Dean was still staring at the ceiling, his gaze distant. Sam though smiled, small and sincere, “You’re totally thinking about the Impala being a transformer, aren’t you?”

“She’d kick Bumblebee’s ass for sure.”

“Agreed.”

Sam found the remote, turned on the TV and tossed the bag of doughnuts at Dean. “Five bucks says I can find Transformers on cable.”

“You’re on.” Dean sat up and shoved a doughnut in his mouth. Sam pulled up a chair and began flipping channels.

Weird ass night.

Fin