006 - IS THIS REAL LIFE? [VIDEO/ACTION IF YOU WANT]
[True to his intentions, Dean has vacated the premises where he last saw Sam and Rose, intending on extending his hunt for Lucifer to the grounds surrounding the building, and in general to just get some fresh air and get his head around the things starting to happen. He's got the revolver, though he's left the fire poker where he through it down onto the floor in the hallway, and his pockets jingle with the keys he's never without and has absolutely no use for.
The view weaves and bobs as he makes his way out the door, indicating two things: One, Dean is very much on the move. Two? He's not aware this is recording.
But he moves along, turning in the direction of the driveway as he always does when exiting the doors of the building, always hoping against hope a familiar and much loved black shape would be sitting there, and always he's disappointed. Always. He'd give his left to nut to have his car sitting there one of these days, because if nothing else-
There's a sharp intake of breath (and what sounds suspiciously like a squeak of surprise).]
Dude.
[His tone is one of reverence, as is his expression, and he takes a few steps forward, ignoring the red Vette, ignoring the moped, before stopping in his tracks and digging through his pockets, extracting a ring of keys hooked around one finger. It can't be. Obviously he's just dreaming. Why the hell would they bring the car here, whoever 'they' happened to be, unless it's a big joke and it's really just a rusted out hulk all fairy-dusted up to look like his baby.
He looks to the keys, looks to the car, looks back at the keys, and with the hesitant steps of a man reuniting with a love he hasn't seen in years, makes his way over to where she gleams so prettily in the driveway, her rims clean, her chrome shining, the black paint like a mirror. He blinks (and those aren't tears, okay, he's just...amazed at how shiny she is), before reaching out and running a hand along the curve of the back driver's side fender. She feels real enough, at least.]
Oh, man. You gotta be kidding me. [Now he's at the driver door, and he looks down at his set of keys before fishing out the right one.] You miss me, baby? I sure as hell missed you.
[The door's unlocked and swings open with a familiar squeak, and he slides right on into the driver's seat, the key going into the ignition on basic habit, one leg still trailing out of the door onto the ground.] Gotta be a catch, though. Maybe they gutted the motor.
[To test that theory, he turns the key and the engine turns right over without a hitch, her familiar rumble filling the otherwise silent outdoors. He really could cry at this point. His baby.
Of course, he's got to tell Sam, and he knows that, as he runs his hands over the steering wheel slowly, before moving to the dash. But he just...Needs a moment. To readjust to the car being there. That's all. Just a moment.
That moment stretches into several minutes, as he fondles the knobs and the column shifter. As he presses the gas pedal a few times to feed more fuel to the motor, making the rpms jump. Next he's reaching under the passenger seat and digging out a box full of cassette tapes, and he flips through them a moment before choosing one and shoving it in the tapedeck of the Impala. And then drums along on the steering wheel to Billy Squier's "The Stroke", the picture of bliss.]
[ooc; OH GOD YOU GUYS I AM SO SORRY ;;]