As soon as they made it out of the house, Marie realized they had a problem. She couldn't throw Phoebe on the back on her bike to get her to the clinic. And she didn't have time to track down Dean and get his keys.
She put Phoebe down on the porch swing and went over to pick the lock on the driver's door of the Impala. Once she got the car open, she went back to get Phoebe and laid her across the backseat.
"Get in," she told Sam, sliding into the driver's seat and fiddling under the steering wheel for a minute.
Marie was trying really hard to concentrate on driving and not on the idea that not only was Cole possibly alive, but he was alive and hurting people he had once cared about.
She put Phoebe down on the porch swing and went over to pick the lock on the driver's door of the Impala. Once she got the car open, she went back to get Phoebe and laid her across the backseat.
"Get in," she told Sam, sliding into the driver's seat and fiddling under the steering wheel for a minute.
The car started and she shifted it into gear.
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"This isn't supposed to be happening," he said rather futilely. "We wanted him back, yeah, but not like this . . ."
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"We'll figure it out," she said."
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