Crazy Six

Chapter 19

On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville -- a blue two-door Caprice.

There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car -- no, the most important object -- in pretty much the whole universe.

She was first owned by Sal Moriarty, an alcoholic with two ex-wives and three blocked arteries. On weekends, he'd drive around giving Bibles to the poor "gettin' folks right for Judgment Day." That's what he said. Sam and Dean don't know any of this, but if they did, I bet they'd smile.

After Sal died, she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a friend. I guess that's where this story begins.

And here's where it ends.

Some time passed.

The boys got more rings from the Horsemen. Jesse progressed well on his training. Adam was becoming a fierce Hunter, though he still wanted to be a doctor. Uncle Bobby and Kate grew closer.

Crowley managed to find out Death's location by Uncle Bobby selling his soul.

The only good thing about it was that Crowley knew better than to try to keep it.

The Impala, of course, has all the things other cars have... and a few things they don't. But none of that stuff's important.

This is the stuff that's important.

The army man that Sam crammed in the ashtray - it's still stuck there.

The Legos that Dean shoved into the vents -- to this day, heat comes on and they can hear 'em rattle.

The remains of stickers Lilly stuck underneath the front seat.

These are the things that make the car theirs -- really theirs. Even when Dean rebuilt her from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed, 'cause it's the blemishes that make her beautiful.

The Devil doesn't know or care what kind of car the boys drive.

They got the final ring. We made a plan.

Dean and Sam would say yes, then they would jump in the cage. Gabriel said he could swoop in and get them out, seeing how the cage wasn't meant to hold humans.

In between jobs, Sam, Lilly, and Dean would sometimes get a day -- sometimes a week, if they were lucky.

They'd pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother. Lilly would be left in the arcade with a promise to be good. She always won the brothers something.

They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove 1,000 miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game. Three for Lilly to see the ocean.

And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars... for hours... without saying a word. It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls...

At first we thought we failed.

But then came Stull Cementary.

I watched my brothers jump into the cage.

And I prayed.

"...but they were never, in fact, homeless.' That's a good line." Chuck said, as he finished typing.

When Gabriel brought them home, I knew then everything would be alright.