Impala's POV. Prequel
Some have called me the most important object in the universe. Some have called me a "real beauty". Some have called me a heap of scrap metal.
But he calls me Baby, and that's the only name I answer to.
I shouldn't be able to tell my side of this story, considering I'm not technically a sentient being. Except I sort of am.
My awareness didn't happen the day I was manufactured. In fact, I have no recollection of the assembly line, of my parts being molded and welded together to create something greater than their sum. I don't remember being taken to the lot to sit in the sun, shining and gleaming as people chose more sensible cars that could accommodate a family. If I had known that was happening, I wouldn't have cared anyway. I wasn't meant for just any family.
It didn't even happen when John Winchester came to the lot that first time, ignoring me completely.
It happened the day I was purchased, and the first thing I remember is his voice.
Dean's voice.
Dean's voice saying I was going to be badass even when I was forty.
I didn't quite understand the meaning of the words, having never heard anyone speak before, but I could feel them. They felt warm and smooth, covering me like the oil in my engine, seeping into me and making everything move together just like it was supposed to. I could feel Dean's hands on me, rough skin but gentle touches, showing John my insides as if he knew them as well as he knew his own body.
I could feel my metal frame buzzing, practically singing for Dean (stay with me, I belong to you), but it was John who took me home that day.
That was okay. I loved John, too.
Over the next few years, I learned about humans. I began to understand their language, to attach certain sounds to certain meanings and learn how they communicated. I listened. I learned about John and Mary Winchester. I learned that John preferred the gas station on the other side of town because it had better quality gas and oil, and had an attached car wash. I learned that Mary hummed softly to every song on the radio, even if she didn't know the melody. I learned that John and Mary loved each other.
There were some things I still didn't understand.
I didn't understand why John and Mary climbed into the backseat one night, giggling, taking off their clothes and pressing their bodies together, Mary laughing about how John "couldn't wait the drive home".
Nine months later, I didn't understand why John was panicking as he drove Mary to a large building I had never been parked at before, or why she was holding the large middle of her body and breathing heavily.
But I understood when Mary got back in the car a few days later. A small plastic object was strapped into my backseat, and a tiny human making strange squeaking sounds was placed in the object.
Dean. A small, cranky Dean.
It took me a while, but I eventually figured out the basics of the human life cycle, and that Mary and John had somehow given me Dean. I never thought it strange that we had already met. Dean was just a part of me.
I watched as he grew. I took Dean to get his booster shots, I took John on late night diaper runs, and I pushed my engine to the limit the night Dean was crying weakly, Mary crying in the passenger seat about his fever while John drove to the hospital.
I could understand almost everything they said now, and life made sense to me.
It made even more sense to me when Sam was born. It felt finished. Complete. I watched Sam and Dean grow in the backseat, their tiny hands always reaching for each other.
And then Mary died, and I could feel the hole she left behind.
I could feel Dean change, grow older instantaneously. I watched as he became the one to strap Sam into his car seat, keeping Sam safe like it was his purpose.
My life became harder. Darker.
Now I was driving over dirt roads in the middle of the night, racing to the next town only to be parked at a motel where people would walk by and peer in the window, sometimes trying the door to see if they could get in. Now I carried a trunk full of deadly weapons, salt, and old books. Now John fell into the driver's seat, body limp with exhaustion, smelling of dirt and blood and worse.
Sam and Dean still continued to grow, playing in the backseat and learning so much. I wanted everything they learned to be happy. The sound of their laughter was even better than the music John played a little too loudly. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way, and they learned an awful lot of bad as I took them around the country.
When they were grown, Sam drifted away. I remembered him, of course. His initials were carved into me, and he still belonged, even if he was gone. I missed Sam, but I still had my Dean.
Eventually, John gave me to Dean. Dean slept in me that night, running his hands over my leather seats and murmuring nonsense to me about how beautiful I was and how he was going to take good care of me.
We were together, and I was finally going to do what I was built for.
Over a decade later, Dean and I were still together. Sam came back. We literally saved the world. I saw Dean fight, have sex, laugh, cry, argue with Sam, make up with Sam, break down, and push through. He treated me well- loved me, touched me, talked to me- because he knew as well as I did that we were more than just a car and its owner.
I drove him through every type of terrain, every type of weather, and I did my best not to need a lot to keep going. I managed to keep myself working, even when Dean put me away for a few months so that he would be safer. I knew he'd come back.
I kept them safe, wrapping myself around them and taking what blows I could, feeling lost when I would sit unused for a day or two, worrying if they'd come back.
Then The Darkness swept over me, and I couldn't hold Dean safely inside. Luckily, he was okay, but we were now on our next mission to save the world.
Dean and I were closer than ever, Sam was still "sitting shotgun" as Dean called it, and we were going to do whatever was necessary. Together.
And then, Dean met her.
