"We never get a day off, do we?" Dean huffed. The brothers had just finished up a case in Syracuse, New York, and found out there's another big one a few towns over. He had to admit, it felt good to get out of that motel. It had a bunch of families that were moving their kids into college, so there was mommy tears and stress oozing from the ceiling. Dean took a swig of beer from his bottle before grabbing the keys to the impala and double checking they didn't leave anything in the room.
"The day we don't have to run all over the country hunting these things will be the day we both die." Sam said matter-of-fact like. He snapped his laptop shut and stepped outside. Dean followed him out, but almost ran into Sam, who had stopped two feet in front of the door.
"What the hell, man?" He stepped around him. "What?" Sam looked at him, his eyebrows knit.
"Uh, Dean? Notice anything different about the car?"
"What're you-" Dean stopped when he looked at the impala. "Son of a bitch. I mean... What the hell?" They took a few steps closer to the car. "Dude, why is there a chick passed out in the front seat?"
In the drivers seat of the car was a young girl, looked about 25. Her hair was tangled and black, and her face was very pale. When Dean looked closer, he saw there was blood on her chin. "Crap. She's bleeding! Sammy, gimme a hand, would ya?" He opened the car door and tucked his arm around her back just as Sam lifted her legs out of the car. Together they carried her back into the hotel room and put her on the bed. She didn't seem to be hurt other than the fact she had dried blood on her chin. She wore a worn out black leather jacket and jeans.
"Wait a minute," Sam paused when he saw something poking out of her jacket. When he moved it aside, he saw a silver white gun looped through her belt. When they took the bullets out, they realized they were silver. "So what, is she a hunter? She's got no wallet, no ID, or even a fake ID for that matter... She's dressed like a hunter. Got a gun identical to yours- wait is that your gun?" Sam raised his eyebrows. The brothers exchanged a look before they went back out to the car and opened the trunk. Almost everything was still there, except for Dean's white handled gun.
"Son of a bitch! What the actual hell is she doing with my gun?" Dean slammed the trunk closed and stomped back to the room, Sam on his heels.
"I don't know, Dean. Maybe she is a hunter on the run-" Sam cutoff when he stepped in the room to be staring down the barrel of the gun. The girl had the gun cocked and pointed at Sam and Dean. The bullets were no longer on the table, and Sam figured they were loaded in the gun. He put his hands out slowly. "Woah, hey! Put the gun down," he said gently.
Dean put his hands out. "We just want to talk, okay?" The girl sighed and clicked the safety back on. She let her arm fall to her side, but didn't put the gun down. Her gray eyes shifted from Dean to Sam and back again.
"Fine but if you pull a gun on me, or tie me up or anything, you'll regret it." Her voice was gruff, almost sarcastic. "We all have questions. The million dollar question is, who has answers?" She put a hand on her hip. "You first."
Everyone was silent for a minute. Dean cleared his throat. "Okay, I'll bite. Who the hell are you and why were you unconscious in my car?" She snorted. "Something funny?"
"Kinda," she retorted. "Because I am the car." After a few seconds, she laughed. "We'll that was a great reaction. You're shocked faces are priceless."
"Alright, no more jokes. Who are you?" Sam asked sternly, getting mad. She rolled her eyes at them and sighed again.
"I just told you. I don't get it either. I don't know what the hell is happening. All I know is that I wake up with hands and a consciousness. I am the impala, though. Ask me anything."
"Uh, okay, how about, who are we?" Dean asked. She blinked.
"Sam and Dean Winchester. You're hunters. Raised in it by your father, John Winchester, who became a hunter after your mother was killed by Azazel, the demon, who also gave Sammy over here demon blood. Dean, you killed Azazel with the Colt in a cemetery at the center of a Devils Trap that was miles long. Together, you two have hunted for years, killed more demons that any other hunter, been to hell and back, literally, killed Lilith, Azazel, Alastair, Abbadon, and so many others. You started and prevented the apocolypse, befriended dear Castiel, worked with and for demons, including but not limited to, the King of Hell. You've both been to Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory. Sammy's been possesed by two angels. Gadreel killed Kevin, the prophet, who was the second prophet you met. And of course there's Bobby, the leviathans, the horsemen, that time Cas tried to be God... Do I need to go on?"
By the time she was finished speaking, both Sam and Deans mouths were hanging open, their eyes wide. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Naturally." Sam said slowly. "Okay so maybe you are the impala. A manifested, human version. Wh...what do we call you?"
She thought for a moment. "I guess you could still call me Baby."
Dean didn't hesitate to object to that. "Anything-seriously anything-else. Just- no." She snorted at that.
"Alright. How about Chev?" she offered.
Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "Fine. Chev. Why not?"
