Chapter Text
"My baby."
Dean stood there, staring at the empty patch of dirt that should have a black '67 chevy impala parked right on top of it. Sam leaned away from his phone's speaker and turned to his brother, who was positively glaring daggers into the soil as if it opened up and swallowed the entire vehicle whole.
"Dean, we'll get it back-"
"My fucking baby, Sammy."
"I know-"
When someone spoke over the call, his attention diverted back toward it.
'Did you idjits bust the damn hood off that car again? I swear, I'm gonna be runnin' outta spare parts-'
"Not uh....not quite. It's....gone."
The silence ran on for about a beat too long before that familiar irate sigh makes itself known. Sam could practically feel it through the speaker. With all the times they've lost or damaged the thing, it's an understandable reaction, but at least damaged was a better condition than simply vanished. At least something can relatively be done about a broken car. Not much can be done with thin air. Except for deeply exhaling it in order to keep yourself from scolding two grown adult men. As well as steeling away your sudden urge to rip a witch apart in an unnecessarily gruesome way. The second part is less effective, if Dean's current mental processes were any indication.
'I should start keepin' a damn tally at this rate...would make one hell of a drinking game.'
Sam unconvincingly laughs it off, before turning back to see his brother, much like the car, also missing. However, unlike the car, there was indeed a trace. Footprints, leading off into the woods further out. He lets out an exasperated breath, holding the phone back up.
"I'm gonna have to call you back-"
He hangs up and immediately sets out to follow the prints, curiously noting the second set just a small distance from the first. Dean must've been following them. He prays Dean does not run into an unfortunate hiker who'll no doubt get quite the scare, seeing a thoroughly pissed off 6 foot something of a man wielding a knife with questionable scribbles engraved on it.
After a short amount of time wandering aimlessly in hopes the prints didn't lead to a bloodbath, he finds Dean, just standing there, in company no less. He should've known better not to pray, god is a bastard contrarian. His worries however are quelled when he hears said company speak in a familiar, gravely voice. Nevermind, prayers answered (for once).
"Dean, I am aware the vehicle is of much importance to you, but you must remain calm."
"I am calm."
"You've just stabbed me, Dean."
"Well, maybe you should stop just appearing out of nowhere, prick. Warn a dude next time-"
"Hey you two-"
Dean swipes the demon blade in an upward motion the moment Sam enters the general vicinity and nearly gets nicked in the shoulder, had Castiel not caught the arm in time.
"Christ, Dean!"
"Both of you, stop sneaking around!"
He tries to rip his hand back toward himself, but Cas keeps his grip tight as a vice, narrowing his eyes.
"He wasn't sneaking, you're just being irrational."
"Y'know what, Cas? Bite me."
He pulls again, this time successfully freeing his wrist, though he suspects that may just be because Cas released his grip.
"Why would I-?"
He momentarily paused, mildly confused, before shaking it off.
"Dean, calm yourself."
The words were punctuated with that signature stare which was returned with more of a defiant flare, keen on continuing this tantrum.
"Dean-"
When he wasn't receptive, he repeats himself, this time, with a slightly judgy head tilt.
"Dean."
The man tried to keep this weird staring contest of theirs going for a while longer just a be petty, but recognizes quickly enough he wasn't winning this argument. His shoulders untense as he lets out a short breath. Sam watches as Cas the Dean whisperer finally managed to reel him in, before finally continuing with the point he'd meant to bring up when he found them.
"If you guys are done making me third-wheel, I'd like to point out there's another set of footprints nearby."
The other two turn toward him and process the information just shared, looking over to where Sam gestured.
"Heeled boots, by the looks of it."
Sam added. Dean turns to him, walking over to inspect the prints more closely.
"You remember if our witch was wearing heels?"
"Might've been."
Cas walks over, and looks at the prints as well, though, seems to have no real lead either. He just got here, after all. He does however, have a question.
"Sam, what does being a third wheel mean, and how did we make you one?"
Dean raised his hand as if to halt that train of thought in it's path, yet his mouth opened like he were just about to explain it. The contradiction was shortly interrupted by yet another voice not too far in the distance.
"Got room for a fourth?"
The three men all jump up at the sudden intrusion to see a random guy, standing just a few meters away, leaned against a tree. He was darker skinned, wearing a well worn black leather jacket overtop a white tee. Most of his outfit had been black, actually. Pants, boots, jacket, save for the shirt and the few patches on the jacket's sleeves. By all means, this looked like a regular dude, however, team free will has been burned before. Sometimes literally. Despite the knives bared and guns raised, the stranger approaches.
"Oh c'mon boys, ain't you recognise me?"
With them not standing down, the stranger sighs, turning to particularly face Dean.
"Not even you? You've ridden me the most out of you three-"
"WHAT."
Justified reaction on his part, nearly stumbling him enough to drop the knife. Cas seems as confused as expected, but this time, is not alone for once. The other two are quite quickly dragged down to his level of knowledge having heard that banger opener.
"I beg your FINEST pardon?"
Dean managed to sputter out, before Sam added.
"Could you be a little more specific there?"
The stranger sighs, removing a pair of reflective aviators and hooking them over the collar of his shirt. He looks over the three bewildered people, before simply smiling.
"I'm Baby."
That doesn't seem a clear enough answer, it appears.
"You're huh?"
"....I'm Baby??"
The stranger repeats, shrugging as if it were the most obvious of things. Cas narrows his eyes.
"I believe I've heard this said by the youths lately. I think this man is trying to communicate he is no threat."
The stranger tilts his head side to side in lukewarm agreement.
"Not exactly, but that too."
He steps forward, ignoring the tightening grips over weapon handles. He raises his hands up in a small fit of showmanship before giving a twirl, ending up back turned to them. On the back of the jacket, was a large embroidered Devil's trap, with two smaller symbols accompanying on the shoulders. That on it's own was a tad odd, but what was on the lower back area was truly interesting. Just at the bottom edge of the jacket, it read 'KAZ 2Y5'.
He spins back around, hands still extended in an 'amirite' motion, hoping it was clear enough for them.
"Eh? Eh?? Not...jogging anything??"
He lets his hands drop in disappointment.
"It's me for christ's sake-"
More confused vacant stares burn through him, until Sam is the first to put two and two together, letting his gun lower with a silent "Ohhh" expression.
"Dean, that's....that's the car."
Cas turns to him.
"Sam don't be ridiculous, that's a person."
"Well, it is now....somehow."
Dean, still skeptical, points the blade toward the not-so-stranger like a mic.
"February 13, 2007-"
"You brought back a lovely blond broad from the bar, but neither of you were patient enough to make it back to the motel. Her name was Kandy with a K, and she smelled like those hotel peppermints they leave on your pillow."
He narrows his eyes, and lowers the blade just a tad, but not fully. Sam tries not to think too deeply on the implications of the car's perspective, not wanting to hurt his brain even more than it already was.
"You two also sang along to 'Say you'll be there' by the Spice Girls on your way to drop her o-"
Dean fully puts the knife down at that, ignoring the look Sam threw his way.
"Alright alright, I get it."
At the sight of both brothers lowering their weapons, Cas follows suite to put his own away, tucking the angel blade into his coat pocket.
"What I don't get, however, is how."
Dean gestures vaguely to all of him. The man shrugs in response.
"Hell if I know, I just got here. Best guess would have to be that witch though."
Walking closer now that there's no direct threat to his newly gained life, he extends his hand.
"To be more formal, the name's Impala."
Sam awkwardly shakes his hand, still bewildered but slightly less than before. Impala turns his head back toward Dean, tossing him a small grin accompanied by a quick wink.
"But you can keep callin' me Baby if you'd like."
Eyes widening a little, Dean clears his throat, looking slightly off to the side to avoid eye contact. His eyes eventually land on Cas, who still seems to be catching up on the concept. When Cas looks back at him, he decides to direct his attention to the ground. Sam looks between them all, accepting this as his new reality for the foreseeable future. Castiel turns to Impala.
"Since you were once a vehicle yourself, do you now what being third wheel means?"