It all happened so fast.
The interstate from Minnesota into Wisconsin was reasonably empty at four in the morning. Only a few transport trucks kept the Impala company on the straight, dark road.
Sam was sleeping, his head smushed up against the passenger side window. Dean squinted into the darkness, rolling down the window, the cold air rushing in his latest attempt to stay awake.
But as he reached to crank the window open, he heard a horrible, crunching sound coming from inside the hood. He nervously patted the dash board.
"It's OK baby, we'll stop soon."
He was answered with even more severe sounding clunking and grinding. He glanced at Sam, then whacked him in the shoulder. Sam jerked awake and yanked out his gun. After seeing there was no danger, he glared across the gear shift at his brother.
"What?" He said testily. Dean nodded towards the good of the car.
"I think there's something wrong with Baby."
Sam looked at him in bleary disbelief.
"Maybe you need to replace the engine belt."
Dean shot him a death stare.
"Sammy, don't be an idiot, I replaced it a month and a half ago."
"I don't know what you want me to tell you-" Sam was suddenly cut off but a shrieking noise from inside the hood. Dean made to pull over to the side of the road, fear evident in his eyes, when a blinding white light came flooding out of nowhere and everywhere, blinding both the Winchesters.
It only blazed for a second, but when it faded, Sam and Dean stumbled and fell onto something hard.
"Wha...what happened?" Dean slurred, wiping the blood from a cut on his lip. "Where are we?"
"Um, on the ground." Sam said slowly, easing himself to his knees. "We're on the pavement."
Dean stood up shakily, then helped up his brother. Both of them had some scrapes and bruises, but were otherwise alright.
"Did we crash? Where the hell is my car?" Dean looked around wildly, then froze.
"Oh...hey."
Sam whipped around. Standing a few feet behind his brother was a woman.
She was short and compact, with chocolate skin and eyes and hair the color of the night. She was wearing a leather jacket, combat boots and silver dog tags around her neck. She was looking at Dean, smiling.
"Hi Dean." Her voice was slight and feminine, but a little gruff.
Dean immediately pulled his gun and pointed it at her and Sam followed suit.
"How do you know my name? And what did you do to my car?"
The woman's eyes widened in shock she took a step back.
"Dean?" She said softly. "You can hear me?"
"Of course I can hear you, now answer the damn question!" Dean roared. The woman just stared at them, stunned.
"You've never answered me before." She said, shaking her head. "Why, why would you-" A piece of her hair flew in her face. She brushed it aside, then gasped in surprise at the hand that did it.
"Oh my..." She ran her other hand over her face. "What..." She yanked her hair in front of her eyes, patted her shoulders and hips and feet, hands running up and down her body.
"Son of a bitch." She breathed. Sam brandished his gun forward once more.
"Enough games, tell us who you are."
The girl looked up.
"Guys...it's me." She said softly.
Dean and Sam exchanged confused looks.
"You'll have to be more specific." Sam said.
"Yeah, who are you?" Dean repeated, getting more agitated by the second.
The girl looked down at her chest, then held the dog tags forward.
"This is who I am." She said. Dean frowned.
"C'mon sweetheart, don't be cute, just tell us your name."
"I am telling you." She said impatiently. "Dean, look."
Dean, without lowering his gun, cautiously took a few steps forward. Sam walked behind the girl, his gun still pointed at her head.
Dean stopped a few feet away and squinted down at the tags the girl was holding out. There were only two, silver rectangles strung on a metal chain.
One said KAZ.
The other said 2Y5.
Dean took a step back.
"Son of a bitch."
"Dean? Dean, what is it?"
"She's...She's my baby." Dean said, seeming to have trouble swallowing. "She's the Impala."