Summary: An ode to the Impala, by Sam Winchester, because the Impala is home and the Impala is Dean and the Impala is safety.

I want to ride to the ridge where the West commences

Gaze at the moon till I lose my senses

Can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences

Don't fence me in

-"Don't Fence Me In" by Cole Poter

Dean hates driving in the city, because there are too many batshit cray drivers who squeeze too close to his car and then yell at him for it. He hates the tight streets and traffic scraping by and everyone else moving faster than them.

Sam loves it.

He loves meandering through the afternoon traffic and how everyone's heads turn towards the Impala's sleek, black, glistening lines. He likes to sit back in his seat, smirking, and think "This is my home, my brother's car that he rebuilt from the ground up. This physical extension of Dean is the prettiest thing you'll ever see."

Dean barely notices the attention. He loves his car and it's almost the most beautiful thing in his world, but only because it's his. He doesn't understand why anyone who has never been under her hood or grew up in her or bled in her would stop what they're doing just to stare.

But Sam notices, and revels in the attention in his brother's stead, because what's Dean's is always his and what's his becomes Dean's. So, any halfwit with two brain cells to rub together can see how much love and affection goes into maintaining the Impala's perfect condition; Dean deserves the recognition but will never see it for what it is, and so Sam takes it and squirrels it away and and saves it up so he can properly give it to the Impala as the occasional vacuum or fond smile or sleepy cuddle. That, at least, Dean will accept as appreciation for this thing of beauty that he's poured heartbreak and blood and love into.

He always feels a bone-deep satisfaction when someone stops in their tracks to ogle them as as they roar past. They stop, and their eyes grow big, and then a stupid, amazed smile grows on their face. Sam knows they don't look at her and know that the Impala is Dean and the Impala is home and the Impala is safety is love is security is fast is escape is protection is happiness mother umbrella champion protector keeper good. They see her and just see beautiful, but it all boils down to that anyways, so he supposes it's okay.

Sam smiles at their retreating shadow through the rearview, wants to laugh and cheer but then Dean would ask what are you laughing for Sammy? Got something to share with the class?

And what would he say?

"Did you see that? She dropped her book when you drove by. The love you put into our home, all the time and work, has paid off, because she saw our car and understood it enough that she dropped her fucking book!"

or

"Nobody knows how to look at you; they only see rough edges and leather jacket and nomad, but they can see your real beauty in the tough elegance of the Impala, they see your devotion and loyalty and grace, and that's close enough."

But Dean wouldn't understand any of that since it was never a conscious choice to keep the Impala's condition as perfect as humanly possible; it's just so much of who he is, like the color of his eyes or how many pushups he does a night. It's nothing he knows how to accept a compliment for, so Sam silently does and is smug on his brother's behalf.