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She was born from the hands and ingenuity of man, forged from fine Chicago steel, brought forth from the factory womb along with a myriad of brothers and sisters, not aware then of how she'd be unique among them, destined to share a fate with two brothers who had not yet been born but were already targeted to fulfil a prophecy made aeons before.
Although loved by both brothers, the elder would come to look on her more fondly, entangling himself in her leather seats and black body as one would with a lover.
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She had encountered Dean Winchester for the first time in nineteen seventy-three in a used car lot, a handsome young man in a leather jacket.
To the young Impala he was a run-of-the-mill human, one of many who had come to look her over the past weeks but had never bought.
He had known her though.
She should have realised there was something special about him, if only for the way she'd felt his eyes roaming over her as one would with a dear friend. Knowledge mixed to fondness mixed to awe.
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Just how did that work? Did the chicken come before the egg?
Dean had been a traveller in time, brought there for an entirely different reason, yet he'd been the one to encourage John Winchester to buy her, because he'd already loved her in the future.
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Though Dean thought the world of her, she knew she didn't take first place in his heart. There was only one who did, his little brother Sam, the recipient of a love so deep it could move mountains, and had!
The Impala knew Sam loved her too.
She'd been at his side all those months when he'd been on his own without Dean, impotent to do more than observe the younger Winchester's pain and anguish in his search for the Trickster, followed by his fall into utter despair when Dean was in hell and his disorientation when his big brother disappeared into Purgatory.
She thought it kind of ironic that Dean who voiced his love for her far more emphatically than Sam, had been the one to rain down blows on her battered body. Filled with pain, sorrow and guilt at his father's death he'd taken a hammer to her, unable to hold back the tsunami of anguish that filled his soul.
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Well they do say one always hurts the one they love.
This held true for Dean and Sam too.
The Impala was sure there were none on Earth who experienced such immense love for one other, yet they knew how to wound deeply, how to to pierce the other's heart and make it bleed.
Like in all families, and the Impala knew she was the third member of the Winchesters' one, there were good times too.
Dean would spend hours prettying her up, mollycoddling her as if she was a beloved child, usually under the twinkling eyes of his little brother, who'd curl his lips in a secret smile, watching fondly as Dean cooed and praised his favourite girl.
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The road hasn't been easy, filled with pot-holes, head-on crashes and downright bad luck, but the boys are still here, alive and well, though battered and wounded in body and soul by all they've had to endure.
But the Impala knows as long as she's around to protect her boys, they'll be okay.
She's had a long life, coming up to fifty summers soon, and for most of those years she's been home to the Winchesters. She supposes she'll continue to be until the time comes when she finishes up in a yard like Bobby Singer's, supplying spare parts to other Chevys.
But she'll have no regrets, for every inch of her black body has been treasured and loved by her boys, and wherever Sam and Dean end up, they'll always remember how she'd loved and looked out for them just as they had done for her.
She would always be Baby.
The End.
