Pieces of Repair

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, not caring that it was probably loud enough that Sam heard it all the way inside of Bobby's. The sentiment was appropriate enough. They'd been at Bobby's for a week, Sam alternating between way too quiet-quiet with that kid was never good-and keeping so close an eye on Dean he was about to go crazy. So being outside with his baby was good, except that she was by no means good. Hell, nothing was good about this. Somehow, in a way that didn't seem sound, he was alive; he listened when docs say they couldn't explain something as this one had; and, it really didn't make sense that he was all but good as new, bruises and all, when Dad was…and Sam was still visibly beat up.

The Colt's gone-the one way they had of icing the damned demon that seemed hell-bent on destroying his family. His baby was a little more than totaled-the one thing he had always, always had-when Sam went to college, when Dad went off an his own hunts-she was the one that countless arguments had begun-and ended-in, she was the one that had harbored nearly every version of a beat-up Winchester possible, she was the one that really, was home; so, he was going to fix her. Dad's dead-the one person next to Sam that he'd done everything for, except… "I'm so proud of you. I want you to watch out for Sammy. Dean, nothing else matters, hear me. I need you to save Sam or if not, you should kill him."

At that, Dean went back to surveying the Impala, stopping that thought cold. Right now, what he could deal with was staring right back at him, bent black steel and all. He'd already done a base assessment. The back door and trunk area would have to be completely replaced, as would the engine. The frame itself was in bad shape, but he was willing to take the time anyway to get it properly rigged so as to straighten it back into shape. He'd wanted to try to save the front door; he looked over at the maintenance table he'd set up. Next to all the metal tools was a little green army man; it actually brought a ghost of a smile to his face.

It had been summer a million years ago and they'd been waiting in the Impala while their Dad went on a quick scout of the area. Dean normally helped, but they hadn't wanted to leave Sammy alone and so that left his Dad all the work and therefore tired when he came back; Sam didn't seem to have any intent on acknowledging that, though. Trying to distract him, Dean had gotten Sam playing with army men while Dean had been helpfully suggesting proper strategic placements and actions for each soldier.

"Sarg, we gotta bury in here now," Sam said to one of the green men and before Dean could stop him had jammed the unfortunate soldier so hard into the side door's ashtray it was impossible to get out without mechanical help. Their dad hadn't noticed until a couple days later; when he had, he had just laughed and left it. It had stayed their ever since.

Unfortunately, that door had ultimately had to be replaced, but Dean was absolutely planning on jamming the guy right back in the new door, already painted and cut to size, leaning across the adjacent car in Bobby's lot. Dean pocketed the little green man- a good memory of a simpler time he'd hold on to for now- and went to ready the door, also grabbing seam sealer and anticorrosion material. Simple work in comparison to all that needed to be done before his baby was ready to tear up the highway again, but maybe simple was what he needed right now. He took his time, focusing on the simple action of applying anticorrosion to the inside of the door and then seam sealer on the outer edges.

After that had set, Dean got to work on putting the door in position and tack welding it into place. Once fitted, Dean registered the amulet around his neck as he reached for the clamps. Sammy had given it to him when they were kids and their Dad had failed to show up for Christmas. At least he had showed up eventually. Dean shook his head, clamping the first spot into place a little harder than necessary and focused instead on securing everything back in place. Slowly, things would be coming together. If only it could go a little faster.

It was a good place to take a break, except he didn't want to take a break; he didn't want to go back inside and face Sam trying to talk everything better. As if on cue, though, with a good bruise still around his eye, Sam came out offering beer and another one of his assessing gazes; Dean almost took back that wish of not wanting Sam-jabber.

"Thanks," he allotted, taking the beer.

Sam nodded. "So how's it going?"

Huh, maybe his little brother had finally gotten it into his head that he was in no mood to talk about anything but the Impala. "It's getting there. Frame's back in place, doors have just been put back on."

"Well, if anyone can get her back."

"I'm your guy," Dean said, tentatively cheerful and resolving that he wouldn't let anything else get to his family, in particular his little brother. If it was the last thing he did, he would save him before he ever…They'd been dependent on each other ever since they were little, ever since they lost…their mom; it had been just another statement of such when Sam had given him that amulet, trust between the two of them to always make it through. He supposed he might take it easier on the kid; he knew he wasn't really being fair; after all, he wasn't the only one who had lost Dad.

Another week went by and Dean was quite pleased with himself. He was sitting in the basically completely restored Impala's driver's seat. It had been a rough week; he'd lost it and actually caused more damage, but the clown hunt had helped-or maybe just the opportunity to screw with Sam like old times- and ultimately, the car was all but back to new. He turned the key in the ignition and instantly noticed the heat wasn't turned off by a resounding rattle that only made him smile. Another small, seemingly out of place, but important in its own way piece of the Impala: the legos he had dropped into the vents on a car ride to another job when they were kids. The memory hurt of his Dad sitting where he was now, but the engine's start had alerted his baby brother who actually walked out with a smile on his face. Everything wasn't okay, Dean wasn't sure if it'd ever be. But, his baby was back and there was still Bobby dealing with the two of them. It was a start and Dean knew that when it came to his family, some things would never change and he'd keep them going.

Dean turned off the engine and got out.

"Wow," Sam said, "That looks better than it did before."

Dean nodded and seemed to survey his work, noting the one other seemingly out of place, but important piece that needed to go back in place. He hadn't forgotten. But, he also wasn't the only one who had work to do or whom had history in the Impala. He let his gaze rest on the lone green army soldier still standing on the now nearly empty maintenance table. "Almost."

"You're kidding me," Sam challenged

"It's not complete without it," Dean answered and then continued, "Now, I think the best strategy here, for the moment, is to get him buried in right…there," he pointed to the front interior ashtray."

Sam shook his head, but obeying and he dug the soldier in. "Yes, colonel."


AN/Disclaimer: I don't actually know much about cars, just ransacked the internet and car maintenance books. But after the everything that happened at the end of "Blade Runner's", I really wanted to do this. So, if anything regarding the repairs is glaringly incorrect, please feel free to review and bring it to my attention with how to correct it and I will. Reviews in general are welcome. Don't own any of the characters.