Notes:Welcome to the eighth installment of the Impala Series! Whooo! This story is broken up into present, day before, and past memories so it might get a little confusing, so pay attention to the bold time indications! Good luck! And I offer hugs to all of those who suffer through hurt/comforts, just saying.

ship. me: I cried! I really did! Gah, it killed me basically because she is me *sobbing* And I am so pleased that you enjoyed the "deepness" of it all! Not many fanfictions go that far so I was worried that I was crossing some unwritten rule. So many huggles to you though! I do hope that you like this story! Enjoy ;)

Disclaimer: *gross sobbing*

Chapter 1

PRESENT

It was dark. It was cold enough for frost to start to cling to the metal panels of the ship and each and every breath to appear in front of you. It was quiet. Each room was empty and carried the promise of an echo should any sound be made.

There was no comforting warm glow from the ship's turbine as it sat still, silent and dark. The once animated, almost living machinery now looked like nothing more than rusted old metal that looked frigid to the touch. The walls were scorched with soot, almost as if the fires of hell had gone off through the room in a damning wave of flare.

Through the passenger and crew quarters belongings and other contents appear to have been strewn over the hallways. Not a single person in sight.

The entire cargo hold echoed with the loud thud from Dean as he fell to the metal flooring. His face was ashen, his were clothes soaked through with sweat. His harsh breathing could be heard through the large room. There were no other sounds to answer back. No crew to come to his aid. Dean was completely and utterly alone.

Weakly he tried to lift his head from the cold surface. As his cheek roughly grated across the floor he thought he heard voices in the distance. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that it was impossible for there to be anyone else there. Perhaps these were the hallucinations that Sam warned him about.

As he crawled along the floor towards the stairs, the voices became louder and he felt himself get lost in memory as he struggled to remain conscious.

FIVE YEARS AGO

"A fine young man like yourself, just starting out? How about I take off another 250 credits?"

"I'm not sure it's the one I want."

"Oh, but she's a real beauty, ain't she? A right smart purchase, this vessel. Tell you what, you buy this ship, treat her proper, she'll be with ya for the rest of your life."

"Well, what do you think?" Dean had his hands placed proudly on his hips as he stood before his brother. He had just brought Sam into his ship for the first time and was eagerly waiting to hear the praise from Sam for finding this magnificent boat. However, Sam's expression was far from impressed.

Sam pulled his long arms in tight around him, as if disgusted at the thought of any part of him touching the dusty walls of the vessel, "You paid money for this? On purpose?"

Dean's smile fell, "No, I'm being serious here, Sammy. What do you think of her?"

"Actually, Dean…I think you got robbed."

Dean scoffed offended, "This is the one I want. She's perfect!"

Now it was Sam's turn to scoff, "Oh yeah, you know something about ships?"

Dean froze for a moment, a weak smile ghosted over his features. He knew plenty about ships. Sam knew that. Their dad had taught them everything he knew about almost every type of vessel. Whenever John Winchester started to talk about some of the old ships he used to work on as a mechanic, before…everything…it was almost magical to see how the fond memories would light up his shadowed face.

Looking back up at Sam, Dean smiled arrogantly, "This is a great ship, Sammy. 327 four barrel, 275,000,000 horses. A little TLC and this thing is cherry. And…I kind of promised someone that I would buy a ship and…this is the one that I want."

Sam raised an eyebrow an scanned the interior of the cargo hold again.

"C'mon, Sam. This is the ship of a lifetime! Trust me, this thing is still gonna be badass forty years from now."

Yet another bitch face as Sam lightly kicks the paneling to his left, makind the rusted metal crumble.

"Okay, so maybe she won't be winning any beauty contests anytime soon. But she is solid…in most places. I'm telling you, ships like this…they'll be with you 'til the day you die."

"That's because it's a deathtrap, Dean," whined Sam as he turned back to his brother. The war had only just ended a few months before and Sam was not ready to start risking his and Dean's lives again so soon. He didn't entirely understand his brother's need to buy this vessel. They had been planning on just finding work somewhere and trying to settle down, to find a place where they could pretend they hadn't lost the war. Dean would be a mechanic, Sam would try and finish school….

"C'mon, Sam! She could be beautiful after we fix her up a bit! You have no imagination!"

Sam smirked, "I imagine that's so, Dean."

Rolling his eyes Dean grabbed at Sam's freakishly long arm and pulled him further into the ship, "Just come with me. You haven't even seen the rest of it. And please try to see past what she is, and focus on what she can be. My baby is going to be the best." He stated proudly.

"And what can she be, Dean?"

His brother paused at the foot of the stairs, and took a moment before replying, "Freedom, that's what."

The confession hit Sam hard. The raw emotion in Dean's voice was enough to give him pause and reconsider his views on this ship. With the Garrison now fully in charge of everything and breathing down their necks because they were on the losing side…the brothers had started to feel trapped. Maybe this is what they needed, more than a lack luster job and forced obedience.

Dean continued to talk as they moved further into the ship. Sam hadn't heard his brother talk this much, and with this much happiness for years. Probably long before they had joined the war…maybe even longer. It brought a smile to Sam's face and he scanned the ship again with new eyes, trying to appreciate it for his brother's sake.

"I'll tell ya, Sam, we find ourselves a mechanic, get her running again. Hire a good pilot. Maybe even a cook. We could live like real people. Small crew, just whoever we need, and we'll never be under anybody's radar ever again. No matter how long the arm of the Garrison might get, we'll just get ourselves a little further out."

"Get her running again? It's not running now?"

The soon to be Captain paused and gave his brother an awkward smile, "Well, we can work on her for the simple stuff, then we find a mechanic for the heavy stuff. She will fly again, I promise."

Sam nodded placatingly and they moved further into the ship, their voices echoing off the metal panels as they walked down a hallway and over a rickety catwalk that Sam just knew he was going to hate and avoid at all costs in the future.

"Oh, and I already know what I'm going to call her. Got a name all picked out…."

PRESENT

His face was tight in pain as the memory faded away and he was brought back to excruciating reality. He found himself at the foot of the stairs, curled up in on himself and wondering how he had gotten there while he was off in la la land. He steeled himself for what he had to do next and held his breath as he grabbed at the railings above him and pulled himself up.

Maybe it was because he knew he was alone, or maybe because he really couldn't smother it, but Dean gasped loudly in pain and whimpered as he finally righted himself against the stairs. As he stood there trying to catch his breath he watched as several blood drops fell down from where he held his hand against his lower abdomen. His eyes trailed their descent down through the cold air until they splattered on the grated steps. The sight fascinated him more than it scared him, and that's how Dean knew that he was in trouble.

With a mighty effort and grunt, Dean lifted his foot onto the first step and started his long climb up the stairs. Right now, however, this task was more daunting than going into battle with the Garrison all those years before.

As his foot hit the second step, another drop of blood fell down and landed on his boot.

"Push", thought Dean.

Ah, yes. The flashbacks. Now we get to see how the rest of the crew came to be aboard the Impala and how Dean had gotten himself into such a sticky situation. Next chappie up tomorrow and I promise it'll be a lot longer than this one ;)