"Who the hell are you working for?" Dean did not look amused. "And nice outfit. It's convincing." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Too bad they didn't hire a friggin' chick like they should have to make me believe it. Who was it? Crowley?"

Dean scowled. He hated it when creatures messed with him like this. And now they were picking on his car too? Maybe they were just getting creative. They'd already dug around everywhere else.

Baby dug the palms of his hands into his eyes and rubbed. "Ah. dude, I seriously have a killer headache right now. Just keep it down."

He lay back down and rolled over on his stomach again. "Maybe if I lay here long enough and take a little nap I'll wake up and be a car again."

Dean watched in disbelief as the leather-jacket-donning man slipped his lids over his eyes and let out a small sigh, flat on his stomach as his cheek was pressed to the asphalt again. A few seconds passed and Baby tried to adjust to get a little more comfortable on the rock-hard ground. He shuffled around. He stayed. He shuffled again.

"-Annnnndddd nope." Baby sighed, climbing once again to a sitting position. "Wow. This sucks."

Before Dean could make another snide remark, they both heard the motel door room creak open. Sam was standing there, his long hairy legs peeking out from his plaid boxers, and in his night shirt he looked a lot like an overgrown kid. He rubbed his eye.

"Dean? It's like five in the morning. Who the hell is that?" Sam stepped out and picked his way gingerly over the concrete with his bare feet.

Baby tried to smile, his eyes squinting as his headache pulsed, and gave Sam a little half-wave. "Hey, Sammy."

"No one calls him that but me." Dean snarled, impacting his heel with the man's shoulder and pinning him down under his boot. Baby let out a wheeze and then a small moan, he shut his eyes and his head lolled to the side.

"Dean, god-fucking-dammit, I didn't ask for this!" Baby moaned, sitting back up painfully slowly and clutching at his stomach that he'd gotten the wind knocked out of.

Sam crossed his arms and stood by Dean. "Dean. You have some explaining to do."

Dean made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "I came out here this morning and Baby was gone and this fucker was sleeping in her spot."

Baby touched his head again, then his eyes widened. "Shit. I think I'm gonna spew." He clamped his hand over his mouth.

"What?" Dean asked, and jumped back to not get it on him as Baby, on all fours, curled his back and retched, yellowish-clear liquid spurting out of his mouth and hitting the pavement. At first, Dean thought it was bile, but upon smelling the acrid and unmistakable scent of petrol, he realized it wasn't.

Baby retched again, this time it wasn't quite liquid and the black, tarry substance pulled from his lips with a thick, gluey texture and drooped to the ground. Oil?

Baby moaned and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing a bit of dark oil across his cheek. His eyelids fluttered closed. "Oh, great creator of Model-T..." He swore under his breath.

To Dean's surprise, Sam rushed over to the guy's aid, holding up his shoulders as he looked like he was going to collapse. "Hey, man. You okay?" Sam asked.

Baby hesitated but bobbed his head slightly when he met Sam's eyes. "I feel a little better now."

"Sam!" Dean was pissed now. "You're helping him? We don't even know who the hell he is!"

"He just threw up oil and gasoline, Dean! That's not something you can fake!" Sam shot back, helping the man to his feet and Sam looped his arm around the black leather shoulders, helping him stay upright.

The man stood around Dean's height, if not a few inches shorter. Baby slipped, his knees buckling, extremely unsteady. Sam's hand shot out to help steady him, planting an open palm on his chest. Baby swayed and his eyes opened just a peek hesitantly, as if he was afraid of being this high off the ground.

"You okay?" Sam asked again, and the guy nodded.

"Just- not used to only having two tires on the ground, you know." He steadied himself, his hands open and tense by his sides, like someone first learning to ice-skate. "It's pretty fuckin' weird." He chuckled.

Dean indicated to him and looked beyond frustrated. "Baby's a chick! And he's...he's a dude, Sam!"

"So?" Sam shot out. "It's not the weirdest thing that's happened to us. We encountered a suicidal freaking teddy bear! And I got turned into a car once, why can't it be the other way around? He needs help, Dean!"

Baby's face was a little pale, beads of sweat were exuding from his nose and cheeks already. "Don't feel so good," Baby mumbled, tipping over and retching again, this time more gasoline dribbled from his mouth to the concrete. The scent was sharp in Dean's nose, and he actually wasn't quite sure how a human could fake that.

"He must be having some trouble adjusting to his new body," Sam spoke up, finally letting go of Baby's shoulders as Baby had his hands on his knees, taking in small pants of breath. The smell of gasoline overwhelmed the air.

"How full was the tank when you parked it last night?" Sam had that typical puppy-faced expression on, as Baby coughed wetly into his fist and wiped his mouth once again with a disgustingly loud snort.

"I think...half tank, maybe?" Dean scratched the back of his head, thinking. Then it hit him again. "Sam! Wait, Sam, dammit!" He crossed his hands in front of his chest and quickly sliced them through the air in a sharp 'no' gesture.

"This whole situation isn't adding up! How did this happen? We're not even sure this is Baby, dammit!" He indicated to Baby, who was looking a little worse for wear, his hair damp and now sticking to his pale forehead.

"What do you want me to do, Dean?" The car sighed wearily, his eyes already glassy. "I don't fuckin' like this either, man!"

"Who did this to you, then?" Dean shot out, strangely angry. Now he was hungry for breakfast and didn't even have a car.

And why the fuck was his very sexy car not an equally sexy chick? This was just like having a very male siren. What a friggin' let down.

Baby shrugged wearily. "I don't-" He rushed to clamp both of his hands in front of his mouth, and Sam led him back into the motel room, despite Dean's protests, and gave him a very Sam-like bitchface as he led the man inside with a gentle hand on his back.