As the entered the parking lot of the museum, Dean and Sam squinted as the sun hit their faces, Bucky himself keeping his head down- and nearly walked right into a car that was about to drive out of the parking spot next to the door. Natasha grabbed him swiftly, nodding at the driver who proceeded to yell, "Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" Natasha lifted a hand at the driver.

"Our apologies, sir!" she called, and the driver went back to grumbling as he then drove off, the five of them safely out of harm's way. Dean watched as the car peeled away- a nice convertible, probably three years old. Having built the Impala from scratch when it had been destroyed, Dean always found himself admiring any car he could get his eyes on.

"So-" Dean cleared his throat, stopping short when Natasha directed Steve towards a black car- Dean's black car, to be precise. The Impala was sitting in the sun, the meta glinting menacingly out in the open. Dean opened his mouth, letting out an almost strangled cry, "What the hell are you three doing?" Steve stopped short, holding the keys to the car in question. Natasha had Bucky by the arm, having started t pull him towards the car, her hand almost on the door.

"We're driving back to S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha said matter-of-factly, "what else does it look like?" A short burst of wind decided to pass by, playing with the ends of Natasha's hair, stoning Dean's cheeks. He noticed Bucky's neck twitch slightly, Natasha's fingers digging into the cloth of his sweatshirt.

"Not in my baby you aren't," Dean shook his head, cowboy boots crunching gravel as he approached the car. Sam shifted in his shoes, biting his lip- Dean was always protective of his car, no matter what. Sometimes it came to be a bit of a problem, especially when thy were in a group that included people other than themselves.

"Dean, it's just one time," Sam sighed, "just let her drive, okay?" Steve stood by the driver's for patiently, the keys rattling as he decided to swing them on hist inter in small tight circles.

"No, Sammy," Den shook his head, pursing his lips, "if we go in my car, I drive." Natasha rolled her eyes, and Sam swore her grip on Bucky's arm tightened, almost ripping at the sleeve of his clothes. Bucky said nothing though, just silent as he stared uncomfortably at his feet, the ground as he toes pebbles with his combat boots.

"Okay, pal," Natasha answered, "I don't have time for this- the Captain and Lieutenant don't have time for this. get in the car." Dean crossed his arms.

"You know," he said, ambling over to Steve, plucking the keys from his fingers, "you guys probably aren't even in the army. or all we know, you could be kidnappers." Natasha let ut a short clipped laugh, startling Bucky as she ushered him to the car. The handled was hot against his skin as Dean opened the door, sliding comfortably in the driver's seat, almost crying with joy when he heard the sweet click of his seatbelt buckle.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean began, clearing his throat he heard the passenger door open, "remember the rule about the music-"

"What rule?" came Natasha's voice, and Dean turned to find her strapping herself into the passenger seat. Raising an eyebrow, he saw his brother and the other two crowd themselves into the back, the bulk of Bucky and Steve's muscles combined taking up a good portion of the room. Shaking this head, Dean clicked his tongue, "Why are you sitting in the front?"

"Why are you driving?" she retorted haughtily, "just drive." Dean opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Sam piped up, "Dean, we don't have time for this. Just drive." Clamping his mouth shut, Dean let his hands run over the steering wheel, the engine roaring to life as he pulled out of the lot and onto the road.

AC/DC's TNT blaring on the radio, the ride was silent until halfway down the highway, until it occurred to Dean that he had no idea where he was going. He hadn't bothered getting what the acronym for S.H.I.E.L.D. meant, nor the directions to said facilities. Crap, he thought, feeling sweat bead on his forehead.

"What's wrong?" Natasha's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling his attention back to the blurring lights and signs on the road.

"Where exactly am i going?" he asked reluctantly, his voice getting softer with each word. Sam chuckled, a mocking sound that Dean was sure would haunt him once this drive was over. Even if he wasn't smart when it came to research, Dean was an expert on driving anywhere in the country. He knew Sam was going to hang this one over his head for quite a while. Natasha pointed straight down the highway, and Dean noted her nails were painted a dark crimson color- Almost the color of blood, he thought, momentarily distracted before her silky voice bought him back to reality.

"Just go straight until i say to turn," she said, letting her hand fall to the dashboard. Staring in the rearview mirror, both the driver and passenger got a good view of the backseat- three extremely muscled and somewhat tall men were crammed together, Sam's legs looking so cramped that his knees were touching his chin, his arms wrapped round his legs in a tight hug.

"You okay back there, boys?" Natasha chuckled. Steve grinned half-heartedly.

"Never been better!" he joked. Natasha jutted her chin at Sam in the mirror.

"What about you, Jolly Green Giant?" Dean sent her a glare.

"Giving Sam annoying nicknames is my job, thank you very much," he said angrily. Natsha winked at him.

"Come on, brushy-top," she sighed, "a girl's gotta have fun now and again, right?" Clearing her throat, she stared back at the mirror, "So how;s it hanging back there?"

"F-fine," Sam managed, although he was a bit to afraid to admit that he was anything but. Natasha could probably tell anyway, what with the way he was trying to crowd himself against the window, keeping an eyes on the ever so silent Bucky Barnes. He's really starting to creep me out…. Sam thought, letting his eyes fall on the bulk in his sweatshirt, where he assumed he would have an arm- why was it so bulky in the first place anyway?

"Oh- and Bucky?" Natasha's voice suddenly went somewhat cold, a stern tinge to it. Bucky lifted his head reluctantly, strands of brown hair in his eyes. Natasha sen thin a thin smile, adding, "Remember what Steve and I told you." He nodded.

"There's no need to be so harsh, Natasha-" Steve began.

"Well, Steve, if he's going to try and integrate himself back into society after what happened, he has to learn!" Natasha cut him off, "and I know Fury's methods are a little harsh-" Steve felt heat rush to his face as he cut her off, saying, "A little harsh?! I don't remember sticking probes on his body being categorized as 'little'."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "You know what I mean, Steve-"

"He made him watch the surveillance tapes, Natasha!" Steve exclaimed. At this, Sam let his eyes fall n the man sitting next to him, who slowly returned the gaze. There was something his eyes, Sam thought, that was…. missing, almost. They seemed glassy, empty, as if he were a zombie, not an actual human being. I wonder…. Sam thought, then pushed it away- he was afraid of what would happen if he asked, especially since they were in such a tight, enclosed area.

"I know, Steve!" Natasha shouted, making everyone freeze momentarily, "I know they made him watch the tapes- they did that with the Avengers as well, or do you not remember?" Steve was taken aback- those videos had been released all over the internet, so of course people had watched the battle. But this is different, he thought, this is different….

There was a few minutes of awkward silence, just AC/DC crooning over how the grass was green and girls were pretty. Clearing his throat, Sam piped up, "So, uh, Miss Romanoff?" Natasha stared at him through the mirror, turning on a smile.

"I like you already!" she said, "what's up?"

"When exactly will we get there?" Sam asked, "I mean, it seems like we've been driving for a good five, ten minutes, no?" She shrugged, letting her eyes dart to the window. Trees were a blur as they passed by. Natasha smirked- men were so impatient nowadays it was almost unbearable.

"We get there when we get there, hon," Natasha answered simply, "oh, and since I'm talking to you, do you have any single ladies in mind for the old geezer to your left?" Sam sent a cautious look to Bucky, who just stared back with a shrug. Natasha grinned, adding, "No, not the Alzheimer's patient, the other one."

"What do you mean, 'old geezer'?" Dean laughed, "the dudes look barely in their twenties." Although, Dean thought, it might explain the way he spoke back in the museum….

"That's where you're wrong, son," Steve sighed heavily, "I'm well into the nineties." Sam's eyes bugged, Dean blinking as he tried to focus on the road- hd he said what he thought he said?

"N-nineties?!" Sam stammered in surprise. Natasha nodded, jutting her chin at Bucky.

"This one here is eighty-nine in case you were wondering."

"I'm ninety-five, Agent Romanoff," Bucky almost growled, making sweat prickle Sam's skin. Being the only sentence he had uttered this entire time, there was a sort of husky note to it, followed by a heavy, raspy sound that almost made him wheeze, as if he had just run a marathon. Natasha cocked her head, then nodded.

"Right, right," she said, "I guess I'll have to update the records at S.H.I.E.L.D. then." Now it was Bucky's turn to freak out.

"You have damned records?!" he cried in a panic, "on me?!" Steve sent Bucky a steady look, breathing slowly. Sam in the meantime tried pressing himself further into the side of the car, with no luck.

"Bucky, they have records on everyone," Steve said, "including me." The man's breath was coming in short gasps, his face turning slightly purple as each second passed until Sam was sure he would get crushed under a mountain of muscle if Bucky collapse right there and then.

"Dean, maybe you should open a window-" Sam began to suggest, but was cut off as dean suddenly threw the wheel sideways, tires screeching as they swung to the side of the road.