Author's Note: This latest chapter has not been proof-read; I wanted to get it posted while I had the opportunity. So, please excuse any errors that may show up, they are 100 percent my fault.

The Last Mile

For the second time in two days Sam found himself in a strange location without any recollection of how he got there. The first thing he noticed was that he was in the Impala in the dead of night. A glance to his right showed he was alone. A look to his left showed…a tree? Further inspection showed that the tree not only barricaded him in, but seemed to have dislodged the sideview mirror. Sam tried to follow the tree to see how far along the car it ran, but a sharp pain in his head told him turning around maybe wasn't such a great idea.

So, near as Sam could figure, he was out for a Sunday drive through the woods in his brother's car, and he had traded in the side mirror for a fashionable new tree trunk. Sure, why not. He would have laughed at the absurdity of the scenario, but he was afraid the sudden movement would set off another explosion in his head.

Sam raised his hand to the side of his head, wincing as he found the small lump near his temple, but relieved at the absence of blood. Sam then ran his hand across his chest, feeling for any other injury.

"What the hell?" he murmured as he felt the metal shield on his chest. Sam tried to remember the last thing he'd seen before losing consciousness. Sam's hazel eyes widened as he recalled seeing blood-red eyes staring him down. Wait, not eyes…brake lights. The Corvette…the Mustang!! Sam's mind cleared as he replayed the events of the night. He had saved the driver of the Corvette, but at a painful price. While he had come out relatively unscathed, Dean's beloved Impala was quite another story.

Sam grabbed the flashlight and let himself out the passenger side. Glancing at his watch, he was relieved to see he'd only been unconscious for a few minutes. Still, that was plenty of time for the other driver to call the cops. He just hoped the Impala would function well enough to make a quick getaway.

Sam moved over to the driver's side of the car to inspect the damage. The Impala rested flush against the large tree, the front half dented from the impact. As he continued his inspection, Sam stumbled as his foot smacked against a hard object. Aiming the flashlight at the ground, Sam was nearly blinded as the light bounced off the sideview mirror.

A shrill ring sounded, sending Sam's already racing heart into overdrive. Sam pulled out his cell phone, looking once more at the fallen mirror. Dean was going to kill him.

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Dean stalked around the motel room in a rage. He had woken up in a fine mood. His shoulder, though still stiff, had improved greatly. Sam had undoubtedly discovered the key to solving their little car problem, and together the two of them would send that over-styled trash can to the otherworldly junkyard permanently.

The dark room was the first sign that something was amiss. At the very least he should have been seeing the light from the laptop. Dean had flipped on the bedside lamp, noticing for the first time that he was alone in the room.

"Sam?" he had called out, already knowing he wouldn't receive an answer. His suspicions were confirmed as he noticed the note on the table.

Dean skimmed the note, his eyes narrowed with every word. Checking out a lead. Wait here…be back soon. Sam

"Checking out a lead. Checking out a lead?!" Dean had bellowed as he crumpled up the note. Cocking his arm sideways, Dean sent the offending wad of paper spinning towards the opposite end of the room, ignoring the painful awakening of the muscles in his wounded shoulder.

Dean stopped his pacing as he finally caught a glimpse of the red numbers on the tiny alarm clock. Shocked at what he saw, he checked not only his watch, but also his cell phone to confirm the time. 4:45am. He'd slept for nearly nine hours. His anger resurfaced, aimed mostly at himself. He should have known Sam would turn off the alarm. After all, that's exactly what Dean would have done. Now his brother was out who-knows-where, in the middle of the night, in his car.

Night. Car. Dean sat down heavily on the bed as realization struck him. Sam had gone out to Blue Corner's Road to take on the ghost car. No. Dean shook his head dazedly. Sam wouldn't be stupid enough to go another round of chicken with the Mustang, especially since their first impromptu game seemed to be the catalyst for the now corporeal state of the car. Maybe Sam really did find a lead. If so, what was it? And where the hell was he?

A quick check showed his cell phone had received no calls in the last two days. Dean chuckled humorlessly. Sure, Sam had turned off the alarm on Dean's cell phone just so he could call and wake him up. "Brilliant, Dean." he said to himself as he scrolled through his list of contacts. Hitting the send button, Dean got up and began pacing. When he heard Sam's voice mail come on he ended the call without leaving a message, then redialed. Once again Sam failed to pick up. Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the tiny picture of Sam on the screen.

"Where are you, little brother?" he whispered. Dean pushed aside his worry. Time to think like Sam.

"Ok, so I directly disobeyed my older brother's orders by not waking him up, and by turning off the alarm on his phone, all the while knowing that I will receive a royal ass-kicking for doing so." Dean spoke out loud, filling the quiet space of the motel room. "Being the massive geek that I am, I of course went to the laptop to do some research."

Dean sat down at the table and opened the laptop. He impatiently tapped his fingertips on the arm of the chair as he waited for the computer to boot up. To his surprise Sam had only been to one web page. Dean could not find anything that gave any indication on how or why the Mustang was still around. Certainly nothing that would be considered a "lead".

Dean reread the information a few times, but found his thoughts kept drifting to their last stay in Danbury. Maybe Sam ran into some of the punks they'd encountered at Chet's bar. Maybe the cops had him. In their haste to get the Impala back maybe they hadn't been as careful as they could have been when they stole the pick-up truck. No, he corrected himself. When he had stolen the truck. Sam had wanted no part of it.

This whole damn thing was his fault. If he hadn't been duped by that whore Jennifer, the Impala wouldn't have been stolen, and they would have left without ever knowing of the ghost car. Now eight people had been injured because of him; one lay near death in some cold hospital room. In fact, it was very possible that right this very minute some innocent person was being mowed down by the evil car.

With that final thought Dean instantly knew where Sam had run off to. Dean sat back in the chair, his green eyes wide as he finally figured out Sam's objective. If Sam couldn't save the people of Danbury from the deadly car, he would have use himself as a decoy to keep them out of harm's way.

Dean's emotions bounced from anger at his brother's recklessness, to begrudging admiration, and then finally landing on icy fear. An all too vivid image leapt into Dean's mind; a blood-soaked Sam lying lifeless a few feet from the overturned Impala.

Dean pushed the thought away, voicing an angry, "No!" as he continued his pacing. Now was not the time to panic. Dean decided to call Sam one more time. To his surprise, a tepid Sam answered on the third ring.

"Um, hello?"

"Sam!" Dean couldn't disguise his relief at hearing his brother's voice. "Are you ok?"

"I'm ok." Sam answered shortly.

"Where the hell are you? What's going on? Did you run into the Mustang? Is my car ok?" The questions continued to tumble out of Dean's mouth as Sam broke in.

"Dean…Dean slow down. I'm on my way. I'll explain everything when I get back."

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I've gotta go. Be back soon."

Dean hung up the phone. There was something odd about Sam's tone; something was definitely up. But he sounded healthy and was on his way back, which meant his car was also in good shape. Slightly comforted by those facts Dean settled back in front of the laptop, determined to make some headway before Sam returned.

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Sam pulled behind battered Chevy behind the motel, avoiding the brightly lit front parking lot. He hadn't heard any reports on him or the car on the police scanner, but he wasn't taking any chances. Best to keep the Impala out of sight for a while. Of course, if it meant delaying the moment when his older brother would see the devastation leveled on his baby, so be it. The old girl had protested the whole way home. Sam's hands were sore from the death grip he'd had on the wheel as he struggled to keep the car straight.

Sam slowly pushed open the driver's side door, grateful it was still functioning. For the first time he was able to get a full 360 degree look at the Impala. Things looked just dandy from the front of the car, except for the missing side view mirrors. The driver's side mirror was salvageable, but the glass from the passenger mirror had spiderwebbed from the impact of the Mustang.

Sam strode over to the passenger side, bending at the knees to take a closer look at the long scratches marring the side of the car. He was mildly encouraged as he ran his hand over the marks. A bit of paint and it would be good as new. Sam's hand automatically reached for the sideview mirror to haul himself back to his feet. His hand swished through the air, and he fell against the side of the car. Well, he thought, a paintjob and a new mirror.

Steeling himself, Sam headed back over to the driver's side. "Oh wow." he breathed. A mean looking dent ran from the bottom of the front wheel diagonally up through the door. Getting his first real look, Sam was surprised he was even able to get the door open at all. Dean was going to kill him. The scratches he might have been able to hide. The mirrors were a relatively easy fix, but this…

He supposed he could put it off no longer. Time to go in and face the music. Maybe Dean would be so impressed that Sam had saved an innocent person from becoming the Mustang's next victim that he would overlook the damaged Impala. Sam snorted and shook his head. Yeah, right.

Sam paused in front of the motel door, his body unwilling to go forward. Sam carefully arranged his bangs to cover the lump near his temple. He'd been tempted to draw attention to it; gather as many sympathy points as possible, then changed his mind. Concerned Dean was almost as bad as Pissed-off Dean, maybe even worse. When the two converged into the mighty Pissed-off Concerned Dean, the results were scarier than his father on his worst day.

"Ok, Sam. Here we go. You can do this." Unmotivated by his pitiful pep talk, Sam pushed the door open.