Bunny's pass was beautiful and touching. She pulled up in Jon's Sonoma truck, newer then most of the cars with a red and white paint job and gold lightning striking down its side. She raced no one and instead cruised the truck down the road at an easy 25 miles an hour. It wasn't a race, it wasn't some fireworks and confetti celebration or any sort of smoking burnouts. It was a calm and sorrowful cruise with Bunny and the Sonoma together. The racers and spectators bowed their head as the Sonoma's sexy purr faded away into the distance. Bunny wasn't staying it seemed, she needed to go home and only came for the pass to honor her husband.

Sam eyed the crowd solemnly. Carena, Skeet, Jake and the others seemed to have cautiously accepted their presence, but Sam knew the truth. They were strangers, and only Dean's race would prove if they were good enough to fully accept. This wasn't like some lie he grew up saying. He wasn't working on a school project or from the FBI. They were simply guys out racing. The fear that this depended on a talent that was obviously trained over numerous years and Dean had none, terrified Sam. What if Dean lost? What if someone else showed up dead? What if Dean died in the race?

He eyed his brother, knowing that yes, he survived almost 3 years at Stanford without him, but now he couldn't imagine going onward. No, Dean couldn't lose, Dean couldn't die. Sam wouldn't know what to do with himself if he did.

Dean watched as Skeet broke up the memorial service and called out the first race. He and Carena went back to his car and Sam peeled away to talk to the locals. All it was was a simple head nod. Like riding a bike, Dean thought ruefully. They were falling back into their patterns. And he got to be with the cool chick.

"So you and Sam seem close," Carena noted.

"Ya, well growing up together does that to you."

"You ever hate him?" She asked.

"Never," Dean said, speaking honestly, "He's my little brother."

"Must be cool."

"Only child?" He asked.

"Only child worth it," She corrected, "I have a sister but she's not into this. She left."

"Why?" Dean asked, wondering if he saw a mention of a sister in any of the articles.

"She was older then me. Ran away first chance she got. Sweet Mustang though if you see it. White with pearl blue finish. 64 and a half," Carena said softly.

"She has a car but isn't here?"

"She had this crazy guilt trip. Could never stick around. Once dad and her got the Stang up and running, she left and never looked back. Dad made sure that no one would bother her so he got rid of her. Publicly anyway."

"What was she guilty about?" Dean asked, curious how a parent could erase their own child.

"She said that if it wasn't for her, Mom wouldn't have died." Carena sighed, "She told me this story growing up that something had gotten inside the house. A shadow monster and she woke up Mom. Next thing she knew, there's a fire in our room, Dad's carrying us out. I don't remember any of it."

Dean stayed silent as they popped the hood on his car, that story as eerily similar to what had happened to his own family. Something in the room, a fire, Mom dead. Coincidence?

Scary.

"Did your sister ever say what came in the room? I mean how did the fire?"
"Look Dean I'll help you on your car and the race. I'll poke around for you for any answers. But we are not talking abut my Mom or any other freak deals with my dad. Got it?"

"Ok," Dean nodded and bent over his engine, "So you know how to check the timing?"
"Please," Carena smirked, "I wasn't raised in a shop for nothing."

An hour and a half later Dean was in his car, rolling up to the left lane.

Herbie had picked the right and out of respect, Dean had obliged, although two cars had already lost in his lane.

Skeet motioned him to bump forward and then motioned Herbie to follow suit. Dean threw the car in neutral and eased his foot ff the brake a fraction of an inch. He waited as Skeet acknowledge both the Bug and Impala.

Dean closed his eyes, breathing. Carena told him to relax, that he couldn't choke. Against her wishes he had turned on his radio and picked his most calming melody.

Some Kind of Monster by Metallica played softly through his speakers.

Dean opened his eyes and gripped his wheel, focusing on the street ahead.

He saw the flashlight in Skeet's hand turn on, he pulled his shifter down into drive and slammed the gas. Baby launched, hard!

A victorious roar erupted from her hood and she lifted a fraction off the ground. His tires didn't spin and the Impala flew down the road. Metal squealed and gears clicked. A rush of wind whistled in his ears and the tires ground themselves against the pavement. Dean's heart leaped up in his mouth and suddenly dropped to his stomach as the speed veered higher and higher.

He gripped the wheel tight. Carena had been right about the launch. His car wanted to lurch to the side, his car wasn't designed for such a burst of speed. He sweated as he barreled down the dimly lit street, praying Baby's roar was only a roar.

Suddenly it was over. Dean saw the flags and the bright flash of a camera.

He eased off the pedal. His car had gone to 130 and Baby growled in protest. He turned off in a dirt road and headed back to the crowd. He patted the dash affectionately.

"I don't care what the photo says Baby, you won that race. You were great Baby."

As he cruised back slowly he eyed his hood. Luckily there was no fire or smoke coming out and the car was running evenly He hadn't blown his tires or his engine. He had raced for the first time and he hadn't done anything wrong. At least he hoped not.

He came back into the lot, passing other cars and saw Sam yelling.

"Sam!" His heart froze, what happened?

As he got closer he realized his brother was cheering as were other people. But Sammy was the loudest and he was practically exploding with excitement.

"You won!" He screamed, coming up to Dean's window, "You freaking beat him by a fender! Woo!"

"What?" Dean asked in shock as he pulled back into his spot, "I won?"

"Ya dude! You won!" Sam yelled excitedly.

Carena joined them.

"It's true man," Carena smiled, "You beat out Herbie."

"Nice job kid," Skeet and the crowd surrounded the Impala, "Heard you playing Metallica. Respect for the music and the car."

"Ya she's a good girl," Dean had gotten out and patted the hood with love.

"Alright man, you beat me fair and square. Nice job," Jake came around the crowd and gave Dean a handshake.

Dean took the handshake. Skeet eyed his Baby with a look of approval and whistled. The crowd quieted and he came up to Dean.

"You got a name for her?"

"Nah, not really. She's just my baby," Dean said.

"Well we gotta give you a name. After a race like that. You were straight, strong launch, gave that finish line a punch I'll tell you that," Skeet sighed and looked at Dean fondly, "How about Metallicar?"