Sam drifted to a stop in front of the old farmhouse and sat looking the place over. He liked what he saw. The house was obviously old but well cared for – far from pristine and with a lived-in look that just felt … right.

Off to the left stood an old barn that had been converted to a garage, and it was this that drew his attention. It was the reason he was here on the outskirts of Benton, IL, after all. He emerged from the Mustang, stretched his lanky form and grabbed the help-wanted sign from the front seat. He made his way slowly over to the man and boy – so obviously father and son - who stood talking over the engine well of a Hyundai. The older man looked up as Sam approached.

"Howdy." He said.

"Hey." Sam replied.

The man looked him over briefly, stopping at the sign in his hand, and smiled, "You here about the job?"

"Yes, Sir." Sam replied, holding out his hand.

The man stepped forward to accept the handshake and studied the boy before him. "Can I ask how old you are?"

While he could have easily lied, Sam felt the need to deal honestly with the man and his son, "I'm 17." He answered. "My name is Sam."

"Well, Sam," the man drawled, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Ron. This is my son, Danny."

Sam nodded toward the boy, who looked to be in his early 20s, "Danny."

The boy nodded back, "Sam." He said.

"You know anything about cars?" Ron asked.

Sam nodded, "I know everything my dad and older brother taught me." He replied. "I'll never be as good as either of them with an engine, but I can fix a lot of things."

Ron nodded, "Humility. I like that." He stepped back. "You wanna take a look?" He asked, motioning to the car that was open for inspection before him.

"Sure," Sam smiled, handing the help-wanted sign to Ron and stepping forward. "What are the symptoms?"

Well, the owner just brought her in," Danny offered. "Says she's hard to turn over. Doesn't start on the first try any more. Sometimes it takes 10 or 12 cranks to catch. After that, she runs fine."

Sam leaned over and looked in, "So it's just a problem at start up?"

"Yeah."

"Does he ever smell gas?"

Ron and Danny exchanged a look between them, Ron's mouth forming a smile. "As a matter of fact, he does." He offered.

Sam glanced around at battery cables, belts, and wires briefly - noting that everything looked operational - before offering up an opinion. "Fuel pump, maybe?"

"Maybe," Ron replied, smiling. "And which one is the fuel pump?"

Sam straightened up and smiled back, "Under the back seat, I'd guess."

Ron laughed out loud and clapped Sam on the back. "Good job, son." He said. "Looks like you got a job if you want it? Pays $17 an hour, if you got a place to stay or $15 an hour and you can stay in the room over the garage if you want."

Sam's eyes lit up, "I'll take the room, Sir." He said eagerly.

"Sounds like a plan," Ron said. "Good to have you aboard, Sam."

"It's good to have the offer, Sir. Thank you."

"You can call me Ron, if you want. "Sir" doesn't really fit too well with the jeans and flannels."

Sam smiled, "Thanks, Ron."

"No problem." He glanced over to where Sam was parked. "That your Mustang?"

Sam grinned, "It is." He couldn't help but feel pride whenever he thought about the classic muscle car that he knew had so much potential. "She doesn't look like much now, I know. But I have big plans for her."

Ron noticed the way Sam seemed to come alive at the mention of his car, and he liked what he saw. The boy had passion, and passion was always a good thing. "She's a nice one." He agreed. "Feel free to work on her here when you have down time." He offered. "Danny and I can lend a hand if we're not busy."

"Thanks!"

Ron looked wistful, "I love the old classics." He admitted, and Sam found himself suddenly sharing more information with a stranger than he normally would have.

"My brother drives a '67 Impala." He said absently. "Jet black. She's gorgeous. He calls her Baby."

Ron noticed the mournful tone when Sam spoke of his brother, and he wondered if something had happened to the boy. It was too soon to pry, however, and so he whistled in appreciation instead. "That's a nice one, too." He agreed.

Sam glanced over at his new boss. "Do we need to do any paperwork or anything?" He asked.

Ron clapped him on the shoulder again, "The only paperwork involved will be counting your cash every Friday, if that's agreeable to you?"

Sam secretly rejoiced. No paperwork meant not having to present Ron with a false ID. For some reason, Sam wanted to deal squarely with this man and his son. "Sounds great." He relaxed.

Why don't you go take a look at the room? It's right up the stairs there." He motioned to a dusty set of steps at the back of the garage. "Take today to get settled in if you want. You can start tomorrow bright and early – 8 am."

"Eight sounds good." Sam agreed, reaching for his duffle inside the car.

"Oh, Sam," Ron added, "what's your last name?"

Sam paused for just a brief moment before replying, "Winchester." He said, "Sam Winchester."