They pulled into the impound lot about 20 minutes later. It was a slightly more vibrant ride over with the occasional conversation. Dean didn't try to start any small talk; Jane was the one who instigated most of the conversations about the weather and such. The huge wired gate began to retract and Dean, at the sight of all the cars, couldn't help but think of Bobby's. Jane had her head rested on her hand and was looking out at the rows and rows of cars that had been smashed either by an accident or by the noisy machinery that was drowning out Guns N' Roses. Dean turned into a parking spot and turned off the truck, which shuddered to a stop.

"Nice place isn't it?" Dean turned to Jane with a smirk on his face.

"If you like the look of smashed cars and damaged lives then yes, I suppose it would be considered nice." Jane smiled back. Then she opened the door and got out.

"Jane?" Jane turned around and when she saw who spoke, she broke out into a huge smile.

"Hey Blake!" She limped over to where the guy was standing and returned his hug. They obviously knew each other. Dean waited patiently outside of his truck.

"You look great for someone who was just let out of the hospital." He smiled at her and she slapped him teasingly on the shoulder.

"Thanks." She was still smirking though. She motioned over to Dean. "This is Dean. He was my ride over here and my ride home from the hospital since someone couldn't pick me up," Blake tried to speak but Jane didn't stop talking. "Dean, this is my friend Blake." Dean smiled with closed lips and reached out to shake Blake's hand.

"Hi."

"Hi." The handshake was firm but a little tense. Jane seemed to notice but didn't pursue the subject.

"So, where is my car?" Her voice wavered a bit as she asked the question. Blake recovered his friendly composure and held out his hand to motion over to where the car was. Jane took the lead and Blake matched her pace. Dean tagged along behind.

"How does she look?" Jane asked.

"It's pretty bad Jane. I don't know how much can be fixed." Blake was cautious when he presented this news. He seemed to know how much the car meant to Jane.

"What kind of car?" Dean piped up from the rear of the caravan. Jane looked over her shoulder and motioned for him to join her and Blake. Dean picked up his pace until he was level with the pair.

"I'm kind of a car geek. It's a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. It was my brother's before he left; he got it off of this guy who traded it for his truck. I don't know why he sold it; it was in perfect condition." Before Dean could say anything more, Blake spoke.

"There it is. Well, what's left of it." He pointed over to a badly bent black '67 Chevy. Jane ran her fingers through her chestnut brown hair in frustration. Then she walked over to the broken car, glass strewn around the beaten up tires. She was hit on the driver's side just behind the door according to the dent pattern: Blake was right; it looked pretty bad. It was surprising that she had survived the crash. Blake walked over to Jane's side and touched her arm in an effort to show sympathy but Jane didn't respond. She was too busy figuring out what she could do to save what was left of the car.

Dean was shocked. It looked just like his old Impala; same year, same color, same everything. He walked over to the car and ran his fingers over the bent frame. Flashbacks of his father and Sam and his almost fatal crash so many years ago flooded his mind as he made his way towards the trunk.

The accident hadn't left the back of the car unscathed; both taillights had been broken and the trunk wasn't allowed to close thanks to the messed up frame. Dean opened the lid to the trunk of the car. Sure enough, the hidden compartment was still there, along with the barely-there outline of the Devil's Trap he had painted over before he gave his baby away. As he rested one hand to support his weight on the lid, he ran the other down his face. What were the chances that he ended up finding his car on a case that was thousands of miles away from Lebanon?

"Anything back there that the authorities missed?" Jane called from the hood of the Impala. Dean pushed his weight back onto his legs and slammed the trunk shut, just like he used to.

"No, there isn't anything back here that belongs to you." Dean began to walk back over to where Jane and Blake were standing. It looked like they were in an argument.

"Jane, it doesn't make any sense to try to fix it! The frame is trashed not to mention the interior of the car; the trunk can't even close completely."

"I've got to try! I can't let Seth…" Jane sounded like she was tearing up. Blake's expression softened and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Okay… but it's going to be one hell of a job." Dean didn't think that his concern for Jane was completely sincere. He didn't know what it was but it wasn't normal. "You're going to have to pay for the car though. Losing the car means losing the scrap metal that it would have produced."

"That's fine. As long as I can have it back." Jane looked incredibly relieved. Seth must have meant a lot to her.

Jane handed over several twenty-dollar bills to Blake, which he promptly pocketed.

"That should do it then. All you need is a way to tow it out of here."

"I can do that. My truck has a hitch you can use." Dean piped up causing both Jane and Blake to turn their heads. Blake glared at Dean for a split second before composing himself. Jane looked skeptical yet thankful at the same time.

"Thanks." It was a short comment but it was better than none at all. Blake uncrossed his arms and let them drop by his sides.

"Well then, I guess we should get this show on the road. You want to grab your truck so we can hook it up?" It was Dean's turn to glare at Blake this time. He didn't like being ordered around, especially not by someone who was younger than him. He glanced at Jane then set off to pull his truck around.

The car ride home was much like the first: little to no conversation. This time, however, it was more of a melancholy silence. It was obvious she was either thinking about the crash or her brother or both. Dean didn't want to instigate any conversation; he knew all about 'not wanting to talk about it.'

Instead of pulling into the driveway, Dean pulled his truck and the towed Impala next to the curb before stopping the car and turning it off. It was Dean who got out first this time. In fact, by the time Jane got out of the car, the Impala was almost completely unhitched from the back of Dean's truck.

"Hey, I um, I wanted to say thank you for helping me out both at the hospital and back at the impound. I've been kinda rude to you and I'm not usually like that, so, I'm uh, I'm sorry." Jane was looking at the sidewalk for most of the awkward speech, her arms hugging her middle. Dean finished unhooking the last cord that connected the two vehicles and stood up.

"Don't mention it." He offhandedly stated as he wiped his hands covered in grease on his worn jeans. There was a pause in the conversation and Jane began to walk back towards the house when Dean called out to her. "Hey do you want any help fixing it up? I know a lot about cars, especially this one." Dean was itching to be back to work, fixing up his baby, sitting in the driver's seat, Sam by his side-.

Jane turned around halfway up the walkway. She considered his offer for a moment before speaking.

"Thanks for the offer but I think I got it." She had an edge to her voice again. Looks like the moment of gratitude had faded away. She turned towards the house again. Dean followed her up to the front porch and tapped her shoulder to get her attention.

"What." Jane stated, clearly irritated.

"If you think of anything that relates to the crashes, here's my number." Jane took the slip of paper from Dean and he sauntered back down the steps and down the walkway to his truck.

Jane walked inside her house and shut the door, loudly. Dean, back in his truck, shut the driver's door and put the key in the ignition. He looked into his rearview mirror to take another look at his baby, then shook his head and put the car in drive.

There better be a bar around here. Dean thought as he checked into his room at the Super 8 Motel. He tossed his duffel bag onto one of the beds and headed out into the hot Oklahoma night.