Baby's Ride Home

A Supernatural "Prophet and Loss" coda by Mich @raiahome

Headlights cut the night and illuminated the two-lane blacktop in front of them. For once, the road was smooth and straight, so she had time to think.

Sam and Dean were in their usual places up front. They were quiet, but it was a tense quiet.

The atmosphere reminded her of the air after the lightning had struck and the thunder rolled away.

There was a Bob Seger song playing softly, “Turn The Page.” She had learned long ago to judge the boys’ emotional condition by what music Dean played and how loudly he played it.

This choice was not ideal, but at least he wasn’t blasting it to prevent any possibility of conversation. She judged the situation as somewhat stable. Or as stable as it got for her boys.

The Angel was in the back seat, not saying a word, but then he hardly ever did.

She was still not sure what to make of Cas. From the things she had heard, he had caused her boys a lot of heartache, but both Sam and Dean had said he was their family, so she withheld her judgment and kept watching.

She thought back on what had transpired earlier. She had known something was wrong from the tension in Sam’s body when he reached in to pull out the six-pack.

It was a constant point of frustration that she was not always present to hear the Winchesters’ plans -- their problems and the solutions they found.

But years of practice had taught her to read between the lines. She knew these two better than anyone in the world.

What had Sam meant when he talked of Dean “throwing everything away” and there being no tomorrow? She didn’t like the sound of that..

Suddenly she recalled an earlier conversation. Dean talking about their childhood….and their father.

John.

She didn’t want to think about him. Yes, he had always taken good care of her, but she hadn’t really liked how he had treated his sons on occasion. On too many occasions.

If she was being honest, her happiest day was when John had given her over to Dean’s care.
Dean not only took care of her, but he loved her in a way she could feel down to her purring heart.

Although, some of the things he got up to in the back seat would make her blush if she could! And the antics that he and Sam indulged in, the pranks they would play! She chuckled to herself. There were many happy memories.

The bounce of a small pothole in the road snapped her attention back to the present. She still had a puzzle to solve.

The truth was, she had been shocked when Sam punched Dean in the face. Sure, they had fought before, both seriously and in fun, but this was different. The emotion in Sam’s voice, the raw pain and despair when he spoke the words, “Why don’t you believe in us too?” He hadn’t sounded like that since he was a child.

Her boys had always believed in each other. Even in the bad times, they had each other’s backs.

What was going on?

She had a feeling it had something to do with the huge, ugly hunk of metal she was towing behind her.

Baby -- yes she thought of herself as Baby -- was not happy with pulling that contraption. It smelled of hot metal and death. Besides, it messed with her handling. Sure, Dean had a steady hand on her steering wheel, as always, but she still didn’t like that thing.

And it was obvious to her that Sam didn’t like it either. The rage and hatred that blazed from his eyes when he looked at it was frightening. And Dean? Well, he could barely look at it at all. And when he did, the fear and hopelessness seemed to pour off of him.

Yes, that box definitely had something to do with what was wrong.

She suddenly felt Dean’s hands clench tightly on her wheel and noticed him flinch slightly, as if he had been hit. But she saw nothing. Nothing but the quick glance he shot at Sam, as if to see if he had noticed.

Dean was hiding something. And from the look on Cas’ face, he knew what it was.

Her engine unintentionally revved a little as the anger of not knowing what was happening flowed through her fuel lines. She swiftly corrected herself before Dean could become alarmed. If there was one thing she had learned from years of ferrying the Winchesters back and forth across this country, it was patience.

It was a long ride home, and sooner or later they would start talking. And then? Then she would find a way to help them.

But until then, she would do what she could to ease their sorrow.

She searched the airwaves, looking for a certain song. One she knew held a deep meaning for her boys. Once she found it, she gently popped the tape out, as if the deck had jammed, and tuned in the station. It was a trick she had played many times before.

It was the only way she had to tell them that she loved them, that she cared, that they were safe and home.

She smiled to herself as the song flowed out of the speakers and she saw Sam and Dean relax… just a little, and share a small smile with each other. Yes, they could feel her love.

She drew her attention back to the road as she sang along to herself. As long as they were with her, they were going to be OK. Carefully, she turned up the volume.

“Carry on, my wayward son. For there’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don’t you cry no more….”

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This story is dedicated to Jennie. It was her idea, and she encouraged me to run with it. --Mich