Dean had taught Sam how to drive. And as he sat in the passenger's seat with his younger brother behind the wheel, he remembered that day with perfect clarity.
It was nerve-wracking, to say the least, the first time Sam got into the driver's side of the Impala. Both brothers knew the importance of this car and its service to them, so driving her wasn't something to take lightly. Twenty-year-old Dean was especially nervous about letting Sammy behind the wheel. The car belonged to him now that Dad had bought a secondary, more rugged vehicle, and Dean intended to make the most of every minute the Impala was in his possession—which, unfortunately, included teaching Sam how to drive it.
Leaning forward, Dean began telling his younger brother the workings of the dash and the gears, though he was sure Sam already knew all this. "You've got your mileage gage, gas gage, and speedometer here. This," he said, placing his palm on the bar sticking out from the right of the steering wheel, "is your gear shift. P for park, R for reverse—"
"I know, Dean," Sam cut him off. "I'm not an idiot."
"Well start her up there, smart-ass, if you're such an expert."
Sam gave Dean a sidelong glance before starting the car and shifting gears. He did it pretty well, Dean had to admit, but he still wasn't all that psyched about the car being in motion. Sitting in his baby as it sat parked in the lot of Singer Salvage had been unnerving enough. Now that they was moving forward, Dean wasn't so sure this was a such good idea.
"Okay, step on the gas lightly," Dean instructed.
Sam did as he was told, as well as maneuvering the car to avoid the skeleton of a 1960 Bel Air.
Kid's a natural, Dean smirked, only to eat his words a moment later. While Sam had avoided the Bel Air, he hadn't missed the broad side of Bobby's shed—which stuck out like a sore thumb on an abandoned stretch of gravel. Hitting the brakes as hard as he could, Sam gasped and took his hands off the wheel. "Whoa."
"Whoa" was an understatement. An inch more and the Impala's nose would have been inside the shed's eastern wall. Dean looked over at Sam, fully intending to chew him out over it, but the look of sincere apology on his brother's face made him bite it back. "No big deal."
Then, just as ten years ago, Sam slammed on the brakes, snapping Dean out of his reverie. In front of them stood the house they had been looking for. Unlike the last time, the hood of the car wasn't almost in the living room. And also unlike last time, Dean didn't hold back his agitation.
"Sam, what did I tell you about this car?"