My Baby

Alright, so those Chevy commercials where people talk about their Chevys that they own? I thought Dean would be perfect for one of those.

Dean walked out of the library, having just researched for who knew how long. He would have preferred that Sam did the research, but Sam was still recovering from Lucifer meltdown. Dean didn't want Sam to overwork his broken mind. Who knows what could happen to him.

Dean walked through the parking lot towards his black 1967 Chevy Impala. As he got closer, he pulled his keys out. He unlocked the driver's door and opened it.


Dean froze, turning to see a man running in his direction.

"Yeah, you!" the man called.

Dean looked around a little to see if he was talking to anyone else.

"You with the Impala!" the man called.

Dean looked at him as the man stopped ten feet from him.

"That your car?" asked the man.

Dean paused for a moment. "No, I just happen to own the exact key that unlocks it." He turned back towards the car, rolling his eyes.

What an idiot, he thought.

The man chuckled a little. "Funny. You like that car?"

Dean frowned and looked at him again. "Um…yeah…"

"It looks like you take good care of it," said the guy. "It looks brand new."

Dean looked back at the Impala, smiling slightly. Who was he to pass up an opportunity to brag on his baby?

"Well, she's my baby," smirked Dean. "Can't let a car like this go. I even rebuilt her myself…twice."

"Really?" asked the guy. "What happened?"

"Well, um…" began Dean. "About five years ago, we were driving when a semi T-boned us on the passenger side."

The guy's eyes widened. "T-boned?" He looked at the Impala in confusion. "Doesn't show."

"Yeah, I, uh, rebuilt her from the ground up," Dean told him.

"What happened the second time?" asked the guy. "Stalled on a train track at the wrong time?"

Dean chuckled a little. "No, uh…it flipped onto its roof about a month back. Had to replace the windshield, get the dents out of the roof, but, uh…good as new."

"Wow…" said the guy. "You love that car, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," said Dean, patting the Impala's roof.

The man glanced back at a few people that were standing on the sidewalk on the other side of the road, nodding. Dean frowned as the guy turned back towards him.

"How would you like to make a thousand dollars?" asked the guy.

Dean's eyes widened. "What?"

"You wanna make a thousand dollars?" asked the guy. "We need someone with a classic car."

Dean frowned, glancing around. "Alright, am I on Candid Camera, or something?"

The guy chuckled. "No, no, nothing like that. I'm with Chevrolet, and our latest commercial involves Chevy owners telling us about their cars."

Dean's eyes widened again. "A commercial? As in, TV?"

"Yeah, what do you say?" asked the guy.

The thousand dollars were tempting, but then again, the leviathans were looking for them.

"Um…am I gonna be filmed, or just the car?" asked Dean. He smiled sheepishly for effect. "I'm kind of camera shy."

The guy shook his head. "No, we're focusing mostly on the cars, so the people's faces aren't really gonna be in the shots. Just a few of them, so we can film just the car, or something."

Dean thought it through and smiled. "Sure."

"Alright," said the guy, waving his crew over.


Sam looked up as Dean plopped into the booth of the diner across from him. "What took you so long? We were supposed to meet here an hour ago." He took a second look at Dean's hundred-watt smile. "What's up?"

"I just made us a thousand dollars," Dean told him.

Sam frowned. "What? How?"

"You are looking at a bonafide actor," smirked Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Where'd the money come from?"

"I'm not kidding," said Dean.

Sam frowned a little. "An actor? Really?"

"Yep, just filmed a Chevy commercial with my baby," smiled Dean.

Sam's eyes widened. "A commercial? As in, TV?"

Dean smiled. "Yep."

Sam stared at his brother. "Dean, you do realize that there are evil, pretty much unkillable monsters out there looking for any clue to find us?"

"Yeah, I thought about that," said Dean. "The commercial just filmed the car, not my face."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, the leviathans know what kind of car we drive."

"Yeah, but the commercial doesn't show where it was filmed," said Dean. "And you really think the Chevy company is gonna remember where each and every one of their clips was filmed?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine, but if one of those leviathans shows up at our front door the day after it airs, I'm gonna kill you."

Dean smiled. "Fair enough. Come on, let's go spend my money." He started to get out of the booth.

Sam grabbed his arm to stop him. "Not so fast."

Dean frowned. "What?"

Sam held his hand out. "My share."

Dean looked at Sam like he was insane. "What are you, nuts? I did all the work."

"Our deal, Dean," Sam told him firmly. "Whatever money either one of us makes, we split it 50/50."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Who made up that rule?"

Sam stared at him. "You did…ten years ago…when I started working at the movie theatre during the evening?"

Dean reluctantly dug into his pocket. "Damn…why did you agree to that?"

Sam smiled. "'Cause I knew you'd be in this position some day."

Dean threw five one-hundred dollar bills down on the table and got up from the table. Sam grabbed up the five hundred dollars and followed Dean out of the diner.


Two months later…

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, tuned in to the Lifetime network. He kept glancing at his watch, waiting.

Sam walked into the motel room, staring at Dean and the TV. "What are you watching?"

Dean looked up at him. "Well, I'm not watching this. I'm waiting for the commercial."

"You are, huh?" asked Sam.

"Yes, genius," said Dean. "They told me this was when it would air on this channel."

"When?" asked Sam.

Dean glanced at his watch. "Any minute now."

Sam sat down on the other bed, curious. "You know, this might not be the best time for this. You know, with our dopplegangers framing us as serial killers just a few weeks ago and everything…"

Dean shrugged. "Well, too late now."

The Lifetime movie went to commercial, and they waited through an automatic soap pump commercial, a Christmas vacation in Branson commercial, and one of those Mayhem Guy commercials before the TV began showing people showing photos of their Chevys and saying things about them.

"Here we go," said Dean.

After two or three people, the Impala appeared on screen, rolling to a stop on the street.

Dean's voice spoke over the scene. "1967 Chevy Impala. She's my baby." You could practically hear the proud smile in his voice.

The screen switched to a few more people talking about their Chevys.

Dean smiled. "Oh, that was sweet."

Sam glanced nervously at the motel door.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, Sam, the commercial just aired. We're fine."

Sam looked at him. "Well, we're in Oregon, Dean. The entire country saw that commercial before us. The East Coast watched it three hours ago."

Dean froze. "Oh, yeah." He shook his head. "Come on, they're not gonna find us just by that commercial alone."

The motel door blew in, in a spray of splinters, and the leviathan Edgar stood there, smiling wickedly at them.

Sam glared at Dean. "I hate you."