She had a good life. She'd always known that. Adventure and excitement and it was always worth the pain. She'd loved the second one to come along, loved him dearly. He picked her up when no one else wanted her and he took care of her. She was there when John got married and she drove each of his sons home from the hospital. She was never jealous of his wife, she knew he loved them both but he loved her differently than his wife.

He loved her and she loved him because they went on adventures together, so many adventures. She loved his family too. She was happy when Sam gave her his army man and when Dean gave her his Legos. She loved it when John ate gas station food and left a mess everywhere. It was these things that made her theirs and them hers.

But when John died, Dean hurt her. He broke her and apologized by fixing her again and she forgave him because she loved him. He and Sam took care of her after that, but it was mostly him. He called her "Baby" and he did everything he could. He made sure she kept all the little things that connected them, the stains, the legos, and the army man. They went on adventures together, the three of them, and she loved them too. Sometimes, on clear nights, they'd sit out in the middle of nowhere, and not say a word…for hours. And it was perfect.

She took care of them too, whether they knew it or not. They were a family in their own way. The adventures were never really hers, she was just there. She was essential but not really a part of the adventure itself. She didn't mind, she was happy and she hoped they were too. Things got dark sometimes but when they were together, heading down a stretch of open road, they were happy.

Just the three of them.

Sam Winchester, the little brother.

Dean Winchester, the older brother.

The Impala, the one hundred millionth and first GM car and the most important object in pretty much the whole universe.