The first time it happened, you barely even noticed it.
You had always loved the impala, almost as much as Dean did. If Sam was fond of it, and Dean obsessed with it, then you were appreciative and affectionate. You couldn’t imagine riding in anything else. From the body, to the leather seats, to the trunk space (roomy even for the King of Hell), to how she handled, ‘Baby’ was perfection. It was a classic from the 60’s, had gotten destroyed by a tractor trailer, and still managed to haul your asses across the country.
But needless to say, you never imagined that a car would return those affections.
The instances began with a simple pat. You did it often, patting the impala after getting out, but this time was different. As you dropped your hand onto the hood, though it was only for a second, you could have sworn that you felt a purr underneath. Somewhat akin to that of the engine, but it couldn’t have been on.
Your brow furrowed, but you shook it off and f