Dean felt the familiar weight of the keys in his hand and an almost childish grin came over his face. It was funny how although he was the older brother he could look so gleeful at times that he appeared to be five. "Shut up, Sam." He said, the retort mere reflex and carrying laughter instead of venom.
He tossed the keys, catching them effortlessly as he walked quickly out the door. He turned to the left just as Sam had said, and then he saw the Impala. He let out a small sigh of relief to find her in good condition and slid the key in the door. The seat felt warm and worn and so unbelievably familiar that Dean never wanted to get up again as he sunk into the driver's seat. He allowed himself one deep, long breath of home, one moment to let it all sink, and then his mask of sarcasm rose to protect him again. "Come on, Sammy, get in, I want to hear her purr!"