Any patience he might have had -which couldn't have been much- was wearing dangerously thin now. Whatever game they were pulled into here seemed entirely at their expense, and that pissed him off. The phones, the car, they gave them human comforts, but Dean didn't need a phone, could have just as easily hot-wired any other car he'd come across. What they needed was their equipment and a place to hide out in while they planned. He wouldn't have been surprised if suddenly pie or a burger or a top shelf bottle of whiskey fell out of the sky for them. All useless things they didn't really need.
"At least we know she's reliable," he pointed out, pretending to sound offended. He had a soft spot for this car, just like he had one for wearing his own face; if he could have them, he'd take them, but in the long term, they were nothing more than personal preferences. Sure, he'd fussed over the car once they had gotten it back because Sam's kid had really let her upkeep slide, but if Meg honestly suggested that they ditch it, it'd pain him a little, but he could do it. When she opened the passenger side door, Dean headed back to the trunk. It was a pointlessly hopeful thing to assume they'd left his arsenal inside, but he had to check. Popping it open and lifting up the false bottom, his worry was confirmed. Everything was gone, right down to all the fake IDs he'd remade and Sam's journal. Dean made an effort to not show how much he liked that old thing, but he had a feeling Meg could tell he was attached to it. If she had any opinion on the matter, she never shared it. "In case you had any high hopes," Dean started as he dropped the trunk down, hearing it latch. "There's nothing back here but dust and a bloodstain that I don't remember."
An amused laugh escaped him at what Meg had said about driving. He had picked up on her uneasiness before, but didn't comment on it. Dean hadn't spent a long time with her, but he'd been around her enough to know if she forced out deadpan remarks like she was, she wasn't comfortable, and Dean didn't want to come off as harping on it. Instead, he acknowledged it by not referencing it and keeping them moving. Time and space would get them out of this. "Maybe next time."
The driver's side door creaked just like it always had, and it felt strangely like home and comfort. Maybe it was just the familiarity, but he appreciated that it was here. As he fell into the seat, he looked up, seeing the Devil's Trap that he'd scratched out and smiling to himself before turning the engine over. The rush and growl that erupted from the engine made him shake his head. There was solace in knowing they could at least get out of this area faster than they could have on foot, but there was no missing the sound of his car. Whatever was toying with them, however, was clearly taking their sweet time and the idea that they were hightailing it out of this area in the Impala didn't seem to bother them. It made him feel wary, and it looked like they were back to looking over their shoulders all the time, not like they had ever really stopped.
The side of town they had been dropped into was obviously abandoned. If there was a building, it was boarded up, coated in graffiti, collapsing, or some combination of the three. There was a huge empty lot nearby and the openness of that was unsettling, though it was just as unkept as everything else around here. The likelihood of anyone else coming out this far was slim, and that was a good enough start. Turning the corner, the first thing Dean saw was an old house that looked almost as if the old owners had barricaded themselves inside -he wouldn't have been surprised to find bodies in there if they broke in- though what really caught him was the cross hanging on one side of their house which was facing another abandoned house. The irony of it made him laugh and he pointed out the house to Meg.