Sam is sitting tensely in the driver's seat of his brother's precious Impala. No music. Silence all around him. Silence, except for the sound of the rumbling engine, sounding as if it is desperate to continue running these last few miles. No thoughts. Silence in his head, too. All he is seeing is her face, but somehow he manages to stay in his lane on this near deserted highway. No Dean. It took all Sam had in him to get his brother to lend him the car for the weekend. Whether or not Dean knows why he wanted the car doesn't matter. Thoughts of turning around briefly enter his mind, but he quickly discards them. Silence again. He sees his exit and takes it. Soon after, he feels himself pull over to the side of the road. Is this right? It probably won't end well for anybody. Her face again. Thoughts of worry are soon replaced by those of her smile. Her laugh. Replaced but not forgotten about. He drives on.

It's too late, baby, there's no turning around
I've got my hands in my pocket and my head in a cloud
This is how I do, when I think about you

He sits in the parked car and stares at nothing but the steering wheel. Silence all around, yet noise fills up his head. Amongst the static are thoughts again of returning to his safe motel bed. Is it time? He honestly doesn't know. His thoughts steadily flow to a certain young blonde woman. He sees it all over again, as if it were last year. The fire. His life going up in smoke. He still can't believe. He wishes for the silence again, but it doesn't come. The fire engines. Driving away. Leaving behind a life, a love. He leans his head back on the seat. He brings back the first picture. Different hair color, same feelings.

I got a closet filled up to the brim
With the ghosts of my past and the skeletons
And I don't know why you'd even try, but I won't lie
You caught me off guard

He turns off the car. Baby steps. Drive, park, sit, turn off. His head turns to look at the house the car is parked in front of. In there. What he's been searching for. He starts predicting how this will play out. Him. Her. Together, then apart. Gone for weeks. Months. He shakes his head. He feels the pessimist inside of him coming out. He knows it's better to think optimistically. Take two. Him, her, together. Period. The end. No matter what it takes. Happiness could be just beyond that gate. Just up those porch steps. Just inside that house.

I feel a weakness coming on
Never felt so good to be so wrong
Had my heart on lockdown
And then you turned me around

The next step. He looks in the review mirror. A flip of the hair. A check of the teeth. It's time now. He opens the door slowly. Out now. Drive, park, sit, turn off, out. Baby steps. His head is swimming in conjunction with the butterflies in his stomach. He tells himself to just do it. It'll be fine. He thinks of all the things he's seen, done. Demons, ghosts, weapons, fighting, bruises, blood, pain. Death also springs to mind. This is cake compared to the rest of his life. He wonders why he is nervous. After all, this is just another type of hunt, isn't it? That beautiful picture in his brain fails in making him cease to be immobile. The thought of being seen by her standing there is the thing that moves his feet. He laughs away that embarrassing premonition as the soles of his shoes are at last taken from asphalt and touch grass. Ease. Baby steps are no longer needed. Confidence.

I won't try to philosophize
I'll just take a deep breath and I'll look in your eyes
This is how I feel, and its so, so real

Distance narrowing. Subconsciously he is letting go, saying goodbye to her. The blonde hair. He is unaware of this giant step, looking nothing like that of a baby's. He is smiling, only inwardly. Wouldn't want to jeopardize the masculinity. His hand is forming a fist. He sees it rising up and hitting the white, wooden door. Knock. Knocking on the door of what could be his new life. A whole life? Maybe not. But something to live for. A better reason to fight than revenge, hatred. Footsteps. Turning knob.

I'm feeling like a new born child
Every time I get a chance to see you smile
It's not complicated
I was so jaded

Smiling, outwardly this time. He finds himself in a tight embrace. Smiles, hugs, tears. She is holding his face in her hands now. Her soft hands. He stares at the face of everything he could wish for. The face of beauty. She is saying how much she missed him, and as she says it, it's almost as if he can feel it. He knows she means it. With every fiber of his being he knows. And he has done the same. He stands in the doorway wrapped in the arms of his dreams made corporeal. Reality. He feels as though everything he has ever done in his life was worth it. Just to get to this point. He wonders if he will ever be this happy again. If maybe when his time is almost up, his mind will float back to this exact point in time. This brief moment called happiness. A long kiss. Those cliché fireworks seem to be going off. How long he had been waiting for this kiss. Of course, she has been waiting too. He wonders if maybe she had the worse side of this deal. He sees worry fading away from her blue eyes. Guilt. He tells her she's sorry. So sorry. He waited too long. He admits to her and to himself that he was scared. Of this. Of moving on. Of change. She does nothing but kiss him harder. Forgiveness. Passion takes over. They leave the rest of the world behind, in their proverbial dust. Together.

I feel like a hero, and you are my heroine.