Baby

Prisoner

Silver-grey eyes stared down at the slightly tanned hands, up the pale arms and over their torso and legs. She pulled her hair over her shoulder, staring at the long charcoal curls. Black skinny jeans hugged her curves and a black and white checked shirt hung loosely on her frame. A pair of black ballet flats were on her feet. She smiled as she saw a familiar brass amulet around her neck. Her hand trailed over her mouth, nose, eyes, feeling every inch of her face.

Swinging her legs off the bed she was sitting on, she stood up, immediately having to grab onto the bedpost to keep from falling over.

"Don't worry. You'll get used to it," a man's voice assured her.

Turning her head, the young woman saw a handsome man in his mid-20s smiling at her. He had an olive complexion and dark brown hair. His hazel almond-shaped eyes sparkled as he gave the girl a once over.

"I'm surprised. You look younger than most of the others despite that you're one of the oldest models we've turned. It's quite fascinating."

"One of the... you're responsible for this?" the young woman demanded.

"Well, I helped. Mr. Puckett is actually in charge of running all this," the man explained.

"And where is this 'Mr. Puckett'?" she spat.

"All in good time," he smiled. "Man, is he going to be pleased when he finds out I turned you. When Layla called and said the Winchesters were in town looking into the dead bodies..."

He shook his head, grinning as he gave the girl another once over.

"I just knew I had to add you to our collection."

"Your collection?"

Silver-grey eyes flashed in anger as the girl growled, a sound similar to that of a revving engine meeting their ears. The man smirked, tilting his head.

"We've been working tirelessly these past two months to train you lot."

"Train us to do what exactly?" the sounds of an engine continued as the girl bristled.

"Now, don't you worry about that now. I just need to know one thing from you."

The man took a step toward the young woman.

"What's your name?"

"My... name?"

He nodded once, waiting expectantly.

'Baby' she thought, 'but I'm not telling you that...'

"Paula," she said.

"Paula?" the man repeated skeptically.

"Yes," Baby nodded. "Paula. And I don't think I ever caught your name."

"Lucas Foster. Though the others just refer to me as Luke," Lucas informed her.

"Okay, Luke," Baby began. "Where are the others?"

---

There were over a dozen men and women, all with the same silver-grey eyes as Baby, or Paula, as she continued to introduce herself as. One thing seemed to be a common theme as she mingled with the other cars-turned-human: they all couldn't believe it when she said she was a 1967 Chevy Impala. She was easily the oldest car in the group, the next oldest model being a 1992 Jaguar XJS V12 Convertible. However, despite that, Luke had been right. She was one of the youngest looking in the lot.

Even the Jaguar looked like he was at least ten years older than her. Most of the other cars were younger models of high-end cars. A few Porsches, two Lamborghinis, a couple Ferraris, several Volvos and even a single Tesla. She also appeared to be the most casually dressed with her jeans and flannel. All the men had slacks and nice dress shirts and the girls had dresses that hugged their curves.

"So, what is this for? Why turn us into humans?" Baby asked one of the Porsches.

She was one of the few that appeared younger than Baby, with golden curls and a pretty buttercup yellow dress on.

"Didn't Luke tell you? They're training us for something special," she grinned.

"Yeah, but what exactly is that?" Baby insisted.

"They won't tell us until we're ready," the Jaguar came up.

He had light brown hair styled similar to Dean's and wore a dark green dress shirt tucked into black slacks.

"And we can't leave?"

Both cars shook their heads in confirmation and Baby sighed, chewing on her lip as she considered the information.

'So basically I'm a prisoner here... wherever "here" is...'