Baby watched Sam go without protest. He knew they wouldn't find anything, so fine, let them search. He's not going to mention he's a little insulted they don't recognize him. Not like he carted them around for almost 30 years or anything. It doesn't occur to him that this human body wasn't what they were expecting.

"Just what I know, Dean. My name is Baby. I'm a 1967, Chevy Impala SS. 8 cylinders, helluva a lot of horsepower. Stained with blood more times than you know to count." He was staring, eyes searching Dean's expression. "Weapons in the trunk, legos in the radiator. You could take them out, but you leave them there anyway."