it's time I was on my way.

[thehandsomeone]

[[Replies here might be kind of scattered, since I just moved & internet access is a bit scarce.]]

For as much as Dean loves his car, and for as grateful as he is that she managed to make it through the Rift with him, she doesn't make for the best sleeping arrangements. The backseat is cozy enough for other things, sure, but Dean's not exactly

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[wegotwork]

After his run-in with Faith at the diner, Sam's heading back to the hotel when he spots the Impala. It's not like it's difficult to miss - the front half of the thing is sticking out around a building, and where the Impala is, Dean's probably somewhere nearby.

And, well, he doesn't really want to talk to him, but Faith's mentioning something about a demon means he sort of has to get past whatever happened the other night and mention it.

Maybe killing something will help them take their minds off - well, everything.

[wegotwork]

"Alright," Sam finally concedes, even though he doesn't look entirely thrilled by the idea.

"I guess the first place to start would be to ask around, check in with some of the people who saw him last."

[thehandsomeone]

Dean remembers Sam and Dad never had the best relationship, to say the least, so it means a lot for him to say yes. "Thank you," he says.

"All right," he says. "Sounds like a plan." He smiles at Sam, and it's a little closer to being real. "First it looks like we got an evil son of a bitch on our hands, though, huh? We got a location?"

[wegotwork]

"Nothing more concrete yet," Sam admits, grateful for the change of subject.

"I told Faith I'd come and find you first. I figure we'll have to go to her, since she knows her fair share of info about this thing."

[thehandsomeone]

"Great," Dean says, although the thought of being around Sam and Faith makes him weirdly uncomfortable for more reasons then he wants to think about. "So let's go meet up with her."

Mostly, Dean just wants to kill something.

[wegotwork]

Sam was equally uncomfortable earlier meeting the female version of Dean, if one could call Faith that.

"Pretty sure she's staying near our hotel," he adds.

[thehandsomeone]

Dean gives a sort of helpless shrug to say he already knew that - not that they need any reminders. "You wanna walk, or...?" he indicates the car. They're close by, he knows, but this whole thing is making him itch to get in his car and blast his music - even if it is just for a second.

[wegotwork]

Sam looks toward the Impala, then back at Dean, and something resembling a grin plays over his mouth.

"You want to drive, don't you?"

[thehandsomeone]

"Can't let my girl get rusty now, can we, Sammy?" He pulls open the door, and it makes the familiar creak. "Come on," he says. "You know you miss this car."

[wegotwork]

Sam hides a grin as he pulls open his passenger-side door.

"There might have been some missing," he admits, "but I'm not 'fessing up to anything else."

Like any repressed feelings you may or may not be having, Sam? Like that?

[thehandsomeone]

Dean snorts, but doesn't push anything. He might (might) be having some of those feelings himself. "So, in your timeline," he starts, "I ever let you drive this thing?"

It's an offering possibly, maybe an apology. Definitely a Can we just pretend this didn't happen? For someone who knows the truth about the world, Dean can repress like nobody's business.

[wegotwork]

Sam's expression sobers again - like, a lot. Dean's let him drive the Impala a few times, of course, but the only time it was ever for any prolonged period, well...

He doesn't like to think about those months. Ever.

"Um, yeah," he says. "Couple times."

[thehandsomeone]

Dean raises an eyebrow, watching the way Sam's expression changes. One of these days they're going to have to talk about it - Sam has told him a lot about his timeline, the future, whatever, but very little of how Dean fits in it all.

"Tell you what," Dean says. "You can drive us back after."

If Sam's ready to have Dean back, that is.

[wegotwork]

It'll be a difficult conversation, whenever it does happen, but those thoughts get pressed aside, too, as Sam chuckles and nods, leaning back against the seat.

"How generous of you."

[thehandsomeone]

"That's me," Dean says, with his usual obnoxious grin. He leans forward to turn up the volume on the stereo, to a song they've both heard a hundred times or more. He resists singing along, for once, but he pounds out the beat on the stereo. Things feel okay again, for now.

[wegotwork]

Sam doesn't sing along - he rarely does, anyway, even though he's listened to these tapes so many times that he knows every single word.

It's hearing Dean, as ridiculous a singer as he is, and knowing that things are back on their way to being normal - if they ever were to begin with - that comforts him.