For once, the stereo is off, Dean driving in silence while Sam and Jo sleep in the car and the night-time road passes away a few inches under his wheels.
He hates that his car flies, never takes it higher than absolutely necessary - but after two years here on increasingly-deteriorated roads, he's incredibly grateful for it, too. He'll buy Sirius a beer or something, if the kid's not dead yet. It's saved his suspension and right now it's providing Sam and Jo a comfortable sleep.
Or Sam, anyway, Dean realises, recognising the change in the breathing patterns behind him. He cranes around to glance into the back seat.
There's a grumble, mostly because Dean's voice is addressing her and willing her toward consciousness. Clinging to the sound like it was somehow better than unconsciousness. Traitorous ears. She could have those cut off.
After a few more seconds, she pushed up, scrubbing her fingers back through her hair, pushing it back. "Water bottle?"
She scrubbed her teeth with her tongue, thinking absently about vodka, almost about real food. It hadn't been more than an hour or so of sleep at best, she thought looking at Sam still out, and none of it completely out.
She couldn't right now. Not with where she was going.
Sam doesn't sleep for long. Hasn't in a long time, in any situation, but especially not in the car. Three hours and he's stirring, yawning and stretching and peeking out the window to see where they are.
Of course, in a ruined world, the roads don't look exactly how they used to.
"Few hours still." It's a quiet set of words from Jo, who's gone back to being curled up on the back seat behind Sam's seat, looking out the window herself.
Dean glances over at Sam and nods a greeting, lips twitching in a small smile. Not enough of one to really be happy. Just acknowledgement that they're all alive.
"Mmmph," says Sam, who has never and maybe will never sleep very well in the car. "Great."
He yawns again and nods to Jo's words, gazing out the window rather than anyone else in the car. He takes a few minutes surveying standard midwestern hills and valleys, rubbing his chin.
It's short of morning, a few hours after they had switched off, when the fog rolls in. Too thick to drive safely through, but harmless beside, so they set up a camp, leaving Dean to sleep.
Sam's lighting the firewood they'd collected, but Jo was standing by the Impala looking off in the dark fog. As though it had created some purposeful wall between herself and her point.
He glances at her before the logs are lit, but once flame catches Sam turns his face away. This close, he's bathed in harsh orange firelight while Jo's engulfed in shadow.
The surprise sound, not the her or Sam moving, has Jo look back nearly a smirk herself. Shaking her head, she walked back to the fire starting.
She's always liked them as a girl, but she'd the more now. The light and the warmth, even if it might attract other things here. Her hands came out of her pockets and she held them flat toward the heat.
Sam sits in the dirt, eyes flickering to her when she comes closer, but not reacting otherwise.
The light and warmth might attract other things, it's true, but they're not worried just yet. Hunters can be meticulously careful during a hunt, but they can still allow for occasional luxuries.
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He hates that his car flies, never takes it higher than absolutely necessary - but after two years here on increasingly-deteriorated roads, he's incredibly grateful for it, too. He'll buy Sirius a beer or something, if the kid's not dead yet. It's saved his suspension and right now it's providing Sam and Jo a comfortable sleep.
Or Sam, anyway, Dean realises, recognising the change in the breathing patterns behind him. He cranes around to glance into the back seat.
"Mornin', sunshine."
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After a few more seconds, she pushed up, scrubbing her fingers back through her hair, pushing it back. "Water bottle?"
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She couldn't right now. Not with where she was going.
Not with where'd she'd been.
"Better than nothing."
Jo took the bottle and a long drink.
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Of course, in a ruined world, the roads don't look exactly how they used to.
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Her tone is all it's aloof emptiness.
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"How'd y'sleep?"
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He yawns again and nods to Jo's words, gazing out the window rather than anyone else in the car. He takes a few minutes surveying standard midwestern hills and valleys, rubbing his chin.
Then glances to his brother.
"Need a break?"
His voice says he doubts it.
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Sam's lighting the firewood they'd collected, but Jo was standing by the Impala looking off in the dark fog. As though it had created some purposeful wall between herself and her point.
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Dean snores from the car and Sam smirks.
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She's always liked them as a girl, but she'd the more now. The light and the warmth, even if it might attract other things here. Her hands came out of her pockets and she held them flat toward the heat.
Reply
The light and warmth might attract other things, it's true, but they're not worried just yet. Hunters can be meticulously careful during a hunt, but they can still allow for occasional luxuries.
Reply
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