Halfway between Chicago, IL, and Lawrence, KS
"....on a steel horse I ride; I'm wanted, dead or alive ..." Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his - or her - cakehole. But not, apparently, when shotgun is singing along at the top of her lungs to the driver's choice of said music.
Curled up against the passenger door in the front of the Impala, her head half out the window, Nim was more than happy with Dean's choices on the radio, enjoying the sense of freedom that came with knowing they were finally on the road. Her foot tapped out a rhythm counter to the heavy beat of the bass and drums as she grinned over at the driver. The goodbyes that morning had been awkward, and yes, she might have shed a discreet tear as they pulled away, but there was no other way this could have gone. Brian was like a father to her, but Dean was everything. And he was stuck with her, too.
Dean had not shed a single tear at their leaving. He was a drifter at heart, never happy to stay in one place for too long. Most of his life since the age of four had been spent on the road, and while he sometimes bitched and moaned about it, the truth was he was happiest when he was on the road behind the wheel of his baby, headed for another adventure. So, without much ado, he'd bid good-bye to Bobby and Brian, promising Bobby to keep in touch and promising Brian to keep Nim safe. The first few hours had passed quickly with Dean taking the long way, avoiding the highways and toll roads, preferring rural routes that ran through the small towns that dotted the midwestern countryside from Illinois through Missouri to their eventual destination - Kansas.
The amulet that had been a gift from Sam still hung from the rearview mirror, in memory of his brother. He hadn't had the heart to put it back on yet and wasn't sure he would, but with Sam gone from this world, neither could he bear to part with it again. The car was littered with the usual stuff Dean tended to gather on road trips - a few empty coffee cups, some crumpled up take out bags containing more trash, mostly from various food stuffs, some cassette tapes, an opened and partially eaten bag of Doritos. One gun was carefully stowed in the glovebox while the other was tucked into his jacket. One could never be too careful, not even while stopping to take a leak on the side of the road.
The Bon Jovi tape wasn't his, but had belonged to Sam, and as such, he'd allowed Nim to play it, smiling a little as she sang along, remembering having done the same with Sam a few years back. It was a bittersweet memory, one that both saddened him and warmed his heart all at the same time.
He wasn't the only one discreetly armed. Along with the iron knife she now knew was all she had left of her real father, Nim was packing a handgun tucked into the back of her jeans, under the hang of her shirt and jacket, and her favored rifle was tucked under the seat they were sat on. As the song wound to a close, she lifted her head from its wind-swept lean in the window, combing her fingers through her hair as her lips curved into a cheeky smirk. "Are we nearly there yet?"
Most of Dean's weapons were stowed in the trunk and included just about anything he might need for a hunt. Bobby had made sure it was all there, save for the Colt. Not just any Colt but the Colt - the one Samuel Colt had made specially for hunting supernatural creatures, and Dean suspected specifically for the killing of demons. The Colt had remained behind with Bobby for safekeeping at Dean's insistence. The truth was he felt to blame for losing it back in his own "universe" and didn't want to chance doing so again. The song came to an end, which was just as well. Wanted Dead or Alive wasn't exactly the most optimistic way to start a road trip.
Dean chuckled at Nim's question. They weren't even half-way there yet, and she was getting antsy already. He knew they could have taken a quicker route, but he detested driving on the interstate, preferring the more scenic backroads. "You're like a kid on vacation with her parents. Are we there yet' Are we there yet' Are we there yet?"
She burst out laughing, shifting away from her lean against the door at his teasing. "What?" was her innocent exclamation. "I haven't peed all over your car yet, or broken anything because I'm having a temper tantrum." Snickering, she shook her head, turning her face toward the windscreen and the road ahead. "Kinda surprised you haven't stopped yet. I would've pegged you for the kind of guy who has to eat at least once an hour or he gets cranky."
"Which is exactly why I have these!" he replied, reaching for the half-eaten bag of Doritos in his lap and holding it up triumphantly. Along with the remains of the other foodstuffs he'd brought for the road that he'd already managed to scarf up. "If you're hungry, just say so. We've still got quite a ways to go." Or if she had to pee, since unlike him, she couldn't go on the side of the road. "You haven't been too far from home, have you?" It felt weird to think of Chicago as her home when he still thought of that place for her as Nebraska.
Nim stared at him, incredulous and laughing as he flailed his bag of chips triumphantly. "God, you live on salt and sugar, don't you? No wonder Bobby laughed so hard when Brian tried to warn you about my idea of a decent meal!" Rolling her eyes, she batted at his hand, making him lower the bag once again. His question made her smile fade a little, knowing that in comparison to him, without her memories, she was nowhere near the experienced hunter he was.
"Haven't crossed the state lines before," she admitted with a shrug. "Not that I'm really going far from home now you're around." She flashed him a sparkling smile, hoping he wouldn't notice the awkwardly tense way she was sitting. "You planning on stopping anywhere in the next half hour or so?"
He lowered the bag of chips back into his lap, right hand going back to holding onto the wheel, though he had a bad habit of driving one handed. Brows furrowed momentarily at her remark about home, but he didn't question what she meant by it just yet. He did glance over to find her smiling sweetly at him and thought it was probably time for a pit stop. He and Sam could and often had driven twelve hours straight with hardly a stop, but she wasn't Sam. Hunter or not, she was still female and being female meant rest stops in places that had powder rooms.
"You need to stretch your legs?" he asked, looking back at the road. He hadn't planned on stopping just yet, but he would if she needed to. "I could use some more coffee." He was probably running pretty high on caffeine about now.
"I could do with stretching, yeah," she agreed. For all that she was comfortable with him and had been almost from the first conversation she recalled, Nim wasn't quite comfortable enough to inform him just when she needed to deal with certain biological imperatives. That would, doubtless, solve itself over the next few weeks, but for now, she was going to have to get creative. "Seriously' More coffee" I swear your stomach must be lined with titanium or something."
"Is that a nice way of saying you gotta pee?" He chuckled, shooting a quick glance her way again. "I live on coffee. It flows like blood through my veins." That wasn't quite true, of course. He lived on coffee during the day to stay awake, bourbon at night to go to sleep, but for some reason, ever since he'd found himself in the alley in back of the Landing, he'd found he hadn't needed either quite so much. Still, getting sleepy on the road was never a good idea, and he wasn't sure she was ready to take over driving and navigating on her own yet.
"There's a town up ahead. We can stop there for a bit." He didn't need to look at a road map to know where he was, where he was going, or how to get there. He'd crisscrossed the country so many times, it was hardwired into his brain.
"....on a steel horse I ride; I'm wanted, dead or alive ..." Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his - or her - cakehole. But not, apparently, when shotgun is singing along at the top of her lungs to the driver's choice of said music.
Curled up against the passenger door in the front of the Impala, her head half out the window, Nim was more than happy with Dean's choices on the radio, enjoying the sense of freedom that came with knowing they were finally on the road. Her foot tapped out a rhythm counter to the heavy beat of the bass and drums as she grinned over at the driver. The goodbyes that morning had been awkward, and yes, she might have shed a discreet tear as they pulled away, but there was no other way this could have gone. Brian was like a father to her, but Dean was everything. And he was stuck with her, too.
Dean had not shed a single tear at their leaving. He was a drifter at heart, never happy to stay in one place for too long. Most of his life since the age of four had been spent on the road, and while he sometimes bitched and moaned about it, the truth was he was happiest when he was on the road behind the wheel of his baby, headed for another adventure. So, without much ado, he'd bid good-bye to Bobby and Brian, promising Bobby to keep in touch and promising Brian to keep Nim safe. The first few hours had passed quickly with Dean taking the long way, avoiding the highways and toll roads, preferring rural routes that ran through the small towns that dotted the midwestern countryside from Illinois through Missouri to their eventual destination - Kansas.
The amulet that had been a gift from Sam still hung from the rearview mirror, in memory of his brother. He hadn't had the heart to put it back on yet and wasn't sure he would, but with Sam gone from this world, neither could he bear to part with it again. The car was littered with the usual stuff Dean tended to gather on road trips - a few empty coffee cups, some crumpled up take out bags containing more trash, mostly from various food stuffs, some cassette tapes, an opened and partially eaten bag of Doritos. One gun was carefully stowed in the glovebox while the other was tucked into his jacket. One could never be too careful, not even while stopping to take a leak on the side of the road.
The Bon Jovi tape wasn't his, but had belonged to Sam, and as such, he'd allowed Nim to play it, smiling a little as she sang along, remembering having done the same with Sam a few years back. It was a bittersweet memory, one that both saddened him and warmed his heart all at the same time.
He wasn't the only one discreetly armed. Along with the iron knife she now knew was all she had left of her real father, Nim was packing a handgun tucked into the back of her jeans, under the hang of her shirt and jacket, and her favored rifle was tucked under the seat they were sat on. As the song wound to a close, she lifted her head from its wind-swept lean in the window, combing her fingers through her hair as her lips curved into a cheeky smirk. "Are we nearly there yet?"
Most of Dean's weapons were stowed in the trunk and included just about anything he might need for a hunt. Bobby had made sure it was all there, save for the Colt. Not just any Colt but the Colt - the one Samuel Colt had made specially for hunting supernatural creatures, and Dean suspected specifically for the killing of demons. The Colt had remained behind with Bobby for safekeeping at Dean's insistence. The truth was he felt to blame for losing it back in his own "universe" and didn't want to chance doing so again. The song came to an end, which was just as well. Wanted Dead or Alive wasn't exactly the most optimistic way to start a road trip.
Dean chuckled at Nim's question. They weren't even half-way there yet, and she was getting antsy already. He knew they could have taken a quicker route, but he detested driving on the interstate, preferring the more scenic backroads. "You're like a kid on vacation with her parents. Are we there yet' Are we there yet' Are we there yet?"
She burst out laughing, shifting away from her lean against the door at his teasing. "What?" was her innocent exclamation. "I haven't peed all over your car yet, or broken anything because I'm having a temper tantrum." Snickering, she shook her head, turning her face toward the windscreen and the road ahead. "Kinda surprised you haven't stopped yet. I would've pegged you for the kind of guy who has to eat at least once an hour or he gets cranky."
"Which is exactly why I have these!" he replied, reaching for the half-eaten bag of Doritos in his lap and holding it up triumphantly. Along with the remains of the other foodstuffs he'd brought for the road that he'd already managed to scarf up. "If you're hungry, just say so. We've still got quite a ways to go." Or if she had to pee, since unlike him, she couldn't go on the side of the road. "You haven't been too far from home, have you?" It felt weird to think of Chicago as her home when he still thought of that place for her as Nebraska.
Nim stared at him, incredulous and laughing as he flailed his bag of chips triumphantly. "God, you live on salt and sugar, don't you? No wonder Bobby laughed so hard when Brian tried to warn you about my idea of a decent meal!" Rolling her eyes, she batted at his hand, making him lower the bag once again. His question made her smile fade a little, knowing that in comparison to him, without her memories, she was nowhere near the experienced hunter he was.
"Haven't crossed the state lines before," she admitted with a shrug. "Not that I'm really going far from home now you're around." She flashed him a sparkling smile, hoping he wouldn't notice the awkwardly tense way she was sitting. "You planning on stopping anywhere in the next half hour or so?"
He lowered the bag of chips back into his lap, right hand going back to holding onto the wheel, though he had a bad habit of driving one handed. Brows furrowed momentarily at her remark about home, but he didn't question what she meant by it just yet. He did glance over to find her smiling sweetly at him and thought it was probably time for a pit stop. He and Sam could and often had driven twelve hours straight with hardly a stop, but she wasn't Sam. Hunter or not, she was still female and being female meant rest stops in places that had powder rooms.
"You need to stretch your legs?" he asked, looking back at the road. He hadn't planned on stopping just yet, but he would if she needed to. "I could use some more coffee." He was probably running pretty high on caffeine about now.
"I could do with stretching, yeah," she agreed. For all that she was comfortable with him and had been almost from the first conversation she recalled, Nim wasn't quite comfortable enough to inform him just when she needed to deal with certain biological imperatives. That would, doubtless, solve itself over the next few weeks, but for now, she was going to have to get creative. "Seriously' More coffee" I swear your stomach must be lined with titanium or something."
"Is that a nice way of saying you gotta pee?" He chuckled, shooting a quick glance her way again. "I live on coffee. It flows like blood through my veins." That wasn't quite true, of course. He lived on coffee during the day to stay awake, bourbon at night to go to sleep, but for some reason, ever since he'd found himself in the alley in back of the Landing, he'd found he hadn't needed either quite so much. Still, getting sleepy on the road was never a good idea, and he wasn't sure she was ready to take over driving and navigating on her own yet.
"There's a town up ahead. We can stop there for a bit." He didn't need to look at a road map to know where he was, where he was going, or how to get there. He'd crisscrossed the country so many times, it was hardwired into his brain.