A dirt road, stretching miles on in either direction, looked infinite in the dark of night with nothing but the stars and moon to light your way.
Sam observed this as he leaned against the front end of the Impala, staring up at the sky- trying to identify constellations.
Dean was bent over, legs sticking awkwardly from the wide, open driver's door as he rummaged in the back seat, trying to get a hold of some object elusive to his touch.
"Gotcha!" he hissed as his fingers wrapped around slim bottlenecks.
Two beets in hand, Dean bumped the car door with his hip.
Sitting on the hood next to Sam, Dean offered item, using his un-tucked shirttail to twist off the cap.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, just staring at the sky or down the road. When they drained their first beers, Dean grabbed two more from the back.
"It's really clear out tonight," Sam manages quietly, as if trying not to disturb the silent nature around them.
Dean breathes deep the smell of dirt, sweet grass and engine exhaust before replying,
"Yeah, it is."
More silence stretches; but unlike so many other silences between them, this one didn't beg to be filled or broken.
The air was warm, barely humid and they were so far from the interstate that they couldn't even hear the roar of passing cars.
They sat, leaned against the hood of the Impala and they just breathed.
[The scene closes on a fading image from behind the boys, catching their posterior silhouettes against the starry sky backdrop. The end.]