The street lamps of the Oklahoma freeway alternately cast their light on her face as the Impala passed underneath them. The rapid and continuous change in light began to rouse the slumbering girl, whose head rest on Dean's thigh, as they advanced upon civilization. The Val Halen cassette that he popped in before she fell asleep had transformed into the hum of some sappy radio show with callers dedicating cheesy love songs to their fiancés.
She flicked her eyes up to Dean's face, he was oblivious to the fact the she was awake, giving her the perfect opportunity to see him unguarded. His face was free of any mask or bravado that he continually wore. It was smooth and emotionless; with nothing really resembling the Dean Winchester she knew but his freckles and the ducky lips he made when he was thinking hard about something. His hair was ruffled and sticking forward like he'd been running his hands through it. She liked it that way. Her eyes trailed downward, across his jaw, down his neck. She counted every scar, taking in every ounce of the man she could before he noticed she was awake and put on a thin veil to cover the vulnerability she wanted so desperately to see from him.
He had taken up his usual driving stance; slouched in his seat comfortably, one arm out stretched to the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Only the hand that was supposed to be on his thigh had taken up temporary residence in the crook of her neck. It felt so natural there, like it had been molded and placed there in the beginning of time.
She wanted so badly to sit up and kiss his face, but she wouldn't dare break the spell that had fallen over them. It was like there was no one and nothing else in the world. It was just the two of them and the Impala. No monsters, demons, angels, villains, humans. She prayed that it would stay like this but she knew that it would never come about. These things would always be there to get in between them, that was an inevitability, but as long as she was here with Dean the world was set right.