The four tires ate up the miles, the heavy bodywork of the Impala making her more akin to a tank than a modern car.
Dean tapped the gas gauge and hummed preoccupied. 'We're gonna have to draw in at the next stop. How far is that, Sammy?'
Sam pulled out his phone and consulted the map. 'Another twenty miles. Are we gonna make it?' I told you we should've pulled in at the last one.'
:
As if the Impala had decided to side with the younger Winchester, the engine began to cough and a hundred yards on when the car trailed to a halt at the side of the road, Sam's bitch-face was a sight to behold.
:
Dean held up a hand to stop his sibling from opening his mouth, but Sam ignored him and said it anyway.
'We've run out of gas, Dean!'
'There must be a leak. Maybe we hit a rock or something,' Dean parried.
Sam's sustained bitch-face, told him what he thought of that!
:
'Doesn't matter, Sammy. We can sleep in the car for the night and tomorrow hitch to the gas station.'
'I'm not going to hitch anywhere, dude. Just as well, I had the horse sense to fill the can we keep in the trunk, while you were off flashing your teeth at the checkout girl.'
:
Dean's grin was wide and playful. 'Good job I have a prissy, far-thinking little brother.'
'Yeah,' Sam huffed. 'Good job you do!'