Dean sighed as he, for the fifth time in as many minutes, slapped Cas's hand away from the dial on the radio.
"Don't," he hissed. "I'm listening to that."
Cas shot him a dirty look and then turned to stare out the window.
Dean counted down silently and right on cue Cas turned to him again.
"How much further?" the angel asked, almost not sounding like a bratty pre-scholer.
"About a mile and a half less than last time you asked," Dean answered. "We'll be there around noon."
"But it's not even dawn yet," Cas complained. "What am I suppose to do until then?"
Dean groaned. "I don't know. Sleep. Think. Play with yourself."
Cas frowned. "I don't sleep," he said.
"Fine then. Think. Silently."
Cas raised his hand and Dean slapped it away again.
…
Half an hour later Cas broke the silence. "What do humans do on such journeys?" he inquired.
"Well," Dean said, his mood greatly improved by the reprieve. "Most sleep. Some read, I guess. The ones that don't get carsick."
"Oh..." Cas considered this for almost five minutes. "Do you have any books?" he asked.
Dean rolled his eyes. "No," he said. "I'm driving this car. I don't have time to read." Then he remembered something. "Though there may be some in that bag in the backseat. Gave a couple of college girls a ride last month. One of them forgot her bag.
Cas twisted around in his seat and with a lot of grunting and huffing managed to fish the bag out from behind his seat where it had gotten itself thoroughly stuck.
He rummaged through it, discarding several pairs of underwear that Dean wouldn't have minded inspecting closer, sniffed a small glass bottle which made him sneeze and then, right at the bottom, found an old tattered paperback.
He held it close to his face and squinted to read the title in the dim light from the dashboard. "Fifty shades of..." he muttered.
"What?" Dean cried, jerking the steering wheel and almost taking them off the road. "I've had that crap in my car for a month? Get rid of it. Toss it out the window." He reached over, trying to grab the book.
"No," Cas said, moving it out of Dean's reach. "You told me to read. I'm going to read it."
Dean rolled his eyes again. "It's your funeral," he muttered. "Just don't go reading anything aloud."
…
Sam was waiting for them outside the hauted schoolhouse. His smile vanished the moment Cas got out of the car.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, hurrying over to help the staggering angel.
But Cas waved him off and then ran for the nearest hedge and disappeared behind it.
Dean was grinning as he walked over to Sam, who was frowning at the retching noises from the hedge.
"Dude," Sam said. "What's wrong with him? He was actually green..."
Dean laughed. "Oh I think he just got a slight case of motion sickness," he said. "Poor thing couldn't put the book down." He shook his head then turned to his brother. "Do you have the gasoline?"
"Yes," Sam said, pointing to the canister. "But we still haven't found the bones."
"I know," Dean said. "But there's something else that will need burning first. Or Cas will be haunted forever."