The seats of the Impala were still frozen against the mid-March chill, the heater playing catch-up. They pressed icy binoculars to their faces, seeking confirmation that their skinwalker was inside.
"I spy with my little eye, something that begins with the letter R."
"Ridiculous game?" Sam snorted.
"You're a ridiculous game." Dean poked Sam in the shoulder with the plastic top of the aluminum thermos, asking for a fill-up. "Play."
Sam unscrewed the cap and poured Dean a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma of the dark beans permeating the car with energy.
"Road?" Sam sighed.
Dean grumbled.
"Do over."