So this is early Dean and Sam, maybe Season 1 and 2. I've never written Spn before and I'm only halfway through S6 right now, but feedback would be lovely if you have the time. I hope you like it.

He turns the radio up to an almost painful level and gets out of the car. It's dark out and he's so far from civilisation that there are no lights. Just him and the stars. He slams the door shut. He puts his whole weight behind it. The impala shakes. He closes his eyes and rests his hands on the edge of the roof. Jaw set, forehead resting on the cool metal of the car. The music blares.
It's that song. Bad Moon Rising. It's cheery. I see trouble on the way. It bops along to a beat that doesn't match the message. A song you could dance to.
Hope you have got your things together.
He hits the car. Smacks it with the butt of his hand. It stings. He does it again, harder. Stupid song. Stupid stupid. He grunts and clenches his jaw so it hurts.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
He pushes with both hands, rocking the car sideways. He takes a step back then rushes it again. It doesn't yield. The car that has withstood more than should be possible. He loves this car. The one constant. Why is that the only thing that hasn't left him is made of metal? He hits it again. Kicks it. His fists smash uselessly off the roof as he whales on it. He's panting hard and grunting with the effort.
Nothing, nothing has been with him longer. Not Sam. Certainly not Dad. They leave. Again and again and again and all that's left is him and this. Driving the same fucking roads in the ass end of the night. Same motels, same burgers, same bars. The same fucking songs on the radio.
It's still playing. It's so cheery and so loud. It's in his head and he's glad because he doesn't want to think. Left alone with his thoughts he can't breathe. The ones where he thinks about how nothing he does is enough. The monsters always win. Sammy looks at him sometimes and he can tell that part of him hates what he's been dragged into. That if it wasn't for his brother he could be living a normal life. That even now he's a disappointment. What would Mom have said if she could see you now? You can't even take care of your own brother. He doesn't want anything to do with you. You were supposed to protect him. He doesn't want you. Neither does your father.
And if I was still alive... well look at you. I died for you. And you're worthless.
He steps back and he screams. His hands clutch at his temples and he can feel it burning inside him. Those wisps of hurt grow and flicker into rage until it's not just heat, it's molten. He doesn't think about grabbing a weapon. His fists curl up and he punches the window. It shatters and for a moment the music is drowned out by the sound of a hundred shards tearing their way through his skin.
The fight in him dies and he sinks to the floor. His chest heaves and he presses his palms into his eyes. Warm blood smudges on his cheek.
The song ends and he lets out a shuddered breath.
Enough.

"Dean, why are we turning off?"
It's dark, as it always seems to be when they're driving. Sam sits next to him, a confused look on his face. Dean continues down the dirt track he's just turned down, leaving the main road behind. He pulls into a clearing, shuts the engine off and says "I fancy a beer."
"Now?"
"Yeah, now. You joining me or what?"
"Shouldn't we just head on into town? We can have a drink at the motel. Where it's not cold, and dark."
"Just have a freaking beer with me Sammy." He gets out the car and heads round to the trunk.
Sam, still confused, shrugs and gets out to join him. Dean pulls out a couple of beers and tosses one to Sam. Silently they sit on the bonnet and drink. After a moment Sam says "I've got to ask. Why here?"
Dean looks down and lets out a laugh that's more like a sigh. The corner of his lips twitch and he looks around at the familiar clearing. That ass end of nowhere. He scratches at the small scars that litter his arm and turns to Sam. Because it's not just him and the stars this time. And the radio isn't playing and he can hear himself think and he doesn't mind. His brother looks at him expectantly. When he doesn't reply Sam frowns. "Come on, what's happening here?"
"I'm having a beer with my brother."
"In the woods, in the dark, when it's icy out and there's not a pool table or whiskey or a hot waitress. Seriously Dean, why not just go to a bar?"
"I like it here."
Sam throws his hands in the air. "There's nothing here!" He looks exasperatedly around and waves a hand at the trees, the stars and the darkness. "Just me, you and some trees."
Dean smiles knowingly and has another sip of beer.
"It's enough."

Thanks for reading.