This is the most depressing stretch of land I've ever seen, Dave thought gloomily.

"This is the worst part of America," Howe groaned from the passenger seat. "Aren't we past the Hoover Dam yet?"

"We passed the Hoover Dam while you were sleeping," Charlie stated with boredom and a slight nasally irritation in his voice from the onset of dust allergies after his second morning cigarette, "or don't you remember?"

"I slept through that," Howe stated with righteous indignation.

"No," Charlie kidded, "you proceeded to half wake up, grip the door handle, and scream like a little girl."

"Where was I when all this was happening?" Dave asked.

"You were asleep too."

Doubtful. I would've woken up to the screaming, Dave thought. "Okay."

Howe tried to defend himself. "You know what? That is a scary drop-off on the Arizona side, I'm just saying."

And then there was Charlie with the rebuttal. "Girl."

"Drag Queen."

"Hillary Clinton."

"Republican."

"Too far, man, too far."

"Sorry."

There was silence after Charlie and Howe's umpteenth fake mini-blow out. Dave couldn't decide if he just wanted them to be lovers or best friends or what, but there was some tension there - maybe it was just the tension of spending every waking hour together. Maybe it just made them a couple. And for the first time since Kurt and Santana and Z, Dave was longing for that kind of companionship. He ached for a time when he could send Kurt a permanent address, find somewhere to put down roots. Find somewhere to not be ashamed anymore, to let the demons go and bid them never come back.

"Hey, wait!" Howe's eyes sparked. "That means we're almost to Barstow."

"Hells to the yeah," Charlie smirked with a quirked eyebrow.

"What's in Barstow?" Dave queried, leaning forward and clasping his hands lazily.

"Triple dipped chocolate malted milk balls," Charlie and Howe exclaimed together while the one not holding the steering wheel did a triumphant air guitar solo. "Oh, and they have other stuff. But it's the best Triple J in the country. We always stop there."

"No, you always stop there."

"You're just bitter because they don't have a Dennys for you, old man."

"I am gonna whoop you in the arcade."

Oh God, thought Dave, is this really my future? What if they start actually fighting for real?

Dave dozed on the non-comforting thought, picking up some orange slices at the truck stop and then proceeding to fall back asleep once the van was still on the road. They were close, so close, even when there was a traffic jam an hour outside of San Diego.

"What is it?" Dave asked.

"Don't know," Howe shrugged. He'd been driving since Triple J in Barstow. "Let's find out."

Charlie's snoring drowned out part of the static as Howe switched on the police scanner. He quirked his head and Dave watched as he leaned into all of what Dave heard to be a whisper. Then Howe proceeded to nod his head. "Okay, we've got an emergency: level beach ball."

"Wait," Dave started as Howe opened the driver's side door, "what does that mean?"

Dave's head popped out of his side of the van as he slid open the backside door to find Howe had grabbed a beach ball and was inflating it in the middle of stalled traffic. Howe simply continued to blow up the beach ball and then proceeded to speak when it was full. He tossed the ball to Dave. "Means it's a hold up and we've got a three hour wait to kill. Let's play. Other cars might join in if they see we're having fun."

Dave knocked the beach ball back to Howe out of reflex more than anything. "What about Charlie?"

Howe chuckled as he batted the ball back to Dave. "Charlie and I aren't attached at the hip. We can do stuff separate, Dave. What, you think we can't live without each other?"

"Well, you just seem to fight a lot."

"Oh, we get on each other's nerves all the time. We're brothers from another mother."

"Another mother?"

"Yes, and her name is theater. Don't you have any friends like that back at home, Dave?"

"No." Come to think of it, don't have a home either.

"Ah. Wanna talk about it?"

"It's complicated."

"What isn't?"

"Well," Dave thought for a moment while Howe played with a little blonde kid that toddled over with his pregnant mom for a moment as they were getting a bit of exercise, "I'm not proud of who I was."

"But you're changing it, or else you'd still be that person, right?"

"I…" Dave batted the ball back to the little kid when the little kid threw it his way. The mom shooed the kid away shortly after. "I think so."

"You must be, if you're on a vision quest."

"A vision quest? I'm really not."

"You're not? Do you know what a vision quest is?"

"Well yeah," Dave shrugged, "it's seeing animals in the wilderness that talk to you about life and stuff, right?"

Howe chuckled again, but it wasn't a condescending chuckle. That was something that Dave liked about Howe. "No, that's not all a vision quest is. A vision quest is about transformation more than anything. It's having a vision for something better and setting out to achieve that betterness for yourself. If you're gonna live on the Astroturf, you're gonna have to admit that that's who you are right now."

Dave barely missed catching the ball and it bounced back to Howe, deflating slightly. "Then I guess I am."

"Good. Time to get back in the van. I think our time's about up."

"Hey, get your asses back in the van before you get run over," came Charlie's sleepy voice.

"Yes sir," Dave and Howe said in unison.