THE IMPALA - INDIANA HIGHWAY
Six hours on the road and the Winchesters were heading east through moonlit Terre Haute. The view from the car was unreal, like the backdrop in a carnival dark ride - blue fluorescent mountains and pine trees on all sides. As "Bargain" by The Who faded out on the radio, Dean looked contented, lulled by the pleasant rattle of the heater on full blast. He glanced to the passenger side. Sam was frowning at nothing, totally spaced-out. Nothing new, but it was too good of a night for Dean to look over and see that.
"You okay?" Dean asked.
"Yeah?" Sam said, as though it was a random question. Maybe it was. "Why?"
"I dunno," Dean said. "You looked like you were halfway between Ferrari and Le Tigre, thought I'd ask."
"Sorry," Sam said. "Just because I'm not grinning like an idiot and drumming on the dash, doesn't mean I'm-."
But he was cut off as "Jumpin' Jack Flash" came over the radio. But it wasn't just any Jumpin' Jack Flash. It was the one the Stones recorded live in Tokyo, in 1989.
"No way!" Sam yelled happily. "Flashpoint! ...God, I miss that CD. I remember, I heard that version of 'Ruby Tuesday' in that... that Denny's? Couldn't get it outta my head."
"Dad hated that album," Dean said, smiling and shaking his head. "He'd groan like a tween whenever he heard it through your headphones. 'Come on with that thing, Sam, I can hear Jagger going bald!'"
They both laughed. It was fun tormenting Dad.
"Where'd you get the money for that discman, anyway?" Dean asked. "I know Dad didn't give it to you."
"You know that frozen frog bet in Oceanside?" Sam said with a smirk.
"Those kids never saw a frozen anything in their lives," Dean snickered. "How much you collect on that one?"
"Just fifty," Sam said. "But it put me over the top. I'd saved most of that cash from back in Bountiful.
"Bountiful?" Dean asked. "Utah? You were eight, Sam, when did you make money?"
"You don't remember?" Sam asked. "We were extras.'"
Dean kept his eyes on the road, looking a bit embarrassed. "I, uh,... I don't think you remember Bountiful," he said.
"We were in the 'Sandlot,'" Sam said. "Remember? They were shooting the pickle scene. And..." Sam chuckled, remembering. "You were in love with Mike Vitar."
"I don't even know who you're talkin' about," Dean said. "But if I did know him, he was my friend and that was it."
"You carried his soda around," Sam said. "He called you Tom."
"Tim," Dean said, getting a little upset. "And I don't remember, so can we just drop it, Captain Buzzkill? Besides, how would you know? You got food poisoning and tossed your cookies on James Earl Jones."
"I wish," Sam said, sounding oddly sincere. "I never even saw the guy."
Dean gave Sam a WTF look, but was distracted as a highway patrol car passed them in the left lane.
"Dude, Baby Cop!" Dean said, and stepped on the gas. He pushed the car to sixty, ten over the speed limit.
"No," Sam said anxiously. "We're only halfway to Motown, you heard what Garth said."
The patrol car turned around, siren on and lights flashing. It started chasing them.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, grinning evilly at the road. "We gotta test out the new badges. Five minutes, tops."
Sam sighed, giving up way too easy. "Alright," he said. "I'll get the sandwiches."
Dean pulled over and got out. Sam got two sandwiches out of the backseat and scooted out of the driver's side of the car. As the patrol car pulled up behind them, they opened their sandwiches and started gnawing on them with hostile expressions. Dean glowered, kept his shoulders back and rubbed his chest with his free hand. Sam was hunched and snarling, and held his sandwich with both hands, like a harmonica. The cop got out of his car and walked up to them cautiously. He was young, about twenty-two, and not all that big. They glared at him, but kept chewing. They looked like honest-to-god, backwoods freaks.
"I'm gonna hafta ask you two gentlemen to get back inside your vehicle," the cop said, trying not to sound scared.
The boys kept on eating their sandwiches. But then Sam breathed through his nose so heavily, it blew lettuce out of his BLT. That was enough to crack them both up and they finally broke character.
"Sorry!" Dean said. "We had to, man. We're just messin' with you." He and Sam flashed their FBI badges to the officer.
"Agents Perry and Schon," Sam said, smiling with a sort of apologetic wince. "We're on our way to the DA's conference in Detroit."
The cop looked pissed for a moment. Sam and Dean traded worried looks.
The cop pointed at them. "You guys had me going," he said, then cracked a smile and shook his head. "What the hell was with the sandwiches?" The boys shrugged. "You guys are trouble - I just called this in!" They all laughed together for a minute. "Wouldn't try that again, though," the cop said, heading for his car. "You were too good, the next guy might draw on ya!"
"Last time," Dean said, "we swear!"
The cop got in his car and drove off, leaving Sam and Dean waving. Sam was giving Dean a disapproving look.
"That was actually pretty close," Dean said, still laughing.
"I wonder if he remembers you," Sam said, getting into the driver's side.
"What?" Dean asked, looking worried.
"Mike Vitar," Sam said, as innocently as he could, before shutting and locking the door. He scrambled to get all the doors in the Impala locked while Dean hightailed it to the other side of the car, hoping to beat Sam to the passenger side lock.