Chapter title is from song by Soundgarden.
42
Outshined - Soundgarden
They had not gone more than two hours when the Durango ahead suddenly veered right.
Sam sat up.
"Pit stop?"
Dean shook his head and scanned the area around them tensely. Traffic was light out here. He checked the rearview mirror.
Nothing.
Dean's eyes narrowed, feeling around with his other senses. He heard Sam sucking in air as the world went gray-bright with demon sight, but he needed it. He remembered the feel of Arkas—the gray ambiguousness of the Fallen's grace—like trying to see a shadow in the dusk, tenuous and way too hazy. He scanned the interior of the car ahead.
Nothing.
Sam breathed again when he shifted back, and the world was normal colored again, green fields rolling out to either side as Zee turned off the highway. He glanced at the fuel gauge.
"We just fueled up an hour ago." Sam pointed out needlessly.
Their confusion grew as they passed a fast food joint and a diner without stopping and took another right turn onto a quiet country lane, pulling up to a largely empty parking lot with a low rectangular building at the center, a metal awning shading a take-out window on one side.
Dean slammed out of the car, resisting the urge to skip the few steps and teleport right to the SUV, conscious of eyes watching them from the open window of the small structure.
"What is it? Angels? Demons?" He racked his brain for other things that could appear without warning. "Mutant Zombies?"
She flicked him a cool look as Toby clambered out of the car.
"Frozen custard."
"What?"
"Ice cream."
"We're stopping for ice cream?!"
Her eyes narrowed when his voice shot up. "Yes."
"It's the middle of freakin' WINTER!"
The temperature in her eyes dropped by a degree. She turned Toby towards the small building.
"Go on and see what you want. I'll be there in a sec."
The kid looked uncertainly up at the two of them, at the temper in their voices. With an effort Dean reined in his frustration, sweeping the surrounding fields and the interior of the small custard shop with his other senses once through before giving Toby a tight smile.
"Go on. I bet they have Rocky Road up there."
Behind him he heard Sam getting out of the Impala, moving casually to flank Toby as the kid headed hesitantly to the ordering window. He only breathed again when Toby was within Sam's reach.
He turned back to the impossible ninja in front of him and bit out the question that had been eating at him since the MegaMart.
"What part of lockdown is so friggin' hard to understand?"
Her look was ice.
"You're warded. Sam's warded. Toby's warded. If the angels are looking, they'll only see me."
"AND?"
Her eyes narrowed further like he was being deliberately dense.
"And what?"
He just stared at her, at that look in her eye, like she wasn't a target, like she didn't matter, like he wouldn't come back for her, like when Mother had her by the hair, knife to her neck, because 'demons don't do friends' and a hunter's life was a matter of Russian roulette anyway.
He grit his teeth and growled.
"Inias found Cas, and us—by tracking you. If he can figure it out, so can they."
He could see her jaw set. She didn't like it when he was right, but she wasn't backing down. She stepped closer, lowering her voice so the kid wouldn't hear, and Toby wouldn't have heard anyway because she very nearly hissed.
"We are NOT driving straight through to Cody like he's some hot potato we have to ditch."
He took a step back. He looked over at the custard stand, one like many they had passed on the road before, and suddenly remembered out of nowhere, Dad's set face bent over the wheel on their way to Bobby's or Caleb's or Pastor Jim's.
"Not now, Dean. Maybe next time."
Sam glanced their way, curious, before Sam turned his attention back to the menu like Sam was actually planning to get something. Ice cream.
He looked at her and snapped.
"Fine."
She stepped into his space again, searching his face to make sure he meant it, fully ready to ditch him in the next spot of traffic if he was going to keep being an ass. He could see the fire smoldering in her eyes, and he wondered how she knew it mattered. His eyes dropped to the curve of her lips, pursed and still ready to argue.
Not now, Dean.
He jammed his hands into his pockets, scowling. He was all too aware that Sam glanced their way again, keen eyes on the way they were standing, like a powder keg and a match. He didn't look to see what she was thinking, except she shot him a veiled side-eye before turning to go join Toby and Sam at the ordering window, trading off guard duty with Sam, who gave the menu a final considering look before heading back his way.
"So." Sam said, settling in next to him as he leaned against the Impala. "We're waiting?"
"Looks like." He pursed his lips, because he still wasn't happy about it.
"Well. In that case."
"You can't be serious."
"They have fro-yo."
"Fro—what?"
"Fro-yo. Frozen yogurt."
He examined his kid brother again, trying to remember if he'd accidentally left him too long at any other places besides Penny Pluckwhistle's that would have scarred Sam into speaking Valley Girl. Failing to come up with anything except maybe Sam's four unsupervised California years, he snuck a quick glance in Toby's direction, at the heaping cup in the kid's hand.
"At least tell me you didn't ruin the kid."
Sam sighed. "Nope. Whipped cream, chopped nuts, fudge sauce, artificial cherry on top."
"Cherry's the best part!"
Both of Sam's eyebrows lodged themselves high on Sam's forehead.
"Do you know how they make them?"
Seriously? Was nothing sacred to Sam? He held up a warning hand.
"Dude, don't. Just don't. Go away. Go order your fru-fro-yo-yo whatever and leave my cherries alone. I'll just..." He sighed resignedly and settled back against the Impala. "…wait here."
The Mystery Caverns and a petting zoo later, he was biting his tongue. Toby was biting his tongue too, tacking on his best enthusiastic smile, unwilling to do anything to hasten his delivery to Mr. Miyagi's School of Mutants. Out of the corner of her eye Zee caught on, but she kept trying for "normal", one random bumper car attraction after the other, attempting to hit a target of family friendly fun with the luck of a Bond villain toting a machine gun, no clue what an eight year old boy might normally be interested in besides waffles for breakfast and burgers for dinner.
"How on earth is she finding these places?"
He eyed the latest stop warily, moving closer to Sam, because it was one step above Plucky's and he was going to have to apologize to Sam again, except Lucinda Carroll had been seriously…well built, and Sam really should understand.
His way-above-the-height-requirement brother pointed to a bright yellow sign on the window.
"App."
The cheerful red block letters on the sticker read: "Rated Five Stars by KidTrips!"
"We're wandering around the midwest by APP?"
Several heads turned his way when his voice ratcheted up indignantly.
Sam gave him The Look, shuffling them towards and out the door, leaving Toby and Zee to deal with the incoming clutches of a clown.
"'fraid so, kemo sabe."
Dean looked back through the glass door, at the arcades and video games, that once upon a time seemed like a good idea. If you were twelve and had no idea that monsters existed. She should know this, and maybe she did, but didn't know how to course correct, because, as he stared at her harder and tried to imagine her letting her hair down and having actual fun, he got precisely bubkes.
He squinted against the high noon sunlight, pursed his lips, and looked thoughtfully east. There were other places—not necessarily marked ages 5-10 on whatever app she was using—and he'd bet a chicken dinner Toby would like them more.
"Dean." Sam said warningly, catching the glint in his eye. "No. Not the ball of twine again."
"Sam. Clowns." He turned his brother forcibly around and made him look. Sam stiffened and wrenched away. "C'mon, Sammy. The two headed calf? Tiny shrunken human heads? Lynard Skynard? And not a clown anywhere, I promise. What do you say?"
"You want to go see what?"
"Two-headed calf." Dean flashed her an impish smile. "And the tiny shrunken heads…"
"And Lynard Skynard's playing there this week. We could maybe catch a show?" Sam sketched his brother a sideways glance, because yeah, a fascination with tiny shrunken heads was maybe not the best prescription for a healthy life outlook.
Besides her Toby fidgeted, like Dean's half-assed idea actually sounded more interesting than the video arcade behind them. Really? In front of her, Sam's expression was faintly apologetic; because Sam, she just discovered, had a clown phobia like nobody's business, and obviously demonic Mary Poppins had been through this whole circus once before. She scowled and looked away, her glance falling on a stick figure family of four on the back of the nearest station wagon.
"Fine. We'll try Branson."