A/N: true to my word, loving reviews mean sooner updates. though I don't know if "WTF" is loving, I'm going to assume it means "WTF is going to happen next?", smile, and nod. I really do appreciate the people who take the time just to say "hey, I like what you've written".

Previously: Dean trades places with Sam when Sparrow tries to haul him away to an undisclosed location to prove she had every right to kill the men she did.

The Birds
Installment 9

Dean watched the clock on the dash change minute by minute. It'd been half an hour since he'd last asked if he could sit in the passenger seat. Try number four and this time all she'd said was shut up. Two and a half hours since they'd stopped for gas and he'd asked if he could use the restroom. She'd thrown an empty coke bottle into the back seat with him. He'd wanted to know how the hell that was supposed to work with his hands tied, but didn't ask. And three hours since Sparrow had unceremoniously tossed him onto the back seat, slammed the door behind him, and this hellish road trip had begun.

"Hey," he piped up, "how much longer is this little joy ride gonna last?"

Sparrow said nothing.

"At least tell me where we're going?"

"Landrick's place."

"I was hoping for a city, but okay, that's a start." Dean nodded. "How long 'till we get there?"

"Do you have any concept of the phrase 'shut the hell up'?" Sparrow huffed, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

Dean smirked, and if Sparrow had checked the rearview mirror, she would have seen that he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. "Nah." She grit her teeth.

Dean waited silently for a full ten minutes, then burst out, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

The Impala swerved, Dean chuckled, and after the car was back under control, Sparrow pushed a hand through her bangs. "You do that again, so help me God, I will crash this car and leave you to rot on the side of the road."

The fun stopped when his baby was threatened. If he could have, Dean would have put his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright! My bad."

Sparrow heaved a sigh. "Assuming traffic cooperates, we have a little more than two hours to go."

Dean rolled off his side and onto his back. The new position crushed his bound arms, but took his weight off his shoulder which had started to protest being laid on. He supposed he could sit up. They had to be long past places Sparrow was worried he'd be recognized by other hunters.

"If we got another two hours together, we might as well talk." Because Jesus, he was bored.

Sparrow glanced in her side mirror before switching lanes and passing a sedan not going the twenty-five above the speed limit she preferred.

"How 'bout we talk about why you hate hunters so much?"

That particularly stupid question merited a raised eyebrow, but no words.

Dean groaned and squirmed around until he was upright. "Aw come on, you're not really gonna give me the silent treatment the whole way there?"

The corners of Sparrow's mouth turned up, and Dean had to hop a little in his seat to see her expression in the rear view mirror. She nodded.

"Bitch!" he exclaimed, albeit half-heartedly. Having answered similar questions from Sam in similar fashions, he recognized the tiny bit of humor. Sparrow shrugged to irritate him further, and Dean slumped in his seat, trying to come up with something else to entertain himself.

"Hey," he tried some thirty minutes later.

Sparrow made no attempt to acknowledge him.

Dean breathed out harshly through his nose and frowned before continuing. "You know, you 'n me, were not all that different, I guess, both got younger siblings we're watchin' out for. I mean, I'm not sure that excuses you killing people, especially since I'm not sure I believe that's why you're killing people – "

"And this is why I wanted to bring the other brother." Sparrow resisted the urge to bang her head on the steering wheel only because looking away from the winding roads would undoubtedly result in a collision with a tree. "Would you please just sit back there and be quiet?!"

"No!"

"Well, why the hell not?"

"One, because you kidnapped me, so I don't much feel I have to be cooperative. Two, I'm bored out of my freakin' mind, and I can't stand silence."

Sparrow jabbed the radio power button with one finger, then fidgeted with the dial, and when Dean tried again to speak, she turned up the volume.

Dean could only stand to let four songs play before he scooched to the edge of the bench seat and leaned forward over the center console. Sparrow looked away from the road just for a second to see what he was doing. "What the hell are you doing?" she gave up and yelled over the music.

"Changing the station!" he shouted back.

"The hell do you think you're going to do that?"

Dean didn't say anything, just clicked his teeth once.

Sparrow snorted. "Good luck with that."

She dealt with Dean's antics until he bumped her elbow with enough force that it moved the steering wheel, then with one hand on the top of his head she forced him back onto his seat. Unfortunately, he didn't give up, and lurched forward into the front of the car again. Before he got very far, though, Sparrow shut the radio off.

"Jesus Christ, knock it off!" she snarled. "Are you trying to cause an accident?"

Dean didn't say anything, embarrassed that he'd put the Impala in danger for a second time in one trip.

"I thought you hated silence!"

Dean laughed once. "Silence beats the hell outta your punk rock crap. Has anyone ever told you you have lousy taste in music?"

Of all the reactions he expected, Sparrow jerking the steering wheel to one side and pulling onto the side of the road so suddenly that gravel pinged against the undercarriage wasn't even on the list. The gear shift was slammed to park, the emergency break ignored, and when Sparrow got out of the car, she flung the door closed behind her with such force that the entire frame shook. She opened Dean's door with equal vigor, grabbed him by his ankle, and hauled him onto the ground. When she landed atop him, she had her knife out. It glinted dangerously in the little remaining daylight.

Dean chucked nervously. "Little bit touchy about the Green Day addiction, I get it, my bad."

"If you had any idea the things I wanted to do to you right now, you would not be cracking jokes," she growled.

Dean didn't even wince. He opened his mouth…

"Whatever wise ass answer you have for that, you better keep it to yourself." She leaned down close to his face and dragged the knife over the bridge of his nose, not to draw blood, just so he could feel the cool metal. "Now, we're gonna make another deal, right here, right now," she hissed.

Dean didn't nod or make any move of agreement, but she continued anyway.

"You're going to promise not to make a sound the rest of the way to Landrick's place, and in exchange…" She kept toying with that knife in a way that made Dean squirm uncomfortably.

"In exchange, what?" he bit out.

"I won't slit your throat," she sat back, intently studying a tree branch for a moment, "or castrate you."

Dean swallowed.

"So," she asked, "We have a deal?"

Dean turned his head away, "Yeah, sure, whatever."