Only a handful of local residents remained out and about at the time of an already too warm late morning. Each and every logical process of theirs, no matter its level of importance, was halted when their ears picked up what initially sounded like the rumble of distant thunder. Not coming from above but rolling along the ground, the people turned their eyes upon the road to see the source—a sleek black classic car with rock music pounding out from its stereo.

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The Winchesters beheld some people strolling along the downtown sidewalks with expressions, some hostile but mostly of appreciation, upon their faces while they focused on the Impala as it smoothly rumbled along.

John was behind the wheel as they high-tailed it out of Amherst. Those who made eye contact with the rough looking driver would instantly turn their heads away and go back about their business. None the wiser for who the family was or what they did, if an officer confronted them with "did you see a black car go through here with three men inside?" it was a good bet they'd respond in the negative.

"Looks like we kinda stand out here too," Dean said. "Dad, I think you're making a couple of the older ladies all hot and bothered!" He chuckled while reaching out to turn the music up even more.

The windows were down to provide some relief from the heat. Sam, in the back seat, got the brunt of the effects with his brunette longish hair blowing in all directions. The older men were enjoying one of John's Rolling Stones tapes playing loudly in order to be heard over the wind. Not his choice of music, but powerless against the rules of the road, Sam tolerated it at best.

'I think I must have seen the backs of their heads almost as much as I've seen their faces,' Sam's inner voice grumbled, his hands brushing his hair back in place for the twentieth time.

Sam sighed and gazed out of the window. They were out of the town now and he watched the greenery rapidly passing by while doing as he always did—mourning over yet another departure. In this case, he would miss being in the valley dotted with college campuses and the surrounding mountains.

The fifteen year old observed that Dean, shoulders moving as his hands tapped to the beat, was facing straight ahead. 'I wish I was more like him, enjoying this life,' Sam mused not for the first time.

Brown Sugar ended and Dean glanced into the side mirror. He could see his little brother moping in the back seat and thought, 'time for the master to intervene' as he reached into the glove compartment.

"Goddammit!" Dean snapped. Sam flinched and saw Dean struggling with a large map, earnestly attempting to plot a course.

"Dude, what the hell...what are you so pissed about?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dean snapped loud enough to be heard over the next song that was starting to play. He shook the map and said, "maybe it's 'coz we're on the easternmost point of a non-stop two-day drive to the western end of the country!"

Sam tried not to laugh at his brother sitting there, wide-eyed and breathing heavy.

"Dean! Stop! You better give that for me to do before you hurt yourself!" his voice shaking with amusement. Sam knew his brother was doing this to help improve his spirits—and it worked, just a little.

"Here ya go...bitch," says Dean, feigning anger, handing him the map. "We'll see if you can do any better."

"Really? Dean, you know I've always done the route planning since I was 12 years old!"

"Yeah, well...I can still kick your ass!"

Sam whispered, "sure you can…jerk," so Dean couldn't hear or else there really would be a fight.

"What'd ya say?"

"Nothing...Nothing." Sam brushed his hair back again. "Just roll up the window a little."

"Okay, guys," John jumped in. "Sam, just plot a direct course but make it the most northern route as well. Dean, you sleep."

"Right now, you just need to get on to 90 west and it will take us to New York," Sam said.

Dean looked back to see Sam hunched over, plotting a course. With Sam busy in the back and his Dad driving, Dean felt complete. 'Life is good,' he thought with a small smile then curled up to the side and closed his eyes. John turns down the music for him, just a little bit.

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"Welcome to New York." Sam read the words out loud when he caught sight of the sign as their car zipped by it. "I learned once that New York's population is 18 million and New York City's population is about 8 million. I find that amazing, don't you?"

"Mmmm," Dean said absently, still half asleep.

"I also remember reading that NYC was the nation's capital until 1790. In the early 1900s, New York was the richest and most populated state and so was hit hardest during the Great Depression."

"There's more," said Sam after a few seconds; nothing but the sound of the working engine was heard. "During the Civil war…"

"So Sam," John interrupted.

'Here we go, and not too soon,' Dean thought as he sat up and turned around to wink at Sam who scowled back.

John kept his eyes on the road. "Is it true? You 'know almost everything there is to know'?"

Sam winced, knowing his Dad is talking about their earlier conversation during breakfast. "Yeah, Dad...I had sex ed taught to me once in school."

Dean smirked at Sam. "You got an A in that class thanks to me."

"It wasn't a class...it was a seminar...you don't get a grade."

"Whatever, geek...I remember seeing you reading the sex 101 book the day you got it and you didn't look up once until you were done..."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, God."

"...you even skipped watching X-Files."

"Shut up, Dean. It was much better than those magazines you read."

"A couple of which are mysteriously missing by the way."

Sam scoffed at that. "Yeah, right..."

"I know you kept a couple of them, Sammy..." Dean started laughing softly. "...and put them to good use...I've got very good hearing you know. At least you cleaned up after!"

Sam simply glared back at him and Dean grew serious. "Do you still have them?"

John cleared his throat and shot his gaze into the rear view mirror for a second, making eye contact with Sam. "Okay. So that means you're cool...you don't need me to tell you that I don't want to hear I'm a grandpa or that I have to take you for clinic visits...are we clear?"

"Yes sir" Sam said with a hint of exasperation which John also ignored.

"Well, that was easy," John murmured. "No 'we're never anywhere long enough to get to know a girl' from you?"

"No sir."

"Time is relative...It's all about quality, not quantity." said Dean

"No shit, I've seen you...acting like a lonely puppy, women can't seem to resist," Sam teased.

"No, Sam, that's you...you're the king of puppy-dog eyes. Remember, it's me they can't resist...they're always sorry to see me go...I give them what they want and so I get the..."

"What about you, Dad?" Sam interjected. "I've never see you going on a date...How come?"

John answered, "Nevermind…now both of you go to sleep before I get a damn headache."

The brothers shared a look of truce then Dean turned on his side while Sam stretched out onto his back.

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Keeping his eyes on the road, John observed his sons' compliance with his peripheral vision. Only then did he permit his thoughts to freely surge forward. 'I've slept with other women, sure...I do remember one of them was Kate, but that's all...there's no one who compares to Mary...God, I miss her...' and his eyes started to sting as the memories of his wife prevailed, taking over one by one while his son's slept and the miles went by.