The Impala sped onward as Dean guided it along a highway through Kansas. Aside from the sounds made while they ate their food and slurped soda through straws, the trio were silent. Surrounding them was little traffic and the clearing skies made for ideal road conditions; it was why Dean permitted the car to swerve slightly as he released one hand from the steering wheel to reach down.

John had just swallowed his last french fry then turned in time to see Dean sink his teeth into what remained of a cheeseburger. He sighed and said, "don't you ever get sick of those things?"

"Sorry, Dad...I'm down to my last bite," Dean declared. "If I had known you really wanted this, I would have given you some." He caught a glimpse of John's morose expression and laughed it off. "You are always telling us, 'you don't have to like it, just eat it'."

John looked down and his grimace deepened; he was slightly more than halfway through the salad. 'This is what I get for enabling Sam's 'imitating big brother' phase,' John thought as he forced another bite. 'Well, whatever it takes to help him...can't think of a better role model.'

Dean popped the last morsel of food into his mouth, sipped some of his drink and let out a faint, gratified belch. From the back seat came an exasperated sigh. Dean simply responded by scanning his surroundings and lamented, "the only thing missing is that I am not driving in Oklahoma...I wish we could have gone through there instead."

Sam grabbed the back of John's seat and pulled himself forward. "Dean, I read that Oklahoma has a population of about 3 million but..."

"And why do you wish we drove through Oklahoma?" John interjected.

"Does the fact that it's one of the larger states with a relatively smaller population have something to do with it?" Sam asked, practically clamoring in John's ear. "Or..."

Dean, keeping his eyes on the road, shrugged lightly. "Well...I don't know...it's just one of my favorite states."

"...I know," Sam persisted. "You're thinking of the musical 'Oklahoma!'...you loved that movie...I even hear you singing the songs in the shower."

Dean cringed slightly and glanced into the rearview mirror. "Shut up, Sam. It was one time and I was only humming it."

"Jeez, you're such a jerk! It's okay to like musicals. I liked it too...it was pretty good. Maybe you think of yourself as a pioneer and wished you could have lived like that or maybe you were a rancher in a past life."

"Or maybe you've had too much soda."

John cleared his throat, turned to face out the passenger window and spoke in a voice thick with despair. "Mary loved that movie...she watched it whenever it was on. Once I took her to see 'Oklahoma!' on stage...she loved live performances, too. In fact, it was just after the show when I put her engagement ring on her finger and officially asked her to marry me."

"I never knew that," Sam said quietly. He really wished he had the privilege to know his mother; though it plagued him that he was unable to miss her, his sorrow was deepened by the fact that he was unable to talk much about her. Sam often resented the times when his dad and Dean spoke of a memory but became agitated whenever Sam joined in.

Sam determined Dad and Dean weren't going to say anything at this time. He squeezed his eyes shut to once again attempt to visualize his mother but, as before, she didn't appear; even with the premise of her doing something so simple as sitting before the television watching 'Oklahoma!'. All he did imagine was Dean sitting on a couch, curled up at her side. A twinge of jealousy triggered a frown to form on his face.

After a couple of minutes of shared low-spirited silence, Dean announced, "I don't believe in past lives."

"No, but a lot of people do," Sam grumbled. "I remember one person I met in Amherst...he's from Cambodia...he said that when he was young, his aunt was sure he was a reincarnation of his grandfather and claimed he knew things and said things only the grandfather would know."

"Huh...well, I have yet to find any proof. My theory is 'dust in the wind...all we are is dust in the wind'."

Sam's jaw dropped and he leaned forward once again. "Your meaning of existence is based on the words to a Kansas song?"

"Yeah...great, now I can't get that song out of my head. You know...I could stand to listen to some Kansas music." Dean started humming the tune's harmony and the car again deviated slightly as he reached for his box of cassettes.

Somewhat jostled by the vehicle's recoil, John blinked away his unshed tears and remembered there was still a salad perched on his lap. He decided then that he was done with it and placed the remainder into the plastic bag, dropped it down near his feet. He then grabbed the box before Dean had and dictated, "just drive...I'll find it."

'Again with the music.' Sam shook his head and sighed. "Hey Dean, if you could go back in time, what period would you choose?"

When their hazel green eyes made contact in the rearview mirror, Sam was bolstered by how his brother's lit up with his response. "The late eighteen hundreds, definitely...the old west."

"Sort of like the time period in 'Oklahoma!'."

Dean cringed again with the reference. "Whatever."

With tape in hand, John bent forward, pushed it into the player, switched on the power then leaned his head back while closing his eyes. "Dean, you're good, right?" he asked in a voice that quavered a bit.

Though Dean kept his eyes facing front, he could tell his dad was still dwelling on happier times with Mom and did not want to take that away. "Yes, sir."

Sam observed his father was once again lost in his own world and glanced back over to Dean to see he was stoically listening to the music. "Well, I'm gonna rest too," he murmured.

He closed the Styrofoam box, tossed it onto the floor and thought, 'Ugh...we really need to clean this car.' Suddenly he found himself helpless to stop his eyes from stinging with the formation of tears. Any other time, it would have been a trifling observation - the car was often cluttered. But the renewed disappointment of not knowing his mom, discovering Dean's depressing beliefs and the simple physical misery of riding in a car for over a day in the hot summer with no more than two straight hours of sleep had allowed the random thought to trigger a heavy heart. Feelings of utter hopelessness - they came crashing down around him - left Sam suddenly feeling extremely exhausted. Upon curling up on the seat, he instantly passed out.

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The vast plains stretched out all around them - Dean could see for miles in every direction and could not help but be reminded of his insignificance. Just ahead, the clouds began to disperse; a single glimmer from the sun filtered through giving away a position that suggested there would be only a few more daytime hours.

Rays of light touched down upon the earth as the clouds continued to travel further away from each other. 'They look like escalators from heaven,' Dean mused. 'Mom? Are you in heaven? Is there a God?'

In the side view mirror, he caught a glimpse of all that was left of the rain storm they had driven through hours ago and saw a rainbow off in the distance. 'Sam would want to see this.'

"Hey Sammy...," Dean started while turning to look over his shoulder. He quickly observed his little brother on his side, eyes closed, breathing deeply then faced back around to the front, disappointed. He then peaked once again into the side view mirror; the rainbow was still there, even more expansive. Beauty was evident everywhere and the nineteen year old sighed sadly. 'I think this is as good as it gets...God, if you do exist, please don't take the rest of my family...I don't want to be alone.'

'Carry on Wayward Son' began to play and Dean started to softly sing to himself.

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After over four hours, the sun had disappeared completely below the horizon and headlights had since been turned on to see the road. Soft snores were still coming from the passenger side and back. Dean took a tentative look over his right shoulder and verified Sam was truly in the middle of a deep sleep.

'Sam...' Dean scowled to himself - suddenly the knowledge about the molestation attempt of his little brother had returned to the forefront of his mind. 'Now would be a good time to tell Dad,' he decided and switched off the music.

On cue, John blinked open his eyes and immediately noted that the sky was dark all around; "What time is it? Where the hell are we now?" he mumbled.

"It's almost eleven…we just passed through Denver," Dean answered.

John grunted as he leaned forward. Dean looked over at his dad, watched him retrieve his journal and a small flashlight from the glove compartment then begin leafing through it. "What are you looking for?"

Remaining focused on the scribbled writing, John said, "I was thinking about Lincoln again...I am going over names of other hunters to see if I missed something, or if their names trigger a memory that one of them moved near Lincoln. Everyone I've called so far has no knowledge of that case."

Dean nodded and periodically turned his gaze rightward while he replied, keeping his voice low. "Not one of our better moments...and Sam started acting differently since then. There is something he won't talk about with me...since we left there something has been bugging him, I know it."

John cast a sidelong glance at his oldest son, his eyes were piercing.

Too bad I can't beat it out of him," Dean quipped with a hint of a smile. He returned the look only to see his dad's jaw clench, that his attempt at humor was lost on him. Dean cleared his throat with contrition and said, "that is when the nightmares started too...I don't know that they have to do with his hunting...I am worried about him..."

John frowned then looked to the back seat. Sam was curled up in a peaceful slumber, appearing to John as he did when he was five years old. "Well, he's not having a nightmare now."

"Uh, Dad?"

John turned back. "Yeah?" he whispered. "What is it?"

"Speaking of Sam... uh…there's something you should know. I just found out that when Sam was nine..."

John's phone suddenly rang which caused them to jump slightly. 'Damn it,' Dean thought and subtly tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Sam shot upright with the shrill sound. Eyes half-opened, he whipped his head around a few times evidently unable to process what woke him up.

The phone was on the seat, resting next to his John's leg. He quickly picked it up as it rang again, louder this time. Still not yet quite awake, Sam slurred, "Dad, tha's y'r phone..."

Squinting to see the keypad, John pressed the answer button then activated the speaker.

"Hey, Deacon."

"Hey John...I have some news."

The connection was terrible and apparently true for Deacon on his end as well, for he clearly made his voice loud enough to be heard over the crackles; the Winchesters all leaned in closer from their positions in order to best make out the officer's words.

"What'd you find out?"

"The security feed shows only static for the period in question. They have nothing from well before to well after. My money is on that it had been tampered with."

John exhaled loudly. "Okay, thanks for all your help."

"Right...not a problem."

John hung up and whispered, "thank God." He placed his phone onto the dash and sat still, thinking for a moment. "I was right to decide we didn't need to bother with the scanner last time we stopped. It seems luck was on our side this time but let this be a lesson...you remember what I said about security cameras, right?"

"Yes sir," said Dean. "Think of them as everywhere."

"Dad, what are we supposed to do? Not go shopping, not get gas for the car?"

"Just be sure to be mindful of it, okay? There are more cameras around now than ever before," John snapped. "Focus on what I'm telling you and always do your best to keep your face down."

"Yes sir," Sam replied.

"Gas is running low...we need to stop soon," said Dean in an attempt to change the subject.

"Pull off at the next exit then," John ordered and simply added, "I could use some real food, too."

"You know," Sam said. "It used to be that the image of the person came out blurry and was hardly useful; then in the eighties, camcorder technology provided more accurate images. I read somewhere that it definitely controls crime. In 1979 robberies somewhere in New York were fifteen thousand but in 1990 it went down to eight thousand."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Hilltop."

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Upon arriving at another gas station about twenty minutes later, they all pulled themselves out of the car and stretched. Beneath the rickety rusted over-structure there were two other cars, a silver Nissan Sentra and tan Ford Taurus. John observed three other people - two were standing by, fueling their vehicles, and the third individual was sitting in the passenger seat of the Sentra. The night's darkness prevented him from seeing much past the artificially lit area.

John detected another movement out of the corner of his right eye; it was Sam half inside their car rummaging through his duffel bag briefly before he straightened up with his toothbrush and paste in hand. "Dad, I'm gonna go to the bathroom, brush my teeth."

John reached for his wallet and slipped out a twenty dollar bill. "Get us some food after."

Sam turned to Dean who had since reached the back of the car to open the fuel tank. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Dean answered curtly, still peeved at the previous interruption, as he turned toward the pump and grabbed the nozzle.

Sam shrugged and loped off toward the rest room area.

John walked over to the trunk and leaned against it, keeping Sam in sight until he disappeared inside.

Dean inserted the nozzle into the fuel tank then emulated his dad in the act of surveillance on the restroom entrance. The pale lights above attracted a variety of insects and each man absently waved them away on occasion when they flew too close.

While keeping his eyes facing forward, John said, "Dean, how about you finish what you started to say earlier."

Around the lump in his throat, Dean complied. "Sam was attacked by his coach sometime in '92."

At first, John's face conveyed a puzzled expression which lasted only a few seconds; it then morphed to one of distress. He sighed and stared upwards, past the overhang out to the black sky. "I know."

Dean whirled his head around to glare at his dad. "What?"

John met Dean's eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Dean. Please...just listen."

Dean resumed gazing straight ahead, kept his face void of emotion but for the increased rate of blinking.

"It was the damdest thing," John said. "I found a letter about it on my windshield...from one of Sam's teachers...Mr. Bensman. It came just as we were about to leave town. After a visit to the coach's house turned up empty, I learned that he was murdered just hours before and that Bensman was found at the scene of the crime."

Dean looked down to his feet and thought, 'that's fucked up...two molestation attempts in one trip...those two guys in Ohio and then in Missouri...with the murder...and now this,' then shook his head.

John caught sight of Sam exiting the restroom and walking to the sub shop across the way. "I've made mistakes…God knows I have, I admit it…but I learn from them, I don't dwell on them. As for Sam, he just didn't want to talk, and he was fine…I asked him a few times over the following days without trying to make him suspicious or put him on the spot…I felt like it was on him if he wanted to tell me...and he didn't." John let out a little mirthless laugh. "I kept a closer eye on Sam ever since and made you do the same."

"Yeah, I know you did and now I know the reason." Dean huffed out a long exhale and mentally added, 'that's why I feel so guilty and nervous when he's not in my sight.'

John reached out and squeezed Dean's shoulder. "I can see you're upset...but like I said, Sam never told me himself what happened to him, he was fine. As a result, he doesn't know what I know."

Dean opened his mouth to speak but became momentarily distracted when one of the cars started up and drove off. "There's too much weird going on in our lives, even for hunters."

"I don't know if this is a coincidence," John replied. "I don't know what to think. All I know is that we just gotta look out for each other...I know how that sounds…"

"Of course...and don't worry, you know I'll look out for him."

John nodded then strode toward the restroom followed a minute later by Dean once he finished up the fueling process.

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Sam was leaning on the hood of the car when Dean and his father approached. He had set the food on the front seat and was reading a newspaper. When they were close enough, he lifted up one of the pages and pointed to a picture. "This is the guy in Missouri. It was him who murdered the other man." Sam was taken slightly aback when his brother turned to glare at him, eyes wide with worry.

Dean snatched the page to see the photograph close up. "Shit, Sammy," Dean whispered in a voice laced with fear. Needing a tangible reminder of his little brother's well-being, he reached out and squeezed his Sam's shoulder. "He really might have intended to kill you…he was obviously capable."

John circled around to the passenger side. "Sam, we're past Denver. You drive now until daybreak then I'll drive the rest of the way, we should be at Caleb's by about two o'clock. Dean, it's your turn to rest in the back seat."

Dean and Sam exchanged one last appreciative glance then followed their father into the car and pulled their doors shut. When Sam turned the ignition, John reached under his seat for his bottle of Jack Daniels and proceeded to open it. As the smell of whiskey spread throughout the interior, Dean sniffed appreciatively. "Can I have some, too?"

John sighed but passed it to Dean who took two thirsty gulps. "Thanks," he said then handed it back.

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Just after midnight, a man and woman turned down a side street with only infrequent streetlamps that flickered on occasion to light their way. The woman's steady footsteps coupled with the man's staggering ones echoed throughout their otherwise silent surroundings.

The seclusion of the alley was just about ten more paces away and she let go of the inebriated man swaying next to her to produce an ornate chalice from her purse. With the momentary lapse of support the man started to keel over and she grunted in her effort to keep him mostly vertical.

"Where'r we goin'," he slurred.

"I need to find somewhere I can make a call undisturbed," she answered and half carried him the remaining distance around the corner.

He looked around and wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. "I tho' y' said we're goin' t'your place."

She brought him two more steps in to be surrounded by complete darkness but for the flash of a blade which was swiftly dispatched with purpose across his throat.

His eyes bugged out while his hands flew to his neck as an automatic response; they became covered in his blood as it gushed out. Trying to scream, he trembled and spasmed - alternately bumping into her and the brick wall. Holding the large cup under his bleeding wound, she followed his shaky motions until he collapsed onto the ground.

"I lied," she said then swirled her finger in the collected blood. "Tire quiero patem me a di."

Her eyes turned completely black when she gazed into the chalice. Nothing at first but then the blood slowly began to bubble. After a few seconds, she spoke. "You'll be pleased…everything is going according to plan." She paused to listen and replied, "the Winchesters will be here soon to hunt your witch and I then can get what Ruby will need for her spell when she makes it out." She listened once again then concluded, "yes, I understand...I won't reveal us."