drive yourself insane tonight, it's not that far away

[nextinline]

James Stark
With this sensation of triumph dampening the displeasure Stark woke up with, he can magnanimously allow himself to grin some for that response. He rolls the window down enough to flick ashes out, and shifts restlessly, trying to find room in the floorboard to fit his long legs. As entertaining as it might be to quote at this guy for the remainder of the journey, there are other things to be addressed.

"You really thought I was a demon?" It's very little a question; obviously, Winchester did think he was a demon, what with the containment circle. Presumably he knows better now.

Dean Winchester 11:49 pm
He snorts a little and rolls his eyes, giving the man a look. "You really gotta ask that? The fuck was I supposed to think? Either you're a witch or you're a demon."

James Stark 11:51 pm
"Really? Those are my only two options?" Stark squints a bit, wrinkles his nose like he's debating which one to pick. "Neither one is very impressive. Can't I be something else, instead?"

Dean Winchester 11:53 pm
"Something else like what? What can do the shit you can? You're not a shifter, a skinwalker, a werewolf, a vampire, a ghoul. I can go on and on if you'd like, recite a whole goddamn bestiary and I still wouldn't hit the mark."

James Stark 11:55 pm
Stark sighs, like he's disappointed with Winchester's narrow thinking. "No, you wouldn't. I'm nothing you've ever met before, and I'm nothing you'll ever meet again." A pause, while he takes and exhales a drag from his smoke. "Like a Highlander, there is only one."

Dean Winchester 12:00 am
"Then what the fuck are you?" He asks, getting impatient and almost wants to drive off road and kill the engine until he gets some answers. What the fuck is even going on.

James Stark 12:05 am
This is a very good question. Snorting, James tosses his cigarette out the window. "Why should I answer that? I don't see that I owe you a damn thing. I rescued you from fucking Hell, in case you've forgotten, and since then have only voluntarily given up my time to drag across the fucking continent with you to some useless-nothing state so I can help you stop the goddamned Apocalypse, and you haven't done anything but question me and bitch at me and try to trap me in a hideous Vegas hotel with bad room service. I don't expect you to trust me, Winchester, or to shower me with gratitude, but a little fucking show of faith might be nice."

Dean Winchester 12:12 am
"I didn't ask you to come with me! I didn't ask for your fucking help. Yeah, okay, thanks for getting me out of hell but after that why the fuck should I travel with you? I don't need you to fuckin' babysit me. Alls I'm gonna do is get to Bobby's and find my brother. Then we'll get back to huntin or whatever the hell else." First things first, find Sam. He lets out a heavy snort. "Right, faith. What has having faith ever done for me?"

Whoa, wait, back the fuck up. "What the hell do you mean Apocalypse?"

James Stark 12:17 am
Stark waves a hand, a dismissive gesture towards the question of faith, because he really isn't one to speak knowledgably on that subject. As for the apocalypse..."I don't know, exactly. Not really. But shit started when all those demons hopped the e-ticket train out of hell a couple years ago, and it's getting worse now, there are signs..." Stark trails off, not sure how to explain what he doesn't even know firsthand. "Apparently you're important."

Dean Winchester 12:20 am
"Signs. Of the apocalypse. Like what, swarms of locusts?" His grip tightens on the wheel a little as he presses he gas pedal down a little harder. "Important, me? Right. Tell me another joke."

James Stark 12:23 am
"I don't know. I was drunk." For about six months, yeah. "Besides, if there are any signs of the apocalypse around, LA is not the place to be noticing them. It's halfway to Armageddon already." Restless, he lights another cigarette and stares at the scenery, rural Utah giving over to suburbs as they near a town. "And yeah, you're important. You think we dragged you out of Hell just because you went to Sunday school and God loves you?"

Dean Winchester 12:25 am
He snorts again at that, eases his grip up a little but he doesn't slow down. "Wonderful. A one way ticket to the end of the world and I get brought back just in time. Lovely. Any reason why whoever 'they' are decided to spring me? Pretty sure I used my last get out of jail free card."

James Stark 12:28 am
"The questions again. You really think I know why? I don't get told more than the information necessary to do whatever damned job they want me to do, and even when I do it right, they still take federal and state tax out of my paycheck. They're all fucking assholes."

Dean Winchester 12:33 am
"Well how the fuck am I supposed to know? Jesus Christ. I'm fuckin' flyin' blind here, man. Is there really nothing else you can give me? Nothing else for me to go on?"

James Stark 12:36 am
Stark glances at Winchester from the corners of his eyes, briefly, then back out the window. He's not very well-informed, and he doesn't particularly care if Dean trusts him, but he's already trapped in a clusterfuck of occult liars with their own agendas. If this guy really is important to stopping the end of the world, and if Stark really is going to help him...he gives a quiet, sort of defeated noise that comes on an exhalation of smoke. "Do you believe in angels?"

Dean Winchester 12:40 am
That? That makes him laugh, loudly. "Angels? Right, okay, sure. Angels. Angels told you to bust me outta the basement. Right, tell me another one." It wasn't the first time the subject had come up, at least not in the way that James is now. Sammy believes in angels, prays every goddamn day. He can remember his mother kissing his head and telling him angels were watching over him, littler figurines on his dresser, now nothing but ashes and memories.

James Stark 12:43 am
Pretty much the response he expected; anytime Stark does answer the questions, Dean seems hard-wired to disbelieve the answers. It's actually kind of funny throwing these things at him. "My father is an angel." Which seems the most flatly implausible thing ever, Stark sitting there in his torn-up clothing and scarred skin, smoking a cigarette straight from Hell, but he says it without tonation, as an expression of plain fact, unadorned.

Dean Winchester 12:45 am
It just makes him laugh even harder, vision blurring with tears. And maybe it's not just that, but the whole situation. Being alive again, out of hell, breathing fresh clean air. All he can do is laugh at the sheer absurdedly of it all. "No, please, go on, tell me another story."

James Stark 12:49 am
Cracking his solemn visage, Stark allows a crooked grin to slip through, the scars in his cheek pulling into a dimple. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too, when Uriel told me. But it fits. The things I can do, the way I am..." He trails off, shaking his head some and getting a moment of distance in his eyes. "Angels aren't what you'd expect. Nothing further from Precious Moments porcelain figures can be imagined. And they really, really hate me."

Dean Winchester 12:55 am
Once his laughing calms down he glances over at the man, brows raising higher and higher. "You're shittin' me. You're a fuckin' angel? No way, c'mon, quit yankin' my chain." On the road they come up on a semi that Dean easily passes, moving into the oncoming lane and speeding up and crossing back in in front of it.

James Stark 1:00 am
For that, James has to laugh; a short, surprised laugh. What an assumption. "I am not." He almost manages to sound offended. "The product of a tryst between an angel and a mortal woman? Pretty much puts me in the top slot of God's Abomination Top Ten." Again, he throws his cigarette out the window and rolls it up. Scratches at the still-not-fading rash on his left shoulder. "But you, they like. I'm not sure why, but I wouldn't be very optimistic about it if I were you."

Dean Winchester 1:04 am
"So you're, what, half-angel or something? A hangel?" Yeah, that sounds amusing, he'll stick with that. "That's a real thing? Half-breeds like that? I didn't think angels could procreate. Hell I didn't think they even existed. Technically I still don't, but whatever, for the sake of the conversation we'll say I do."

James Stark 1:11 am
Stark can't help thinking that Winchester isn't really considering the meaning behind what he's said, that the angels have a purpose for bringing him back, but he's sure as hell not going to point it out. "They aren't supposed to, not with people. But the ones stationed on Earth have to take human form, and, I dunno, maybe it's hard to do that without taking on other parts of humanity. Some inevitably fell in love, or something, I think it's in the bible, and it happened. Not often, especially now, but it did. Does. The term is 'nephilim'." This is weird, discussing this all so academically; he hadn't said anything to anyone about it since Uriel told him about it, and he's still not sure what to think of it.

Dean Winchester 1:15 am
No, that hasn't quite clicked yet but he's got a lot bouncing around in his head. He'll pick up on it eventually, though and when he does there'll be more than a slew of questions waiting in the wings - hah, wings. "Nephilim? I thought those were demon half-breeds?" He's heard the term before but thought they were in relation to demons, certainly not angels.

James Stark 1:18 am
"The way I understand it, the angels responsible invariably fall, and most end up in Hell, so I guess it depends on your perspective. Even Lucifer was an angel to start with, so I guess you could say all demons, any Hellion creature comes of angelic stock." He transfers the scratching to the back of his neck, absently.

Dean Winchester 2:00 am
"Huh, so it's an either or thing. Gotcha." He knew enough of religion to know Lucifer was an angel, had fallen and was cast out of heaven, blah blah he never really paid too much attention, put too much stock in any of that. "You alright over there?" Not that he actually cared or anything.

James Stark 2:04 am
"If you want to get technical." The question's unexpected, and Stark's hand drops as he looks over at Winchester, bewildered. "I'm fine." Abruptly, he scratches again at his arm and changes his mind. "No, I'm not. What did you do? The containment circle made sense, but this is-- what? Itching powder? That's kind of injury to insult, Winchester."

Dean Winchester 2:06 am
"What? No I used- " he pauses and busts up laughing. Well ain't that somethin'. "I used holy water. Spritzed you with the shit to test you. Thought you were a demon, remember? Course I was gonna take measures." As was evident by the devil's trap he made on the mirrored ceiling.

James Stark 2:10 am
"Holy water? That's not-- what?" Stark looks incredibly perplexed for a moment, staring at his arm. "Holy water. Measures. You fucking amatuer. Leave the magic to me. That circle was so weak it barely would have contained a day-old hellpup." Turning around, Stark rummages in his bag, still muttering things like 'fucking civilians' and 'holy water' at random, disgruntled intervals.

Dean Winchester 12:16 am
"Well it's supposed to work on demons, asshat, not half-ass angels," Dean snipes back, offended at his hard work being called amateurish . Does he even know how fucking long that took him to draw with chalk?

James Stark 12:23 am
Stark finally sits back with a smallish glass bottle full of red liquid. "Oh, and does it?" There's doubt underlying his tone, or maybe not underlying so much as as sprawled atop the tone. "Maybe it'd work on shitty, stripper-hopping demons who don't even know what to do with the element of surprise, but anything with a little cunning could've broken through it easier than a cheerleader on a prom night." Using his knife, he pries the cork out of the bottle. Not entirely sure this will work, he tries splashing a little on the rash on his arm, then takes a drink of the substance while watching for any change.

Dean Winchester 12:26 am
"Yes," Dean grits out, scowling over at the man before turning his eyes on the road again. "It's worked, on groups of them even. Maybe it's because you're half a douchey human that keeps you from getting caught. Hey, make I should try to find some sort of angel-proof trap and see if that works," he says, glancing over every now and then to see what the hell he's doing.

James Stark 12:30 am
"It was a mirrored ceiling, Winchester. All I would've had to do is throw something at it and the circle would've been broken." Stark narrows his eyes at the rash, uncertain whether it's having any effect or not. A little impatient, he turns briefly again to snag a shirt from his bag and soak it in the liquid, holding it to his arm. "I like that you assume it's my human half that's the douche. There speaks someone who's never met an angel."

Dean Winchester 12:32 am
"Well I was too freaked out by your shit to think straight, alright! I thought you were a demon, remember?" Dean snaps, gripping the steering wheel. Jesus, fuck, this guy. "Ever think that maybe it's because you're a douche?"

James Stark 12:34 am
"So you lose your cool when faced with demons? How long were you in Hell, exactly?" Stark's using that indecipherable maybe-sarcastic, maybe-serious voice again, and even throws a blank look Dean's way.

Dean Winchester 12:36 am
"Fuck you, asshole. I was put through the ringer, pulled out of hell and shoved into a new body. I'm not exactly in tip top shape to be fighting something I thought was a demon or a witch." And he hates admitting that. That he's weak and not at full strength. But he would be, soon.

James Stark 12:39 am
"Fuck you twice, I did the pulling. And at least you got a new body afterwards." This is all just petty arguing, he's half-distracted by the intolerable itch, but Stark still has to turn away to hide a grin at how easy it is to get under Winchester's skin. Once the expression is under control, he checks the rash again. No improvement, so he takes another drink, muttering to himself. "Internal application is better, anyway."

Dean Winchester 12:43 am
Dean makes a face and mocks the words under his breath. Childish? Yes, completely. But he can't really argue the point because James is right, the guy did pull him out of Hell. "The hell is that shit, anyway? It looks like kerosene." Probably tastes like it, too.

James Stark 12:48 am
"What, you never had Aqua Regia in all your time downstairs?" Well, maybe not; Stark doubts they waste top-shelf stuff on mere damned souls, even in the arena. And come to think of it, any human he's met who tasted it seems to find it incredibly offensive to the taste buds and/or stomach. "Pretty much constituted all the medical care I recieved down there, so I thought maybe it would help with this, too."

Dean Winchester 12:52 am
"I've never even heard of the shit before now, what is it, booze or something?" It's probably some demon brand shit from hell that would burn his tongue off with one drop or some crap. And frankly he didn't want to know (lies he was at least a little bit curious).

James Stark 12:58 am
"Better. Booze and something." He offers the bottle over, resorting to drastic measures instead and taking out his cellphone to dial his information center. Forgoing a greeting, he launches right into conversation. "Find me a remedy for holy water...no, like when someone pours it on you. Apparently I'm allergic...stop laughing now, or you're fired, and I mean that literally." He glowers some at the windshield. "I don't know, check the Codex, check with Vidocq, check CVS." And with that, he thumbs the phone off and shoves it back in a pants pocket.

Dean Winchester 1:10 am
Shrugging, Dean takes the bottle from him. He holds it up to his face and sniffs it, then looks at it, then takes a swig. A surprised look crosses his face as he pulls the bottle back to look down at it. He had clearly been thinking it'd taste like a mix of turpentine and ass but it actually tastes pretty good. And yeah, he's totally snickering at the conversation James is having with whoever is on the phone. When it's over he takes another swig and then hands it back. "Pretty good shit, you got there."

James Stark 1:13 am
Stark forgets to be irritated with Kasabian when Winchester speaks, turning to look at him in vague surprise. "Yeah, I know." He takes the bottle back and takes another swig, himself. If it doesn't help the rash, it at least might make him less annoyed by the rash. "But no one else ever seems to think so."

Dean Winchester 8:04 pm
"Really? Huh, well some liquor is an acquired taste," he says as he shrugs. And he's acquired a lot of taste for it, given how much he'd taken to drinking before he was turned into puppy chow. Not that he'll be stopping any time soon either, least not while driving, anyway. "So, allergic to Holy water, huh?" Dean asks and is barely able to keep a straight face.

James Stark 8:07 pm
"I'm not sure what it means that you've acquired a taste for Hell-liquor." He's pretty sure what it means for him, but, that's another story. The following comment earns a narrow-eyed glare from Stark, out of the corner of his eyes. It takes him a moment, but he finally grinds out "Evidently." This is followed by an easier spoken, "Good thing I have no use for it. What is it supposed to do, anyway?"

Dean Winchester 8:25 pm
"Hell liquor? Like brewed in hell and shit?" That... is bothersome, he thinks. Because he's pretty sure anything in or made in hell isn't supposed to be 'good'. It unnerves him, actually, even as he runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, still able to taste faint traces of it. Dean glances over and raises brow. "It burns demons."

James Stark 8:27 pm
"I don't think Hell has an import license, so yeah, it's made there." He can tell the idea makes Winchester slightly uncomfortable, so of course, he offers the guy the bottle again. "Does it? Why didn't you just bless the hot tub, then? We could've shoved your girlfriend back in there."

Dean Winchester 10:23 pm
This time Dean shakes his head and refuses the bottle, even if he sort of does want another taste. It was damn good liquor, hell-made or not. But he doesn't like what it says about him that it even tastes good to him in the first place. At the suggestion he tilts his head, considering. "Huh, hadn't even thought about that. That's a pretty good idea. I'll have to remember that."

James Stark 10:26 pm
Stark makes an agreeing noise, and takes a moment to retrieve his phone, although he only put it away, to glare at the screen like he's telepathically threatening Kasabian if he doesn't call soon. This tactic doesn't seem to work, so instead, he seeks for distraction. "Tell me something, Winchester. You hate witches, but you have no problem using exorcisms and holy water and binding circles. How do you quantify that?"

Dean Winchester 10:30 pm
That seems to surprise him and he looks over for a moment, brows raised. "What? That's shit we use on demons. Demons. Witches are humans, with magic, that do stupid evil shit." And witches were humans that they couldn't kill, so mostly they settled for getting rid of their alters or magic books to keep them from hurting other people.

James Stark 10:33 pm
"You're human, and magic is magic is magic. Be it holy miracle, or summoning Satan, or even just charming your pot plants to grow faster and stronger, it all comes to the same thing." Stark seeks out a cigarette, lighting it and again rolling the window down some. They've passed through the small town, now, and are back into the boring, dry wilderness, so making conversation seems a good idea.

Dean Winchester 10:35 pm
"But I don't do magic, how is that even considered magic? It's an exorcism and holy water is blessed water, that's not any sort'a friggin magic. That's just... something else." He says, feeling a little snappish. It wasn't magic, because there's no way Dean would ever do magic or anything like it. He hates magic, just like he hates witches. "It's not magic."

James Stark 10:40 pm
"No. No, I call bullshit." But he doesn't sound very vehement about it; he's not particularly looking for an argument. "Even letting the exorcisms alone for the time being, a binding circle is a magic circle, it's Corporeal magic. People don't always have to be born with innate power to be able to execute Corporeal shit. I've got a friend back home who was a complete civilian when I met her, but now she makes some of the most badass potions of anyone, not a drop of Sub Rosa blood in her."

Dean Winchester 10:43 pm
"I don't do magic, okay. End of story." He really isn't liking where this is going and it makes him uncomfortable. Even though deep down in the back of his head he knew James was right. Whenever they'd used a chant or a binding circle, it was some form of magic. But it's different than witches using magic. They've never used that shit on humans, just demons or any other monster that bumped in the night. Witches use their magic on other humans, that's where he draws the line.

James Stark 10:49 pm
James opens his mouth, then closes it, exhales heavily through his nose. "Chill out, Tituba. I'm not accusing you of anything. It's a little inconsistent, is all." He takes a long drag from his Malediction, then attempts to make smoke rings, but fails because of the wind coming in. "And I'm not arguing that most Sub Rosa are power-hungry, arrogant, greedy, self-serving sons of bitches. Fuck knows I've dealt with enough of them to hate 'em as much as you. But being a -- a witch -" forcing himself to use the term. "- isn't the same as throwing a little useful hoodoo. Almost anyone can do some things, and it doesn't make them at all magical."

Dean Winchester 11:01 pm
"Fine, whatever. Magic is magic and all that shit." Change of subject time. "So how long you plannin' on stickin' around for, anyway? Just till I," not we, "get to South Dakota? I'm sure you got plenty to do besides babysit lil ol' me." God, he hopes he does. He didn't wanna be stuck with this guy any longer than he had to.

James Stark 11:08 pm
Turning his head to look at Dean, Stark gives the older man a sort of disappointed look, like he can't believe Dean didn't try harder to cover up his need to switch topics. Of course, he blatantly disregards that questioning, continuing on his own topic. "Look, there are four types of magic. One is Corporeal, touchy-feely magic - reading objects, making charms or potions, healing; the second is Aethereal, which deals mostly with powers of the mind. Telekinesis, scrying, psychic shit." Another pause for nicotine. "And the third, the one you've obviously encountered the most, which is Baleful magic. What most people call black magic, and what's unfortunately easiest for civilians to work. Learn the right spells, make the right sacrifices, and hey-presto! Instant witchcraft."

Dean Winchester 11:17 pm
"Oh come on, are you seriously doing this right now? What is this, class time? Did we step into a portal back to school? Give me a fucking break." Dean rubs his forehead and pinches the bridge of his nose, absently filing the information away - because hey, you never know, right? That shit might come in handy. Not that he ever, ever plans on using it. Ever. Because he hates magic. "Are we done with show and tell now?"

James Stark 11:22 pm
Stark gives a wide, patently insincere smile. "There's a fourth type, theoretical magic. God, angels, the things that glue the universe together; no one really understands it, which is why it's theoretical. On the other hand, it's the reason you have a body now, so I guess it's all right to have around." He takes one more swig of the Aqua Regia before tossing it back towards his bag. "Your problem is that you only notice the uneducated bitches using Baleful magic, and that's because the other types have no reason or desire to draw your notice."

Dean Winchester 11:36 pm
"For the love of God, will you stop? I get it, all sorts of magic and some are good and some are bad and magic gave me a body and got me out of hell, blah blah. I. Get. It." Dean bit out, then reached out and snapped on the radio, turning it up as far as it could go to further drown James out so he didn't have to listen to him bitching.

James Stark 11:44 pm
The next batch of cigarette smoke comes accompanying an overly dramatic sigh of exasperation, and Stark even goes in for some flamey eye-rolling and hand-waving. For someone who hunts monsters, this Winchester bastard sure is close-minded. But he doesn't press the point for the time being, only sparing his phone another glance before sitting back in his seat, pulling the heels of his boots onto the edge of it and folding his long legs towards his chest, a posture that makes him look unaccountably younger and only emphasizes the lankiness of his limbs. He smokes moodily for a while, lighting one cigarette with the butt of the last. Until some familiar opening bars come blaring through the speakers, a guitar riff he recognizes in about two seconds. The bass kicks in a few seconds later, and he can't help grinning; by the time Patti Smith's rough, sexy voice purrs out the first 'ask the angels, who they're calling', Stark has progressed from grinning to chuckling to full-throated, whole-hearted laughter, because really, this is his life?

Dean Winchester 11:56 pm
The posture does make James look much younger than he is, almost childlike and for a moment it reminds him of Sammy when he was younger and sulking for some reason or another. It makes his chest ache and he keeps his eyes on the road. The music is familiar but he recognizes it and looks over when James starts laughing near hysterically. Dean scowls and points to the radio. "Are you doing this shit? Is this you? Not cool, man. You don't mess with a man's radio or his music. That is just all kinds of wrong."

James Stark 11:59 pm
"Hell no; you can't plan shit like that, it's too good." He shakes his head, turning to grin at Winchester to share the joke. Only, once again, Winchester looks like someone shat on his double-bacon-cheeseburger, all scowly, with his jaw set hard, and James is unaccountably reminded of the last time he was on a road trip. Over eleven years ago, with Alice, to Mexico; it makes the grin fade and he looks back out the window as he shoves the thought away, as if afraid someone might be reading his mind.

Dean Winchester 12:11 am
Dean sighs quietly as he watches James look away, the wide grin gone now. Okay, so maybe he's been a little hard on the guy - alright, a lot hard on him - lately. "... It was pretty funny though. Like, angels, really?" It's a sad attempt, sure, but at least it's an attempt.

James Stark 12:18 am
It is a pretty sad attempt, and James isn't sure what to think about it. He swivels his head around to stare at Winchester with wide, bewildered eyes, more than a little uncomfortable at this bizarre 180. Thankfully, before he can pursue the conversation, his phone rings - playing 'Sex and Violence'. He reaches over to turn the music down and looks at the unfamiliar number uncertainly before answering. "Stark." A moment of silence, and now his own jaw is set and he's scowling, but his voice is flippant. "Oh, hey, Doc, nice of you to call. This is what you consider high priority? I can get beat up by vampires, set on fire, and you won't even return my messages, but a little case of poison ivy and you come running?...yeah, well, I hope whatever you're doing, there's a Nobel peace prize in it, because your practice is fucked otherwise." Another silence, a long one this time, and Stark's rolling his eyes again. "So you know something for it, then?...that's all? Praise God and pass the ammunition. I guess you're not totally useless after all...yeah...yeah, go fuck yourself, feather-face. Tell Candy I said 'hi'." Again, he disconnects from the call with no more ceremony, then peers out the windows to the salt-flats surrounding them, devoid of absolutely anything helpful.

Dean Winchester 12:24 am
Thank god the phone rings and Dean just rolls his eyes at himself and stays quiet, flitting back and forth between listening to the one-sided conversation and the radio. He speeds up to pass a camper on the road, then slows down to just over the speed limit again. The call has ended and he wants to ask but he doesn't. It's not his place even if he is pretty damn curious. Sides, doesn't seem like James wants to share anymore anyway and that's fine with him. He likes the semi-silence better. Reminds him of the days he'd drive and Sam would be asleep in the passenger seat while he had the radio on low for sound.

James Stark 12:27 am
The itching is still irritating enough that he's almost wanting to use the Room to get somewhere civilized, but even if he was willing to give himself away like that, the shadows in this place aren't nearly deep or dark enough. Resigned, Stark returns to his previous positon, scratching reflexively at his arm. "When you find a truck stop, pull in. I guess I need to take a whores' bath." Ironic, really, that soap and water are all that's needed to remove this irritation. "And maybe we can steal a different car; this one has too many daddy issues and nowhere to fit my legs."

Dean Winchester 12:30 am
He raises a brow but doesn't say anything, just nods and keeps driving, eyes on the look out for any pull off stations. "There's nothing wrong with this car," he says, lips twitching a little. "But you can pick out the next one." See? He's trying.

James Stark 12:32 am
"Good, 'cause your taste sucks." Obviously Stark appreciates the effort. He's definitely picking out something big, and mean, not one of these little pretentious living-the-dream-mobiles. "Where in South Dakota are we going, anyway?"