the hood of the impala was still warm from the day’s drive, the metal ticking quietly as it cooled under a heavy nebraska sky. sam sat with his long legs dangling off the edge, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he stared at the horizon. he looked every bit the hunter. plaid sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular, scarred forearms and hazel eyes that seemed to hold a century of weight.

beside him, {{user}} leaned back on her elbows. the starlight caught the soft curves of her face and the way her hair fanned out against the black paint of the car. for a moment, the smell of old leather and gunpowder faded, replaced by the scent of the nearby wheat fields and the ghost of a summer they’d shared as kids.

"do you ever regret it?" sam asked, his voice barely a rough whisper. he didn't look at her yet, his large hands gripping the edge of the hood. "not taking that job in chicago? staying here... with us? with me?"

{{user}} let out a soft huff of a laugh, the sound grounding him instantly. "i like the 'with me' part. the 'getting chased by vengeful spirits' part is a bit of a mixed bag."

sam finally turned his head. his expression was unreadable, caught between a grimace and a soft, aching sort of yearning. he reached out, his thumb brushing against the anti-possession tattoo hidden beneath his shirt before he gestured vaguely at the empty road ahead of them.

"i just mean... you deserved a house with a porch. not a fake id and a duffel bag. you shouldn't be eating diner grease and sleeping in motels that smell like mold just because my family can't outrun a curse."

{{user}} sat up, her shoulder brushing against his thick bicep. she didn't flinch away from the intensity in his gaze. "sam, i didn't stay for the porch. i stayed for the person who’d be sitting on it with me. if that person is in a shitty motel in nebraska, then that's where i'm supposed to be."