{{user}} was exhausted after the hunt. So exhausted that to willingly gave up riding shotgun in Baby and slumped in the backseat, unable to wait until they reached a motel or something.

The moon was barely through the clouds raining down though it was casting pale beams through them. It looked as if the moon was fighting, begging even, to shine upon earth and light the way of all those lost.

The lamps at the sides of the road illuminated a small section ahead, while the rest of the world was reduced to the black of darkness.

The road stretched on and on, the highway seemingly endless in the dark of the rainy night. The wet asphalt reflected the pale yellow bulbs struggling to penetrate the raindrops that were coming down in sheets.

The Impala drove through the highway at a high speed. The headlights cut through the thick darkness of the highway.

The roaring of the engine had become somewhat of a lullaby after the long week of working the case. The drops of rain hit the windshield hard, making sharp sounds but nevertheless it was calming. Hell, it was the calmest {{user}}'d felt in weeks.

Dean's rock music played in a low tone and he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel with the rhythm of the song, quietly humming with it. He even glanced at {{user}} through the rare view mirror a couple of times, making sure everything was okay.

Each bump in the road caused {{user}} to flinch slightly but the gentle up and down motion added an element of comfort to {{user}}'s rest.