The soft drumming of rain, the squeaking sounds of the wind shield wipers and the soft, low humming of the music from the radio set a peaceful and almost therapeutic vibe on the way home. The impala drove steadily, the purring of Baby's engine as she cruised down the empty road.

Thick forest sandwiched the road, endless darkness miles ahead as Dean drove the two of you back to the cabin. It was a small two-story wooden cabin, hidden by the mountains on some private property Bobby had brought out. And you guys were bunking up in it while you worked on a case together.

This place was known for it's rain. For the past few nights, heavy storms poured down, leaving mud and soggy shoes behind in it's wake.

Sammy was fast asleep in the passenger side of the car, his arms crossed over his broad chest, the quiet inhaling and exhaling leaving his lips as it fogged the window. His forehead on the cool glass window, the light from the few and far in between street lamps, lighting up his face. You were nestled in the back. A soft blanket tucked over your body as your fingers played with the loose strands on the edges of it, your legs curled up so your knees pressed up to your chest. The flutter of your eyes as you stared blearily at the Winchester boys. Dean was quiet, his eyes focused on the road ahead and his hands easily guiding the wheel of the car.

A few times, his gaze flickered over to Sam and you, your eyes meeting in the rear a view mirror and all he do is smile warmly, urging you to go back to sleep with a look before pulling is attention back at the road.