Dean groans, still flipping through channels on the radio, glaring at the button.

“Where is the good music, Jesus.” he huffed, turning the knob a little faster, looking for the classic rock.

“You need to pay attention to the road, Dean,” Sam commented, pointing a light at the map in his lap.

“I can’t pay attention to the road if the music that’s playing is shit, Sammy.”

Castiel cocked his head, sitting in the seat behind Dean and beside you, not commenting, just listening.

“And you won’t be able to find the good music if we crash and die—“

“Samuel, I’m an amazing driver, I’ve got this.” he scoffed, still turning the knob, “Damnit, is there no good music in this state or some shit?”