Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, not even in teeny bits.
Written for LJ Community Supernatural100 Challenges #82 (Home), #22 (Exits) and #46 (Denial) respectively.

Drabble One Title: The Darkness Between Hotels
Summary: Home is where the wheels stop turning. Early Season 1.

Drabble Two Title: Grand Theft
Summary: Dean thinks hyper-prepared public works yards are awesome. Late fall in a northern state during Season 1.

Drabble Three Title: Season Ticket on a One-Way Ride
Summary: Sometimes shotgun really needs to open his cakehole. Post-season 2 finale.


The Darkness Between Hotels

"Feet off the dash, Sam." Dean, cramped in the back seat, muttered into his pillowed jacket.

"'r not on the dash." Sam mumbled from the front.

"Are too. 'less there's a lunar eclipse I don't know about."

A grunt, a twinned thump and moonlight shone unhindered.

"'s better. Put your feet on the dash again 'n you can sleep in the ditch."

"Thought that was Dad's rule."

"'s a good rule."

"'m taller now, don't fit up here anymore." Sam shifted around. "Maybe the ditch'd be better."

Tree frogs croaked outside the Impala. "You wanna trade seats?" Dean offered. "I don't mind."

"...Naw. I'll deal. 'Nite Dean."

"'Nite Dork-boy."


Grand Theft

"Please, please please," Dean whispered, racing down the row of vehicles, searching. "Yes!" He flung himself inside the big orange truck, checked the usual places, found keys and started the engine.

Light flickered on in the municipal yard security shack.

Dean glanced over the dials on the dashboard. "Come on, come on..." Movement around the shack. Locating a gauge pinned at full capacity, nine cubic yards, Dean cackled and shifted into gear. "I love frost."

The drowsy watchman dove aside as Dean roared out through the closed gates in the fully-loaded, two-ton, road-salt-spreading truck.

"Hang on, Sam. I'm on my way."


Season Ticket on a One-Way Ride

"...Don't need reason, don't need rhyme... ain't nothin' I would rather do..."

Sam frowned at the tapedeck and glanced sidelong at Dean, who was blithely singing along to AC/DC.

"Goin' down, party time... my friends're gonna be there tooooo..."

Sam rolled down his window, scowling. Dean launched into the chorus.

"I'm on the hiiiiighway to He-"

In one smooth motion, Sam punched eject mid-lyric and tossed the tape out the window.

"Hey! What the-" The cassette shattered, unspooling along I-90 in the rearview mirror. "That was my favorite tape, Sam!"

Sam looked at his brother, then glared at the road rushing past. "Find a new favorite."

- - -
(that's all)