"Dean, one thing I don't get," said Sam as he opened the door to the Impala. Dean slid in the driver's side, absently caressing the steering wheel before putting the car in gear. "All that time trapped in the basement with that demon; why the hell didn't you just exorcise it?"

Dean said nothing. His jaw tightened briefly and he pushed in a Skynyrd tape. Otherwise, he gave no sign he'd heard Sam. Or ever intended to answer. Sam rolled his eyes. He'd let it go for now, but the fact that Dean didn't answer meant the question was worth repeating. 

When the tape ended Sam tried again, "Was it because she was hot?"

Dean gave him a sideways glare. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"The demon you didn't exorcise."

"Shut up, Sam. I'm not that shallow."

"Hey, you're the one ordered the Hurricane," Sam replied with a smirk.

"I was gonna exorcise the damn thing but... Look, the bitch destroyed the exorcism book."  

Sam stared at Dean in disbelief. “That’s a problem, Dean. With all those demons that came out of the Gate we’re probably going to be seeing a lot more possessions. You need to memorize it.”

“Yeah, I will. Soon as we get back to the motel; I’ll channel my inner nerd and study up,” Dean said distractedly as he dug in the tape box.

Sam scowled. He knew Dean wasn’t taking this seriously. He began lecturing Dean on the importance of knowing the exorcism as Dean pulled out a new tape. Dean didn’t even look over. He just swapped Skynyrd for Motörhead and turned up the volume when Sam tried to keep talking.

Frowning, Sam started to plan ways to make sure Dean actually learned the exorcism. After a while, his frown turned to a mischievous smile.

When they arrived at the motel Sam dug in his duffle for another exorcism ritual. He tossed the book at Dean, who had settled in front of the TV with a beer. “The shortest exorcism is on page 42.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said absently as he flipped through channels. He opened the book but almost immediately got distracted when he found Porky’s II.

Sam spent the rest of the evening on his laptop, searching for a certain type of shop and hoping there was one nearby. There was.

***

The next morning Sam offered to take their clothes to the nearest laundromat while Dean did weapons maintenance. Dean happily took the chance to avoid sitting around in boredom waiting for the clothes. Sam grinned as he snagged the Impala’s keys and lugged the laundry duffel out to the car.

Two hours later, Sam returned to the motel and carefully backed the Impala into the spot in front of their room.

He and Dean packed up the weapons and hit the road. For five hours they made idle conversation, bickered over the music volume, and watched the scenery rush past.

“What the fuck is up with people today, dude?” Dean asked. “Is everyone coming from fucking Mardi Gras?”

“What are you talking about?” Sam said, trying to keep a straight face. Another car passed them, the occupants waving and laughing.

“That!” Dean said. “People keep honking and waving. It’s really starting to freak me out. Let’s stop for lunch and get away from the kooks.”

***

Twenty minutes later, the Impala pulled up in front of a diner and they both got out of the car. Sam was careful to stay well out of reach as Dean came around the front of the car.

“SAM!! What the fucking hell did you do?”

“Consequences.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean yelled, bending down to inspect the headlights. “My car has goddamn eyelashes, Sam!”

“You didn’t study,” Sam answered, retreating as an angry Dean came towards him. It was impressive that Dean managed to look menacing while brandishing a giant set of fake eyelashes. “You need to learn the exorcism. Study or the Impala suffers.”