A/N: Hey everyone! I am still working on getting an alternative ending for Desperately Wanted out since some of you asked for it. I haven't forgotten! In the mean time, I have not come up with any longer story plot lines, but I keep getting ideas for one-shots, mostly involving life growing up in the Impala (I think these are stemming from my road trip earlier this summer...after being in the car for over 12 hours some days, I wondered how it would be growing up in there). These are going to range from them as kids to teenagers/young adults. I think I am going to format it so that I have a couple of choices for the next chapter at the bottom and when you review, you can vote for which one you would like to see next. That being said, if you have any plots you would like to see written out, let me know and I will see if I can get something out of them!

Enjoy!

Nine hours. Nine hours and two bathroom stops (one of them involving a dance as they waited). Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a can of cola. Two incredibly bored boys sitting in the backseat of a sleek black Impala as they crossed the country.

"Dad," seven year-old Sam whined, picking his head up from where it had been pressed, staring longingly out the window, "how much longer till we get there?"

John barely managed withhold his exasperated sigh. "Ten minutes less from when your brother asked."

Sam didn't bother to hold back his own sigh, letting it go in a loud puff of air that blew his shaggy bangs off of his forehead. He then let his head fall back onto the window and continued to stare at the scenery as it went by. His reverie of being outside was broken a few minutes later when he felt something hit the back of his head. Turning, Sam irritably brushed the chip off his shoulder. Not a figurative chip, but an actual potato chip that had been thrown at him by his bored twelve year-old brother.

"Stop it!" he ordered. The first chip had been annoying, the seventh chip was just too much.

"Stop it!" Dean mimicked, flicking another chip at his brother.

"Dean, I'm serious," Sam smacked the chip off of him and onto the floorboard of the Impala.

"Dean, I'm serious," Dean repeated, preparing to use the tried and true football-finger-flick on the next chip.

"Ah!" Sam shouted, leaning over the middle of the bench seat (the negotiated 'no-man's land' after many arguments had broken out over who got to use it) to deliver a punch to his brother's leg. "Knock it off!" he demanded.

"Dude!" Dean glared at his brother, crossing the divide to return the punch. "Don't punch me!"

"You started it," Sam argued, throwing one of the chips at Dean.

"Nu uh," Dean pelted the chip back at him.

"Uh huh!" Sam kicked out at him.

Dean was just pulling back his leg to retaliate when John's voice halted him.

"Boys! That's enough!" John hollered from the front. He was usually pretty good at ignoring the bickering that broke out in the back seat, but they had been pushing his buttons all day.

"But," Sam tried to explain, but fell silent when John simply leveled him with a hard stare in the rearview mirror. "Never mind."

"I don't want to hear another peep out of the two of you for the next hundred miles, understood?"

"Yes, sir," they answered moodily, each of them throwing glares at each other, but kept their limbs on their own side.

Satisfied that they would behave for the time being, John turned the radio up.

The boys made it about 45 miles before John heard the beginnings of whispers drifting from the backseat. However, since they weren't arguing, John pretended that he couldn't hear them.

"Does he wear a mask?" Sam asked Dean quietly, not wanting to get caught by his dad.

Dean nodded, hiding his smile as Sammy's face scrunched up in concentration, trying to think of the next question.

"Is he human?"

Again, Dean nodded, but this time he asked a question of his own. "Why do you assume it's a he?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he glanced over at Dean with a duh expression, "As if you would pick a girl superhero."

Dean hastily turned his giggle, he meant chuckle, into a cough as his dad glanced back at him.

Sam continued to think through his known list of superheroes. He didn't know nearly as many as Dean did, but he could only think of one that fit the answers...and that Dean would pick. "Is it Batman?"

"Uh huh," Dean revealed with a grin. "Wanna play again?"

Sam considered it for a moment and then shook his head solemnly. "I wanna play outside..." he turned to look out the window again.

"I know, me too," Dean agreed. "Maybe dad will find a job that has us staying in one place for a while."

Sam didn't bother to point out that even if he did, it wouldn't be for long.

Looking at his brother, Dean could tell that he was getting upset. He didn't blame him...he wanted to stay in one spot for a while too, but since that wasn't going to happen, he would focus on making Sam a little happier. Holding out a fist, Dean nudged Sam with his other.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean urged, nodding at his fist. He waited until Sam put his own up, counted to three and then threw out scissors.

Sam smiled in victory as he smashed Dean's scissors with his rock.

They continued to play on and off for the next hour until they reached their destination. Three times out of five, Sam would smash Dean's scissors victoriously.

"You aren't very good at this game, Dean," Sam observed after another round.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "I can't be perfect at everything."

Their last game ended as they pulled into a motel for the night. John kept his smile to himself as Dean lost once again. He never made it blatantly obvious, but Dean was always willing to throw the game in order to bring a smile to his younger brother's face.

...Either that or he just really sucked at rock, paper, scissors.

Okay! Here are the choices for the next chapter.

1) What would make teenage Dean willingly give up the passenger seat?

2) When the Impala became home

3) Sam learns to drive