On the road again.

Daily helpings of total suckage, with sporadic sprinklings of not bad.

Tonight? One helping of pretty damned good.

A nice, quiet bar as opposed to the rowdy rat holes they usually hung in. A decent band playing in the background, soft and bluesy.

Dean, playing a game of pool in the corner. No money involved, just who's paying for the next round. Friendly.

Sam watched as his brother lined up another shot. He made it and laughed, then moved around the table and picked up his beer.

Dean. Back from Hell.

Sam couldn't ask for more.