The Pinecone

Another long day and night of driving. The Winchester brothers had gotten in the car to drive to Fitchburg, Wisconsin to check on some sick kids. They had jumped in the car the previous afternoon and driven straight through the night. Sam was snoring with his face mashed against the passenger window, breath leaving clouds of vapor where it touched the glass.

Dean's eyelids feel heavy, and his eyeballs are sore and scratchy like they had been rubbed with sandpaper. He had caught his head bobbing a couple times too. He would have given anything for a hot, strong cup of coffee. And he was in luck because up ahead there was a little truck stop with a parking lot full of big rigs. Dean flicked on his turn signal and pulled in, tapping Sam's shoulder as the car came to a stop.

"Come on sleeping beauty, I'm starving." he said, jabbing Sam with his elbow.

Sam shook his shaggy head and looked blearily at his brother. Dean had put on some local soft rock station around one in the morning and Sam had slowly dozed off. Sam had put his head back down, now throwing an arm over his head. Dean shut off the impala, quietly exited the vehicle, walked around the side, and banged on the window with his knuckles.

"Jesus! What the hell Dean?!" Sam snuffled and pulled his door open. "That was really uncalled for." he huffed. He looked around at the trucks in the parking lot before cracking his neck and reluctantly following Dean inside.

Inside everything smelled like a mix of pine sol and donuts. Uniformed waitresses shuffled back and forth carrying pitchers of coffee and sassing several octogenarian farmers in ball caps who appeared to be regulars. Sam and Dean wound their way to a booth in the back corner where Sam stretches his long legs over the vinyl covered seat and pressed his head against the wall.

A petite red-haired waitress walked up. "Can I get you something to drink darlin'?" she drawled, scratching her head with her pen.

"Just water for me, thanks." Sam mumbled from somewhere under the hood of his sweatshirt.

"Coffee. And can you give us a minute with the menu?" Dean gave the woman an exaggerated wink and cracked open the sticky laminated menu. The cover says, 'Start smiling'.

Sam had fallen asleep again, Dean can see that his eyes are closed under the shadow of his hood, his mouth is hanging half-open. Dean tapped his fingers across the table top and decides on steak and eggs.

When the waitress came back he ordered cinnamon roll french toast for Sam, and a big glass of chocolate milk. He sat quietly and stared out the window while he waited for the food to arrive. After a couple of minutes Sam let out an awkward snort and stuffs one of his arms under his head. Dean got a refill on his coffee from another waitress with a long braid down her back.

Sam woke up when the food arrived, wiping some drool from the corner of his mouth. Dean downed the last of his coffee in one gulp and tore into his plate of steak and eggs. Sam scrunched his nose and looked down at his plate.

"What's this?" he said sniffing at his french toast. It smelled like cinnamon heaven.

"Cinnamon roll french toast. They didn't have salads, so I thought..." Dean trails off, taking another bite of egg.

"Thanks Dean."

Sam picked up the syrup and started to pour it over the cinnamon rolls. With one hand he found the glass of chocolate milk and took a gulp. He shoveled giant bites of breakfast into his mouth and didn't stop till his fork clanked on an empty plate and his cup was empty. He leaned back in his seat and patted his full belly.

Dean drank five more cups of coffee before they left. He stopped to pee three times before the reached Fitchburg.

Note: The pinecone is a real truck stop in Wisconsin. They make the best pie ever.