Dean would never admit that he enjoys this, just driving for the sake of driving, enjoying--no, luxuriating in the beauty around them. But Sam knows fall has always been Dean's favorite season--he hates the cold of winter, and in the summer he burns crispy if they aren't careful. And now, after they've seen so much, lost so much, he needs it more than ever.

So every year, Sam whines and pouts and plies Dean with puppy eyes until they take a week or two off and just relax for awhile. Find a decent hotel for once, one with room service, because once they get there Sam doesn't let Dean leave the room for the whole first day. Dean complains about that, of course--he wouldn't be Dean if he didn't--but Sam can see right through it to how much his brother loves that long afternoon filled with long, lazy kisses that burn deeper and hotter than anything heaven or hell ever put them through, taking his time to open Sam up and drive him mad until they have to spend the second day sleeping just to catch up.

It's become a tradition over, a gift that Dean never asks for and that Sam is always happy to give him. It's never the same place twice, tho Sam supposes if they live long enough they might have to pull a repeat eventually. For now, though, it's enough to have this, a few stolen moments of peace and beauty before the world pulls them back. Sam smiles over at Dean, sprawled in a pile of leaves like the world's biggest kid.

It's more than enough.