Sam shuts the car door gently, and leans down to look through the window. "Call me if you find him?"
Dean nods. "Yeah, I will."
"And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" Sam suggests hesitantly.
"Yeah, all right." Dean shrugs, tamping down the surge of emotion, realizing Sam may just be letting him down gently.
Sam pats the car door twice and turns away. Dean leans toward the passenger door, one arm going over the back of the seat.
"Sam?" he calls toward his brother's back.
Sam hesitates, turns, looks back.
"You know, we made a hell of a team back there." Dean holds his breath, waiting for Sam's response.
"Yeah." Sam nods with a sad half smile, but turns away, and walks toward his apartment.
Dean pulls the gearshift downward, easily rolling the car down to the stop sign, flipping on his blinker out of habit, even though there aren't any other cars around. He makes the left turn and has just brought the steering wheel back to center when the static starts. He absently reaches down to adjust the radio dial with his right hand and glances at his watch.
He does a double take when he realizes the second hand isn't moving.
Years of well-honed instincts kick in, and he immediately whirls the car around in the middle of the road, flooring the accelerator as he heads back to Sam.
The key is turned off and sliding out of the ignition by the time the car is in park, and Dean vaults out, leaping the steps leading to Sam's door. The door is locked, and not wasting time to politely knock, Dean lifts a booted foot and kicks the door beside the knob.
The door shudders for a second before popping open easily, too easily. He'll have to talk to Sammy ...
From another room, Sam shouts "No!"
Dean sprints toward the sound of his brother's voice, only hesitating a moment at the doorway when he looks up to see Jess on the ceiling in flames. He grabs for Sammy, pulling him away from the fire, off the bed, when Sam looks up again, and shouts "Dad, no!"
Dean looks up again, and instead of Sam's girlfriend, his father is on the ceiling, on fire.
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back!" John orders.
"No!" Dean shouts. "Dad, let me help you!"
"Go now, Dean!" John yells back as the flames flare up, obscuring him.
"Dad! No! Dad! No, please!" Dean cries, and it's Sammy pulling him toward the door, Sammy taking Dean away from the flames.
Dean tries to fight him, tries to go back to help their father. "No! Dad!" He shouts again.
"Dean!" Sammy shakes him. "Dean, wake up!"
Dean surges to a sitting position, chest heaving, heart pounding. Sam is sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand still on Dean's arm.
He looks around, takes in the generic motel room, the funky smell, the thin line of light where the parking lot light shines through the crack in the curtains he couldn't get closed completely the night before.
They're safe. They're as close to home as Dean has had in years.
And they're still alone, because Dad is still missing.
All effort Dean has made so far in calming his pulse and respirations is lost as that one fact registers in his sleep muddled brain.
Dad is still missing.
Hell, he could be burning on a ceiling somewhere right this moment, for all they know.
Dean makes a choking sound and pushes Sam away, staggering off the bed to grab the last beer bottle in the six pack on the table from last night. He twists off the lid and raises the bottle to his lips in one smooth motion. He nearly gags, as it's almost room temperature now, but at least it's wet and somehow the familiar taste is comforting on his tongue.
"You okay?" Sammy asks softly from behind him.
Dean takes another swig before turning to face him, nodding. "Yeah, m'fine."
"Nightmare?" Sam continues.
Dean just rolls his eyes.
"You wanna talk about it?" Sam presses on.
"No." Dean barks out, taking one more draw off the beer before setting the bottle on the table and moving back toward the bed.
He sits down on the edge, burying his face in his hands, elbows propped on his knees, and huffs out a shuddering breath.
"You sure you're okay?" a soft voice asks, and Dean raises his head to find Sam kneeling right in front of him.
"Fine." Dean snaps. "What are you doing awake, anyway? Don't you have people halfway down the building to annoy with your snoring?"
"I had a nightmare." Sam answers. "Can I sleep with you?"
The last part comes out as a whine, incongruous with the fact the sound comes from six and a half feet of trained hunter with more than a dozen kills under his belt.
"Geez, Samantha!" Dean groans. "You're such a pussy sometimes!" He pulls the covers down, and scoots over to the far side of the bed. "It's a good thing all your clothes burned up in the fire. Otherwise you'd probably be parading around in pink panties with Hello Kitty on your ass."
He points to the empty part of the bed, and Sam climbs in beside him.
"C'mere, Sammy." Dean holds out an arm. "Big brother won't let anything get you."
They wrap themselves around one another, and neither of them mention that it's the opposite of the way they used to sleep so often as kids. Sam's long arms are wound around his older brother's torso while Dean's hands are fisted in the front of Sam's shirt. Dean's face is pressed against Sam's neck while Sam's chin rests on the top of Dean's head.
Dean pretends he doesn't feel Sam press a gentle kiss against his hair as Dean used to do when his baby brother had nightmares.
And he damn sure isn't going to look up at the idiot, because he can feel Sammy's smile.