Chapter 1:
I woke up with a bump, and my head hitting the Impala's window so hard I could have smashed it. My body immediately adjusted itself into a proper upright sitting position, while my eyes glared sideways at Dean. The music was at a relatively low volume, so he was only humming subconsciously to Bob Dylan. I think he felt my eyes on him, because he turned to catch my fiery gaze burning him.
"Oh, good. You're up." He said casually, giving me a once over, before his eyes reverted back to the road.
"'Oh good you're up'?" I quoted with question. "Did you just run over a small child?"
"Don't be so melodramatic, Sammy. I mean, I know you were a 'theater kid' but-"
"Whatever" I shook my head, knowing how Dean drove after he had been at it for a while. "How long was I out?" Dean didn't take his eyes off the road as he shrugged.
"Not long enough. I'm tellin' you, Sam, those nightmares are taking a toll." I rolled my eyes, something I thought I wouldn't have to do, after dad passed.
"Look, Dean-"
"Don't 'Dean' me. Just rest up Sleeping Beauty, before I punch you hard enough to keep you out for a week."
"Jerk."
"B*tch."
I smiled and shook my head as I looked out the window, "How far's the next hotel?"
"Couple miles, it ain't bad now"
"I'll wait." I stated. It was a fairly normal conversation, but I have to admit, it bothered me he was on to the whole nightmares thing. I hadn't actually told him about those yet, so it was a little unsettling how much I gave away when I wasn't awake.
"Sam, you know, if you ever gotta… talk… about stuff like this…" The struggle in his voice was evident, - and I knew he was making a real effort to help me out - but that's the thing: I didn't want help. Dean didn't need to watch out for me anymore. I was good. The nightmares weren't bad enough that they were going to push me to elucidate all my deep emotions to him as we drove to our next case. That sounded like a recipe for everything I'd like to avoid in our mediocre attempt at a professional relationship.
"Sammy." His rough voice snapped me out of my thoughts about what he had said; I guess I had forgotten to acknowledge he had said anything.
"Oh, uh, sorry. Thanks… Dean, but I don't need to… not now, anyway."
"More like you just plain can't talk. You're good? For sure?" Dean asked again. By then, it was safe to say I was irritated.
"I am good." I said sharply, enunciating each word. My smile I had had just minutes ago had faded and wasn't planning to return.