Turning to check on his baby brother, Dean cracked a smile at the swaddled mound on the back seat of the Impala.
All that was visible were strands of chocolate-coloured hair, the rest of Sam drowned in the threadbare blanket.
:
"Your brother okay?"
"Yeah. Sleeping like a log."
:
John felt a twinge of guilt. He'd subjected his twelve-year old to a day of heavy training. On top of that, his youngest had been bent over his school books, trying to keep abreast of his studies.
"Kid's tired, Dad. He could be doing with a few days rest."
"Monsters don't rest, Dean. You know that. Sam'll just have to hump it like the rest of us," John grunted.
"Yessir."
:
Though he gave the standard answer, Dean didn't agree with his father.
He was too hard on Sam. The kid would respond better, if John was less drill sergeant and more understanding.
:
With a quiet sigh, Dean turned to take another look at his brother. This time two hazel eyes met his.
"Thanks Dean," they said silently. "Thanks for trying."