Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Note: This is my first try at Supernatural fanfic and I would appreciate any reviews or comments. This was inspired by the song "Jesus Take the Wheel" by Carrie Underwood. There is a part two that's Sam's point of view that'll I'll be posting in about a day, so if you like it please check back. Thanks for reading!
The Same
The sky was a hazy blue gray, not quite dark, not quite light. The air was frigid and chilled Dean to the bone. So he kept driving. For once his music was silent. The only
sounds in the car were the quiet slish of the wipers, hum of the heater and Sam's even breathing. For once, Sam was sleeping soundly and Dean did not want to disturb him.
Though his eyes were tired and finding it hard to separate the shades of gray in the road and sky, his rest was not as important as Sam's. Sometimes when Dean would look
in the dark rimmed eyes and listen to the exhausted voice of his brother, he felt such an urge to make him feel better. To invade his dreams and tell the bad things to get the
hell out, to leave Sam alone. He didn't deserve this, any of this. Pain, nightmares, the rejection of the simple pleasant life he'd always wished for. Dean wanted to crawl back
in time and fix Sam's life. Unfortunately he couldn't so he let him sleep in peace and quiet while the heater blew warm air and the wipers squished fat, wet snowflakes.
And suddenly, Dean wasn't in control. Fear clenched him deep in his gut and his knuckles turned white as he held tightly to the wheel. The car skidded effortlessly sideways
on the slick asphalt of the two-lane road. Dean couldn't help but notice all the noises were the same: the wipers, the heater, Sam's breathing. He had always imagined loud
screeches, metal bending, glass shattering for the moment he lost control of his car. Instead it all seemed so normal, so commonplace. Dean watched Sam's expressionless
face as he turned the wheel loose. The car swung to the shoulder and slid to a stop narrowly missing the snow filled ditch.
And still the sounds remained the same. But this time Dean couldn't stand it. Before he knew it he was crying. And it made him mad because he didn't like to cry, and it
made him feel weak. But everytime he looked at the sleeping Sam, ever restful and innocent looking, it just started up again. The only way to remove the clench of fear was
in the form of tears. So he let it out. The truth was what scared him most was the fact it could have been worse. He could have hurt Sam. He could have killed Sam. He never
would have forgiven himself. He sat like that for a good fifteen minutes imaging the could have beens and weeping. He wished he could talk to his father, more than anything
he wished that. Finally he wiped away the tears with his hand and gently put the car in gear. He stole one last glance at the sleeping form and whispered "I love you, Sam."
With that he pulled back onto the highway. The sounds remained the same.