Backseat Driver
K Hanna Korossy

Every time he glanced in the rear view mirror, those eyes were staring back at him. Green—not black, not since the bar—but unfamiliar nonetheless: flat, no emotion below the surface, nothing but the obvious hate. Not Dean, not the Dean he knew.

Sam swallowed, shifted his attention back to the road.

"What's the matter, Sammy?" came the taunting voice from the back. "Don't like being in the driver's seat? I'll take the wheel if you want, let you catch some Zs." The cuffs rattled as Dean leaned forward. "Or you just want someone sitting next to you? I can do shotgun, keep you company if you're lonely up there by yourself."

Up front by himself. Sam would've squeezed his eyes shut if he hadn't been driving.

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Dean was slumped, broken and bloody, in the seat behind Sam. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Sam gave him a long look before answering their dad. "No, sir. Not before everything."

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Sam hated the cuffs, but they kept his brother safe as Dean lay curled in the back seat, drugged and confused and hurt. Neither of them would be resting until Dean was pieced back together and back up front where he belonged.

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Bobby wanted to ride with Sam, but Sam couldn't stand the thought of someone taking the spot next to him. His eyes avoided the back seat. And the bloody sheet-wrapped body that wouldn't ever ride shotgun with him again.

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Dean was stretched out in the back seat asleep, or at least pretending. Not caring if Sam drove. Not caring if his place was up front. The road in front of Sam blurred. Not caring about much of anything since Sam had picked Ruby over him.

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There were bloody clothes, and then there was the drenched, post-slaughterhouse look. Dean didn't even glance at Sam, just got the tarp from the back and spread it in the back seat before he climbed in, still dripping with Abaddon's blood. And Sam found his anger completely eclipsed by worry.

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He didn't bother with a sheet this time, just carefully laid his brother's limp body in the back, damn the seats. Sam wanted to see his face as he drove, even though every glimpse drove a stake into his heart as surely as Metatron had into Dean's.

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"No," Sam finally said, his voice raw with emotion he didn't even try to hide. "I'm waiting for m'brother."

The End