The blacktop stretched across Sam's vision; they were driving away from another hunt in another no-name town. They'd been on the road for less than twenty minutes when he first noticed the familiar sensation. It was something he had grown accustomed to, and tired of, over the years.
An ache was slowly building in his lower back, and he tried to subtly readjust his position on the seat of the Impala. Dean sat beside him silently, but Sam could see him mouthing the words to Metallica's Wherever I May Roam.
It would be at least another four hours until they reached the bunker, and Sam couldn't wait to get there. He was dreaming of his warm bed and his firm pillow and the cabinet chock full of pain meds for him to gorge on.
Past experience told him that this pain would not go away on its own. He hadn't had a flare up in months but being thrown across the room and onto a wall was bound to do some damage. He'd snuck some Advil under the guise of checking that all their weapons were in the trunk before leaving, already expecting the pain to flare up on the drive back.
He didn't want Dean fussing over him, at least not until they got to the bunker. They were both tired and sore and Sam didn't want to stop at some random motel again. They had lived that life for years, but ever since discovering the bunker and finally settling down and making it their own, he preferred to avoid run-down motels whenever possible.
Which was why he was adamant about hiding this from Dean. It wasn't hiding, really, just not fully disclosing his current state of mild discomfort and growing pain. The second Dean got a whiff of it he would want to hunker down on the nearest bed and Sam knew he could easily make it to the bunker. Probably.
He made a conscious effort to school his features and stop his legs from shaking. The pain was spreading across his back, and he could feel where the bruises were as they made contact with the seat. His back would no doubt be covered in purple bruises by tomorrow. At least no one strangled me this time, he thought bitterly.
Sam wasn't sure how much time had passed. He was too busy trying to hold himself stiffly on the seat, trying not to give anything away, when he felt pressure building up in his back to an agonising level. He fidgeted on the seat, twisting so that his back was turned to Dean.
The relief was instant, and he breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.
"You alright there, Sam?" Dean questioned. His big brother instincts had kicked into high gear ever since he saw his brother being thrown across the room and he was aware of every little movement Sam made. And all the ones he tried not to.
"Yeah, fine," Sam dismissed, not even bothering to look over at Dean's face. He daren't move for fear of making the pain worse.
Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him from across the seat and prayed that his brother would leave it alone. He wanted to sleep until the afternoon, in peace, in his own bed.
He didn't comment if he felt the Impala's speed increase even more from Dean's usual 20 miles over the limit and shut his eyes in relief.
When he opened them again he noticed that half an hour had passed. Dean must have realised he'd woken up from his little doze because he turned up the music. It didn't escape Sam's notice that he also used that as an excuse to look over at Sam's crumpled figure.
The adrenaline had masked the pain after the fight, but now that he had come down and was anxiously looking forward to being home, he could feel the pain building and wasn't sure for how much longer he could sit cramped and twisted in the car.
He could see Dean constantly looking over at him out of the corner of his eye and tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. But when he felt an agonising pain shoot down his back, he couldn't stop a small whimper from escaping his lips.
Sam turned in his seat and arched his back, splaying a hand across the bottom even though he knew it wouldn't be any use. It felt like someone was stabbing him, again his mind supplied unhelpfully. He tried to breathe through the pain, shutting his eyes tightly and bunching his free hand into a fist.
It felt like years, but was undoubtedly only seconds, when eventually the shooting pain stopped, leaving only a dull throb in its wake.
Sam carefully manoeuvred himself onto his side again, resting his head against the cool window. It was only then that he realised Dean had pulled over and was calling his name.
He looked over at his brother and could see the concern etched on his features. Dean's eyes roamed over his body looking for any injury and finding none. When a visual inspection wasn't enough, Dean stretched his hand out towards Sam.
"What the hell was that?" Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, worried about causing his brother any more pain. He watched as Sam visibly tried to slow his breathing, his chest heaving less and less with every second.
When Sam finally had his breathing under control, he admitted to himself that he couldn't hide this from his brother anymore. "I think I hurt my back on that hunt."
"Yeah, no shit." Dean exclaimed. "That poltergeist threw you pretty good. Let me see."
Sam reluctantly turned his back to Dean and pulled his shirt up as far as he could. Dean pushed it the rest of the way when he couldn't see any injuries.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath when Sam's back was completely uncovered. "You've got some nasty bruises here," his fingers ghosted lightly across the top of Sam's back, but it was when he pressed on his lower back that Sam hissed. "Where does it hurt?"
"All across the bottom," Sam replied as he dropped his shirt back down.
"Well, there's no bruises there," Dean replied. "Does it feel like your usual back pain?"
"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "It's fine, it's just a flare up. I guess they didn't appreciate the treatment."
"Hang on." Dean gave his brother's knee a reassuring squeeze before he left.
Sam could hear him rummaging around in the trunk before returning to his side, a bottle of water and two pills in his hand. "I've already taken Advil."
"Yeah, I know. That's why I got you Tylenol." He handed the pills to Sam and watched as he downed them with almost half the bottle of water. "You're not nearly as sneaky as you think you are."
Sam wasn't even surprised that Dean had noticed. He handed the bottle back and tried to find a comfortable position once again.
"I saw a motel a couple of miles back, we can hole up there for the ni-"
"Dean, no," Sam whined.
Dean gave his best impression of Sam's bitchface. "What do you mean, no? You're not gonna sit in the car for three hours in agonising pain."
Sam tried not to wince as he sat up to face his brother. "I'll be fine, I just wanna get to the bunker and get some rest."
Dean tried not to let the irritation show on his face. Sam got cranky when he was in pain and he didn't want to start an argument. "You're in no condition for this drive. Your back is gonna seize up from sitting so long."
"So, I'll lay in the back." Sam quickly replied. When Dean didn't say anything he continued. "I'll be more comfortable in my own bed and you know it."
Dean ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "Sam…"
"Please, Dean." Sam turned his puppy dog eyes on full strength. "I just wanna go home."
He didn't feel the slightest bit guilty when Dean sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes as he exited the car. Sam watched as Dean moved their bags into the trunk and rolled up one of their ratty blankets, tossing it in the back for Sam to use as a pillow.
"Well," Dean huffed with mock impatience, gesturing to the back seat, "get in then."
Sam smiled to himself as he slowly made his way to the back. He folded his jacket in half and placed it between his back and the seat as he carefully laid on his side, bending at the knees so he could fit.
Dean grabbed the blanket and placed it under Sam's head. "Comfortable, Sasquatch?"
Sam could hear the disapproval in his brother's tone and tried not to give Dean any more reason to pull into the next motel they drove past. "Yeah, it's only for a couple of hours."
Dean resisted the urge to correct Sam and eyed him one last time before getting into the driver's seat and starting up the car. "Let's go home then."