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Dean was trying to keep his eyes on the road but his eyes kept sliding over to Sam's sleeping form. Not ten minutes after bickering with Dean (like and old married couple as Bobby would say) Sam had fallen asleep. Dean wouldn't have bothered keeping an eye on him if it weren't for the fact he was leaning against the door. Wouldn't it be just like Sam to fall out of the car and onto the asphalt while Dean was doing 80? Maybe Sam wasn't in that much danger, at this point, he had manage to scoot so far sideways he was practically laying down (a feet that he considered amazing given Sam's size). It didn't look very comfortable, his legs were still off the seat and his head was propped and an odd angle. Still, Dean really needn't concern himself.

Except . . .

Well, Dean wasn't stupid or blind. Something was wrong with with his brother. Something had been wrong with Sam since the moment they had gotten up that morning. Sam looked like he hadn't slept the night before. Sitting on the edge of the motel bed, clutching a change of clothes he looked exhausted, a little pale and truthfully, a bit dazed. Dean was about to say something then noticed the bruise under Sam's eye. When Dean asked him how it happened, first Sam claimed he walked into a pole.

*s*s*s*

Dean snorted in disbelief. "Really? A pole?"

He reached out and took a hold of Sam's chin, tilting it up and to the side to get a better look. Sam immediately jerked his head out of his startled brother's grasp.

"Alright, so a couple of guys jumped me last night when I left the bar." Sam mumbled, "I'm okay, no big deal."

"Wait," Dean furrowed his brow, "you were jumped? Dude, are you serious?"

"Yeah," said Sam quietly, holding his clothes tighter to his chest.

"What the hell happened," demanded Dean. "Are you sure you're-"

Sam shot to his feet, his jaw clenched, "Nothing happened." He skirted around his older brother, "I took care of it." He quickly slipped into the bathroom.

"Sam-" Dean was cut off by the bathroom door slamming shut.

*s*s*s*

Dean wasn't certain how true the story was. That Sam was looking at the carpet the entire time he spoke didn't help matters any. In fact, Sam hadn't made eye contact with him all day. Dean didn't really think about it at the time. Sam successfully distracted him with an argument about not going to the diner for breakfast. As the day progressed, however, it became more apparent that something was really off. Sam's bizarre urging to keep driving through lunch. His peculiar attitude the first time they stopped for gas. Sam had only gotten out of the car after Dean threatened to physically drag him out. Dean's demand to "go and pay for the gas, bitch" wasn't met with Sam's usual "jerk" remark, instead he'd turned a lighter shade of pale. Though he'd scurried into the station so quickly after that, Dean thought, or maybe hoped, that he had imagined it.

Then there was his brother's entire body language. Sam had kept his arms wrapped around himself, gripping the sleeves of his sweatshirt in his fists, huddling up against the opposite side of the car. It was odd seeing some one so gargantuan looking so small.

Nothing though, was more disconcerting than the silence.

That's what unnerved Dean the most, how quiet Sam was being. None of his usual prattle, not even his usual complaints. He just sat quietly, hunched up next to the window, staring out without seeming to really see anything. At first, Dean tried to dismiss it as Sam being his usual emo self. Probably thinking about Jess . . . or Dad . . . or problems in the middle east . . . or abandoned puppies - hell, who knows? Even if he knew all there was to know about Sam, it didn't mean he always understood it.

Although honestly, in all their years growing up together, Dean had never seen his little brother act this way. He was more than a little disturbed by it. Every time he would directly ask Sam what was going on, Sam would divert him with another argument then he'd shut down again, refusing to talk at all. So, Dean decided to let it go . . . at least for while he was driving. He didn't know if forcing whatever was bugging Sam out of him would wind up in a screaming match and he didn't want to end up wrapping his baby around a tree. When he got a room for the night, he was going to get to the bottom of this, come hell or high water.

Sam shifted, mumbled, then shivered slightly before falling silent again. Dean snagged Sam's jacket that was hanging off the back of the seat between them. Leaning over he managed to keep one hand on the wheel while simultaneously covering his brother with the other. When Sam's shoulders were covered by the jacket, the edges tucked in around him, Dean gave his handy work a nod.

"I got skills," he said softly, turning his attention back the the road.

*S*S*S*

Not long past dark Dean pulled up to a diner just inside the limits of a modest city. None too soon in his opinion, Sam's occasional shifting had led him to sliding even further down until Sam's ass was snugged against Dean's hip. Not that Dean exactly minded, it was the fact that he didn't mind that left him feeling slightly uncomfortable. Though he reasoned it probably had something to do with the long drive. His brain function was slowing down, he needed food and rest. He needed Sam to spit out what was with him already. Dean closed his hand over the hip of his sleeping brother, giving it a shake.

"Rise and shine, Sammy," he barked.

Sam murmured sleepily, his nose scrunching up.

Dean slapped his hip, "C'mon Sam, chow time."

Without waiting for a response, Dean opened his door and climbed out of the Impala. He glanced around the half filled parking lot allowing himself the luxury of a nice full body stretch. He felt his pockets in an unconscious gesture of checking that he had his wallet on him. When Dean's fingers brushed against his hip, he frowned. It felt a little damp, he looked down at his hand. His frown deepened when he saw the dark red on his finger tips. Looking down at his hip he could see the spot of the red stuff on his pants.

"The hell?" Dean mumbled, his travel fogged brain trying to decipher the meaning behind what he was seeing. Was this blood? Dean struggled for a minute to remember some injury he may have gotten somehow. No, he was fine, he was sure of it. So if it wasn't his blood then how did . . . ? Dean's eyes suddenly widened as understanding finally hit him.

"Sam?" Dean lurched into the open door of the Impala. That's when he saw the dark patch on the seat of Sam's pants. Dean reached up to Sam's shoulders and gave him a sound shake, "Sammy? Sam! Wake up, Sam!"

Sam only moaned softly, his hands coming up, pushing feebly at Dean's chest.

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean moved further up until he could frame his younger brother's face between his hands. "Wake up, Sam! C'mon Sammy, open your eyes! Wake up."

"Nooooo, " Sam moaned, trying to moved away from Dean's hands. "Don't . . . leggo of me . . ." He tried pushing Dean away again but he didn't open his eyes, Dean fought down his rising panic.

"Is everything okay over there?" A voice from behind him startled Dean and he popped up, hitting his head on the roof of the car.

Scrambling backwards, Dean quickly got to his feet once he was out. The voice belonged to a elderly man with what looked to be his wife standing just a few feet away. They both had looks of concern on their face but the woman's was tinged with fear, the man's with suspicion.

"I - I need - it's my brother," Dean stammered, "please he - can you tell me where the closest hospital is?"

"It's about ten miles east of here," the man replied.

The woman nodded her head toward the road opposite where Dean had drove in from, "The main road will take you there, can't miss it."

Dean nodded his thanks before darting back into the Impala. He fumbled a bit with the keys before finally getting her started and screeched out of the parking lot, headed in the direction the old couple had indicated.

Dean reached out and clamped a hand onto his brother's thigh, "You're gonna be okay, Sammy. I'm gonna get you some help."

Sam whimpered, trying to draw his legs up towards his body.

"You're gonna be just fine," Dean assured him, letting go. "I promise, Sam. Not gonna lose you, m'gonna take care of you, little brother. Just hang in there Sammy, just hold on." For me.

Dean briefly squeezed his burning eyes shut against his blurring vision. He couldn't chance missing the turn off for the hospital.