Halfway in and Dean was starting to wish he kept better hydrated, but the color was starting to come back into Sam's face.

"Sammy, you with me yet?" Sam didn't open his eyes, but turned his head towards Dean's voice.

"Dean?" he croaked.

"Hey there kiddo! Back to the land of the living!" Sam wasn't quite sure that was how he would characterize it—he was feeling pretty queasy and shaky, and his head was pounding. He opened his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Dean! What are you doing?" Sam tried to sit up and yank the tubing out of his arm, but his body wouldn't cooperate and the car wouldn't stop whirling, so he settled for batting at it. A freaking field transfusion? Who did Dean think he was?

"Woah there, Sammy. Take it easy."

'Take it out Dean. I'm not kidding."

Dean checked his watch. "I'm okay for ten more minutes kid. I barely feel it. " Dean was lying, he certainly felt it—he was exhausted all the sudden- but he was also sure he could go another ten minutes.

Sam, however, was not having it. He made another weak attempt at yanking out the tube and was clearly not going to stop.

"Fine," Dean growled, sliding the needle out of his vein. He pulled some gauze tight against where the needle had been and then did the same to Sammy. "Feeling better?" Dean brushed his hand against Sammy's forehead, pleased it wasn't as clammy as before.

"I think so," Sam answered slowly. "What happened?"

Now that Sammy was doing better, anger started to replace Dean's fear. "You happened! What the hell, Sammy? Why didn't you tell me you were still bleeding?"

"I'm sorry Dean! I didn't realize… I… ." Sam was at a loss for words. He'd known he was injured, but he truly hadn't realized how injured. "I don't know what happened. You saw the cut—it wasn't that bad! I didn't know how much I was bleeding." Dean was not pacified.

" This was so stupid. Don't you realize what could have happened? What almost happened!"

Sammy could finally move into a sitting position without wanting to throw up.

"I think the cold made me bleed more without my realizing it. I'm sorry, Dean. I really am." Sam's eyes were shinning, but Dean's were still cold.

"You cannot do this to me, do you understand? I cannot have you—" Dean choked, "—cold on me again. You have to take care of yourself! I'm not—I'm not always going to be around to do it. I didn't make that deal so you could go and die in the snow a few months later over something so stupid."

Sam's face crumpled—another entry on the long list of Things Sam Had Screwed Up. Dean turned and stared out the windshield at the snow.

"I can't watch you die again, Sammy." Dean said it so quietly Sam barely heard it.

Careful not to pull his stitches or throw up in the car, Sam pulled himself into the passenger seat.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I won't do it again. Lesson learned." Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder fully expecting him to shake it off, but he didn't. Dean turned back to face Sam, pain and worry etched into his face.

"Promise me, Sammy. Promise me you will be okay."

Sam knew he would never, by any definition, be okay without Dean.

"I'll be fine Dean. I promise."