"Where the hell are we going?"
Sam looked over at me, surprised by the abrupt question after a couple hours of relative silence.
"Uhh, well you're the one driving, Dean."
"Yeah, I'm driving the way you were heading before we pulled off." I stated accusingly.
I was met with nothing but silence. I sent a side-long glance towards Sam and the image of my little brother chewing on his bottom lip was a blatant sign of guilt.
"You want to let me know why the hell I'm driving north, little brother?!" I asked, my voice rising by the minute, as I cursed myself for not noticing sooner.
"You are driving to a hunt, because we are hunters and that's what we do." Sam explained sarcastically.
"Cut the bullshit, kid." I bit out.
"You're driving to Minnesota."
"Like hell, we are."
The second the words were muttered I was veering the Impala off onto the side of the road.
"What the hell, Dean?" Sam hollered at me, hearing the car horns blaring behind us, people expressing their displeasure towards my less-than-cautious driving.
I guided my girl to a stop and spun around to look at my stupid little brother.
"Missouri wasn't far north enough for you, Sam? You want to go to Minnesota now? How about even further? How about Canada? I'm sure there are some of possessed beavers we can hunt, and then maybe you can get hypothermia again. Or how about Alaska? We've never been to that state before! You can get frostbite again and maybe if you're lucking you'll have to get every single one of your fucking fingers amputated. Would you be happy then?"
Sam stared at me with wide eyes and a small smile slowly spreading across his face.
"Possessed beavers?" He questioned, trying to hold back a laugh.
"You think this is funny? You think this is fucking joke?" I shouted, seeing no humour in the situation.
Sam's smile faded.
"No, Dean, just listen—
"No, Sam. You listen. I have had it. This is not a joke. Your hands, your health, that is not a joke."
"Dean—
"No, shut up. I'm sick of being the only one who takes this seriously –
"Dean, I—
"Shut up! I mean, it's like you don't care. You don't care if you permanently destroy your hands or end up in the hospital with hypothermia. And I'm tired of being the only one who gives a shit."
"It's not—
"Shut. Up. Sam." I bit out as I climbed from the Impala, not wanting to sit through some lame-ass excuse and knowing I needed some space, before I throttled the stupid kid.
The air was cold and it was pitch black out, the only light coming from the stars and headlights of the vehicles that passed by every now and then.
I took a handful of steps up the road and paced around angrily.
How could Sam not understand how serious this was? Why was it so bloody difficult for him to take care of himself? And it wasn't like this was new. The little brat was never careful when it came to his frostbite. I had always had to nag and harass him, forcing him into taking precautions.
And what did I get for it?
I got bitched at.
I'd like nothing more than to say screw-it, if the kid wanted to fuck up his hands that was his business; but I was a big brother and no matter how aggravating Sam got, I knew that I would always do whatever necessary to keep that kid safe and healthy, even if that meant me turning into a naggy, bossy, nursemaid.
I didn't know why Sam didn't seem to give a shit about his health, but if he thought I was going to let him get away with being so careless, that brat had another thing coming. I never allowed it before, and I didn't care how much Sam thought he had grown-up, I wouldn't be allowing it now.
As I continued pacing back and forth in the dark on the side of the road, I thought of another time I had been brought to this same level of frustration due to my little brother's disregard for his own well-being
.
It was late December and we were in a small town somewhere in Colorado. I had been pushing for us to head further south, but Sam insisted we have snow for Christmas. I wasn't thrilled, only caving when Sam had promised to take extra care of his hands, and the kid had pulled out those damn puppy dog eyes so of course I had caved.
Dad was off on a hunt, like usual. He promised to be home by Christmas, but by now Sam and I knew to take those types of promises very lightly. For Sammy's sake, though, I really hoped Dad got his ass home on time. I knew the realistic part of my brother didn't expect it, but I also knew that secretly he was hoping for all three of us to spend the day together as a 'normal' family.
Sam deserved a great Christmas, and that was what he was going to get, with or without John.
"You sure you want to go to the library?" I asked the young teen seated next to me as I drove the Impala across town.
"Yes, Dean. For the third time." Sam responded with a long dramatic my-big-brother-is-so-damn-exhausting-sigh.
"But its Christmas break, little brother. School won't start up again for at least a couple weeks." And by then we will have moved on to another town. I didn't vocalize that last part, knowing how much Sam hated moving around all the time and not wanting to remind him of it.
"Yeah, well, it's not like I have anything better to do." He muttered, looking out the passenger side window and watching the snowflakes land on the glass. It was cold enough to snow, but not so cold that there would be any accumulation, thankfully.
"Anything is better than spending all evening at the library." I snorted.
"Like what? Spending the night just sitting around in the hotel?" Sam asked with a roll of his eyes.
"Hey man, at least it's not a dump like the ones we normally stay at." I pointed out.
I had talked our father into checking us into a nicer place, partly because I needed to know for sure that the heater would work so Sam didn't end up with hypothermia and partly because I wanted a finer place for my kid to spend Christmas.
"Yeah, I know." Sam admitted softly, and I could feel the gratitude in the look he sent my way.
"It's just nice to get out." He elaborated.
"I get that. I just don't know why you want to 'get out' to the library of all places." I stated, and by the huff Sam released, I knew that he took my comment as an insult rather than the simple confusion I had intended it to be.
"Well, I'm not old enough to go to the bar." He bit out.
"You could use—
"Those fake id's suck and they don't change the fact that I look like I'm twelve."
I snickered at the truth of the remark, because his entire life Sam had always looked young for his age, which was in great contrast to his elevated level of maturity.
"So, you go hang out at the bar and I'll be at the library."
I glanced over at my little brother, not loving the edge I heard in his tone. It wasn't accusation necessarily, but there was something biting about it.
"Hey man, you know I would take you if I could." I placated.
Sam released another long sigh, this one with a little less attitude.
"I know."
"Your poker skills would put all those old men to shame."
Sam smiled, two small dimples making a brief appearance on his young face.
"Seriously, dude, you sure that you want to go to the library?" I repeated, thinking there must be something better to do on a Friday night than go hang out at the stuffy place.
"You got a better idea?" Sam grumbled.
"I can take you back to the hotel, you can just relax, watch tv. It's warm and the room is pretty big—
"The hotel its great, Dean. Really, it's nice. Thanks for making Dad put us up there."
It was my turn to roll my eyes. I wasn't looking for a thank you, just an explanation.
"If it's so great, why would you rather hang out at this crummy place." I argued, pulling the Impala up in front of the old building.
"I…it gets lonely." Sam confessed, almost inaudibly.
I didn't have an answer for that, nothing I could think to stay. I wanted to offer to stay in with the kid, but I needed the cash I would win at the bar.
The hotel was nice, which also made it more expensive. That and Christmas was coming and I needed money for a decent dinner and the present I wanted to get Sam. A new laptop, the kid needed it for school. The one we used for research was old and slow and sometimes Dad would be on it or would take it with him on a hunt, which left Sam spending hours at the library trying to get all his homework done on computer even older and crappier. And while I was totally pumped to watch Sam's face when he opened his present, it was not a cheap gift.
"Well maybe when we get home tonight we can see if there's some sort of cheesy Christmas movie on TV." I offered, trying to put a smile on the little nerd's face.
"Really?" Sam queried, hazel eyes growing wide in anticipation.
"Yeah, sure. Just give me a call when you're all finished geeking out over here and I'll come pick you up."
"You don't have to, I can—
"If you say the word walk I will shave your head." I threatened.
Sam sent me a smirk as he grabbed the backpack at his feet and made to open the door, when I noticed something.
"Where are your gloves?" I asked, watching as my brother's hand trembled when he placed it on the door handle.
Sam froze, but made no move to look my way or give any sort of reply.
"Sam, where the hell are your gloves?" I questioned louder, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him toward me.
"Hotel room." He muttered.
"Why?"
"Because I'm just going to the library, Dean. It's not like I can wear them when I read anyways." Sam whined in that aggravating teenager tone.
"Come on man, you promised me that you'd be more careful."
"Dean, relax! It's fine! I'm going straight into the nice big warm library, I'm not going hiking." Sam argued.
"Sam." I sighed, my frustration rising.
"I don't need gloves to go inside to read." My little brother replied, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
"I don't give a shit, Sam! It's snowing outside. Wear your fucking gloves!" I snapped.
"You're being completely unreasonable!"
"You're being a moron!"
"No, I'm just not being a spaz!"
"A spaz? You got frostbite, I'm trying to make sure you don't lose your damn fingers."
"You are so dramatic."
"You heard what the doctor said. Your hands are more sensitive to the cold, your circulation sucks, it's easy for you to get hypothermia and if you're not careful you are going to permanently damage your hands!"
"I know!" Sam hollered.
"Then why don't you have your fucking gloves on?" I asked, matching the young teen's volume.
"Because I'm going to spend the night inside, reading!" He repeated.
"It's snowing!"
"Outside! Not in the library."
I stared at the stubborn young man sitting across from me. I knew he had a point, knew that I was probably being overprotective, but I couldn't help it.
"I'm not going back on my promise. I will be more careful."
I assessed Sam, watching as his face eased from anger to reassurance.
"I'll be okay, Dean. I can take care of myself."
It wasn't stated petulantly, but rather gently, as a promise instead of an argument.
"You go straight in there. You stay in there. You call me when you're done. And you wait in that building until I show up. You got that?" I instructed evenly.
"Yes." Sam relented.
I nodded my head, which the teen took as permission to get out of the Impala. He leaned back in and caught my gaze a small dimply smile still on his face.
"Stop worrying, Dean." He ordered softly before standing straight and closing the door.
"Fat chance of that." I snorted, as I watched as he entered the library, trying to ignore the urge I had to drive back across town to get his gloves. I knew that even if I went to all the extra effort there was no way the kid would put them on, not after he went to such lengths to prove his point and gain some independence.
I would have to trust that Sam could take care of himself, which I found difficult.
Don't get me wrong, he was smart and capable, and I would trust him to take care of me in a second, but he was not so good at looking after himself
I gritted my teeth as I drove over to the bar, attempting to quell the protective surge rising through me.
A couple hours later I had won a decent chunk of cash - finally enough for that laptop - and I pulled out my phone. Unnerved that Sam hadn't called yet. It was going on ten pm. I doubted that the library was still open and if it was it wouldn't be for much longer.
I dialed Sammy as I made my way to the Impala.
The phone rang more times than I was comfortable with, but to my relief my little brother picked up.
"Dean."
"Hey Sammy, they kick you out of nerd-land yet?"
The lack of response caused my discomfort to return.
"Sammy?" I asked.
"I need you to come get me." The request was far from demanding, but soft…too soft.
"Yeah, buddy. I'm on my way."
"I'm not at the library."
I stalled at that.
"What?" I balked, anger sliding into my tone.
"I…uhh, it closed an hour ago." Sam stuttered nervously.
"So, where the hell are you?"
"I'm on main street, where the shops and stuff are. I'm in the corner store."
I bit back the urge to bark out the number of questions I had bouncing around in my head.
"I'm coming." Was all I said.
"Thanks." Sam replied quietly before hanging up.
Almost ten minutes later I was pulling up to the convenience store, I barely put the Impala in park before Sam was sliding into the passenger seat.
"What the hell, man?" I blurted out in a mixture of anger, relief, and frustration.
"I'm sorry."
If I hadn't been so aggravated I would have immediately heard the slight tremble in the young man's voice.
"How does promising to be careful involve a forty-five minute walk outside in the snow?"
"Dean, I'm sorry."
"And don't try and tell me it didn't take that long, because you walked half-way across town. You walked half-way back to the hotel, Sam."
This time I waited for a response and not getting one did nothing to ease my anger.
"Nothing to say for yourself? No lame excuse for your late-night stroll?" I questioned bitterly, staring at the young man who refused to even look my way.
"Look at me, Sam!" I ordered.
I was expecting a glare or a bitch-face, with maybe a little bit of guilt. The look I received was much more disturbing.
Sam turned his face to me, his eyes downcast and his face wet with tears.
"Sammy? What's wrong?" I asked, grasping his chin and angling it up so I could see him more clearly.
I thumbed the falling tears from his cold face, sliding his bangs out of the way and staring intently into those big watery hazel eyes, my entire body coursing with the need to fix whatever was broken.
Sam said nothing in return, but he dropped his gaze down and slowly pulled his hands out of his coat-sleeves, where they had been hiding since he got into the car.
I looked down.
"Shit." I cursed, gently cradling his discoloured appendages in my hands.
They were chalk white with a tinge of blue in spots, shaking violently, with his fingers curled in a claw-like position.
"Jesus, Sammy." I swore as I gently attempted to relax his hand and straighten his fingers.
The strangled gasp that came from my little brother stopped my actions immediately. And when I looked in his face and saw the tears and pain I made an instant decision.
"Alright just don't move them." I instructed, hoping that Sam missed the small catch in my voice, fear and worry trying to take over.
I pulled the Impala out of park and sped down the street.
"Where we going?" Sam asked shakily.
"Clinic down the street."
"No! Dean, it's okay. I—
"No, Sam. We let you do it your way, and look what happened." I answered harshly, my fear pouring out of me as anger.
"Now we are doing this my way. And I'm taking you to the damn clinic."
A few short minutes later we were pulling into the parking lot for the small clinic that was all there was to pass for medical care in this town. There had been no further conversation on the way there, only the sound of Sam trying desperately to hold back his tears and me grinding my teeth in concern.
"Alright we're here, Sammy." I announced softly, climbing from the car and rushing over to my brother's side, pulling open his door.
Sam stared up at me from his seat, eyes shining with tears yet to be shed. He looked so small, so young, and vulnerable.
"Come on buddy." I encouraged.
Sam bit his lip as he shook his head and stared down at his lap. I squatted down to try and get into the kid's line of sight.
"Sam, we have to get your hands checked out." I reasoned, nodding towards the shaking, discoloured appendages resting in my brother's lap. "I can't fix those."
"It's going to hurt." Sam stuttered.
"It might, but I'll be there. And the longer we wait the worse it will be." I stated carefully, not wanting to frighten the hurting teen, but needing him to understand that time was of the essence.
"You'll stay with me?" Sam asked timidly, his head rising, his gaze meeting mine for a quick second, before diverting in embarrassment.
"I promise, Sammy." I reassured, letting the kid study my face for the truth, before he climbed from the vehicle with a long sigh.
He held is hands out in front of him, clenched and trembling as we walked into the clinic. I kept a comforting hand resting on the back of my brother's neck as I led him to the front desk.
"What can I- oh dear." The middle-aged woman exclaimed, popping up out her chair and rushing around the desk.
"Oh, goodness, young man. That looks bad. I'm taking you to the exam room right away. Come with me, sweetheart." She rambled, ushering us to one of the back rooms.
Damn, I loved small town clinical service.
"Now you just sit up here on the bed and Dr. Landon should be in here any minute." The woman instructed Sam, patting the bed and waiting for him to sit.
I steadied the teen as he went to take a seat on the small hospital bed, seemingly simple things always more difficult without the use of your hands.
"You good?" I inquired, as he shifted around uneasily on the stiff mattress. Sam nodded back at me, his face still creased in pain, but his eyes dry for the time being.
"Alright, good. Now you just wait here, sweetie." She said smiling kindly at Sam. "I need you to come back with me and fill out some paperwork." The woman said, turning to me.
I watched as Sam's head shot up, his wide gaze meeting mine. I knew that if he could have, he probably would have wrapped those bony fingers around my wrist already. I gave him a reassuring smile, before turning my attention to the nurse.
"If you could bring the paperwork in here, I'll fill it out no problem." I stated with a smile, returning my hand to rest on the back of the kid's neck, reassuring him that I wasn't going anywhere.
"I'd prefer if you filled it out at my desk, it will only take a second."
I could feel Sam tensing under my hand, and I gently squeezed the back of his neck, rubbing my thumb back and forth at the base of his skull.
"I'm not leaving my brother." I stated strongly..
The nurse looked between us for a couple seconds before nodding her head with an understanding smile.
"I'll bring it right in."
I nodded in appreciation and watched her hurry from the room. Then I looked back at my little brother in time to see his grateful expression before he stared back down at his hands. I wanted to ask if he was in pain, but his posture, clenched jaw, and the lines littering his face, were all the answer I needed. Thankfully, I didn't have to come up with any sort of conversation, because the nurse returned with the paperwork.
"Here you are…"
"Dean." I filled in for her, grabbing the clipboard and pen.
"And you are?"
"That's Sam." I answered distractedly, trying to recall our latest insurance information.
"How old are you, Sam?"
"Fifteen." He mumbled out before I could answer for him.
"I am going to need a phone number for your guardian, sweetie. I have some things I need them to sign off on."
"I'm his guardian." I informed her, looking up from the endless amount of questions that I was answering.
"I mean his legal guardian."
"Yeah, I'm his legal guardian." I insisted. I wasn't lying. The day I turned eighteen I had my Dad sign forms that I had drawn up, giving me shared custody of my little brother and it was moments just like this that I was glad I had.
The nurse glanced from me to Sam and back again, seemingly unsure, and deciding whether she believed me or not.
"Oh…okay." She said hesitantly, placing another paper on my pile before leaving the room.
"I don't think she believed you." Sam muttered, staring down at his hands.
"She can believe whatever the hell she wants. I just wish that doc would get his ass in here." I declared, sparing a glance at my little brother's hands, before proceeding to sign all the forms.
As if he heard me, the doctor entered the room.
"Sam and Dean?" He asked, looking between us as he opened the door.
"Yeah. You gotta take a look at the kid's hands, Doc." I insisted.
The doctor clearly sensed the urgency in my tone as he made his way immediately to my baby brother.
"Alright, young man. Let's see what has got your big brother so worried."
Sam looked at the doctor quizzically, which he noticed.
"I'm a big brother. And I know that look, and that tone, I've actually perfected it over the years." The older man stated kindly, while carefully examining the discoloured fingers that were still in a stiff claw-like position.
Sam smirked slightly at the doctor's comment, but any amusement was quickly wiped from his face as the man began straightening his fingers.
I saw Sam's entire body go tense, his jaw clenching as pain and fear filled his eyes; and my protective instincts surged.
"What the hell, Doc? You're hurting him!" I snapped, stepping in between the two, forcing the man to take a couple steps away from my little brother.
"It's okay, Dean." I heard Sam sigh behind me.
I was about to tell Sam how very far from okay the entire situation was, but the doc spoke-up before I had the chance.
"Dean, I was just trying to gauge how stiff his fingers were, but I can tell that they are very stiff and there is a lack of circulation."
"Frostbite?" I barked, needing answers.
"No, but close."
I didn't know if I was relieved that frostbite was avoided, or terrified that we had come so close.
"He's had it before?" The doc asked. I could tell that he was in fact an older brother by the fact that he addressed the question to me instead of Sam, and by the concern I saw on his face.
"Yeah, last year. Third degree. it was bad. Almost had to get them amputated." I bit out, shuttering at the memory.
"It wasn't that bad." I heard Sam mumble behind me.
"Shut up, Sam." I ordered off-handedly.
"So, how can you treat it?" I questioned, my full attention back on the doc…well most of my attention on the doc. I don't think I've ever been able to focus full attention on anything or anyone other than my little brother. Even when I try concentrating on something different, Sam is occupying at least part of my mind. It has been that way since the little squirt was born.
"I'm going to go grab some ointment and some heating pads, and we are going to use them to slowly bring Sam's hands back to temperature. He'll need to stay the night so I can be sure there's no further damage." The doctor explained.
I nodded in understanding and watched as he left the room.
"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam whispered, causing me to turn around and look at the young teen, his long hair hanging down in his face.
"Sorry for what, Sam?" I questioned bluntly, but not unkindly.
Sam chewed on his bottom lip nervously as he looked up at me, soft hazel eyes peeking through his bangs.
"For making you spend your night in the hospital." He admitted softly.
"I don't give a shit that we are spending the night here. I give a shit that my little brother lied to me." I replied honestly.
Sam hung his head in shame, making no further attempt at conversation.
I felt a stab of guilt watching the kid look so defeated, but I needed him to understand that what he did was not okay. Putting himself in such a dire situation was never okay.
The doc came in a second later and got to work fixing my little brother. I kept an affirming hand on the back of Sam's neck, biting my tongue to keep from reaming the older man out every time my kid flinched in pain.
Once Sam's hands were at a 'reasonable' temperature, Dr. Landon applied some sort of ointment and wrapped them up for the night.
I helped the kid into scrubs, as his mummified hands didn't do much for him, and then literally tucked him into bed.
Doc brought me in a chair, giving me a knowing look as he placed it right next to Sam's bed. That man was most definitely an older brother.
Sam fell asleep shortly after he laid down, his wrapped-up hands laying on his stomach as his breathing evened out. The kid was emotionally and physically exhausted. I watched him rest, carding my hands through his hair whenever he started to get restless, and smiling when he calmed immediately at my touch.
"Why'd you do it Sammy? Huh? Why'd you lie to me, little brother?" I asked softly.
I never got an answer. Had no desire to bring it up the next day after hearing that Sam's hands would be alright. We just went back to the hotel and I spent most of the day sleeping while Sam watched some TV, his hands still too shaky for him to do any reading or schoolwork.
We spent Christmas alone in the hotel room that year.
But it was good.
I made sure to get some nice girly-Hawaiian pizza for my little brother and I watched his face light up when he unwrapped his new laptop.
Sam practically vibrated with excitement when he watched me open my gift, a set of Metallica cassette tapes that I had been trying to get my hands on for years.
It was awesome.
"What are you thinking about?"
I hid my surprise at Sam's sudden appearance, not having noticed that the kid had left the car and gotten so close.
"About that night when you were fifteen and you went for a forty-five minute walk in the Colorado winter without wearing your fucking gloves."
Sam was momentarily shocked by my honesty.
"Guess nothing changes." I muttered as I turned and continued to pace.
"I don't think you really know what happened that night." Sam announced quietly, making me stop and turn to face him.
"What?"
"Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?" Sam questioned softly, hiding underneath all that hair.
"Hell yeah, man, Metallica! Still got those tapes." I replied with a grin.
Sam looked up at me, a small smile crossing his face.
"You know how hard those were to find?" He asked me.
"Yeah, I'd been trying to get a hold of them for years. You never told me how you found them."
"You remember the music store in Colorado? You went in there looking for them the first day we got to town."
I nodded my head.
"Well I went there the next day after school and talked to the guy working there. He said he could order the tapes, but it was going to take a few weeks for them to arrive."
"Is that why you were so adamant we stay for Christmas?" I wondered, things beginning to click.
Sam nodded his head.
"I was worried they wouldn't get there in time, but that night at the library I got an email from the guy who worked at the store. He told me that the tapes came in and if I wanted them I had to get there before he closed up for the holidays." Sam explained.
Understanding dawned as the pieces fell into place. We stood there in silence, Sam shifting back and forth uneasily as I mulled over this new information, trying to decide between decking or hugging the stupid kid.
"Why didn't you just ask me to drive you there?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"Come on, Dean. You would have wanted to know why. I wanted it to be a surprise." Sam sighed.
There was another long moment of silence, my mind racing a hundred different directions, all leading back to the young man standing before me.
Shockingly enough, Sam actually had his gloves on. I smirked, knowing that he had only put them on so I wouldn't bitch about it. I watched a hard shiver scatter through my little brother's tall body. Registering how cold the air was as another vehicle raced past us.
"Well both of us standing out here freezing our asses off isn't going to help anything." I pointed out, turning my brother to face the Impala and nudging him in the direction of the car.
We climbed into the vehicle. I pulled the blanket out from under the back seat and tossed it on the kid's lap.
Sam rolled his eyes, but unfolded the blanket and draped it over himself just the same.
"I loved the tapes, Sam. Still do." I began, staring intently at my little brother. "But you keeping all of your fingers is a hell of a lot more important to me."
Sam nodded in understanding, not necessarily agreement.
I pulled my baby back onto the road, heading in my least favourite direction.
I could feel Sam's eyes on me as I drove, the unspoken question of why I was headed north, written clearly in his expression.
"I am trusting you to take your health more seriously. I'm trusting you to take better care of yourself." I stated clearly.
Sam nodded fervently in response.
"And Sam." I said, looking over at him. "You got to tell me if it gets bad, alright? I don't care if that means we have to drop the hunt, we'll find someone else to take care of it. I'm not risking you. You got that?"
"I promise, Dean." Sam declared confidently.
"Good. Cause we got work to do." I affirmed, turning my attention back to the road.
I saw Sam smiling in my peripherals.
"What?" I asked.
"Guess those possessed beavers in Canada will have to wait then, eh?"
I barked out an amused laugh.
"Shut up, Bitch."
"Whatever, Jerk." Sam grinned, leaning back against the passenger door, pulling the blanket up further around him and directing his stare out the front windshield.
We drove in silence; I was hoping that Sam would fall asleep and get some much needed, nightmare-free rest.
I kept thinking about my stupid kid.
How he quite literally risked his fingers to pick me up a Christmas present.
Sometimes I was so focused on making things better for Sammy that I didn't realize how he worked just as hard to make things better for me.
I dug around in the tape box on the floor, finally finding what I was looking for and popping it in the player.
Metallica played on a low volume, and I sent a side-long glance my little brother's way in time to see a small smile and two dimples appear on his face.
The music relaxed me, eased the tension I was feeling as I drove north, but a small part of me still wanted to turn around, something had me feeling as though I was driving directly into danger.
I tried to ignore that feeling, assuring myself that Sam had promised to be more careful and be honest with me, and that I could take care of the kid.
I let Metallica calm my nerves as I stared at the road ahead. Knowing that Sammy and I could handle whatever came, because if Winchesters were anything, we were survivors.