Chapter 10

"The hurricane is estimated to be a category one. Residents are adviced to take in any loose objects in their backyards and proceed to stay inside throughout the time of the storm…"

The Impala skidded in a turn and Dean grabbed the steering wheel tight and did his best to steer her up straight again. He managed, but it was a close one. The rain was pouring as if a thousand buckets of water were being turned upside down in the dark gray clouds that lay like a quilt over the sky. Thunder roared and lightning danced across the sky every now and then, and the wind blew so strong that even the sturdy Impala was starting to get hard to drive properly. Dean was starting to get sweaty, partly from the physical effort he had to put in to keep the car on the road, and partly because of the tension. If they crashed and Sam or Castiel got hurt, it would be Dean's fault, he was well aware of that. Had he been alone in the car, he wouldn't have worried as much.

"Dean, we gotta stop."

It took Dean a second to register what Sam had said.

"Why? We're only like twenty minutes from the motel."

"In this weather? I don't think so."

Dean thought he saw the hint of a bitchface, but he couldn't look at Sam for more than half of a split second because he needed to concentrate on the road and on the dozens of natural forces trying to throw his baby off the road.

"It's just a category one, Sam! Listen to the radio chick."

Sam abruptly turned the radio chick off.

"Dean, we can't just-"

"What if a branch hits the windshield?"

Castiel's rough voice coursed over Sam's and Dean chose to listen to him instead of his nagging baby brother. Cas' questions were stupid, but at least he wasn't bitching.

"No branch will hit the windshield, Cas", said Dean irritably. "Did you see any branches sticking out when we drove to the lake?"

"No."

"Exactly."

"But I saw one flying around in the air out there."

"What? No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did. Look, there's another one."

Dean looked, and a branch did indeed fly around in the air out there. It was four feet long, at least three inches thick and blew right across the road, bouncing like tumbleweed on the asphalt just a few feet in front of the Impala. Dean stepped on the breaks instinctively. The car skidded again, twisted and turned and it was a good thing Dean had liked to show off with it when he was younger because he really needed those steering skills now.

"Dean!"

Dean heard Cas call out from the backseat, but he couldn't turn his head to look or open his mouth to answer. Jaw clenched and knuckles white from gripping the wheel so tight he thought his skin might merge with it, he had to keep the car from slipping off the road and into the shrubs and trees in the ditch next to it.

Finally the Impala slid to a complete halt, its position slightly slanted on the empty road.

Dean relaxed his hands and blew out a heavy breath. He glanced at Sam, who was gripping the door with one hand and the panel with the other, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Sam nodded and started to breathe again.

"Yeah."

"Cas?"

"My head is sore."

Dean unbuckled his seat belt – which he had put on because in this weather it would have been madness not to, even by his standards – and turned in his seat in order to get a better look at Cas.

Castiel was sitting in the seat behind Sam's, no belt on and fingers hovering above a spot on the right side of his forehead.

"Are you bleeding? Let me see." Dean reached out for he didn't know what and Cas scooted to the middle of the backseat. Dean grabbed the sides of his head and turned it so he could see the spot Cas' fingers didn't want to leave. Dean swatted his hand away and examined the injury, concluding that it was only a sore spot that might be a bruise tomorrow, but nothing worse.

"What happened?" he asked as he let go of Cas' face.

"My head hit the window when the car skidded", said Cas.

"You should've worn a seat belt, you idiot", said Dean, immediately regretting the mean tone of his voice but not enough to take it back.

"But you never wear a seat belt. You say you're a good driver-"

"Yeah but Cas, this is a hurricane! What were you thinking? What if we'd gone off the road and-"

"Dean, take it easy", Sam interrupted, a simultaneously accusing and knowing look on his face. "No one is hurt, alright?"

Dean held his gaze for a moment, then turned around, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"We should go back to that lay-by we passed", said Sam. "It's the safest place."

"There are trees all around. Branches might fall and hit the car", said Cas. Dean forced back a smile at the thought of Cas being protective of the Impala.

"It's either that or keep driving, and that's even more risky", said Sam. "Out of a branch denting the car or rolling into a ditch, I prefer the first."

"But what if a branch hits the windshield and shatters it, making glass fly in onto us? If a shard of glass hit you in the eye it could blind you."

"And what if we kept driving and a wind came and blew the car onto the side and tipped it over into a ditch so-"

"Jesus Christ, shut up!" Dean opened his eyes and sat up straight. Sam and Cas looked at him, waiting for him, as the driver, to make the final decision. Because 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole' doesn't apply only to the choice of radio station.

"Sam is right, we go back to the lay-by."

"But-"

"Shut up, Cas! Buckle up and pipe down."

Cas frowned, but did as told.

Dean didn't really know why he got so frustrated. Well, he did, but he didn't like to admit it: he was scared. Not of the storm or of flying branches or rolling cars, but of the thought of the two people he cared about the most getting hurt, or worse. The thought would paralyze him or make him panic if he didn't lash out when it got in his face.

He didn't mean to sound so angry, but just as he didn't like to admit to being scared, Dean didn't like apologizing either. It was all so touchy-feely and stupid. He hated chick flick moments. Cas would probably forgive him anyway, even if he – unlike Sam – didn't understand why Dean acted the way he did.

It didn't take long before Dean parked the Impala in the lay-by and turned the engine off. The absence of the warm hum made the noises from outside appear much louder, the wind howling and the occasional thunder roaring through the sky. It was a storm in the most classical sense, perfect for a cheesy movie, except it was real.

Dean and Sam unbuckled their seatbelts and upon observing them, so did Castiel.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Cas.

"We're gonna wait", said Dean.

"But it might take-"

"All night", Sam finished with a nod.

"Get comfy", said Dean and began to twist in his seat, trying to arrange himself in a comfortable sleeping position behind the wheel. It was already late enough – eight PM, he saw when he looked at his wristwatch – and there wasn't much else they could do, if they didn't play twenty questions, a game Dean would oppose until the end of time when his brother was involved. Sam had had a period in his mid-teens when he had nagged Dean to play twenty questions in the car when they were on the road. Thinking the stupid idea could be made into something amusing, Dean had agreed the first couple of times, but when it became clear that Sam was not going to stop steering the questions into the territory of the possibility that Dean might be gay, Dean shunned the game and told Sam to shut up. After a while Sam stopped nagging and it was only occasionally that he would make remarks hinting at a hidden part of Dean's sexuality. Having only just consciously realized and accepted the fact that he might not be 100% straight, Dean wondered how Sam could have known all this time when Dean hadn't had a clue himself. Then again, Sam had always harbored the weird ability to read Dean's moods and sometimes even his exact thoughts, so maybe it wasn't so strange if he had been able to detect other things, too. Or it might just have been a lucky strike. Either way, it didn't really matter. Dean had been up and at it all day and was mentally exhausted after everything that had happened with Cas. Now he just wanted to sleep.

But Sam, who had already taken off his shoes, prodded him with his big feet and looked very disgruntled.

"Dean, you're gonna have to get in the back seat. I need to put my feet here."

"Stick to your own seat, bitch." Dean shoved Sam's sock-clad feet away only to be met with another, more forceful assault. "Cut it out!"

"I don't fit in this seat!" argued Sam. He demonstrated by putting his legs in front of his own seat. His knees almost hit the panel and there was no room for him to stretch them. It would be extremely uncomfortable for him to try to spend a whole night sitting like that. Stupid, tall moose of a man.

"Alright." Dean grunted. "Giant bitch."

"Tiny jerk." Sam gave a smug smile as Dean climbed between their seats to get to the back. Cas moved to make room even though he didn't have to. When Dean bounced down next to Cas, Sam contently propped his feet up on the driver's seat and arranged himself so his head was resting partly on the window and partly on the back of the shotgun seat. He had to bend his back a little bit, but it would be much nicer than having his legs go numb.

Sam threw back two flashlights he had gotten from the glove compartment. They were no bigger than the length of a hand but had a strong light and long battery time.

"In case you need it. Night, guys", Sam yawned.

"Good night", said Cas, putting the flashlights neatly in the middle of the backseat between him and Dean.

Dean could hear Sam humming contently before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. This was the way they always did it – Dean looking out for Sammy. After all, Dean was the one who had come and pulled him away from his normal life at Stanford to begin with. It was Dean's responsibility to make sure his little brother had it as good as possible, especially after all he'd been through. If it meant Sam's legs might not hurt tomorrow, Dean would gladly crowd in the backseat with Cas.

And he just realized what that meant. Crowding in the backseat with Cas.

It was the strangest feeling, like he wanted to puke but he also wanted to sing with joy.

It was going to get cold – it was already chilly – but turning the engine on was not an option because if they had to stay all night they would run out of gas and not be able to make it back to town when the storm had passed. They had some extra gear in the trunk, clothes and at least one blanket, and if it got cold enough one of them would have to go out and get it, and get soaking wet and probably catch a cold in the process. Dean would do it, if it came to that.

Castiel took his shoes off and pulled up his legs, clutching his arms and his trenchcoat around himself and resting his chin on his knees as he watched Dean take off his boots. Dean had more laces, so it took longer for him. Then he zipped up his jacket, crossed his legs and tucked his feet on top of each other on the floor on Cas' side of the backseat. His back rested against the door. He crossed his arms, leaned back and closed his eyes with a tired sigh.