Altitude
Chapter Five

Author's Note: As of now, this is the final chapter of 'Altitude.' But then… the last few chapters were all inspired by suggestions in reviews, so who knows. Thank you all for your responses. Please do drop a note: good, bad or ugly. And drive safe; winter's here.

SAM

He's finally sleeping. I was really starting to worry for a while there – every time the headache calmed enough to no longer keep him awake, he was so bloody restless he couldn't lie still for more than ten minutes.

Maybe we've hit that turning point. He drifted off in the passenger seat almost half an hour ago and hasn't stirred since. I think the fact that we're moving again helps; that they finally got the road cleared and we could get out of that little town and back on track of the job we decided to look into nearly a week ago.

He looks way better than he has these last few days. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and I know they're still trembling slightly – though just slightly. He didn't complain of a headache this morning – that doesn't necessarily mean it's gone, but if it's abated to the point where Dean can endure silently, as is his want… well, that's something, at least.

It doesn't seem fair somehow. I stir up all this shit, end up feeling better than I have in some months and to thank the brother that helped me, I leave him suffering and miserable.

But I was right getting him to chuck those damned pills (and if they made nicotine patches for Winchester-brand drugs, I'd have bought them for him by the case.)

And I was right to tell him about Jess… I should have told him a long time ago.

'You couldn't have done anything, Sam.'

Dean's not the sort to say something just to make someone feel better – not even me. He says what he means and what he believes.

And I – I sigh, easing through an icy corner – I believed him.

Sure, I'm still having the nightmares… But they're coming later in the night; they're not so vivid. Maybe, just maybe, they're fading…

Maybe my big brother can still fix anything. It's a childish notion, but I kind of believe it too.

Ah hell – I laugh at myself – how could I not? He's been there for me for absolutely everything since before I can remember. He's teased me, given me a hard time and embarrassed the hell out of me, but he's never let me down.

Never. Now there's a sobering thought.

I've let him down. I left… regardless of if he understood my reasons in the end. Everything he did to himself because I left is my fault too.

I doubt very much if he'll ever tell me exactly what that consisted of… Hell, it was only due to the migraine that he said anything at all.

I owe him big. But it's not like I can just give him a bear hug and sing, "Thanks for everything, big brother!" Yeah… He'd love that. Maybe I can offer to do the shovel work next time – it's not enough, but it's something.

I hit the brakes, working through a nasty ninety degree bend. This road is fucked up; but Dean's Chevy doesn't miss a beat.

She really is a beautiful car. I love driving her. Not that I'll tell my brother – his ego's swollen enough.

I a cast a quick glance at Dean, grinning despite myself. This whole 'checking up on each other' thing must be contagious.

It's been a rough and strange few days. Dean doesn't get taken care of – not that I mind doing it; it just doesn't happen. Even when he gets injured, he tends to just patch himself up, brush himself off and move on. He was like that with Dad too.

You get used to it. But these last few days… I've come to realize just how much I need my brother, how much I depend on him.

Maybe it's because I got used to depending on him when I was a kid or because he's got eight years experience on me in this 'line of work' – he's seen more than me; knows more than me. Maybe it's because he can still pin me eight times out of ten – I might be taller than him, but he's heavier and, though I hate to admit it, stronger; always has been, probably always will be. And maybe that should irk me more than it does, but when some demon is trying to drag you away and the only thing stopping it, is your brother's grip on your wrists, the last thing you want is for him to be some featherweight.

Hell… Maybe what should be bothering me is my apparent lack of independence. Dean could do this on his own if he had to. I couldn't. I need him.

But that doesn't bother me very much either. Dean's my big brother. I'm supposed to rely on him. And I know he'll never abandon me; never leave me to face something I can't handle. I know he'll be there for me when I need him.

No matter what the road leads to.

ooo0ooo

DEAN

He thinks I'm sleeping. That's fine; I'm getting real tired of that worried look he's had on his face these past few days. Sammy's not supposed to worry about me. I hate this; I'd rather I was shot again – at least that I know how to handle.

I feel like shit. At least it's gotten to the point where I'm not snapping at him all the time for no reason. And the headache's faded to where – though it's still keeping me awake – I no longer feel the undeniable urge to rip my brain out to end the pain.

Sammy doesn't need to know that, though. It's bad enough my damn hands are still shaking – it's pretty tough to convince someone you're fine when you can't hold a spoon steady.

It's probably for the best that the road's been closed. What the hell good would I have been on a job? I couldn't have held a knife; I sure as piss couldn't have aimed a gun.

I should be all right now… so long as I don't have to make a precision shot over a distance, but how often does that come about?

I feel the car swing easily through a corner, Sammy giving a little sigh. The roads are bad; I hate that he's stuck having to manage them… but I'd kill us. I'm sure he can handle it – he's been driving since he was thirteen, same as me. (Dad taught us as soon as we could reach the pedals – you just never know when you'll need another get away driver.) Besides, the traffic should let up once we pass the turn for the ski hill.

Sammy looked great this morning – rested and less unhappy than I've seen him in far too long. I'd almost forgotten what he looked like without dark circles beneath his eyes.

I can't believe he felt so guilty over something so completely beyond his control.

But if he's sleeping better – if he's carrying less of a weight – than it's worth the shaking hands, the aches, the nausea and ripping my skull apart to still the migraine. Hell, if he sleeps just one hour longer without nightmares, it's worth all this.

I just wish the little prick'd hand over the aspirin.

He hits the brakes, edging through a vicious bend. What the hell kind of idiot designed this road, anyway? When this job's done, I'm taking Sammy to California – hell, maybe Mexico – to get some sun. And some rum. And some girls in string bikinis.

He glances over, checking on me. Fuck, I wish he wouldn't do that. If anything I should be checking on him. It is not supposed to be the other way around.

Sure, Dad'd check up on me if I got banged around especially bad, but he's my dad. Sammy, on the other hand, is my little brother. Period.

I bite my tongue. I'm going to find Dad. And he's going to shit himself when he sees both of us together. He'll shit himself when he gets to see Sammy without having to spot him across the campus lawn.

Those times we swung by Stanford were hard. When we were hunting, I had to be focused; had to keep my head fixed on the job or end up dead. But when we were sitting there, watching Sammy from a distance, I realized how much I missed him.

It's good to be with him again; to be hunting with him again. It's completely different than hunting with Dad. Which was completely different from the three of us hunting together. And that is something I am really looking forward to doing again.

Dad and Sammy'll be at each other's throats, and I'll try and patch things up between them. Then when it's just Dad and me, he'll tell me Sammy needs to get his head in the game or he'll get us into trouble. And when it's just me and Sammy, he'll tell me Dad's being unreasonable.

And I'll laugh, because I know how much they mean to each other.

I want to find Dad – hell, we both do. But until we do – and after – I've got my little brother. Which is infinitely better than just a cold highway full of monsters.

And the road isn't as lonely as it might have been.