AN: Wow I know what you're thinking, another chapter? So fast? You said it was gonna come out next week! Yes, I know. But I had it written so I thought I would post it early. I have some projects due the next couple of days, so I wouldn't expect another chapter until next week, but I'll see what I can do. Thank you for the awesome response to the first two chapters! It's great writing again. Feel free to fav and comment, it honestly inspires me to write faster :)

-GNS-

Chapter 2:

Dean and Henry had been driving in a tense silence for a while now. Dean hadn't bothered to play any music, stuck inside of his head, and Henry seemed to stubborn to start up a conversation on his own. Every now and then the boy would huff, as if he were expecting some sort of explanation for Dean's behavior. Dean just tightened his grip on the wheel each time and tried to ignore the way Henry's gaze lingered on him. It didn't take long for the silence to wear on him, though.

"So, um," Dean started, glancing over at the boy next to him. Henry perked up immediately. "Why doesn't Sam ride with us?" Henry's face fell again.

"You know why, Dean. Are you alright? You've been acting strange all morning," Henry trailed off.

"Just, remind me?" Dean insisted, squinting through the rear window of the car Sam was driving in an attempt to get a better view of his brother.

"I dunno, it was a fight you and Sam had—" Henry started. For as much as the kid seemed to want to talk earlier, he was extremely reluctant now. Every word fell out of his mouth and seemed to stick to the air—like each word was taffy pulled between his teeth.

"I mean, you have to have some suspicions," Dean pushed. His head still pounding from the hangover.

"Well, Sam's awfully tall, ya know? And the back seat isn't much room for him," Henry offered, turning his head to look out the window. Even though Dean had pegged him for his late twenties, the guy was so timid at times it seemed he was talking to a child. Either the guy never spoke his mind, or Sam was a topic he just didn't bother touching.

"Then why doesn't he just sit up front?"

"Well… you told him you wanted me to ride shotgun. I guess that didn't sit well with him. Now he won't even stay in the same motel as us half the time," Henry explained, kicking at some dirt on the floor of the Impala. "Why did you want to hear all that again?"

"I just wanted to get your take on the whole deal," Dean lied, his brow furrowed. Sure, he and Sam had had their fair share of fights before, even a few where they parted ways for a while, but this seemed all sorts of wrong. It was like they weren't even really brothers, like Dean didn't even really care. That didn't sit well with him, and his already churning stomach flipped over. Dean hit the brakes, hard. He pulled over to the side of the road and flung open the door just in time for the bile to begin climbing up out of his throat.

"Whoa, man!" Henry gasped, searching through the glove box for some spare napkins, "I knew you weren't feeling great this morning, I should have told Sam we were gonna hold off until later." He held the napkins out towards Dean, who was still leaned over the edge of the car. Dean coughed on vomit. He could hear Sam's boots crunching in the gravel as he walked towards them.

"Dean?" Sam asked, reaching his arm out to touch his brother's shoulder before deciding against it and pulling away. For a moment the concern that waivered in his voice sounded so much like the Sam he knew.

"I'm okay," Dean said. Sam must have swerved when he saw Dean pull off, based off of the relatively short distance between where their cars were parked on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we got it handled, Sam. Dean's still feeling a little off from last night is all," Henry said, leaning to get a better look out the driver's side door.

Just like that, Sam snapped back, jaw set, "Well let's get this show on the road then." He turned on his heel, taking long strides back to his car.

"Sam!" Henry called after him, "Dean is obviously not feeling well. I don't know if the hunt is the best thing for him right now."

Sam stopped in his tracks, before calling back over his shoulder, "Dean's a big boy, Henry. He knows better than to get trashed the night before a big hunt. Lives are at stake here. Do you really want to risk another innocent person dying just because Dean has a hangover?"

"No," Henry replied sheepishly, backing off a little, "But if he's this bad, he's going to be more of a liability than anything. A few more hours wouldn't hurt, would they?" He reasoned.

"Fine," Sam clipped back, "but if we're stopping, can we at least get something to eat? I'm starving." Henry looked over toward Dean, who had just finished wiping his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah that's fine, I need something to get this taste out of my mouth, anyways," Dean said, waving them both off. He swung his legs back into the car and shut the door behind him. Maybe at the diner he could finally get some real answers as to what was happening here.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Henry asked, looking off toward where Sam was climbing back into his own car, "Sam's a dick, but if you're not up to it, we really shouldn't be hunting."

"I'm fine," Dean grumbled. He hit the gas.