Hearing a satisfied sigh from beside him, Sam glanced across the car and couldn't help grinning at the sight he was rewarded with.

"Dude, you do realise you look like a dog doing that, right?"

Turning away from the open window to level a glare in Sam's direction, Dean's mood was undented.

"Whatever, Sam. You are not gonna spoil my vibe, not today."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Your 'vibe'? Okay, did they put you on some kind of medication I don't know about? Or should I be thinking possession?"

Dean rolled his eyes, shifting carefully in the seat to try and get a little more comfortable.

"Hey, you'd be this happy if you'd been freed after weeks stuck in a crappy hospital room, breathing recycled air."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Okay, first off, it wasn't weeks Dean, it was 8 days, 4 of which you spent unconscious. Second? I was stuck in the same crappy hospital room, breathing recycled air, remember?"

Dean waved away the comment. "Nuh-uh, you could leave anytime you wanted. Me, I was being held prisoner."

Sam shook his head. "Right, that's exactly what they were doing. Not, you know, making sure your insides were actually sticking back together properly before letting you run laps of the grounds."

Dean pointedly ignored the clarification, returning to watching the scenery pass by, his head as far out of the window as he could get without straining healing muscles and pulling on his stitches.

The moment his brother's back was turned Sam's grin returned, taking a second to enjoy the moment without the danger of being labelled 'sentimental'.

In truth he couldn't really blame Dean for being glad to get out of that place. As nice as the staff were, and as pleasant as it was as far as hospitals went, by the end it had definitely begun to feel as though the walls were closing in and there was only so much bad daytime TV either of them could take before going a little stir-crazy.

Whilst Dean was correct that he'd been free to leave at any time, in truth Sam had found himself reluctant to go further than the cafeteria. Every time he left the room for more than 5 minutes he'd be struck with a panicked sense that the room would be empty when he returned, or that things would inexplicably take a turn for the worse.

Even though the doctors had been pleased with Dean's progress, if surprised at how quickly he began to recover, it wasn't reassurance enough to stop Sam's fears going into overdrive.

He knew Dean had been aware of what was going on. A by product of their lifestyle was the fact that, these days, it was near impossible to hide anything from one another. Not with great success, at any rate. Clearly he was being given a temporary free pass however, because beyond some light teasing his brother had remained mercifully silent on the subject.

Despite a relatively fast recovery though, the severity of the wound and the sheer amount of blood Dean had lost had meant the hospital weren't going to rush his release. Which in turn meant Sam had been subjected to near-constant complaining for the past 4 days, along with having to listen to increasingly outlandish escape plan scenarios.

He was pretty sure the last one had been straight out of an 'A-Team' episode.

So yeah, he could definitely empathise with Dean's current appreciation of fresh air and the open road, even if he was keeping his own head firmly inside the car.

Dean meanwhile wasn't sure air had ever tasted so sweet.

After the surprise of waking up in the hospital – surprise that he'd woken up at all, if you wanted to be specific – he had to admit that gratefulness had swiftly turned to boredom and restlessness. He'd never really been one for sitting still too long, and even less so for sticking around during the hospital stays which were an inevitable consequence of their line of work.

He knew he'd been getting on Sam's nerves towards the end, but truthfully some of that was deliberate and not just for the usual pleasure that was gained from annoying a sibling. He was well aware his brother was overthinking recent events, unwilling to leave his side for more than 20 minutes at a time, so at least if he was irritated he was distracted from worrying for that moment.

Dean was good that way.

He knew of course that there were going to be some heavy conversations in their future, and the usual trauma related nightmares and hang-ups to deal with, but those were problems for another day. Right now he was going to revel in life's simple pleasures, enjoying a sunny day, in his beloved Baby, eating up the miles with his brother at his side and no schedule to meet.

He was so lost in the joy of it all that he almost missed the fact they'd turned off the main highway.

Glancing quizzically at Sam he got a shrug in response. "I figured we might as well stop for lunch. Not like we need to be anywhere at a particular time."

Dean had a suspicion that this was leading up to an overnight stop at some point. Admittedly they'd planned to break up the journey on the way back, after the hunt which turned out so disastrously, but this morning he'd been thinking if they pushed through they could make the bunker before midnight.

There were a couple of flaws in that plan though, like the fact Sam would have to drive the whole way since he was adamant Dean should be moving his arms as little as possible, not to mention the general discomfort he'd be risking sat in the passenger seat for that long.

For all that the doctors kept using phrases like 'miraculous recovery', he could admit to himself that he was still in a fair amount of pain. You never realised how many muscles were connected until you damaged some of them and since almost everything required some sort of back movement, he was definitely having to go carefully at all times.

The wound itself was still sore as well, the area around it badly bruised from the impact, and even the thick padded dressings didn't make leaning against it anymore pleasant.

As if on cue he felt a significant twinge and couldn't quite stop the hiss of pain which slipped out. Feeling Sam's sharp gaze he tilted his head towards the windshield without looking at him fully.

"Eyes on the road, Sammy."

With what was clearly significant effort Sam did as instructed, biting back the urge to ask if he was okay.

Which Dean appreciated, given it was his brother's most often repeated phrase over the past few days.

Thankfully a diner came into sight a short while later, Sam pulling smoothly into the parking lot and stopping as close to the door as they could get. He was out of the car and round to the passenger side with a speed which was impressive, and Dean couldn't help smirking as his door opened.

"You know, I'm kinda disappointed you didn't slide over the hood. You coulda cut at least a whole second off that record you just hit."

Sam gave him what Dean had christened in his head 'the look' and held out his hand, making it clear with his body language that getting out of the car unaided wasn't an option.

Which actually wasn't a bad thing, since Dean could pretend he was just humouring his brother rather than admit to having stiffened up considerably over the last few hours.

The fact Sam would more than likely know this anyway was of course neither here nor there.

Knowing he couldn't put it off forever, Dean slowly shifted round so his feet were out of the car and on the ground, got one hand on the doorframe and the other in Sam's, and pushed up off the seat.

Sam immediately took most of the strain, easing Dean out of the car and keeping hold of his hand once he was upright, his other coming up to rest on Dean's opposite shoulder.

"You good?"

Dean turned a grimace into a sort of smile, aiming for reassuring. From the look on Sam's face, it was possible he might have missed it.

By a lot.

Fortunately though Sam knew pushing the issue would get him nowhere so instead he gave Dean the minute or two he needed to work through the pain, letting go when he indicated he was ready to move but sticking close, just in case.

In return Dean didn't object to his brother engaging 'hover mode', and not just because he was feeling more unsteady on his feet than he was prepared to let on.

Having made it safely inside and into one of the old fashioned booths, Dean flashed the waitress a charming smile as she handed them their menus, and was rewarded with an assessing look and an appreciative grin in return.

Sam rolled his eyes, waiting until she'd gone – with a promise to be back soon for their orders – to shake his head.

"Seriously?"

Dean glanced up from the menu, innocence plastered all over his face. "What? I can't help it if I have that effect on women, even when I am just off my deathbed."

Sam glared. "Could you not keep making jokes about dying? I mean, does it look like I'm finding it funny?"

Dean squinted, as if checking. "I dunno. Honestly? Right now you look like you got a stick up your ass, but then again, that's pretty standard."

The glare intensified, until Dean finally raised his hands in surrender, mildly concerned his menu was in danger of catching light. "Fine, lay off the death jokes, message understood."

Looking entirely unimpressed Sam did at least turn his attention to his own menu. In truth his stomach was still feeling unsettled, a combination of bad hospital food, too much coffee, and constant worry for the last week. With that in mind, when the waitress returned he ordered a plain chicken salad and an iced tea.

To say he was surprised when Dean told her to make it two was understatement, and he was pretty sure his eyebrows had reached his hairline. Waiting until she'd left to put in their orders he tilted his head in a silent question, noting the barely concealed wince when Dean shrugged in return.

"You're always on at me to eat healthy food, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but since when do you ever listen?"

Dean held out a moment longer before finally sighing, resting his forearms on the table and leaning forward so he didn't have to put any pressure on his back. "Okay fine, I admit, I'm still feeling a little off. I'm blaming that crappy hospital food. I mean, did you see the sludge they gave me yesterday? It looked like someone had already digested it."

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Dean! Could you not, we're about to eat."

Smirking at his brother's sensitivity Dean let it go as the waitress came over with their drinks. Nodding his thanks, he waited till she left again then took a long sip, appreciating the sweet taste of the cool liquid after being stuck with room-temperature water and weak juice in recent days.

Sam took a sip of his own drink, leaning back against the seat and looking Dean over with a watchful glance. Sensing his gaze, Dean looked up and rolled his eyes.

"Relax, would you? I can lift a glass without tearing any stitches or keeling over."

Taking no offence, Sam ignored the comment and gestured towards the Impala. "So what do you say to finding somewhere to stop the night? We could put in a few more hours then look for a place before it gets dark. We'll still be back at the bunker by lunchtime tomorrow, maybe even late morning."

Reluctantly, Dean nodded. "Yeah, why not. No need to put Baby through her paces when we're not on a time limit."

Sam shook his head because of course this was about not putting any strain on the car, rather than making sure Dean didn't end up in pain or worse after hours on the road.

He knew better than to argue the point though and just nodded, accepting the win. Their salads arriving, he concentrated on the food, surprised to find his appetite return once he started eating.

Dean meanwhile had given the plate a wary look when it was placed in front of him. Giving in, he'd liberally covered everything in dressing and a decent amount of salt, ignoring the look he was getting from across the table, and was pleased to find it wasn't half bad finally.

No burger and fries, but more likely to be accepted by his stomach right now and with less risk of bringing it back up all over the Impala's upholstery.

By the time he finished Sam was already done, his expression one that could only be described as amused and smug. Dean gave him a pointed look, one which said without words that this was not going to become a habit, and swallowed down the last of his iced tea.

Risking sitting back for a minute, and managing to avoid putting too much pressure on the damaged area, his expression became thoughtful.

"I guess it's a good thing we didn't keep Miracle, in the end."

Sam, taken by surprise by the out of nowhere comment, frowned. "Oh?"

Dean nodded, continuing. "Yeah, cos look at how things turned out this time. Even if we'd put him in kennels or something while we took care of things, we've ended up being away for days. If we'd brought him with us, it's not like he could've come into the hospital. I guess our lifestyle just doesn't suit having a dog round the place."

Sam looked sympathetic, knowing how disappointed Dean had been when they'd come to that conclusion not long after Miracle had reappeared. "I know. It's a shame though, it would have been nice."

Dean allowed himself a second longer to imagine what it would have been like to keep the little guy, before shaking it off, given Sam a smile that was only slightly sad.

"It would but look at it this way, at least you don't have to get dog hairs out of the Impala or pick up poop."

Sam rolled his eyes, because of course those things would have somehow become his responsibility, despite the dog technically being Dean's. Recognising the change of subject for what it was though he signalled the waitress for the check and tried to pretend he didn't see her slip Dean her number when she brought it over.

Feeling a lot better from a change of scenery, some half-decent food, and the knowledge that he'd still got it, even while not at his best, Dean got into the car unaided this time, waving Sam off when he waited until he was in before going round to his own side.

As Sam started the engine, Dean managed to get himself comfortable, wound the window down again, and turned on some music.

"Come on then. Let's get some miles under our belt then find a bed for the night. Daylight's wastin."

Sam shook his head, sliding his arm across the back of the seat as he looked over his shoulder to reverse out of their spot. "Right. You just sit back and enjoy the view, I got this."

Grinning and ignoring the sarcastic tone, Dean did just that.

So, I'd honestly meant to have them back at the bunker by now, but as always I blinked and suddenly was thousands of words in. I know not much is really going on in these scenes but I hope it's not too boring. After so long away I guess I'm just enjoying spending time with the boys, and listening to their 'normal' conversations...

I think the next chapter should have a bit more to it, albeit this story isn't really going to be action-focused, I should warn.

Before I go though I'd like to thank everyone who has been kind enough to review so far, you've all been lovely! Also, to those of you based in the USA, Happy Thanksgiving :)