Coda to the pilot. In the week following Jessica's death, Sam's grieving while Dean deals with some old trauma.
In the week following Jessica's death, Sam and Dean stuck around Palo Alto to find some answers. But Dean was also majorly worried about his little brother and hovered over him constantly, not even caring one bit when Sam snapped at him because he needed some space. In the wake of whatever killed their mother returning, Dean was absolutely terrified for Sam's safety and that's one reason he wouldn't leave him. Unfortunately for him, seeing Jessica on the ceiling like that brought back the trauma of their mother's death and he was trying his best to ignore it. "You don't seem okay," Sam murmured as he sat down on the bed in their motel room. He and Dean planned to leave California for Colorado in the morning and he was starting to get antsy. And despite his grief, he could tell something was up with his big brother.
Dean flashed him a smirk but Sam wasn't buying it. "I'm fine - you're the one who isn't okay, Sammy."
"Don't call me that," Sam shot back.
Like he intended to listen. "But seriously, are you feeling fine?" Dean pressed.
"Stop motherhenning me, Dean."
"Then stop avoiding the question, kiddo."
"You're deflecting too!" Sam wasn't about to let this go, no matter how much Dean clearly wanted him to.
He rolled his eyes. As much as he would love to say something, he couldn't - and Sam took priority right now anyway. Dean couldn't dump all his issues on him (ever but especially not just days after Sam's girlfriend died). "Sammy, just answer the question."
This time it was Sam's turn to roll his eyes, and he knew Dean wouldn't let it go until he responded. "I'm alright - definitely been better." He sniffed, trying valiantly to hold back the tears. He didn't want to fall apart again nor did he want to did sleep - he knew more nightmares were in his future.
"Thanks for finally answering me. Was like pulling teeth," Dean complained as he stood up to grab a coffee.
"Can you get me one?" Sam asked.
"Sure." Dean poured his little brother's cup first and then his own. He left his own on the counter while he walked over to Sam and handed the cup to his own before returning.
"Thanks." Sam grinned at him and then took a sip of his coffee. He wrinkled his nose up when the disgusting taste finally hit him.
In bed that night, neither Winchester got much sleep. Sam was trying to keep the nightmares at bay while Dean couldn't stop thinking about his mother's death. He remembered that horrific night so clearly, along with the heat. He shivered in his bed and turned to face Sam to keep an eye on him. He couldn't let him out of his sight just yet.
Sam ignored his brother's gaze, hoping Dean would believe he was asleep. He wondered if he was thinking about their mother, but he didn't even know if Dean remembered that night. He hadn't talked much about it growing up.
Fire had cost the Winchesters so much, and they didn't even know what had killed Mary and Jessica. They needed to find John and hunt this fucker down.
They had work to do but tonight, all that mattered was the trauma they would have to live with forever. Neither could quite shake it when Jessica's loss was so fresh. Her death had opened old wounds for Dean that never quite healed while Sam now knew firsthand why his father had sought revenge.