Tag to Wendigo.
Not wanting to go too far after being injured by and then taking care of the Wendigo, Dean stopped an hour later for the night at a nondescript motel. "How you feeling?" Dean asked his younger brother.
"How are you feeling?" Sam countered.
Dean shot him a look and rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. Just got banged up a little, which you already knew, Sammy."
"It's Sam," he corrected.
He scoffed. "Sure."
This time it was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. "Are we really going to be out there 'saving people, hunting things' because it's the family business while we look for Dad? We need to find him, Dean."
"And we will, Sammy. I'm not giving up - but we have to help people who need us. Think about them," he encouraged, flashing a smile at his younger brother.
Sam groaned and looked over at his brother sitting on the other bed. "Fine. We'll do this your way." Conceding defeat was killing him but fuck it - he'd continue hunting only to save innocents.
"Good." Dean rolled over and bit back a moan of pain. "Glad I killed that fucker."
The WInchesters remained unaware of just how many hunts lay ahead.