Under any other circumstances, Dean would be jumping for joy. Back behind the wheel of his baby, on the road with his brother next to him, cleaned & polished loaded weapons and a fully stocked first aid kit riding in the trunk. These moments were usually what his dreams were made of. He just needed Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man" on the tape deck and a couple cold ones in the cooler to round out the surface perception he had everything he could possibly want.
Spring was sneaking up on them too. As Dean had passed the sign welcoming them into Nebraska headed for Kearney to pick up I-80 West, he idly started to appreciate the signs of life struggling to bloom under the unseasonably cold weather.
It had been half past three when they'd left Lebanon. The sun was setting. Bits and pieces of technicolor flora were draining to the blue-gray hue of dusk.
Depending on how Sam was doing they'd either stop in Kimball or they'd push through into Wyoming and hit Cheyenne for the night. Normally Dean wouldn't question it and push them through.
Things were obviously different now.
Dean listed the drawbacks in his head: a douche angel and an innocent kid driving in the car behind them. It'd seemed natural at the time that Kevin would be coming with them but about an hour ago it had occurred to Dean that Kevin could've stayed back, safe in the bunker, getting the break he deserved.
Dean should've realized, should've been thinking in the kid's best interests like that. For once he could've handed Kevin the key to the bunker and pushed him off their path and out of danger.
Then again, Kevin had to have realized the opportunity himself, right? He was a smart kid. But he hadn't mentioned anything... and after rewinding and replaying the past couple of weeks, Dean had to square it with himself that Kevin wanted to come with them. Dean considered it a terrible judgment call but he had to admit it sort of felt good.
Then there was Sam beside him. Normally a good thing, granted, but Sam was still wearing that pinched look, what Dean called his bitch faces. Again, normally not a big deal but combined with his pale face and his body looking too small under the Universe blanket he had wrapped around his entire body, Sam's bearing was more unnerving to Dean than what a negligible and fleeting nasty attitude would otherwise be to him.
Dean kept the music off, uninterested in getting on Sam's nerves. He'd also been unusually quiet, stomping down on his compulsion to ask Sam if he was okay every fifteen minutes. He knew he had to allow Sam whatever down time he needed to get over things.
Dean flicked the headlights on when he saw Kevin do the same in his rear view mirror. His eyes had simply adjusted to the dark as he'd been thinking about what he was going to 'borrow' from whatever lucky hospital or clinic they chose.
Maybe he should just rob an ambulance? All the equipment in there was meant for a vehicle anyway. On second thought, why didn't Cas and Kevin just get an ambulance to drive?
Dean shook his head and rubbed his eyes. It was probably good they didn't; it'd freak the shit out of Sam if they always had an ambulance behind them for him. Still, the idea of just hitting up an ambulance had merit. He needed a wheelchair though and he was pretty sure they didn't keep those in ambulances.
Sam shifted next to him, drawing the blanket tighter across his chest and stomach and sighing as he leaned forward.
"You cold?" Dean asked, breaching the silence that'd been hanging between them for the past couple of hours. It was more specific than "are you okay?" so he figured maybe he'd be in the clear.
Sam swallowed and shook his head. "No," he replied quietly, keeping his arms wrapped around his waist. "My stomach's just..." he trailed off miserably.
"Nausea?" Dean gripped his hands on the wheel to stop himself from reaching out to feel Sam's neck. If there was one thing Sam couldn't handle when he was sulking it was unwanted touching.
"Nah."
"Hungry?"
Sam swallowed again and let out a deep sigh as he leaned back. He shook his head with his eyes closed.
"Constipated?" Dean prompted, forcing neutrality in his tone and expression.
"Uh," Sam huffed, "no, Dean," he said but there was no heat behind it. Dean glanced at his brother. Sam's eyes were half-open, idly staring at him.
"You still in a shitty mood?"
Sam sighed tiredly. "Maybe. I don't know," he replied honestly. Dean kept his face forward with his eyes on the road.
"We'll stop. North Platte. Maybe one more hour to go," Dean offered. In his peripheral vision he saw Sam nod in acknowledgment. "Just hang in there," Dean added softly.
Silence reigned in the car again after that. Dean called Kevin to let him know where they'd be stopping for the night. He heard Metatron in the background complaining about the premature halt and, as had become habit hearing the angel's voice, Dean felt like punching something.
About forty-five minutes later Dean honestly thought Sam had fallen asleep. To his surprise Sam's voice was smooth with wakefulness when he spoke, albeit dull with exhaustion.
"What bag did you pack my stuff in?"
"Huh?"
Dean gave Sam a double-take, confused.
"My duffle - which one did you use to pack my stuff?"
"Uh... I don't know. Are you feeling better? We're about fifteen minutes awa-"
"I have a blue one and a green one," Sam interrupted and for a second Dean thought Sam's inner brat was surfacing again until the kid's voice softened, "Please Dean - do you remember which one you picked? It's important."
"Why?" Dean couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him. He felt Sam's eyes on him and risked another glance. Sam was just staring at him, looking like something significant really was hinging on his answer here.
"I... think... the green one-?" Dean finally said. "Now do I get the prize?" he joked, turning to Sam to gauge his reaction.
His heart sank when he saw it though. Sam seemed crestfallen, like Dean's answer had just stolen something from him. Sam's eyes were glistening with unshed tears, his mouth parted slightly with the shock of having lost his... duffle.
"Sammy-?" Dean prompted, worried now. Sam snapped out of it and took a deep breath as he wiped his eyes and shook his head. "Sam what the hell was in the blue bag?" Dean asked.
"Nothing," Sam sniffed, shaking his head and looking determinedly out the passenger door window. "Really it was... it's nothing."
"Dude, it's obviously not nothing-"
"Dean," Sam interrupted, cutting his brother short. "It's fine. It's my fault anyway," he said lowly, flipping the blanket covers around him sharply and trying to settle back into his seat.
Dean made a face, annoyed Sam wasn't letting him in on this. "What's your fault?"
"Dean, drop it. We can't go back. It doesn't matter," Sam whispered, still looking out the window.
Dean had nothing better to do with his frustration than to clench his jaw and grip the wheel tighter. A few minutes later he heard Sam sniffling and out of the corner of his eye saw him surreptitiously wiping his face off with the blanket.
Whatever they'd left behind in that duffel was a big deal. Knowing Sam, Dean was willing to bet dollars to donuts it was something embarrassingly sentimental he didn't want his big brother knowing about. Maybe a gift from Jess or photos of the dream he'd been living at Stanford. Maybe Kermit, Dean thought with a small twist to his heart. Maybe it was something with Amelia, the girl he'd fallen in love with while Dean had been in the fight-or-die trenches of purgatory.
Dean loved his brother but sometimes it hurt to know Sam only ever wanted out. Dean was a packaged deal: companionship and hunting. One didn't exist without the other for him and Dean knew Sam. Dean knew that if they hadn't been fated and forced by heaven and hell Sam would've left him a long time ago in search of a companion that wouldn't hunt.
Just like Dean knew now that once the trials were over and Sam closed the gates to hell once and for all, his little brother would leave him for whatever was in that damn blue duffel... and Dean would have to let him.
Dean coughed and rubbed his own eyes, wishing he'd never gone down this train of thought. Sam wasn't going to leave him for awhile, he reassured himself, and they had way more important things to think about anyway. Things like Sam's survival. The kid had to live before he could leave and out of all the people Sam had chosen or would ever choose to be with throughout his life, Dean would always be the best one at keeping him alive. Dean shifted in his seat, realizing he could rest easy knowing he held that place.
Dean pulled onto the main street in North Platte and caught another glimpse of his brother under the streetlight. His eyes were red and sore but his cheeks were dry; Sam must have relaxed five or ten minutes ago from the looks of it.
"Almost there, Sammy," Dean murmured sadly, slowly recognizing his brother's emotional stresses were cutting them both down more than he had anticipated.
He caught the small nod Sam made against the window. Dean wanted to reach out, rub Sam's back or something, but held off just in case.
His cell went off at that moment, distracting them both. Dean grappled for it a few seconds before pressing to accept Kevin's call.
"Yeah?"
"Hey are you guys pulling into the motel up ahead?"
"S'what I was thinking, yeah."
"You want us to grab dinner?"
Dean blinked, surprised. "Uh... yeah," he replied dumbly.
"What do you guys want?" Kevin asked and Dean saw the SUV behind them slowing down and signaling. He glanced beyond Sam through the passenger window just in time to see a diner he hadn't noticed pass them by.
"Um. Burger and fries for me... Sam?"
Sam flinched out of whatever reverie he'd slipped into.
"What?"
"Food?"
"Not hungry."
"Get Sam a sandwich," Dean said, speaking back into the phone, "something plain." Sam rolled his eyes with a small smile and shrugged.
"Yep you got it," Kevin replied and disconnected.
Dean set the phone down as Sam turned around in his seat to see Kevin signal in an empty street and pull into the diner.
Dean pulled them into a Lucky Duck Motel, a relatively reliable chain, and Dean parked near the office.
"Sit tight okay?"
Sam nodded. Dean got out and just before closing the door Sam piped up. "Hey-!"
"What?"
"Can you put us as far away from Metatron as possible?"
Dean snorted then stopped, realizing Sam wasn't making a joke. He tilted his head with curiosity, still crouched into the car.
"The, um..." Sam blinked and twirled his hand like he was trying to remember a word, "the resonating thing-"
"Is that still happening? I thought he'd capped his grace so you wouldn't have to hear it."
Sam shrugged lamely. "It's still there... but... not as bad, y'know?"
Dean winced in sympathy and continued to look at his brother. His unpleasant attitude aside, he was in rough shape. Hollow cheeks, greasy hair, and wrapped up so tight in the Universe blanket he was practically swaddled. As soon as he could, Dean wanted Sam fed and warm and asleep in bed.
"All right. Be right back," Dean murmured and closed the door behind him.
He jogged in, ordered three rooms after some thought, one as far away from them as possible, used a fake credit card, got the keys and jogged back out within seven minutes exactly - Dean kept track.
He turned the ignition, pulled out of the space and moved further into the parking lot, getting as close to their room as he could. The headlights lit up their door number as he pulled in.
"Here we go," Dean mumbled absently, shifting Baby into park and turning off the engine. He shifted to face Sam. "Okay, how you doin'?"
Sam didn't turn to look at him. It seemed like he hadn't heard him even though Dean was positive he had. He just stared at the door, lucky number thirteen, his expression numbly impassive.
"Sam-?"
"We just... left," Sam said suddenly, his tone equally devoid of emotion, his eyes still staring at the motel room door. Dean waited on his brother.
"I just... wish..." Sam trailed off, took a deep breath, and shifted his gaze to down, letting his hair fall forward.
Dean bit his lip, considering, then got out of the car. It took two seconds to come around and open Sam's door.
"C'mon Sammy," Dean whispered, reaching into the folds of the blanket for him.
Sam sighed and nodded, getting a hold of Dean's arms and using them as leverage to get up. He rose to a full stand and faltered.
"Whoa, okay," Dean murmured, taking a step between Sam's feet and hugging him. "We're good. It's okay."
"I'm okay," Sam rasped. His grasp around Dean's shoulders loosened. "Jus... got dizzy for a sec."
"Okay," Dean replied easily. He pulled off and moved in again so they were side-to-side, Sam's arm around his shoulders, Dean's arm around Sam's back. "This okay?" Dean checked.
"Yeah," Sam answered and with that they took their first steps towards the door. Dean licked his lips nervously, knowing his words had to come now while Sam was focused and distracted on something else.
"Listen, Sam," he started, then waited for Sam to tell him to shut up. When nothing like that happened Dean called it a win and kept going. "We had to pull the band-aid off fast on the bunker, man. We weren't ever gonna feel good about leaving."
"Dean-"
"Let me finish," Dean interrupted but then he had to stop anyway because they'd just made it to the door. Dean fumbled with the lock device a couple times before it beeped green and they continued their slow march into the room.
"You're gonna make me a list, okay?" Dean said, bypassing the first bed from the door.
"What?"
"Of all the things I missed when I packed for you in the bunker," Dean continued, seating Sam heavily onto the second bed.
"Dean-"
"And when Cas comes back," Dean huffed as he sat down next to his brother, "we'll ask him to go back and grab whatever you want."
Sam blinked at his brother dumbly before a spark of hope lit up in his eyes. Dean smiled kindly and hoped his own twisted sense of loss and jealousy over whatever was in Sam's bag wasn't coming through.
"I hadn't even thought of that," Sam sighed happily, visible relief coursing through him as he leaned forward and balanced his elbows on his knees. Dean shrugged, keeping his smile intact.
"I know. I'm pretty awesome, right?" Dean quipped. Sam chuckled and nodded, grinning now. His face had a little more color too now.
It was bittersweet. Dean rubbed Sam's back encouragingly, trying to find and isolate the happiness flowing through Sam to funnel it into himself and just leave it at that. If Dean dug any deeper he'd realize Sam was saying he needed mementos and reminders that Dean knew nothing about. These things that would anchor Sam with hope for a better life after all this... a life that wouldn't include Dean.
Dean swallowed and blinked a few times, trying to get out of this bullshit head space.
Sam was oblivious, rubbing his hands together and pushing his hair back, his light and energy seeping back into him. Dean hoped his appetite might boost as a result too.
The older brother's resolve strengthened. Whatever Sam wanted, if it was going to help carry him through, it was worth it. It was all worth it.
"No list," Sam said suddenly, looking at Dean like he had just set him free. Dean quirked an eyebrow.
"What?"
Sam shook his head, smiling. "No list. Just... just that blue duffel," Sam replied, his voice smooth and excited. Dean raised both eyebrows expectantly and when Sam just kept looking at him with delight, Dean lifted his hands up and shrugged.
"Okay," he said, getting up, not fully understanding but hey whatever. "I'll be right back," he added, getting up to get their bags.
Fuck it, Dean thought. Anything his brother was this happy about had to be something Dean could be happy about too.
A/N: Originally published 11/4/2014, revised 8/20/2019.
Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time! You're all awesome! ~ Alex