Sam stepped out into the semi-darkness. The sky was a blue almost grey or maybe grey almost blue color. It was clear of stars and heavy almost like a blanket covering a sleeping day.
At the end of the world, Sam could see the first hint of morning. A thin line of pink and orange and lavender, like the pretty end of the rainbow.
He thought that, the end of the rainbow. He laughed to himself.
He took the final steps out to the road and sighed as he slowly shook his head. He was looking at the Impala. She was a mess. Her appearance reminding him of the wreck he and his brother had become.
Even before Dean had fallen so far to think that he, alone, was to blame for everything, that he was so repulsive, so worthless, that he chose to condemn himself by accepting the Mark, even before all this, Sam remembered things that he had said. Things just as painful and just as harsh as anything Dean had said to him.
None of that mattered now. Dean was freed from the demon's influence. His own demons, Sam reminded himself. He couldn't imagine what that had done to his brother. All he knew was that he was determined to help him.
He shook his hands and pumped his arms against the chill as he turned and started down the road.
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The sun had started its daily climb over the trees when Sam returned to the bunker. He slowed to a walk and approached the Impala.
"It's just a car." Dean had said. An offhanded, casual comment that hit Sam , perhaps, harder than any other.
She was a part of Dean's identity, a part of their family. And she had been neglected and abused. When Dean realized what he had done….Sam cut that thought off.
Dean needed to feel better. Sam needed to make that happen. He had an idea.
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Sam opened the car doors and the smell hit him, hard. There was a sharp, almost science experiment stench of over fermented beer mixed with food, old food, old spoiled food, old spoiled sour food.
Sam leaned out of the car, took a large breath of fresh air and leaned back in to get to work. He rolled down the windows so the funk could crawl out. The floor and the seats were littered with...everything.
He found a plastic bag and stuffed it with food wrappers, bottles and cans until it almost split. It would be enough for now.
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After dumping the trash, Sam grabbed a bottled water from the kitchen and walked toward the bedrooms.
He was planning to talk to Dean about washing the car today. They would take their time, play the music loud and hang out in the company of a couple of six packs.
They would wax her to a brilliant shine so bright, that when the sunlight bounced off you could almost hear it.
He stopped at Dean's door and knocked softly. It was partially open so, he figured that Dean was awake but, still didn't want to disturb him if he was not.
When there was no answer, he pushed the door all the way open. The bed was empty and unmade.
When Sam saw the clean t-shirt and jeans draped over the chair, he realized that his brother was most likely in the shower. Then he noticed the coffee mug was now on the desk.
He walked over and lifted the cup. From the weight of it, Sam knew that it was nearly empty.
He smiled at the thought that Dean had started his day with a nice hot cup of black coffee just like he always did.