Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

Shared Burdens

Chapter 2

They drove without conversation for the first hour. Neither of them spoke; and the volume from the stereo speakers was loud enough to deter all conversation. Sam wasn't keen to initiate another chat with Dean anyway. There were only so many rebuttals he could take this early in the morning. He knew that Dean wouldn't talk until Dean wanted to talk. All he could do was leave the channels of conversation open and be available for when his brother was ready.

After the first hour, Sam decided that total silence would be much preferable to the constant drum of the music. It showed no signs of relenting and the continual beat had only been punctuated with a few moments of quiet when Dean had changed cassette tapes. The music was starting to grate on his nerves, but he resisted asking Dean to turn the volume down. Sam could be stubborn too. He wasn't going to be the first one to speak; the one to break the conversational silence.

Two hours into the trip, and Sam's headache had returned with pounding ferocity. The sun was now rising higher in the sky, and he tried uselessly to block the harsh rays out of his eyes. The music blared relentlessly, and he could no longer differentiate the tune over the rhythmic and relentless beat, each thump sending a pulsating slice of pain straight through his skull.

Slumping a little further down in his seat, Sam clenched his teeth to hold back his moan of pain that the movement caused. He shifted in his cramped spot, desperately seeking a comfortable position. Finally he settled with his body angled away from Dean, head resting on an angle between the back of the seat and the side window. He wasn't comfortable, but it was the best he could do in the circumstances.

He'd hoped that Dean would stop for a breakfast break, but belatedly remembered how his brother had scoffed down the whole bag of donuts this morning, not letting a crumb go to waste. His stomach ached and he curled an arm over it securely, trying to stave off the hollow feeling in his gut. Maybe he should have tried to force down a donut this morning, he thought, remembering that he'd also skipped dinner the night before. Still, he resisted asking Dean to stop.

By the end of the third hour, Sam had reached the end of his endurance. Glancing across at his brother, he resentfully noticed that Dean was driving totally within his 'zone', humming along with the music and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping in tempo with the music. Dean always seemed to be at his most relaxed behind the wheel of the Impala; out on the open road where he was in control and oblivious to everything else but the driving and the music.

Hesitantly, Sam sought to break Dean's concentration. "Dean" he said, just loud enough to be heard over the Led Zeppelin song, that they'd already listened to twice.

Dean didn't respond, and Sam wasn't sure if his brother just hadn't heard him, or if he was deliberately being ignored. It didn't matter. He really needed for them to take a stop as he was desperate to use the bathroom. He really needed to make Dean listen.

"Dean" he said more forcefully, getting a sideways glance from his brother. "I gotta take a leak man."

His plea was met with a loud exaggerated sigh.

"Yeah. I gotta get gas. Next town, we'll pull over." Dean replied curtly, as if needing gas was his sole reason for agreeing to stop.

They drove for another twenty minutes, driving past the first gas station before stopping at the second. Sam was sure Dean did that out of spite. Sam was wriggling uncomfortably in his seat by this time, and if Dean wasn't so concerned about the upholstery, Sam thought he might have just kept going. Dean had really pulled out all stops to be a giant asshole today.

Sam had the door half open before the car had come to a complete stop. He was now very desperate to get out. If he'd been feeling steadier on his feet he'd have run for the restrooms. As it was, it wasn't his dignity that made him walk at such a slow pace. It was the concentrated effort of appearing steady on his feet. If he'd thought he felt unwell in the car, the sudden change in altitude on standing and the need to support his own weight had him reeling.

Finally reaching the restrooms without incident, Sam went about his business quickly, although he was in no hurry to get back in the car. The restroom was filthy, a bucket and mop obviously a very distant memory for the damp room. Viewing his dismal surroundings, Sam rubbed his stomach as if this would alleviate the inner pain. It didn't. He knew that there was still blood in his urine and that the tenderness around his abdomen and ribs wasn't dissipating over time as he'd secretly hoped. If anything, it was getting a little worse. With irrational optimism, he decided that maybe hunger had something to do with it and thought about getting something to eat before they hit the road again.

Exiting the restroom, he noticed that Dean was waiting by the car for him, strumming his fingers on the hood in impatience. Let him wait, Sam thought, walking with purposeful determination into the rundown gas station to grab something to eat. Using the last five dollars in his wallet, he purchased a couple of bottles of water and a dried up sandwich to go. Taking the items back to the car, he settled again in his seat before looking at his brother.

"Want half a sandwich?" he asked as he tossed Dean a bottle of water.

Dean grabbed the water, but declined on the sandwich, before revving up the engine and accelerating back onto the road.

Sam had no idea how far Dean intended to drive today. They were in no hurry to reach their destination, so they didn't really need to drive relentlessly non stop down the highway. After all, they were only following up a vague lead of a spirit haunting an old deserted house. A lead that Dean had decided was a job. The supposed spirit hadn't caused any deaths so far, and as the old house was deserted, Sam couldn't see the need to rush. The pace Dean was setting though was unrelenting, and Sam could only hope that Dean would soon become more reasonable.

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Sam absently picked at his sandwich, having no real appetite to actually eat the thing now that he had it. Just looking at the bread with the dried up crusts and soggy centre made him feel a little nauseous. He picked at the bread, taking small bites and making a pretense of eating. Admitting defeat, he put the sandwich back in its wrapper five minutes later and placed it on the seat. He took a few sips of the water, washing down the lingering taste the sandwich left in his mouth.

They drove until lunchtime with only a few words spoken between them.

Sam was surprised when Dean pulled the Impala to a stop at an average looking motel, parking near the reception. After all, it was only lunchtime, and Dean usually liked to drive for much longer. Sam looked with concern at his brother, trying to gauge his disposition.

Dean noticed Sam's glare. "Gonna get us a room" Dean said, before leaving the car.

Sam was nonplussed and watched Dean as he quickly secured them a room, returning a couple of minutes later with two keys jiggling in his hand. Dean swiftly moved the Impala to a car space on the far side of the motel, before getting out and popping the trunk. Sam followed his brother, imitating his actions in removing his bag and entering their motel room.

The room was average. That was the best description Sam could conjure to describe the room. A small room with twin beds spaced only a few feet apart. Except for a dresser, TV, table and two vinyl chairs, the room was devoid of decoration. No framed prints to hide the tired wall paper or rugs to conceal the worn carpet. Sam placed his bag near the far bed, before swinging around to face Dean.

"Stopping early for the day" Sam stated, intonation making the statement more of a question.

"Yeah, thought we'd grab some lunch before hitting some bars, maybe a pool hall." Dean replied. "We're getting a little low on cash. …Thought now was as good a time as any to try and get a little padding in the wallet."

"Yeah …okay" Sam reluctantly replied.

Going to a bar for the afternoon was the last thing Sam wanted. Dealing with an inebriated Dean didn't rate much higher, but maybe this is what his brother needed. A few hours to unwind.

Dean shrugged on his jacket before walking to the door. "Coming?" he asked as Sam remained unmoving.

"Actually …Dean …I already had that sandwich. …Okay if I stay here, maybe rest a bit and meet up with you later?" Sam asked, trying to keep the hope from showing on his face.

Dean looked at Sam, trying to stem the discontent he felt. "You okay?" he asked, wondering if his brother had a legitimate reason for bailing on him. Again. He thought Sam looked a little pale, but then again, Sam was usually pale. That happened when you spent most of your day in a car.

"I'm fine." Sam assured Dean. "Just got a slight headache …nothing a quick rest won't fix" he said, unsure whether he was trying to convince Dean or himself. "…I'll meet up with you later."

"You sure Sam?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Sam said with conviction.

Dean just nodded before opening the door to go.

" …ah Dean …I'm outta cash …can I borrow a fifty?" Sam quickly added as an after thought.

Dean turned in the doorway and looked back at Sam with suspicion.

"...might change my mind later and grab something to eat …before we meet up" Sam added.

Dean opened his wallet, looking inside it woefully. "You know, wouldn't hurt for you to contribute a bit more to the finances round here." Dean said peevishly before handing Sam a twenty. "…All I can spare" he said.

Sam took the twenty, knowing Dean was right, and feeling guilty for it. He might earn it through dubious means, Sam thought, but Dean was still the main cash contributor. He often felt like a dead weight in that area and didn't need Dean to vocalize it.

"Thanks Dean" he said, eyes cast downwards, feeling like a petulant child being handed his pocket money.

"Yeah, well …got my phone. Catch ya later." Dean let the door click closed behind him.

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The rigidity left Sam's body as soon as Dean left the room. Easing himself onto the bed and lying down flat, Sam was unable to prevent the single tear from sliding down his cheek. He wiped it away angrily.

His head had been aching for hours and the relief of being able to lie horizontal on the soft bed with the light muted through the curtains and only the distant sound of traffic was at that moment unsurpassed. Closing his eyes, Sam took a moment to enjoy the sensation.

Although appreciating the softness of the bed, lying there with his eyes closed only resulted in Sam blocking out peripheral distractions and as such cause him to become more focused on himself. Particularly on how he felt. Lying in the shadows, Sam could, without touching, feel the aches and pains coursing through his body, competing for attention. Probing those painful areas only accentuated his pain.

Resigned, Sam knew that as much as he'd love to lie on the bed for the next couple of hours, now may be his only opportunity to slip away and see a doctor without Dean's knowledge or interference.

Reluctantly. Slowly. Painfully. Carefully. He got up.

Slipping the twenty dollars in his wallet and grabbing the extra room key from the dresser, Sam slipped from the room.

Spotting a maid leaving another room, he hastily got directions on how to get into town, on foot, and vague instructions on how to get to the only free medical clinic in the area. Fortunately, one of the benefits of staying in the dingier parts of town; was that they were usually closer to free clinics and cheap eats.

Sam hoped the maid's directions were accurate and that the clinic wasn't too far away. He really didn't have the energy to walk far, and definitely didn't have the money for a cab.

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Ten minutes later Sam reached the clinic, relief washing over him. Entering the small waiting room, he was pleasantly surprised that there were only a few other patients in the room. He wearily wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead, before making his way over to the reception area on unsteady legs. Giving his name and basic details, he gratefully sank into one of the hard plastic chairs, settling in to wait.

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the slow update. I sat down and wrote the first chapter to this story really quickly –when I was in a bad mood it just flowed out. Mood improved, I now seem to be struggling to write Dean in the same nasty light. Hence, this chapter has been a bit slow and is mainly Sam. Suggestions very welcome. I love reviews!