"Dean, where'd you go last night?" Sam's forehead was wrinkled down, his eyes full of concern. His whole body was rigid as if he'd been working himself up to ask this. It made no sense.

"I didn't go anywhere. We both crashed at the same time, remember?" Dean scrubbed the towel over his short hair again, wondering what the hell this was about and at the same time not too sure he really wanted to know. "Did you have a vision or something?"

Sam ignored the question. "Look, I was up about four this morning, and you weren't here."

"Like hell I wasn't." Dean plopped down on the bed. "I was here all night, Sammy." The worry wasn't leaving his brother's face. He didn't like it. "I think I'd remember it if I went somewhere."

"Madison didn't ever remember going anywhere." Their gazes met.

"You're the one who said this case had nothing to do with werewolves. So why the hell are you saying something like this now? You've been real touchy ever since we hit town. What's going on?"

Sam shook his head and stared at the floor. "Dean, there was dirt in your sheets yesterday. You've been sleeping a lot later than you normally do, like you're trying to catch up on missed sleep. You weren't here last night yet you say you didn't go anywhere." He glanced up, pure misery reflected in his face. "What else am I supposed to think?"

"That something else is going on? That you're doing some weird transference shit because you haven't dealt with what happened to Maddy?" Could Sam be right though? Was he missing last night? His dreams had been a little off the wall the last couple of nights, but nothing to get freaked out about. He quickly checked to make sure the talisman Bobby gave them against demon possession was still in place. "Cause I sure as hell know I'm no werewolf."

"Let me check you for bites." Sam stood up.

"Nothing's bit me, dammit. I'd remember something like that!" Much to his own surprise, Dean took a step back. Was a part of him not sure? That made no sense. The problem here was Sam not dealing. There was no way he was a werewolf.

"If that's true, then what can it hurt to look? Humor me, will you? Please?" The look in his eyes begged him to allow it. There was also barely hidden pain and terror in that look.

Dean hated somehow being the cause of it, no matter what had brought it on. "Sure, give me the once over. Knock yourself out. But you're not going to find anything. Nothing's going on." He stood up pitching the towel on the bed and turned around slowly for Sam to get a good look. "See, nothing."

"You need to take those off. And anything else too." Sam pointed at the jeans.

"You know, I don't normally do this type of thing except for girls. And honestly, even if I did, you're not even all that cute."

At least Sammy had the decency to blush. "Can we please just get this over with?"

Dean stripped and turned all the way around again. "Satisfied? Or are you going to have to feel me up to make sure the bite's not tucked away somewhere?" This was annoying him like hell. Didn't Sammy trust him to know if he'd been bit or not?

His brother's face and neck turned crimson. "I, I don't think that's necessary." He turned away so Dean could get redressed, then threw himself into the nearest chair, slumping down as if collapsing in on himself. Sammy looked tired, worn, but the look of panic was gone.

"Sam…you're not all right, man. It's not like you to jump to conclusions like this."

His brother just shook his head, saying nothing. Dean could see him fighting to make sense of things, his lips twitching, his eyes troubled. Was Sammy coming apart at the seams? Dean subconsciously rubbed at his jaw, trying to figure out what to do. He didn't want a repeat of yesterday if he could at all help it.

"Dean…Something's going on." His brother spoke slowly and softly as if measuring his words before he said them. "I know you don't believe me about you not being here, but I'm sure you weren't."

"We were both pretty worn out last night," Dean countered. "Neither of us is used to this heat. I mean, you didn't actually turn on a light and check on me, did you? You just noticed I wasn't there, made a mental note, and went back to bed?"

Sammy wouldn't meet his gaze. "No, I didn't turn on a light. I only remembered about the dirt this morning and put the two things together. I'd forgotten about it before because of…other things."

He wouldn't even admit it was due to thinking about Madison. Come on, Sammy! "So you have no leg to stand on then. You don't actually know something's going on."

"Why is this not bothering you?"

Dean shook his head. "Because I don't think there's anything wrong. What's a little dirt in the sheets? That could have come from anywhere. Heck, maybe I didn't wipe my boots well enough and dragged it in from outside. Who the hell cares? We have a murderer out there who may or may not be something up our alley, but who will definitely be killing again if his record is any indication. We need to get him caught."

Sam sighed. "Fine. Let's go do that."

Dean wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried that his brooding brother let this go so easily. More than likely he hadn't let go of it at all. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not.

Dean remembered now why he hadn't been all that sorry to leave Texas the last time he'd been here. A light shower had swept through the night before and the sun was cooking it into vapor, making it a sauna for anyone crazy enough to stay outdoors for any amount of time. The fact they'd been traipsing outside for hours next to a river that had seen better days wasn't helping one bit. He doubted he'd ever drunk so much water in his life. But it still felt like it oozed out of his pores faster than he could take it in.

Texans were fond of saying that if you didn't like the weather just give it five minutes. He didn't think that it just getting hotter and muggier as each hour droned on counted. Though he supposed a sudden flash flood or tornado wouldn't improve the day much either.

He thought longingly of the cranky old air conditioner at the motel. On days like this, he could well understand why there seemed to be a unit in every building, home, and car around here. It was a matter of survival – especially if you weren't used to it.

Dean surreptitiously glanced at Sam, trying to gage how his brother was doing. He'd been awfully quiet all day, but aside from looking like a wrung, wet puppy, he seemed okay -- at least on the outside.

His brother's behavior over the last couple of days was poking at him, but he wasn't sure what to do about it. Could it really be an extension of his unresolved issues about Madison? Or was it something else? Something to do with the Yellow Eyed Demon even?

Things used to be easy. You hunted down the evil, saved some people while doing it, killed it, and went on your way. Now you had to worry about whether or not the thing you were hunting was actually hurting things or not, whether normal people might have a hidden ability and someday turn dark on your ass. All the rules had changed and he had no idea how it happened. Why did everything have to get so complicated?

Dean pulled out his water bottle and took a long swig. Better to stick to matters at hand. Not that they'd found a damn thing so far. He forced himself to trod on staring at a riverbank that pretty much looked the same no matter where he looked.