12 hours previously …

Dean looked like crap. Hell, he looked worse than crap. Sam took his eyes off the road for a moment to take in his brother's slouched, sleeping form. The color a hot shower a few hours back had provided was long gone, the pallor and bruises on his skin seeming so much worse in the bright midday sunshine.

Sighing wearily and turning his attention back to the endless grey tarmac, Sam adjusted his position behind the wheel and tried to ease out the tension in aching muscles. It was getting too much. Neither of them would ever admit it, and his big brother would absolutely dispute it, but the past few weeks had been tough. On both of them. What they needed was time to catch their breath and recharge long spent batteries. And in the bright green Minnesotan countryside, beneath a perfect blue sky, it was easy to hope that today might be the day.

And then he remembered the call; the very reason he was gunning the Impala along the back roads across the state. Recalling also the way Dean had literally jumped at the chance to get stuck into a straight-forward salt and burn, he flicked his gaze back at his brother and watched him sleeping.

It was a gift that Sam had never had and a talent that he had thus far not been able to emulate; despite whatever grueling ordeal he might have been through, Dean could climb into his beloved Chevy and simply drive away. He would steam out beyond the town outskirts and leave it all behind. No mess, no fuss, no brooding; once the place was gone from his rear-view mirror, it was pushed to the back of his mind and not mentioned. And he had his own unique ways of dealing with any aftermath.

But last night had been different. Last night there had been no 12-pack, no cheap spirit shooters, no sweet-smelling perfume following his return to the motel room. Last night there had been long, thoughtful silences and the slow, careful movements of a body in more than just physical pain. And, sure that his brother had not slept a wink during the few hours rest Sam had somehow achieved, the early morning had brought with it a Dean needing to talk.

Frowning and chewing his lip at he mulled over the memory of seeing his brash, arrogant brother suddenly so defeated, Sam swallowed back the growing lump in his throat and gripped the wheel. It was a bitter irony that Sam's all but constant urging for his brother to open up to him would suddenly lay upon him things that he did not want to hear, things that he had no answers for. And Dean confessing that his pain over how much they had sacrificed for their work and the grief in his eyes … well, that was right up there with the worst of them.

But people are alive because of you. Sam had quickly encouraged, wanting to soothe the pain so openly displayed in his brother's face and desperately wishing he could somehow make it all better. It's worth it, Dean. It is. It's not fair and … you know … it hurts like hell … but it's worth it.

And that's when the world had dropped from under Sam; the look that came over his brother's sad face had spoken volumes. And he had been clueless as to what the hell to do or say. But before he could even fathom the implications, Dean had shrugged off the weight on his shoulders and started packing. The message was clear and Sam had left the subject and his many questions, not wanting to kick his already down brother.

His only solace was in the quiet, grateful way Dean had agreed to Sam's offer to drive. And a few miles out of Joliet, Dean had put his head back and drifted off. It had left Sam alone with only his musing for company but he was glad to see his brother resting at last.

Relaxing back against the seat and yawning wearily, Sam looked out at the lush countryside and took some comfort in the warm sunshine oozing through the windshield. Squinting in the white brightness, he quickly looked round to try and locate the sunglasses Dean sometimes kept nearby and then gasped as the Impala shuddered beneath him.

Flicking his head up and checking both his course and any sign of something in the road that he might have run over, Sam's heart thudded in his ears. Without any obvious cause, again another shudder rocked the steadily cruising car and Sam eased off the gas in confusion.

Looking quickly through the small array of gauges, Sam was at a loss and looked across at his brother. Amazed that Dean had not already sensed the problem and unsure what he should do, Sam reached out to jog him awake. And then there came a sound that could only be described as the exhaust coughing and blue smoke erupted into the air behind them and the rumbling engine began to die.

"What?!" Dean startled awake and sat up quickly, almost banging his head on the roof in his haste. "Sammy? What the fuck - ?"

"I don't know!" Sam replied in a panic, guiding the now spluttering Impala to the edge of the road and onto the grass verge.

"What happened?" Dean insisted, jerking his head between the clouds of smoke behind them and the steam erupting from the edges of the hood. "Shit!"

"I don't know!" Sam repeated, quickly removing his hands from the wheel and switching off the ignition of the already stalled engine. He watched Dean jerk the passenger door open and quickly scramble from the car.

"Pop the hood!" Dean ordered angrily.

Hoping the anger was not directed at him, and quickly running through any potential errors he may have inadvertently made, Sam pulled the lever and saw the hood spring up slightly and more steam wafted up around the edges of the black metal.

Covering his hands with the cuffs of his denim jacket, Dean fumbled for the clip under the front of the hood and grunted in frustration. Wincing, he pulled his hands back suddenly and growled as he shook his rapidly heating fingers. "Son of a bitch!"

Sam winced as he watched his brother try once more to unclip the hood and sighed in relief as Dean then grabbed the front edge and heaved, groaning in effort as he lifted the hood up high. Hearing the grumbled expletive, somewhat muffled behind the hood, Sam grabbed the door lever and climbed carefully from the car.

It looked bad. Not that Sam had any kind of clue as to what 'bad' necessarily meant, but Dean's scowl and the amount of steam and hissing coming from the engine did not paint a good picture.

"What happened?" Dean demanded gruffly, his gaze fixed within the hood.

Unsure if the question was even aimed at him, Sam kept his distance and thought back over the few minutes that had passed before the Impala had shown any signs of being in trouble. He then saw Dean swing his frown up towards him and could only offer an apologetic shrug.

"I mean, what happened, Sam?" Dean continued harshly, "Did she rattle? Tremble? Backfire? What?"

Sam paused for a moment, hurt by the fury in Dean's eyes. He then explained all of the car's symptoms and watched Dean close his eyes and hang his head in dismay. "What …?" Sam urged timidly. "What's wrong? Can you fix it?"

Dean spat out a brief laugh and shook his head. Standing up straight, he combed his hands through his hair and groaned loudly. "I can't do anything while she's this hot!" He replied and turned away from both Sam and the car. "Fuck …!!"

"So …" Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and studied at the still steaming engine. "What … we wait? We need water … or …?" He saw Dean glance back at him and caught the glare that he flung towards his brother. "Hey!" Sam defended quickly, "I hope you're not blaming me for this!"

Dean shrugged a reply.

"What?" Sam demanded, flinging his arms wide and suddenly furious. "Because I was driving, it's my fault, huh? You're the genius mechanic! If something was wrong, then - "

"Okay!" Dean held up a hand and nodded quickly. "Okay! I'm sorry. I didn't - " He sighed and hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Of course it's not your fault … I just - " He trailed off into silence and stared at the grass verge beneath his feet in interest.

Sam nodded and headed back for the car. He opened a rear passenger door and grabbed the map from the back seat.

"Where are we?" Dean asked quietly, approaching his brother and guessing his train of thought.

Frowning, Sam spread the map across the roof and traced a finger along the road he had been following. "We passed by Millville about twenty minutes ago …" Sighing, he took in the sparse terrain around the map location where his finger rested. "Which puts us - "

"In the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah." Sam agreed, offering Dean a brief smile of apology.

"Great …" Dean leaned closer to the map. "How far are you walking to get supplies, then?"

Sam could not help but chuckle at the presumption and shook his head. Stepping back, he opened the door again and leaned into the car. Grabbing a brown paper bag from behind the front seat, he held it out towards Dean and saw his brother tweak an eyebrow in interest. "Couldn't take the chance that you'd wake and be hungry between supply stops."

"Oh, good boy!" Dean enthused, his face suddenly brightening as he took the bag and peered inside. Grinning in delight, he wandered around the car to slump himself down cross-legged on the grass verge and dig through the delights Sam had collected.

"So …" Sam followed carefully, eager to avoid triggering another outburst and hoping his snack offerings would keep Dean calm for more than a minute. "What's your best guess-timate?"

Dean ripped open a packet of Oreos and chomped down eagerly. "Hmm …" He mumbled, "Hard to say … at best, she needs water and can limp on to the nearest gas station." He threw another cookie into his mouth and shrugged, "I don't wanna think about anything more than that right now."

Sam nodded in understanding and looked across at the rather sorry-looking Impala who was ticking as she cooled. She. Chiding himself for catching his brother's sentimentality, he slunk down onto the grass beside Dean and they began the wait.

XXXXX

"Holy - !" Dean leapt back from the engine as though stung and clutched his right hand to his chest, hissing in frustration and pain.

"Maybe you should let it cool down some more."

"Oh, you think!" Dean spat back angrily.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, sinking back onto his elbows and looking up at the gathering clouds above them. Wondering in slight amusement if cold rain would actually be quite some help right now, he heard his brother cursing loudly yet again.

"Aw, hell!"

Lifting his head and looking over in interest, Sam frowned as Dean leaned further inside the engine and carefully removed yet another component.

"Crap." Dean muttered, balancing the warm metal on the edge of the open hood and leaning his arms against the front grill.

Sam sat upright and brushed dried grass from his hands. "What is it?"

"Head gasket."

"Oh."

Dean shot Sam a frustrated like you know what that is look and then turned back towards the engine, groaning in dismay.

"Got another one?" Sam asked hopefully.

"No." Dean replied, standing up straight and rubbing his oily hands on the thighs of his already blackened jeans. "But it's cool. I'll just Ebay one."

Sam's shoulders sank and he closed his eyes. "Dude …"

"Well, you're not exactly helping!"

"What? I don't know, Dean!" Sam argued loudly, his temper shortened by frustration, "You're the one who's always saying how she's a classic and parts are rare!"

Dean spun and advanced on his brother. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, I don't know which bits you've got stashed in with the spare tyre. Shit, dude!" Sam dropped his head and sighed loudly. "You make out like you're the only one up the creek here…"

"Sorry." It was quick and easy, his anger disappearing as fast as it had arrived. "Sorry, Sammy. I …" Shaking his head and reaching into his pocket, Dean pulled out his phone and slid the case open. "I gotta call Bobby."

Sam nodded slowly, "And maybe Ellen, too … see if someone else is free to get to the job …?"

Dean paused mid-speed-dial and looked across at his brother. As if suddenly remembering why they had been heading out this way, he groaned and closed his eyes. "Hell …"

"It's only a haunting, Dean." Sam offered carefully, seeing again the weight that sunk Dean's shoulders and drained the color from his face. "It's not like - "

"Not like we're letting anyone down or anything." Dean surmised with sarcasm, glancing back at Sam and then turning away. Putting his phone to his ear, he took a deep breath and waited for the call to be answered.

Watching his brother quickly compose himself and reapply his game-face, even for just a quick phone call, Sam felt something in his chest begin to ache. Unsure how to deal with Dean's despondency, let alone the crazy swings in mood, he hoped that perhaps fixing the car with Bobby might be of help. Sitting and waiting for the past ninety minutes certainly had not and, as the first few drops of rain began to fall, he could not help but dread the next few hours until Bobby could get to them.

Tbc ...