Nobody talked once they were driving; the only sound was the friction of the tires on pavement and the occasional clunk of a pebble hitting the underside of the car. It had gone dark hours ago and the moon was deep set inside the clouds so the only light was the headlights bouncing a shine back into the car to ghost over the occupants. Sam was sprawled out in the backseat, jacket tucked under his head and legs bent oddly up against the door frame. John glanced sideways to Dean who was sleeping soundly, leaning in the crevice between the door and seat. A slight crease of pain worked its way over his forehead, the only sign that he wasn't completely comfortable. His jaw was gaped slightly and a spot of drool was beginning to form in the corner of his lips. He looked so young.

John looked back to the road, dark eyes cataloging his surroundings; it was only about half an hour more to Bobby's. Sam gave a huff, pulling his long legs into a fetal position and cracking his eyes open. He peaked at his brother for a moment before drifting back to sleep.

Dean began to shift, face scrunching up and mouth tensing into a line, he moaned softly. His head jerked a bit toward John, the dim glow of the headlights leaving his face shadowed. He jerked again and John reached out, nudging his shoulder gently, "Dean, Dean-o you alright?"

Dean shot up, eyes wild and rolling, pure adrenaline pumping through his veins, "Yeah fine, just a dream."

He crumpled back into the seat wincing, John gave him a dubious look, "Didn't seem like just a dream."

Dean didn't reply, just continued to stare out the window. John's voice startled him out of his thought, "Was it about the crash?"

"It was like I was there again. I could hear the squeal of the tires; feel the wheel slip through my fingers." Dean stuttered, never removing his eyes from the tree line.

"It's not your fault…"

"Don't say that. Don't try and make me feel better about this, I should have seen the ice. I should have swerved or…or something. Sam could have died." The last words were bitter and broken, his voice cracking with emotion.

"You could have died." John's words were harsh, croaking, 'You almost did.'

"But it's my own fault…"

"No! No Dean, it wasn't. There was black ice that you couldn't have seen."

"I was distracted."

"I know you Dean; you always pay attention to the road…"

"Sam said he hated me." John's mouth snapped closed. Dean breathed in deep, schooling his features into a blank slate, "He said he hated me and I… I let my emotions get the better of me. I wasn't paying attention and I crashed the Impala. It was my fault."

They sat in silence for a moment, both averting their eyes and staring out onto the rolling pavement. John kept his face forward, tone calm and questioning, "Would you ever put your brother in danger on purpose?"

"What?! No! Of course not!"

"Not for any reason?"

"Never!"

"Even if he hated you?"

"I'd never let Sammy get hurt if I could stop it!"

"Then it wasn't your fault. If there was any way you could have stopped it, any way at all, you would have, but there was nothing you could do Dean." Dean smoothed his features and stared forward again, giving a curt nod. "Sometimes there is nothing you can do kiddo."

"Yes sir." His voice was small but sure, John gave him a tight grin before staring back to the path ahead. They sat in comfortable silence, tension leaking from the air.

"So Sammy really said he hated you?"

"Yeah, but he didn't mean it. He even said he was sorry. Actually it was getting annoying how often he said sorry. He kept fluffing my pillows and getting me water, I was afraid soon he would be asking to give me a sponge bath."

John chuckled, leaning back into the leather seat and letting his stress melt away. He saw Bobby's house coming up and swerved around a beat up Chevy and hoodless Toyota to park in front of the house. He strained his arm over the seat and shook Sam's shoulder, "Up and at 'em Sammy."

"I'm up…" Came back the slurred reply. Dean chuckled and opened up the passenger door, only grunting slightly as he levered himself out of the car. Dean opened up the back door and Sam clambered out with bleary eyes.

"Sure you are drool boy."

"Shut up Dean." Sam quipped back throwing his arm back playfully, hitting Dean in the abdomen before realization sparked through his sleep dredged mind. Dean hunched over, breathing heavily through his nose, "I'm so sorry Dean I just forgot for a second, God I'm sorry…"

"It's fine Sammy, forget about it."

"But Dean…"

"Seriously drop it." Dean snapped, limping towards Bobby's front door. Bobby took his arm as he attempted the steps gruff voice trying to soothe him as he pulled back and brushed by. "I'm tired of everyone babying me."

Sam walked up the steps with his head hung low, Bobby giving him a pat to the back but not knowing what to say. John came up the rear with two duffels slung over his shoulders, "Sam get your bag from the trunk."

"Yes sir." He sulked, keeping his bangs flopped over his eyes. Bobby took a bag off John's shoulder and swung his arm out in welcome.

"So John, how's our boy doing?"

"He's tough."

"That's not really an answer."

"It's all I got."