Day 1
Sam honestly wasn't sure if he slept per se or if he just passed out. The last thing he remembered was giving Dean the gun and then it was pretty much lights out from there. He woke with a sharp pain in his knee, probably from being shoved into such a tight space all night, and it was only when he cracked open his eyes that he realized it was
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Still, he had to try. Dean found himself leaning heavily on Sam as they started off, and this time he couldn't afford to look around at the morning, at how everything looked different, and instead had to focus looking down at his legs, making sure they were moving like he thought they should be, checking visually 'cause that was the only way he could be certain.
He didn't know where they were going - he was fine with anywhere Sam was, really, and he guessed his kid brother had to have some kinda plan, or a place he wanted to go. Dean just wanted there to come a point where he could come with and not slow down Sam like he was doing right now. Dean's progress was slow. It had to be, to make sure each foot went where it was supposed to, his toes sinking into patches of leaves and fresh mud and he would've been distracted by all these new sensations if he could only feel his legs. They went on like that for awhile, Dean knowing when to try to change directions by the gentle nudge he'd feel from Sam guiding him.
It came as a surprise that he was still looking down when suddenly asphalt replaced the damp forest floor, sliding into view right as he moved his foot forward and he would've staggered if not for Sam. This time he looked up.
Oh.
Back on the road, and he automatically swiveled his head around, looking for the bus on fire. All that was left was a burnt-out husk, still smoking faintly in the morning air. So much for the fire. Dean shifted, his arm over Sam's shoulder moving as he gazed up at Sam.
"Where're we going?"
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