Fic: Turn Around (Sam/Dean,PG) Part 2
Back to Part 1
*****
“Sam! C’mon, Sam, you gotta-Sammy!” Dean is yelling, and how can he be yelling when Dean is also kissing the life out of him, it doesn’t make sense.
Sam comes back to the real world when Dean slaps him hard across the face. “Damn it, Sam, come on!”
Sam manages to get his hands up in front of his face to fend off the next slap. “Ssstoppit, stop hittin’ me,” Sam slurs. Wait, why is he slurring? He was just kissing Dean, and now he’s getting slapped in the face, did he do it wrong or something? Did Dean not like it?
“You little shit, scared the crap outta me!” Dean yells, shaking Sam’s shoulders hard against the rocky ground.
Dean’s still yelling at him, but why isn’t the kissing happening any more? Sam wants to go back to the kissing part. That was better. A lot better.
“I love you, I really really do,” Sam says, only in his mind he hopes, when Dean scoops him up in arms.
“God, you weigh a ton, how can you weigh so damn much when you’re so skinny. Must have iron for bones, huh, Sammy?” Dean asks, as he stumbles his way down the trail.
The sun is coming up, and it’s glaring and bright, too bright in Sam’s eyes. It had just been getting dark, how can it be so sunny? “What time’s it?” Sam slurs against Dean’s chest where his face ended up, pressed into the soft flannel of Dean’s blue over shirt.
“Just before dawn, I’ve been looking for you all night,” Dean says, sounding grim and determined as he marches them along the trail.
Hopefully heading back to the car, back to home. “We going home?”
“Yeah, Sammy, we’re going home, I gotcha, don’t worry,” Dean says, hoisting Sam up a little higher in his arms. Sam’s face ends up plastered against Dean’s bare neck. His lips find the cord that the amulet hangs on and he can’t help latching on to keep himself from saying anything. He’s so cold, and Dean’s so warm, and he wishes more than anything that this made one bit of sense. He shivers so hard that his teeth rattle against the metal of Dean’s amulet.
Dean stops and lays Sam down on a sandy part of the trail. He shrugs his over shirt off and threads Sam’s uncooperative noodle arms through the sleeves. Dean looks him over closely, finally making eye contact, and now it’s bright enough in the early morning sky so that Sam can see him. His eyes in this light are even greener than the grassy mossy green they usually are. How can he possibly be this beautiful after all this?
“Aww that’s nice of you to say, can you walk the rest of the way?” Dean asks, a slight blush to his cheeks.
Sam is stunned for a moment, he actually just said those words out loud. Right to Dean’s face. What the hell else has he said out loud? Shit.
“Sounds like that’s a no, okay, let’s keep goin’, big guy,” Dean says, making an oof sound as he scoops Sam up again, this time slinging him around to ride on his back. Sam tries to cooperate and wrap his legs around Dean’s middle, but they are noodle legs and slip several times. Dean holds onto them, like they’re a belt or something, and he starts walking at a very fast clip.
“Is something after us?” Sam asks, feeling scared all of a sudden. There was a thing, yesterday, that Dean had seen, the something that was nothing, right?
“I’d call it a whole lot of nothing, but yeah, I’m pretty sure that it’s catching up with us. Hold on to me, Sammy, best that you can. I’m gonna make a run for it, okay?” Dean asks.
“I’ll tr-“ Sam starts, but is cut off when Dean starts running down the trail, faster and faster, gaining speed as it gets steeper. Thank goodness the trail is downhill to where they parked.
The black glint of the Impala’s roof shines and twinkles at Sam. “I see her, she’s just up ahead.”
“Hell of a time for you to finally call her the right thing, Sammy,” Dean huffs between harsh breaths.
“What’s the plan, get in the car and gun it?” Sam asks, feeling his limbs a little more now, they’re less noodle and more stale breadsticks. He tightens his hold as Dean pushes his speed up now that they’re within sight of the finish line.
“Yeah, I’m unlocking my door, throwing you across the seat, and we’re gone,” Dean says.
“Should I look behind us? See if it’s close?” Sam asks.
“No! Don’t look, don’t look back, whatever you do,” Dean yells, somehow still picking up the pace.
The Impala is there, and Dean’s unlocking her door, throwing Sam across the front seat just as promised. Sam watches as Dean struggles with something briefly, finally gaining enough control to slam the door, crank the key and hit the gas pedal. They fishtail it out of the sandy pullout, jumping the dip back up onto the two-lane road. Sam can hear something on the driver’s side passenger window, a scratching like they’re continually rubbing up against tree branches.
“Something’s back there, Dean! Behind you on the window, I hear it!” Sam yells, struggling to get his seat belt on.
“Don’t look god damnit! Please, Sammy, don’t look at it again!” Dean yells, the car leaps forward as he mashes the accelerator pedal to the floor.
The scratching sound on the window stops and Sam hears something hit the road behind them. Dean slows down to a more reasonable ten miles an hour over the speed limit and gets his seat belt on. He finally glances over at Sam.
“What was that, Dean? What happened?” Sam asks.
“Long story short, it was some kind of monster, like a thing out of a fairytale. It told me it only needed your wants, that it was making you happy like I couldn’t. But all it was doing was tricking you into thinking you were living a life where you got everything you ever wanted,” Dean says.
“I don’t get it, you mean it was something like a djinn or a genie?” Sam asks, mentally thumbing through Dad’s journal where he had listed all the monsters he’s run into so far during his hunting career.
“Something like that, but it didn’t respond at all to silver,” Dean says.
“So the thing…it was feeding on me, all night?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, in between when it was following me around while I searched for you,” Dean says.
“Why didn’t it get you?” Sam asks.
“It can only do it to one person at a time, it said there was a limit to what it could absorb all at once,” Dean says.
“I don’t feel so great,” Sam says, stomach turning over at the thought of something feeding at him like some giant tick while he was romping around through his stupid fantasies.
Dean pulls over into another sandy pullout. Sam rolls out the door and hits the ground on his knees, there’s nothing in his stomach to bring up so he dry heaves for a while until he feels Dean’s cool hand on his neck, tangling in his hair. Sam moans at the feeling, hoping it’s disguised enough with the other sounds he’s making. It’s shameful feeling like this, when his brother was just so terrified. “I’m sorry,” Sam says, staring at the red sandy dirt between his hands.
Dean’s hand squeezes the back of Sam’s neck gentle as anything. “Nothing to be sorry about, Sammy. We’re good, we got away,” Dean says.
“What about…all of that-what I said?” Sam asks.
“We can chalk it up to monster-induced-logorrhea,” Dean says, withdrawing his hand and tousling Sam’s hair like he always does.
Sam stares up at him, outlined by the bright morning sun, he’s brilliant, this brother of his. He always tries to hide it, but Sam sees him anyway. He always has, he always will. “You need to come with me, Dean.”
“Come with you where? What are you talking about?” Dean asks with a concerned frown.
“Where’s my backpack?” Sam asks, changing the subject to save himself from having to explain. Dean’s going to say no, he knows this, he knows for sure. But he has to try.
“It’s-the thing must still have it,” Dean says.
“Wait, how does it have my backpack? What the hell happened back there, Dean?”
“If you’re worried about the letter from Stanford, I have that here,” Dean says, pulling a folded up envelope from his back pocket. “The thing literally threw it in my face.”
“I’m-“ Sam starts, not even sure what the hell he’s going to say here that would help.
“Don’t say you’re sorry, Sam. You shouldn’t be, not about something like this. I’m not happy you didn’t bother telling me, but I can guess why you didn’t,” Dean says, hiding his unhappiness behind the act of thrusting the letter in Sam’s face.
Sam takes the letter and stuffs it in his own back pocket, he buries his face in his arms and pulls his legs in, curling up on himself. He’s never going to hear the end of this. It’s all blowing up, right here, right now.
“You’ve got nothing to say to me here? Really, Sam? You’re unbelievable,” Dean says, stomping his way around the car to get back in on the driver’s side. Dean slams the door hard, like he only does when he’s incredibly angry.
Sam hugs his arms around his knees and holds back the tears that are threatening to spill. He stuffs all the emotion back inside deep down where he always keeps it hidden. Where it can’t hurt anyone, especially Dean. The Impala starts up again with a low rumble, and Sam stands up, brushing off his knees and butt. The cloud of red dirt blows away in the breeze. It’s cold, and he’s wearing Dean’s over shirt, and he might have just lost the most important person in the world.
Dean revs the engine, and Sam knows that’s the cue to get in if he doesn’t want to get left behind. He slips into the passenger seat and is putting on his seatbelt when Dean hands him a water bottle.
“Thought you might need to rinse your mouth out,” Dean says.
Sam swishes some water and spits out the window, making a dark spot on that red dirt. It’s not blood, but it might as well be blood or ashes for all that it matters now.
“We’re gonna talk about this at some point, like it or not. The stuff it showed me, Sammy, it’s not something I can ignore,” Dean says, his voice wavering on the last word.
Sam looks over at him, keyed in on that minor inflection in Dean’s voice. What did the thing show him? How much damage control does he have to do here? “Wait…what do you mean, what did it show you?”
“So, this thing survives by pulling wants out of people, tricking them into thinking they’re living the life where their wants have been fulfilled, right? But meanwhile they’re lying on the cold rocky ground having their life force sucked out. To keep the victim occupied, it shows you a kind of movie,” Dean says.
“But I thought, it was-it seemed so real,” Sam says.
“That’s the idea, that’s why you’ll lay down and die, basically,” Dean says.
“So that’s what I was seeing, but what did you see, Dean?”
“When I was fighting it, to get it off of you, it showed me your movie, that’s when it shoved that damn letter in my face,” Dean says with a grimace, “like it was trying to get me to fuck off from trying to save you, just because you wanted a different life.”
“But you didn’t,” Sam says, heart swelling with gratitude, his big-damn-hero brother, doing the usual self-sacrificing thing. “Thank you.”
“What do you think, I’m gonna leave you there on the ground to die, Sam? Just because you have some freaky happily ever-after fantasy of the two of us? And a real-world plan to make sure that never happens?”
“That’s what I was just asking you before. I want you to come with me,” Sam says.
“Come with you where?” Dean asks.
“To Palo Alto,” Sam says.
“What…you think I’m gonna live in your dorm room, carry your books for you to class? Give me a break, Sam, that ain’t me, you know that,” Dean says with so much sarcasm it feels like a thousand paper cuts.
Sam flinches away from him, and doesn’t want to say anything else. What else is there to say after that? But then he thinks about what Dean’s objecting to here, not the them being together part, just the college part. “We can live together off campus, I looked up a few places that we could rent that my scholarship would mostly cover. You don’t have to have anything to do with the college. There’s lots of jobs around that area, you could do anything, Dean. Fix all the rich people’s cars or something. But we could stay together, that’s all I want,” Sam admits.
“Sounds like a real nice daydream, Sammy. But I’m not going to abandon Dad and stop hunting, this is it for me, this is my life. And you’re going to have your life, where you go to college and do whatever the hell afterwards without us, and that’s fine.”
“You don’t want to even try, to stay together?”
“I don’t think it’d be right,” Dean says. “You’re my brother.”
“Yeah, I know that, thanks for the reminder. Listen, you saw the movie that the thing showed you, and I’ll own up to it, that’s what I want, but if you don’t, just come live with me. We can stay just brothers, and I’ll at least know you’re safe.”
“Sam, hunters aren’t ever safe, you’re old enough to realize that by now. And that’s why I can’t just leave Dad to do it by himself,” Dean says.
“Where is he right now, Dean? He’s sure as hell not here, he’s not making sure you’re safe, or me. He sent us out here on a case when he had no clear information and I almost just died. He’s out doing god knows what, god knows where. How would he even notice if you took off with me? He’d catch up when he needed something, sure, but c’mon, how is that a life for you, waiting around for him?”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it. Dad’s hunting the demon,” Dean says.
“He has been almost my whole life, and he’s left us out of it the whole time, even you. How is that being a partner or a team? It sure as fuck is not being a family!” Sam yells.
“Well, we are, you and me, we’re a family,” Dean says.
“Yeah, exactly, that’s why I want you to come with me,” Sam says.
“I…I’ll think about it. Let’s leave it at that,” Dean says.
“And all the other stuff?” Sam asks, even though he knows he should push it.
“I’ll think about that too. You’ve had a long time to come up with all the stuff that was in that thing’s movie, Sammy. You gotta give me a little time here,” Dean asks. He fumbles in the glovebox and grabs his sunglasses, putting them on so he can hide from Sam’s inspection.
“Okay, yeah, take the time, I get it, Dean,” Sam says, feeling a thrill of potential victory. He has no real idea where Dean will end up on upending his entire life, but at least he’s put it all out there. He leans against the window and closes his eyes against the bright sun. For a thing made of nothing, it sure changed everything for them.
The End
*****
“Sam! C’mon, Sam, you gotta-Sammy!” Dean is yelling, and how can he be yelling when Dean is also kissing the life out of him, it doesn’t make sense.
Sam comes back to the real world when Dean slaps him hard across the face. “Damn it, Sam, come on!”
Sam manages to get his hands up in front of his face to fend off the next slap. “Ssstoppit, stop hittin’ me,” Sam slurs. Wait, why is he slurring? He was just kissing Dean, and now he’s getting slapped in the face, did he do it wrong or something? Did Dean not like it?
“You little shit, scared the crap outta me!” Dean yells, shaking Sam’s shoulders hard against the rocky ground.
Dean’s still yelling at him, but why isn’t the kissing happening any more? Sam wants to go back to the kissing part. That was better. A lot better.
“I love you, I really really do,” Sam says, only in his mind he hopes, when Dean scoops him up in arms.
“God, you weigh a ton, how can you weigh so damn much when you’re so skinny. Must have iron for bones, huh, Sammy?” Dean asks, as he stumbles his way down the trail.
The sun is coming up, and it’s glaring and bright, too bright in Sam’s eyes. It had just been getting dark, how can it be so sunny? “What time’s it?” Sam slurs against Dean’s chest where his face ended up, pressed into the soft flannel of Dean’s blue over shirt.
“Just before dawn, I’ve been looking for you all night,” Dean says, sounding grim and determined as he marches them along the trail.
Hopefully heading back to the car, back to home. “We going home?”
“Yeah, Sammy, we’re going home, I gotcha, don’t worry,” Dean says, hoisting Sam up a little higher in his arms. Sam’s face ends up plastered against Dean’s bare neck. His lips find the cord that the amulet hangs on and he can’t help latching on to keep himself from saying anything. He’s so cold, and Dean’s so warm, and he wishes more than anything that this made one bit of sense. He shivers so hard that his teeth rattle against the metal of Dean’s amulet.
Dean stops and lays Sam down on a sandy part of the trail. He shrugs his over shirt off and threads Sam’s uncooperative noodle arms through the sleeves. Dean looks him over closely, finally making eye contact, and now it’s bright enough in the early morning sky so that Sam can see him. His eyes in this light are even greener than the grassy mossy green they usually are. How can he possibly be this beautiful after all this?
“Aww that’s nice of you to say, can you walk the rest of the way?” Dean asks, a slight blush to his cheeks.
Sam is stunned for a moment, he actually just said those words out loud. Right to Dean’s face. What the hell else has he said out loud? Shit.
“Sounds like that’s a no, okay, let’s keep goin’, big guy,” Dean says, making an oof sound as he scoops Sam up again, this time slinging him around to ride on his back. Sam tries to cooperate and wrap his legs around Dean’s middle, but they are noodle legs and slip several times. Dean holds onto them, like they’re a belt or something, and he starts walking at a very fast clip.
“Is something after us?” Sam asks, feeling scared all of a sudden. There was a thing, yesterday, that Dean had seen, the something that was nothing, right?
“I’d call it a whole lot of nothing, but yeah, I’m pretty sure that it’s catching up with us. Hold on to me, Sammy, best that you can. I’m gonna make a run for it, okay?” Dean asks.
“I’ll tr-“ Sam starts, but is cut off when Dean starts running down the trail, faster and faster, gaining speed as it gets steeper. Thank goodness the trail is downhill to where they parked.
The black glint of the Impala’s roof shines and twinkles at Sam. “I see her, she’s just up ahead.”
“Hell of a time for you to finally call her the right thing, Sammy,” Dean huffs between harsh breaths.
“What’s the plan, get in the car and gun it?” Sam asks, feeling his limbs a little more now, they’re less noodle and more stale breadsticks. He tightens his hold as Dean pushes his speed up now that they’re within sight of the finish line.
“Yeah, I’m unlocking my door, throwing you across the seat, and we’re gone,” Dean says.
“Should I look behind us? See if it’s close?” Sam asks.
“No! Don’t look, don’t look back, whatever you do,” Dean yells, somehow still picking up the pace.
The Impala is there, and Dean’s unlocking her door, throwing Sam across the front seat just as promised. Sam watches as Dean struggles with something briefly, finally gaining enough control to slam the door, crank the key and hit the gas pedal. They fishtail it out of the sandy pullout, jumping the dip back up onto the two-lane road. Sam can hear something on the driver’s side passenger window, a scratching like they’re continually rubbing up against tree branches.
“Something’s back there, Dean! Behind you on the window, I hear it!” Sam yells, struggling to get his seat belt on.
“Don’t look god damnit! Please, Sammy, don’t look at it again!” Dean yells, the car leaps forward as he mashes the accelerator pedal to the floor.
The scratching sound on the window stops and Sam hears something hit the road behind them. Dean slows down to a more reasonable ten miles an hour over the speed limit and gets his seat belt on. He finally glances over at Sam.
“What was that, Dean? What happened?” Sam asks.
“Long story short, it was some kind of monster, like a thing out of a fairytale. It told me it only needed your wants, that it was making you happy like I couldn’t. But all it was doing was tricking you into thinking you were living a life where you got everything you ever wanted,” Dean says.
“I don’t get it, you mean it was something like a djinn or a genie?” Sam asks, mentally thumbing through Dad’s journal where he had listed all the monsters he’s run into so far during his hunting career.
“Something like that, but it didn’t respond at all to silver,” Dean says.
“So the thing…it was feeding on me, all night?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, in between when it was following me around while I searched for you,” Dean says.
“Why didn’t it get you?” Sam asks.
“It can only do it to one person at a time, it said there was a limit to what it could absorb all at once,” Dean says.
“I don’t feel so great,” Sam says, stomach turning over at the thought of something feeding at him like some giant tick while he was romping around through his stupid fantasies.
Dean pulls over into another sandy pullout. Sam rolls out the door and hits the ground on his knees, there’s nothing in his stomach to bring up so he dry heaves for a while until he feels Dean’s cool hand on his neck, tangling in his hair. Sam moans at the feeling, hoping it’s disguised enough with the other sounds he’s making. It’s shameful feeling like this, when his brother was just so terrified. “I’m sorry,” Sam says, staring at the red sandy dirt between his hands.
Dean’s hand squeezes the back of Sam’s neck gentle as anything. “Nothing to be sorry about, Sammy. We’re good, we got away,” Dean says.
“What about…all of that-what I said?” Sam asks.
“We can chalk it up to monster-induced-logorrhea,” Dean says, withdrawing his hand and tousling Sam’s hair like he always does.
Sam stares up at him, outlined by the bright morning sun, he’s brilliant, this brother of his. He always tries to hide it, but Sam sees him anyway. He always has, he always will. “You need to come with me, Dean.”
“Come with you where? What are you talking about?” Dean asks with a concerned frown.
“Where’s my backpack?” Sam asks, changing the subject to save himself from having to explain. Dean’s going to say no, he knows this, he knows for sure. But he has to try.
“It’s-the thing must still have it,” Dean says.
“Wait, how does it have my backpack? What the hell happened back there, Dean?”
“If you’re worried about the letter from Stanford, I have that here,” Dean says, pulling a folded up envelope from his back pocket. “The thing literally threw it in my face.”
“I’m-“ Sam starts, not even sure what the hell he’s going to say here that would help.
“Don’t say you’re sorry, Sam. You shouldn’t be, not about something like this. I’m not happy you didn’t bother telling me, but I can guess why you didn’t,” Dean says, hiding his unhappiness behind the act of thrusting the letter in Sam’s face.
Sam takes the letter and stuffs it in his own back pocket, he buries his face in his arms and pulls his legs in, curling up on himself. He’s never going to hear the end of this. It’s all blowing up, right here, right now.
“You’ve got nothing to say to me here? Really, Sam? You’re unbelievable,” Dean says, stomping his way around the car to get back in on the driver’s side. Dean slams the door hard, like he only does when he’s incredibly angry.
Sam hugs his arms around his knees and holds back the tears that are threatening to spill. He stuffs all the emotion back inside deep down where he always keeps it hidden. Where it can’t hurt anyone, especially Dean. The Impala starts up again with a low rumble, and Sam stands up, brushing off his knees and butt. The cloud of red dirt blows away in the breeze. It’s cold, and he’s wearing Dean’s over shirt, and he might have just lost the most important person in the world.
Dean revs the engine, and Sam knows that’s the cue to get in if he doesn’t want to get left behind. He slips into the passenger seat and is putting on his seatbelt when Dean hands him a water bottle.
“Thought you might need to rinse your mouth out,” Dean says.
Sam swishes some water and spits out the window, making a dark spot on that red dirt. It’s not blood, but it might as well be blood or ashes for all that it matters now.
“We’re gonna talk about this at some point, like it or not. The stuff it showed me, Sammy, it’s not something I can ignore,” Dean says, his voice wavering on the last word.
Sam looks over at him, keyed in on that minor inflection in Dean’s voice. What did the thing show him? How much damage control does he have to do here? “Wait…what do you mean, what did it show you?”
“So, this thing survives by pulling wants out of people, tricking them into thinking they’re living the life where their wants have been fulfilled, right? But meanwhile they’re lying on the cold rocky ground having their life force sucked out. To keep the victim occupied, it shows you a kind of movie,” Dean says.
“But I thought, it was-it seemed so real,” Sam says.
“That’s the idea, that’s why you’ll lay down and die, basically,” Dean says.
“So that’s what I was seeing, but what did you see, Dean?”
“When I was fighting it, to get it off of you, it showed me your movie, that’s when it shoved that damn letter in my face,” Dean says with a grimace, “like it was trying to get me to fuck off from trying to save you, just because you wanted a different life.”
“But you didn’t,” Sam says, heart swelling with gratitude, his big-damn-hero brother, doing the usual self-sacrificing thing. “Thank you.”
“What do you think, I’m gonna leave you there on the ground to die, Sam? Just because you have some freaky happily ever-after fantasy of the two of us? And a real-world plan to make sure that never happens?”
“That’s what I was just asking you before. I want you to come with me,” Sam says.
“Come with you where?” Dean asks.
“To Palo Alto,” Sam says.
“What…you think I’m gonna live in your dorm room, carry your books for you to class? Give me a break, Sam, that ain’t me, you know that,” Dean says with so much sarcasm it feels like a thousand paper cuts.
Sam flinches away from him, and doesn’t want to say anything else. What else is there to say after that? But then he thinks about what Dean’s objecting to here, not the them being together part, just the college part. “We can live together off campus, I looked up a few places that we could rent that my scholarship would mostly cover. You don’t have to have anything to do with the college. There’s lots of jobs around that area, you could do anything, Dean. Fix all the rich people’s cars or something. But we could stay together, that’s all I want,” Sam admits.
“Sounds like a real nice daydream, Sammy. But I’m not going to abandon Dad and stop hunting, this is it for me, this is my life. And you’re going to have your life, where you go to college and do whatever the hell afterwards without us, and that’s fine.”
“You don’t want to even try, to stay together?”
“I don’t think it’d be right,” Dean says. “You’re my brother.”
“Yeah, I know that, thanks for the reminder. Listen, you saw the movie that the thing showed you, and I’ll own up to it, that’s what I want, but if you don’t, just come live with me. We can stay just brothers, and I’ll at least know you’re safe.”
“Sam, hunters aren’t ever safe, you’re old enough to realize that by now. And that’s why I can’t just leave Dad to do it by himself,” Dean says.
“Where is he right now, Dean? He’s sure as hell not here, he’s not making sure you’re safe, or me. He sent us out here on a case when he had no clear information and I almost just died. He’s out doing god knows what, god knows where. How would he even notice if you took off with me? He’d catch up when he needed something, sure, but c’mon, how is that a life for you, waiting around for him?”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it. Dad’s hunting the demon,” Dean says.
“He has been almost my whole life, and he’s left us out of it the whole time, even you. How is that being a partner or a team? It sure as fuck is not being a family!” Sam yells.
“Well, we are, you and me, we’re a family,” Dean says.
“Yeah, exactly, that’s why I want you to come with me,” Sam says.
“I…I’ll think about it. Let’s leave it at that,” Dean says.
“And all the other stuff?” Sam asks, even though he knows he should push it.
“I’ll think about that too. You’ve had a long time to come up with all the stuff that was in that thing’s movie, Sammy. You gotta give me a little time here,” Dean asks. He fumbles in the glovebox and grabs his sunglasses, putting them on so he can hide from Sam’s inspection.
“Okay, yeah, take the time, I get it, Dean,” Sam says, feeling a thrill of potential victory. He has no real idea where Dean will end up on upending his entire life, but at least he’s put it all out there. He leans against the window and closes his eyes against the bright sun. For a thing made of nothing, it sure changed everything for them.
The End