Hungry for control

Sam pulled his gray t-shirt over his head and sighed quietly as the material hung off him as if he were wearing a tent. The t-shirt was once tight and clung to his muscular chest and back. Now, it loosely blew around in the breeze. He pulled his jacket on over the top, in a feeble attempt to mask the severity of the ill-fitting clothing. He adjusted his belt, making it one notch tighter but it still was slightly loose.

He turned his face in the bathroom mirror, glancing at his hollow cheeks and dark smudges under his hazel eyes. He tried not to sigh again as Dean called in from their motel room.

"Come on, Sammy!" Dean's impatience resonated through his voice. "We gotta get movin'!"

Running a hand through his limp hair, Sam turned to leave the bathroom but not before glancing at himself in the mirror once again. The pale light of the lamp above the mirror accentuated his thin appearance, Sam hoped that was the case anyway.

He stepped out of the en suite to be greeted by the sight of his brother with his arms crossed, tapping his finger against his biceps impatiently. Sam managed to spread an apologetic smile across his lips as he grabbed his duffle bag and headed for the door.

The elder Winchester rolled his eyes before following his brother out to the parking lot. Dean smoothed his hand over the trunk of the dark Impala before pulling it open and tossing his bag inside. He waited for Sam to put his in too before slamming it shut with a metal clang and climbing into the drivers side. The man tapped the steering wheel impatiently as Sam made the journey from the rear of the car to the Door. It seemed agonizingly slow for Dean, who had already resulted to hollering for his brother to "Hurry up and get your ass in the car!"

Sam breathed in deeply before collapsing into the small Impala. Dean looked over at him, unimpressed, before leaving the car park, wheels screaming. Their car journey started in silence as both Winchesters were lost in their own thoughts. Miles of smooth black tarmac were lost beneath the men as the reliable car ate up the distance with ease. Dean couldn't help but smile as he thought about his baby and all the trouble she had saved him from or, in a few cases, taken him to. He patted the dashboard and glanced over at his brother, glad he wasn't paying enough attention to mock him about it.

Dean watched his brother carefully. Sam had his head leaned against the window with his arms strewn lazily across his lap. His breath left condensation against the glass while he was lost inside his mind. You could have easily mistaken the man for being asleep apart from his eyes that were slightly parted allowing him to watch what was going on. Sam allowed himself the occasional blink as his body remained practically motionless. Dean would have said that the young Hunter looked exhausted.

The elder brother sighed gently. Leaning forward, he peered out the windscreen for any signs of a next town. He wanted to stop and refuel, both for the car and also it's passengers. After a few moments, they passed a sign drawing attention to the town only a few miles up the road. Dean nodded to himself and pressed down harder on the accelerator, he wasn't waiting around.

Sam had always liked to exercise control. As a child he experienced chaos and a lack of control that would strike fear in anybody. The Winchester's constant stream of case after case, motel after motel and stranger after stranger. Sam struggled in this life that he'd been thrown into. He fought against the panic that rose during a poorly planned hunt or the dark feeling in his stomach as they bid another farewell to a motel that had became their home. Little Sam had little, if any, control over the flow of instructions that dragged his ass from one place to the next.

Living on edge made him crave sustainability like a drug. Long-term was a phrase that rarely graced a Winchester's lips. This made Sam itch to control something... anything.