Remember This

Part 3

As Sam expected, Dean was much better by morning. His fever had broken, and he hadn't developed an infection after all. Besides, exhaustion had knocked him out until midday, and that was the longest period of time he had managed to sleep in the last few weeks. All things considered, Sam was almost glad Dean had sustained an injury, because he had been forced to rest during the aftermath.

Dean woke up a bit disoriented, but Sam had been expecting that too. At least this time, Sam told himself, he had made sure to be awake before his brother. He doubted he could ever forget the frightened look an unguarded Dean had fixed him with when he shook him awake the night before. He definitely didn't want to see it ever again.

At first, Sam wasn't sure whether Dean would remember their little midnight crisis. In the end, he concluded that while Dean wasn't certain of what exactly he had said or done, he remembered part of it. At least it seemed that way, judging by how his brother took in that he wasn't lying in the bed he had fallen asleep in and the way he avoided Sam's gaze after. It took a good three hours until Sam's off-handed offers of food, drink, even cards had convinced him that whatever it was that had happened, his little brother wasn't going to try to push him to talk about it.

They stayed at the motel for a couple of days, but soon enough it was clear that, despite the exhaustion derived from the blood loss, Dean wouldn't be able to get anymore sleep now that surrendering to the Sandman was up to him and not to unconsciousness. Sam decided it was better to get back to the road, and Dean was eager to agree. The moment the Impala roared to life with Sam behind the wheel, Dean fell asleep in the passenger's seat.

Sam sighed, relieved. Determined to follow his plan, he hit the road. He was immensely grateful at the same time that Dean remained asleep most of the way. It was definitely better like that.

Sam drove for ten hours straight before reaching his destination. Dean woke up a couple of times, asked vaguely where they were, offered to drive and after being brushed off, dozed off. When they finally got to their destination, Sam stopped the car and sighed, bracing himself for what was coming. He was worn out, almost to the point of collapse, but if he had to be honest, at that moment nervousness overrode exhaustion. Almost as if he sensed the absence of the engine's purring, Dean stirred and started to rouse.

"Hey," Sam greeted, as soon as he noticed his brother blinking dazedly out of the front window.

Dean gulped and turned his head in the direction of Sam's voice. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, and Sam didn't miss the appraising once-over Dean gave him before relaxing.

"Hey," the older Winchester replied finally, with a rough, sleepy voice, "you look like crap."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam replied with a smile. "Nice."

Dean smiled back and scrubbed his face before sitting upright.

"I mean it, Sam. You look beat. Let me drive for a while."

"It's okay." Sam said, shaking his head. "We're here."

"And where's here?" Dean asked with a hint of curiosity, as he looked around.

Sam swallowed and got out of the car without answering, trying to buy some time for himself as Dean recognized his surroundings. Nervously, Sam took a deep, steadying breath as he went around the car and took the time to look around for himself. His eyes soon found the familiar well with the ancient bell, and his stomach curled slightly.

Cold Oak. He had died near that well.

"Sam!" Dean's deep growl made Sam turn to his brother.

Dean had gotten out of the car and was leaning on the door. It was obvious that he had also recognized the place, and he was confused, angry...and more than a little upset.