Chapter Text
Sam jerks his head up from his phone at the sound of knocking against the window of the Impala to see Dean holding three plastic bags, filled with snacks and drinks, and two paper McDonald’s ones, greasy circles staining the bottom. Making a face, Sam leans across to open the driver’s side door. Dean hands him two wet cups from the gas station/fast food place they are at.
“Okay, so I got you a Dr. Pepper and your favorite,” Dean sing-songs as he pulls a happy meal out of one bag.
Sam gives a weak grin. His favorite. Right.
The car starts and Dean pulls out of the parking lot one handed, the other holding a half wrapped double cheeseburger, juice rolling down to his wrist. Sam rolls his window down as he often does during long drives.
----
About 12 miles down the Interstate and Sam has almost thrown away all his fries. Discretely, with Jessica’s voice in the back of his mind, he tosses the last two out the window. His chicken nuggets sit untouched in the bottom of the red box. Dean has long since finished his burger and fries, now sipping happily on his Coke. After a few bubbly, slurping noises, Dean pulls off the straw with a satisfied, “Ah.”
Smiling at his brother, Dean sneaks a peak at Sam to see the young man sitting there with a very carefully neutral expression, the small paper bag for fries empty in his hand, and the box turned away from Dean.
“Hey, you alright?” Dean asks as casually as he can manage; he knows something’s up, he just doesn’t know what. Yet.
“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam crumples his bag and tosses it into the box, which he closes immediately after. Shaking his bangs to the side, he sits still with his hands tightly gripping the top of the box, as if he could wish away the nuggets if he tried hard enough.
Eyes on the road, but attention on Sam, Dean wonders, “Did you like your food? You must have been hungry; I didn’t even see your chicken nuggets you ate them so fast.” Dean chuckles, keeping a light mood.
Sam grins a bit, “Yeah they were good. Haven’t had ‘em in a while.”
Seeing Dean nod and smile, Sam relaxes, his death grip on the box loosening as he lays his head back to rest.
----
180 miles later and Dean has been yawning every minute for the past hour. Checking the blue road signs, he scans for any motels.
He finds one, and as he pulls in slowly, he notices Sam is sleeping, but not resting. His eyes move under his lids and his mouth twitches as if in pain. His eyes clench shut before snapping open with a gasp.
“Jess!”
“Woah, woah, hey, you okay?” Dean asks with concern.
Trying to catch his breath, Sam just nods, barely noticing as Dean starts to take his happy meal box from his hands. Sam’s fingers tighten, causing Dean to tug harder while saying, “Sam, I’m just trying to throw away the trash, gimme the box.”
Sam looks terrified, but releases his hold on the little yellow flaps.
“I’ll be right back, I’m just checking us in, ‘kay?”
Dean waits for Sam’s small, “Okay,” before leaving.
As Dean walks, his arms swing, and he hears something rattling in the box. He opens it, brows furrowing in confusion as he sees five chicken nuggets loosely sitting at the bottom of the box. Sam said he ate them, but…
Yawning again, Dean decides to forget about it and just check them in.
----
Sam opens his eyes slowly, the dim sunlight seeming as bright as a spotlight. He sits up, opening his eyes fully, for a bit before falling back. Oh, but his head hurts. Nothing some water won’t help.
He takes a deep breath and sits up again, slower this time. His breath gusts out of him with a whoosh.
“Sam?”
Sam gasps, turning his head far to quickly, feeling like he is going to spill the soup his brain has become. He takes a breath, a moment. “Yeah, what?”
Sleepily, Dean mumbles, “You okay?”
Sam nods before his brain decides that isn’t a good idea. “Yeah, m’good.”
He tries to stand, but his legs are too shaky, his brain fuzzy, his stomach empty. It growls.
Dean turns more towards his brother, raising an eyebrow. “Hungry much?”
Sam gives him a weak smile, trying to laugh at the joke. His mind is far too muddled for him to think, though, and it comes as more of a grimace.
“Sammy, seriously, get some food,” Dean demands when Sam’s stomach rumbles again.
“Yeah, I’ll. I’ll do that.” He gets up on wobbly legs and goes to the kitchenette across the room. Sam is making noise, fixing his imaginary breakfast, when he decides to make some real food for Dean.
His stomach growls, but Jess helps.
You aren’t hungry.
He believes her.
----
“Dean, wake up. I made food.”
“Hrmm...”
“Dean...”
“Wha?”
“Get. Up.”
Dean sluggishly pulls his eyes open, the scent of bacon rousing him from his dreams.
“Mmm, yummy,” he mumbles, kicking his legs over to stand up in one smooth move. On his way to the table, he stretches his back with several tiny pops.
“Looks good, man.”
There’s one plate on the table of eggs and bacon.
“Where’s yours, Sammy?”
But when Dean turns he can’t see Sam, but he hears the shower start. Seeing a cleared plate in the sink, he guesses Sam must have already eaten.
Bacon and eggs filling his mouth, Dean hears a loud crash from the bathroom. He doesn’t hesitate; he stands and runs to the bathroom, knocking harshly.
“Sammy!”
No answer.
Dean opens the door. It isn’t even locked.
He rushes in, gasping at the sight of his brother.
“Sam!”
End of Chapter 1