Disclaimer : Seeing as I can't find them on eBay yet, I still don't own them

Going back to the good ol' days of Wendigo. Continues on from the end of the ep.


Chapter One

Dean shifted uncomfortably in the seat. He hadn't ridden in the passengers seat of his car in so long, not since the days when the car had a different owner. He sighed as his bruises started to let themselves known. Pushing out thoughts of his father he twisted his head to Sam and smiled. God it was good to be so close to him right now. He had almost given up on his and Sam ever being a team again. But here he was, riding shotgun with his little brother. He shifted in his seat again.

"Dean will you stop moving, you're distracting me here"

Dean shot his brother a high browed frown and continued moving, more so to piss off Sam than to find a comfortable position.

Sam focused on the road ahead and tried to ignore Deans attempts to annoy him. It had been such a short time since his brother had come back into his life. Part of him was relieved when Dean had shown up. He'd never admit it but he'd missed his older brother. Jessica had always asked about his family, accused him of being evasive and when she made no head way with that angle she accused him of being ashamed of her. He'd had to convince her that it was his family he was trying to keep away from her, not the other way around. The sorrow in his eyes had won the argument and she'd refrained from asking again. What if he'd just have told her? Would it have really mattered? She would have understood he was sure, she was amazing that way, his Jessica.

But no.

He didn't break the family rule.

We do what we do and we shut up about it.

That rule also went for any opinions Sam and his brother had regarding the 'team'. It was his fathers way or no way. How could anyone live that way for any length of time? How could anyone stomach taking orders continually without question. Another shift from Dean reminded him of who could stand that life, of who might actually enjoy the life he was dragged into. Sam knew Dean remembered other times, happier times. When there was a house, a happy father, a mother. Although Dean claimed he couldn't remember Sam knew, deep down inside, he did. If that wasn't enough proof then the sorrow he'd caught in his brothers eyes anytime their Mother was mentioned only reinforced his beliefs.

Sam was broken from his reverie by a soft moan from his reluctant shotgun. He turned his head and looked at his brother, sleeping in the most uncomfortable position he'd ever seen him in. His back was slumped against the door yet his left side was lifted off the seat. His right arm pinned awkwardly between his body and the car. Sam pulled over quietly when he caught the pained expression on his brother's features.

He silenced the car and pulled a blanket from under the back seat, carefully dragging it across Dean's sleeping form. Sam studied him closer and noted his left arm hung in his lap as if he was in pain. Were there more injuries than the cuts and bruises he could see? The EMT's had looked over his brother pretty thoroughly. Sam had just assumed it was because the female tech had been charmed by his brother. For the first time Sam wondered if maybe the time his brother was with the female EMT it was for more than just flirting. It wouldn't have surprised him. Dean hated being fussed over unless it was by a woman.

Sam pulled the blanket up higher. As he did he caught sight of a crumpled piece of paper hanging precariously from his brother's leather jacket. He carefully removed and unfolded the paper. There was a list of drugs, three in all written at the top. Underneath a list which read:

Hot Towels

Hot Baths



"What the?"

Sam scratched his head. The writing was female, there was no doubt about that. Unless his brother had developed some rather fine skill for ink but Sam highly doubted it. He re-read the list and slowly it began to dawn on him. He remembered his friend James from college. Quiet guy who kept to himself. Much like Sam. He'd made it to Stanford on a scholarship thanks to his speed and agility on the track. James had been doing so well, really starting to come out of his shell when he'd fallen during the last race of the semester and deeply bruised his shoulder muscle. He'd been put on pain killers and told to rest, keep the shoulder warm and take hot baths to ease the muscle and prevent it from freezing. Unfortunately the arm had other ideas. Last Sam saw of his friend was his leaving Stanford, his arm in a sling. The muscle frozen to such a degree it was going to take surgery to free the joint.

Sam started the car and pulled back out onto the interstate. Had Dean hurt his arm? He recalled him holding his left arm close to his body but when he'd asked him he'd said he was fine. How long had they been searching for them? His brother was hanging in the Wendigo's cave for at least two hours before they managed to free them. He'd seemed fine once he'd been checked over though, although this wouldn't be the first time Dean had hidden something. Sam sighed. He'd have a thing or two to say to the jerk once he woke up. But for now, he'd just let him sleep.

Dean slowly peeled his eyes open as he felt the car come to an abrupt stop. He could feel Sam staring at him even before his eyes could see him. He was twisted to face Dean, right arm draped across the back of the seat. Eyebrow's raised so high they were hiding beneath his hair.


"Hey. Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Had me some very sweet dreams. Where are we?"

Dean tried to shift himself to look about but a sharp pain in his shoulder caught him by surprise and he gasped aloud.

Sam just sat there. Staring.

"Guess I slept funny huh?"

"Guess so"

"You alright? You're acting like you've had a lobotomy"

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"If you'd quit staring at me like that I'd be fine too"

The brothers regarded each other for a few more seconds before Sam suddenly turned and jumped out of the Impala.

"I booked us into a motel" He called back over his shoulder.

Dean had still to exit the car. His arm felt very strange and truth be told he was a little apprehensive to move again. The pain hadn't been unbearable but it wasn't too far off and he was pretty sure if Sam caught him gasping through gritted teeth again he was gonna have to listen to a geek boy lecture on the perils of hiding injuries. Not that he'd hid this injury. It's just he hadn't told Sam about it. But then Sam wasn't a cute brunette. Well. Not in the way Dean liked cute brunettes. And Blondes. Redheads especially. He grinned and licked his lips, lost in a fond memory when the door behind him suddenly gave way and he had to grab hold of the seat to keep from falling out.

"Jesus dude what are doin' ?"

"Trying to get you out of the car and into the motel so that you can rest up"

"I'm rested, and all you had to do was ask"

"Please get out of the car"

"Bite me"

Dean carefully manoeuvred himself from the vehicle, ignoring the concerned look in his brother's eyes. Sam held out his bag to him and Dean reached his left arm out to grab the bag. As soon as the weight hit his shoulder his hand dropped the bag and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain coursing through his limb. Sam rushed forward only to be pushed back.

"I'm fine"

"You don't look it"

"I'm just bruised and tired is all. Need some more sleep and I'll be good as knew" Dean tried his most sincere look, attempting to mimic the one Sam had perfected.

"You don't look fine Dean" There was the look Dean had been aiming for, how did his brother do that? That whole sincere, puppy dog-butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth look that no one, not even Dean, could deny. God he'd missed that look.

"Ok, my shoulder is a little bruised, but the EMT said it would be fine as long as I was careful"

"You should have had it checked out"

"It's fine Sam. Like I told her It's not bad enough to need checking out and she said nothings broken or dislocated so I should be fine in a week or so."

Dean picked up his bag in his right hand and walked past his brother toward the room.

"Just bruises dude, honestly"


Sam picked up his own bags and went to the door where an impatient big brother was waiting to get into the room.

Sam stretched out on the ugliest bed he'd ever seen in his whole life. Considering the amount of motels they'd stayed in , this one had the ugliest décor ever. The walls were a lovely shade of green which wouldn't be amiss in a mental institute, the floor covered with a warn through and heavily stained blue carpet (stained with god knew what, Sam made a mental note to not allow any bare skin to touch the floor). The beds, well, they were right out of the 50's. The sheets he was sure had once been white , were now an off yellow colour, the blanket torn and stained, much like the floor. Sam tried to ignore the musty smell that attempted to invade his nostrils.

All in all he'd managed to pull into the most unhygienic motel room on the planet. He suddenly had an urge to leap away from the bed before he caught some disease of some kind.

Must remember to sleep fully clothed in this one. Both brothers preferred to sleep in just their boxers, but dependant on the state of whatever room they were currently residing in they usually opted for t-shirts and jogging pants.

He rubbed a tired hand over his face. What a week. A few days before, he'd been saying goodbye to friends in Stanford. Then running for his life through Lost Creek Colorado. How quickly things could change.

He should be home, waiting to hear the results of his interview, waiting to hear if he was indeed destined to be a lawyer, waiting by the phone, head laying in Jessica's lap while she calmed his nerves with a hand through his hair.

She could calm him in seconds by doing that. God he missed her. He sighed heavily and flicked on the TV. He'd done enough thinking to last him a life time. He needed to quiet his mind. Focus on the tv, focus on Oprah. Focus on anything but the pain, Jessica, Dad, grief, loss. STOP!

Sam rubbed his hands across his face again. He looked toward the closed bathroom longingly. God he needed a shower. Why did the older one always get to go first. It'd been that way since they were kids. Sam knew Dean had given up food for him when there wasn't enough for two, but his brother always got the shower first. That was the rule. Always.

He guessed Dean needed it more than he did. Sam took a deep breath. Ok, maybe not. He really did reek. It was amazing what two days in the woods could do to a persons odour.

He got up and made his way across the floor (don't look at the stains) and banged on the door.

"Hey man, leave some water for me won't you"

"Oh there'll be water Sammy."

"Dean! Leave hot water for me"

He flopped back down on his bed (ignore the stains) and turned the tv up to drown out the evil chuckle his brother was throwing his way.

Dean laid his head against the side of the shower. Reluctantly he turned off the water but made no move to dry himself off. He could have happily stayed under the water for another hour but that wouldn't have been fair to Sam. Well, actually, it wouldn't have been fair to him. His brother reeked and he had no intentions of trying to ignore Sam's BO as well as the musty motel room.

He looked down at his body. His left side was a mess of bruises, but thankfully no broken ribs. His shoulder though was one big swollen bruise of the most gorgeous colour. Charlie the EMT had checked him out thoroughly. Though not his type she'd still been a victim to his charm and had written him a list of over the counter drugs and what to do to keep the limb from seizing up. She'd wanted him to get checked out at the hospital. But, well, that just wasn't going to happen. He'd had no choice in the exam though, as much as he would have loved to have just jumped in the car with Sam and moved onto the next gig Haley hadn't let him. Instead she'd told Charlie about Dean's injuries and he'd had to submit to a look over. Haley had supervised to make sure he didn't keep anything back. At least that's what she'd called it. But he knew she was really only looking over his body. When Charlie had poked around his shoulder Dean had almost cried out but Haley had kept her hand on his back. Rubbing her thumb in gentle soothing circles.

"You're so loving this aren't you?"

"It's not everyday I get to meet a guy who saves me with a bag of M&M's"

"If you think that's clever you should see what I can do with…OW! Hey, injured here"

Dean had rubbed the back of his head where Haley had smacked him. He couldn't help but smile back when she grinned at him mischievously. Sometimes he really wished they could stick around longer. Some people where worth getting to know, and he'd really connected to this girl. She was a big sister, she'd understood the responsibilities bestowed upon the older siblings. Don't get close though. Dad's rule number two. Don't ever get close enough that you can't walk away.

Dean took a deep breath and stepped gingerly from the shower, he carefully dried himself off and rubbed down the mirror. His face wasn't too bruised, a nasty cut on his cheek to match the one on his neck. All in all they'd gotten off pretty lightly. His talk with Sam in the woods still haunted him. He wanted to say the right thing, anything. Do the big brother thing and take the pain away with a word, a sentence. Or beat the crap outta the thing causing his brother pain. But how do you kick grief's butt? How'd this all get so messed up?

God he was tired.

He pulled on his jogging bottoms and t-shirt, albeit with a little less grace than usual. Stifling a moan he opened the door to find Sam engrossed in an episode of Oprah.

"I left ya some water"

"Well that's damn decent of you"

Dean ignored him and threw his dirty clothes straight into his bag. Dirty or not there was no way they were touching that motel room floor. He turned his attention to the tv as Oprah announced a family he'd watched on an earlier show.

"We have the Henderson's back here with us, everyone give them a big hand"

Dean watched as the Henderson's made their way to the sofa by Oprah, each sitting down with slightly embarrassed smiles as the audience applauded. Sam watched his brother watching Oprah. Well, this was, new.

Dean was engrossed, until he felt Sam's eyes boring into his skull. Clearing his throat, and silently giving My Henderson a high five for staying sober and out of debt for the past year, he carefully lowered his beaten body on top of the bed. He was beginning to drift off, to that far away place that served as a truck stop for sleepers on their way to the land of dreams when he felt a shadow standing over him.

"Sam, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah" Dean cracked open one eye. "Seriously dude take a shower. You stink"


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