He never should've let Dean go alone. Never mind that he couldn't get out of bed. He should've hauled his ass down the stairs and out of Bobby's house and into the passenger seat of the Impala, where he belonged. Then maybe he wouldn't be standing next to the pyre where his brother's body was burning. "It's just a vengeful spirit, Sam. I'll be fine."
They hadn't been counting on a second spirit. Dean had been caught off guard, and a knife had gone through his stomach. He'd died pretty soon after. Another hunter had found him, and had called Sam to let him know.
Bobby helped him bring the body back to the salvage yard. He had stood out with Sam as Dean burned, but after a couple hours, he had gone back inside to let Sam grieve alone.
The night sky was crystal clear, almost like black velvet studded with diamonds. It was one of those nights where they would have pulled off the road to watch the stars. The pain in Sam's chest was fierce as he thought about Dean handing him a beer as they settled onto the roof.
Picking up the bottle of whiskey he'd been drinking from all night, he took a swig and said, "Here's one for you." Stumbling over to the pyre, he dumped the rest of the bottle onto the fire before crumbling to the ground and sobbing.
After a few days, he figured it was time to hit the road again. Dean had left him the Impala, and at first Sam felt so wrong in the driver's seat without Dean beside him that he had to pull over and take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. As he was wiping the tears from his face, he thought he felt arms around him, and a voice whispering, "Don't be such a girl." But it must've been his imagination.
Sam kept hunting, sometimes with Bobby, but mostly solo. The radio in the car always seemed to get stuck on the classic rock stations, no matter what he did. A Metallica tape was stuck in the tape player, and it would start playing randomly. Sam always joked to himself that it must've been Dean's ghost. Every time the radio acted up, Sam would mutter, "Don't be such a jerk, Dean."
He nearly crashed the car the day a shadowy image of Dean appeared in the passenger seat and said with a smirk, "Don't be such a bitch, Sammy."
"Dean!" Once he got the car safely to the shoulder, he stared at the apparition of his dead brother. "But, we salted and burned you!"
"You think I'd latch onto my own body?" Dean smirked. "I'm with the car, Sam. I've been here all along."
"But…But why weren't you here sooner?" Sam still wasn't over the shock.
"It takes a bit of practice." Dean rolled his eyes. Suddenly, he stopped and looked out of the windshield. "It's a really clear night. Got any beer?"
"Can you even have beer?"
"No, you idiot. I'm dead. For you."
Sam nodded. "Oh. Um, yeah." He stepped out of the car and grabbed a beer from the cooler in the back before settling onto the hood. Dean sat beside him, just like old times. After a bit of silence, Sam sighed. "I've missed you, Dean."
"I would say the same, except I've had to deal with your annoying music for a month now."
Sam rolled his eyes and muttered "Jerk."
Dean grinned. "Bitch."
"It's good to have you here." Sam said quietly.
"It's good to be here." Dean replied. "Now shut up. I'm trying to enjoy the view."
Dean's presence made driving between hunts a little better, even when Dean was being an ass. But, he who is impatient in life is impatient in death, and Dean never did well with sitting around and waiting. The second Sam got back in the car after a hunt, Dean was jumping all over him, and making sure he was okay. It was hurting him not to be able to watch over his little brother.
Some nights, Sam chose not to get a motel and just slept in the car so he could have some time with Dean. The times when he did get a motel, he'd leave the TV on while he slept, because it was always too quiet without Dean's snoring.
Waking up from nightmares to an empty room always sucked. It was times like that when he would shuffle out to the Impala and sit for a while, not speaking, but letting Dean's presence comfort him.
Sam was constantly asking Dean about life after death, and Dean was constantly telling him, "I'm still here. It's not any different, except being stuck in this car."
One day, Sam brought up the topic of vengeful spirits. "I don't want you becoming one."
Dean snorted. "Do I seem very vengeful to you?"
"No, but as time goes on, you're not gonna wanna be stuck here."
"If it gets to that point, you know what to do."
Sam brushed his hair from his face. "Burn the Impala."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but yes. Oh god, I can't think about you burning my baby."
But Sam's dark mood wasn't over. "Dean, what if something happens to me, and I can't burn her before I die? You'll be stuck here."
"Attach your giant ass to this thing too. We can be stuck here forever."
"Dean, I'm serious."
Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders, sending a chill through the younger man. "Sam, relax. I'm not going vengeful, and you aren't gonna die."
Sam nodded weakly. "Okay."
Dean sat back in his seat again. "Alright, enough chick flick time. Let's hit the road, Sammy. There's places to be."
So, I'm thinking this is gonna be a two shot. I know how I want it to play out, but any suggestions? Reviews are love.