Dean glanced behind his seat at his brother in the back of the impala, Sammy was in that gawky stage between man and child, with his floppy hair going every which way, jacket hung loosely about his frame. Dean couldn't stop staring at him, making sure he was in fact fine, the ghost had taken a lot out of him.
"He's fine" his father assured him turning up the music, trying to calm Dean down.
"He shouldn't have to be out there, I can handle it myself" Dean replied adamantly never once taking eyes off of Sammy. "He's just a boy, an adolescent. I can handle it"
"He has to learn Dean, end of story" John said gruffly
"Mom wouldn't have wanted him too, and you know that" Dean said reclining his seat back.
"I know son, I know" John whispered under his breath casting a glance at his son's.