Disintegrate

Dean was driving down a quiet country road, and watching out of the corner of his eye, as Sam pretended to sleep against the passenger side door. After the Wendigo case Sam's anger seemed to have fizzled out, and if it was anyone else Dean would have been happy to see some semblance of control return to the hunter, but Sam was different.

After the anger had faded away it had been replaced by a stifling silence that seemed to be swallowing up his younger brother, and Dean was unsure of how to proceed. Sam wouldn't cry, wouldn't talk about Jessica, or the life he had lost. His only goal was finding John Winchester and figuring out what had done this.

But then again, maybe Dean wasn't handling any of this the best way either. Four years was a long time, and he was realizing that he needed to relearn how to be a big brother to the boy in front of him. No, he wasn't a boy anymore, he was a man, definitely not the same kid that had left for Stanford four years prior.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered across the darkness. "You need to sleep sometime."

Dean heard a deep sigh and saw Sam sit up and turn towards him.

"I can't…" Sam said.

"Yeah well, we don't have a case lined up, so I am gonna pull over in the next town and find us a motel. The bags under your eyes look like they could carry the Impala's whole arsenal."

Sam rubbed subconsciously at his eyes and leaned back against the seat.

"Stopping isn't gonna help."

"Gotta be easier for your lanky ass legs to sleep stretched out in a bed, instead of being squished in the passenger seat…"

Sam laughed sadly and looked at the side of Dean's head.

"Yeah, can't sleep in the Impala cause I am a giant, can't sleep in motels because I can't keep staring up at those white fucking ceilings…"

Dean's blood ran a little cold, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Sammy… I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine Dean, not your fault everything reminds me of her and death."

The ride was silent for a few minutes, neither brother sure where to go from there, but as they pulled into the motel parking lot, Dean found something to say.

"Coconut and Lavender." Dean said.

Sam looked at him with a confused frown on his face.

"What?"

"Mom used coconut shampoo and she wore lavender perfume. She always sung completely off key versions of Beatles songs, and I remember nights when it would rain, and she would force me and Dad to go outside and run around in the streets… those are the good memories."

Sam watched the small smirk make his way over his brother's face, and it almost overpowered the sadness in his eyes of thinking of his Mom.

"You never told me any of that before."

Dean shrugged uncomfortably.

"I guess I never really thought about telling you before. Look, sometimes when what happened gets stuck in my head, I try and think of the good things that happened with her. It doesn't make it go away but… it makes the pain bearable. Sometimes I need to remind myself that good things did happen. You get me?"

Sam's eyes were shining with unshed tears, and he was overwhelmed with memories of Jessica's laugh, and the smell of her blonde hair.

"Yeah I get it Dean."

"Good, lets go get a room, I'll even let you have first shower."

The two Winchester brothers made their way into the motel room, and Sam headed into the bathroom with his toiletry bag. He sighed and for the first time in days, he looked in the mirror and hated what he saw.

He didn't see the Stanford University student that he had been; he saw what was left of a sad seventeen year old boy. Sam slid down against the wall and took in some deep panicky breaths, and did what he had yet to do in the wake of Jessica's death. He cried, and cried and he couldn't stop. He pulled on the roots of his hair and began to rock back and forth. Sam knew in his subconscious mind what was happening to him.

A familiar darkness was falling down over him, a darkness he knew he couldn't stop on his own. And he didn't think he could ask anyone for help.

He was in pain. He was alone. And he didn't know how to stop it.