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Sam knew Dean was watching him, always with a little frown, while they wrapped up at the house.
He didn't want to talk about it. It was nothing, it was stupid, there wasn't anything to talk about at all. But there was no telling that to Dean. Hell, Sam already had told him that, and wound up with the creepy staring as a result.
They had a series of crappy jobs ahead of them: wrapping the bodies in trash bags, loading them all into the back of the guy's SUV, removing as much evidence of their presence as possible. Sam plotted their route back to Bobby's while Dean wiped down surfaces and Bobby cleaned the floors. Google Maps told him the shortest way to get there easily enough, but it couldn't provide convenient places to burn a couple of bodies, or to dump one car and then steal another.
He worked in the kitchen, making sure to touch nothing besides the floor. He and Dean were legally dead, but their files might be reexamined if their DNA turned up in a crime scene like this. It made him wish he'd taken more criminal justice courses while he had the chance. He didn't know about Cas's vessel, but Cas attracted enough attention that they didn't need his face flagged in the system. Sam wasn't sure about Bobby, either, which made him frown. A friendly contact in local law enforcement could only handle so much. Sam tried to remember to bring it up with Bobby sometime.
He checked the car once he got the route down. The gas tank was three-quarters full, the check engine light was dark, and all the signals worked properly. Sam arranged some camping gear from a corner of the garage over the bodies next, checking through the windows to make sure the bags weren't visible from outside the car.
Dean came into the garage with a handful of rags while Sam was crouched by the front bumper, taking a Sharpie to the license plate. He'd already changed a T to an I and was working on making a 3 into an 8. Dean put the rags into the back seat and then walked around the SUV, peering through the windows too. Sam glanced at him a few times, and eventually Dean stood beside him, watching him work. It was the sort of thing he'd usually do while leaning on something, but he just tucked his hands into his pockets and stood there.
"Is Bobby still vacuuming?" Sam asked once he finished the 3. He settled back onto his heels and studied the plate.
"Nah, he's wrapping up," Dean said. "The R next, make it a B."
Sam nodded. He'd half expected Dean to find something else to do, maybe make a pot of coffee and scare up some travel mugs, but Dean stayed where he was. Sam could hear his breathing. He stood there and watched until Sam finished up. When he stood, bouncing on his toes a few times to work the stiffness out of his legs, Dean took the marker and went to make the corresponding changes on the other side of the car.
"You know, for a second I thought Eve was talking about Cas," Dean said almost as soon as he got started. He stayed crouched down, drawing, and didn't look up as he spoke. "That he was the monster we'd spent all day with, like her big plan was an army of powerless angels."
"They'd probably be easier to deal with," Sam said. Dean snorted but kept working. Sam came to stand behind him and watched him fill in the new letters with short, broad strokes.
"Like that was why his priorities were so fucked up," Dean said. "So there would've been a reason he didn't want us to get those kids out."
He capped the marker and stood, but instead of heading off to check on Bobby or anything else, he stood staring through the back window of the SUV. Sam watched Dean's frown grow, his forehead wrinkling up until he closed his eyes and dropped his head. Sam put his hand on Dean's back, spreading his fingers between his shoulder blades as wide as he could, touching as much of Dean as he could. He sighed and Sam rubbed, pressing his hand over Dean's spine. He glanced up towards the door that lead to the laundry room and then the house, but he could neither see nor hear Bobby. This wasn't something Bobby couldn't see anyway, and even if it was, Dean always took these things hard.
"He's looking at the big picture," Sam said slowly, but his voice sounded weak. He didn't think that was a good excuse any more than Dean did. Sometimes the big picture came with horrible side effects.
Dean shook his head. "I hate when it's kids," he said.
Sam sighed, because he knew it was more than that. He'd seen the way Joe stuck close to Ryan, the way he didn't let Ryan out of his sight and kept himself in between Ryan and the rest of them. Sam had seen Dean notice, too. He saw Dean take care not to overstep Joe's boundaries; he saw Dean glance back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror and Sam himself, over in shotgun, while they took the kids home. Dean had been wearing his quiet little smile then, the one that said they'd done something good.
Dean hated when it was kids, sure, but this was more specific than just being kids.
Sam slid his arms around Dean, wrists crossing over his chest, and pulled him in close, tucking his chin over Dean's shoulder. His eyes were closed but he leaned his temple against Sam after a moment. He grabbed onto Sam's arms, tucking his fingers under Sam's wrists, and Sam planted his feet, squared his shoulders. They stayed there until Bobby came out of the house, jangling the keys with every step.