Work Text:
They drive for hours, after, the radio in silence and a thick, oppressive, choking rain hitting the windows. They splash through puddles they can't see the bottom of at high speed, and Dean thinks of the way that Sammy was, when he was still Sammy, when all it took was splashing water to calm him.
Sam's got his forehead pressing against the window, his fingers pressed against the patch where his breath shows. He breathes hard, like he can't get enough air. Watches his own breath on the window like he needs to prove he is.
Dean splashes through puddles.