There's a steady rhythm of bodies hitting the car. Sam flinces at each one. Dean does his best to ignore the sound. He tries his best to not look at the twisted, no longer human, things slamming themselves into the car to get to them. He notices one on the rear window, a little girl with a broken face and blood soaked everything. He shudders, turning his attention back Sam. They're crammed into the back seat, both fitting uncomfortable, but both refusing to move away from one another. Sam's head is resting on Dean's chest and his long legs are pulled up to his body, like a child.
"Close your eyes Sammy, just go to sleep. It's all gonna be okay." Dean says, over and over, running his hands through his brother's hair. "I promise Sammy, won't let anyone, anything, touch you. It's gonna be alright." He's lying and they both know it. Sam mummbles and whines, in too much pain to say anything back.
Sam's sick. He's shivering and running a fever, he can't stand for long and he sure as hell can't run. There's a loud smack. They won't make it until morning with a sick Sam and a car that's out of gas. He's morbidly happy that he's going to die with his brother and his car, the way he always figured he would. There's another loud bang and Dean knows they're getting closer to breaking something.
"Dean, don't let them get me." He cries, wrapping his arms around Dean's middle, tears soaking into Dean's shirt.
He tries his best not to cry. "I won't Sammy. I promise. We'll both die human, I swear to you."
He eyes the gun, loaded and shining.
"Just go to sleep Sammy. We'll be okay." He thinks of when his mother used to sing to him. Of when he used to sing to Sam. He kisses Sam's forehead. Whispers"I love you, Sammy." There's a loud crack. The glass of the windsheild is breaking. "It's gonna be okay Sammy, nothing can hurt us now."