It was one of the many ways Sam and Dean were different. Sam would run, Dean would stand his ground and fight. Together they seemed to keep each other grounded in a stable middle ground. It was when they were separated that things usually took a nose dive.
Sam settled back in his seat, hands resting on his knees. He still looked tense. But the thought of soon being in a motel room was slightly comforting. If nothing else they could watch crappy cable and drink beer.
"I... I just wish there was some way we could talk to Dad, y'know? Tell him the truth about what happened..."