Dean, Sam and you were all driving back to the bunker from a hunt, one that had broken your leg and almost killed Sam. Dean was silent, not singing along to any song that played, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. Sam glanced back at you every so often, then at Dean, trying to silently signal that you should talk to him. Once you all got back to the bunker, Dean stormed inside, to his room, and Sam helped you out of the car.