Sam took Dean’s car—his precious Baby, the one he loves more than anything and cares for like his life depends on it—and drove to the nearest store to grab some groceries for dinner. Dean had been buried in research when Sam mentioned he was heading out, too distracted to question it or even notice which set of keys Sam grabbed.

But on the way back, things went south fast. A reckless driver ran a red light, slamming into the Impala’s side. The impact sent Sam’s head into the window, and everything blurred for a moment before the world came back into focus. His ribs ached from where the seatbelt had locked up, and a gash on his forehead was dripping blood down the side of his face. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it was enough to make him feel like hell.

By the time he pulled the Impala into the garage, he could barely look at the damage. The crumpled side panel, the shattered mirror—Dean was going to lose it. Sam let out a slow breath, grabbed the groceries with his good arm, and made his way inside.

After dropping the bags in the kitchen, he headed to the library, where Dean was sitting with a beer in hand, eyes glued to his laptop. The second he looked up and saw Sam, his brows knit together in concern.

“What the hell happened to you?”