It almost worked. It was in the process of working without mishap, in fact, when they noticed that, including the one Adam had commandeered, there were only two sleeping bags as well.

It took almost half a second before Dean said "Well, fuck that."

"Maybe we lost one," Sam said. It didn't sound probable, but he hadn't seen one in the trunk, and there definitely wasn't one in the camping kit.

"You take it, Sammy," Dean said. "I'm fine for tonight."

"No, that's--" Sam paused. "Did you just call me 'Sammy?'"

Dean paused as well. "...yeah, I think I did," he said. "Sorry, that's probably way not cool--"

"No, it's fine," Sam said, scrunching his eyebrows, trying to remember. He had no context. Only emotions. He shook his head. "Dean, who are we?"

"Not a damn clue," Dean said, flopping back onto the tent floor. "And believe me, that is pissing me off."

"Yeah. It's... weird," Sam said. "I should be more upset than I am. You get the feeling this happens a lot?"

"No."

Well, at least he had the power of his convictions.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I think there's something more going on, here."

"Well, we've got Adam," Dean said. "We can pick his brain later."

"Said we should try to remember on our own," Sam pointed out. "Look, it's going to get pretty cold out here, tonight. We can either both sleep on the bag, or under it."

"Sam, I said I'm fine," Dean snapped.

Sam sighed, unzipped the edge of the bag, and rolled it out. Dean rolled his eyes.

"We were hunting something," Dean said, flopping over on his stomach on the padded sleeping bag. "Something all the way out here. No--I think we chased it?"

"In the car?" Sam asked. "All the way out here?"

"We're not that far off the interstate," Dean said. Then he frowned. "I think."

Mnemnovore, Sam's mind filled in, and then he snorted. Memory-eater? The memory-eater was the car crash. He doubted they were hunting it. "...it's what we do," he said.

"Always was." Dean frowned. "The three of us. Us friends."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Sam lay down, staring at the tent roof. Dean rolled onto his side, quiet.

"So what's with us?" he asked.

Something two quantum steps below a shiver wound its way down Sam's back. "What do you mean?"

"This Adam guy," Dean said, dropping his voice as low as it would go. "I trust him, but it's like I don't. With you, it's different."

"Different?" Sam asked. "Different how?"

Dean shrugged. "Dunno."

Sam watched the shadows on the tent canvas fade into the general darkness. He closed his eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "It's different."

For a few minutes, only the droning crickets chimed in.

It was one finger, at first, tracing the line of his temple and back over his ear. Idly, almost. Experimental. Sam held down another shudder, and didn't look. "What are you doing?"

"Like you said," Dean muttered. His voice was much nearer Sam's ear. "It's going to get cold at night."