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"Put your back into it," Sam says, and Dean grunts because he doesn't actually have enough breath left to tell his brother to fuck off. He does heave, though, getting under Baby just right, and she catches, thumping down onto solid ground and getting clear of the pothole.
Sam lets the engine idle when he climbs out, and Dean knows he wants to get on the road, but he needs a minute to catch his breath. He shuts her off, grabs a couple of Sam's t-shirts, and goes over to the water spigot to get one of them wet. He doesn't know if there'll be water still, but he can hope.
The water runs cold and clean, and Dean wets the blue t-shirt, leaving the grey one for drying. It's softer.
"What are you doing?" Sam asks finally. Sometimes Sam'll get pissy right away, but sometimes he waits, watching Dean carefully like he's going to crack right there in front of Sammy's eyes. This was one of those times, and Dean can't really blame him for being a little thoughtful after everything that's happened.
"Cleaning Baby up," Dean says. "Just a little wipedown." He tosses the grey t-shirt to Sam, earning him a patented Sam bitchface, one of the few things of pure joy left in Dean's life.
Sam doesn't complain out loud, though, just follows Dean around the car, wiping her dry behind him.