Salt and burn the bones. It should have been a milk run, but the angry spirit had showed up out of nowhere before they could get the corpse lit knocking Dean back into the grave.
A jagged piece of wood that was sticking up from where John had busted the coffin open with his shovel found it's way through Dean's upper arm when he landed.
"No!" John roared.
He ran forward towards the spirit swinging an iron chain and the ghost disappeared in a puff as he struck it. "Dean!" Sam jumped down into the grave careful to avoid landing on his brother.
"Dad! He's not waking up."
John knelt down over the grave his face as white as a sheet. He reached down and yanked the wood out of Dean's arm.
Dean woke with a moan that turned into a shriek of pain.
"Thank God." John murmerered.
"Sam, get his legs." He ordered.
The scrawny ten year old boy did his best to support his brother's weight as John dragged the top half of Dean out of the hole.
Dean cried out in pain again as John pulled him several agonizing feet from the grave.
"Finish it!" John yelled tossing his lighter to Sam.
"But what about Dean?" Sam asked climbing back out.
"I gave you an order!" John barked.
As Sam fumbled with the lighter he fought back against the tears that threatened to fall. He knew crying in front of John, especially when he was already on the edge would be a mistake.
Once he saw that the flames where lit John breathed a sigh of relief. Now they wouldn't have to deal with the spirit coming back before he could get Dean to safety.
With hands still shaking he examined his oldest son carefully. At least Dean was moving his head, his neck and back were intact.
Blood was soaking through Dean's denim jacket steadily though and as John moved to remove it he moved the boys arm. Dean turned white and his whole body clenched. His shoulder was dislocated.
With the fire at a full blaze Sam came back to his brother and knelt on the ground next to him.
"It's going to be okay Dean." He said helplessly, he wanted to reach for his brother's hand or pat his back but he was scared that even the lightest touch would cause Dean more pain.
When they got back to the motel they had been living out of for the past few weeks Sam covered the bed in towels and John laid Dean on his side to work.
Sam's eyes widened when John produced his own flask and handed it to Dean.
"It'll help with the pain." John said.
Dean bit down hard on a pillow to muffle a scream as his father pushed his shoulder back into place.
It was a long night as John cleaned the wood fragments out of his arm and then stitched him up.
Sam stayed up bringing John whatever he needed, more towels a fresh bowl of water. At one point Dean barfed on the floor. Sam cleaned that up too.
Dean slept in the back of the impala all the next day as the family moved on to the next place.