"Dean! Behind you!"
Dean swiveled around just in the nick of time to see the ghoul running up behind him. He shot at it with his gun, but continuously missed.
"Dammit.." He cursed under his breath.
He turned around and started running, farther into the forest. Sam was gone, and Dean had no clue where his father was. He felt his lungs burning, as he ran, but he knew if he stopped the pain of the ghoul attacking him would be much worse.
"You can't out run me you runt!" The ghoul shouted, only ten feet behind Dean.
He tried to run faster, but he couldn't. His body unintentionally slowed down. He yelled out as the ghoul picked him up of the forest floor, and threw him against the tree. The impact sent him into a spiral of pain. His head throbbed, and his left ankle felt weird. He tried to wiggle his toes, but while doing so, it sent a shot of pain up his entire leg. Dean yelped out, and felt hot tears form around his eyes. Suddenly, he heard a gunshot, and opened his eyes to see his father standing over a headless body of the ghoul.
"Dammit Dean! This was a simple hunt! You could have gotten your brother killed by running away like that! You acted like a little bitch!" John shouted at his son.
Dean was sitting up, his head in his hands. That days lunch was threatening to come up any minute.
"Get in the damn car." John muttered, walking back to the impala, and leaving his hurt son against the tree.
Dean couldn't take it, and let himself vomit. He closed his eyes whimpered, and slowly stood up. He definitely had a mild concussion, and most likely a broken ankle, but he couldn't show it. He was fine. They would heal by themselves.
Pull yourself together. Dean thought to himself, as he limped back to the car, wincing every time is weight was shifted onto his left ankle.
"Sammy? Are you okay buddy?" John asked his youngest son, who was lying on the ground by the car.
"M'm head hurts dad." Sammy whimpered. "The ghoul threw me to the ground, and I think I hurt my head."
"You'll be okay champ." John said, picking up Sam, and settling him into the backseat of the impala.
"DEAN! Don't make me ask twice!" John shouted, enraged that his oldest son had left the younger one alone, to run away.
Dean crawled into the front seat, and collapsed into the smooth leather. He tilted his head back, and let a tear fall down his face. He was in excruciating pain, but he would keep his mouth shut.
"H-How is Sammy?" Dean questioned, with a dry mouth.
"He probably has a concussion thanks to your negligence." John replied, not even making eye contact with Dean.
"I-I'm sorry dad. I just.."
"You just what Dean? You decided your life was worth more than Sam's? You decided to become a selfish little brat!?"
Dean turned his head to the window, watching the trees sway in the breeze. He let his body take over, as he fell asleep. He had a ways to go before he was home, and fighting would not help the pain he was already in. He only had his eyes closed for a few seconds before his dad interrupted.
"Hey! You don't get to fall asleep! Now get your head up, and recite the full exorcism to me. And don't stop until we get home. You hear me? Or do I need to say it slower?"
"Yes sir." Dean moaned.
His head felt fuzzy, and his vision was still blurred. His left ankle was soaked in something. Blood? Probably. He had to pull through and do what his dad had asked. He started reciting the exorcism.
It had been two hours on the road, before they got back to the motel. John picked up the sleeping Sam, and carried him into the room. Dean limped to the trunk of the car, and gripped the door tightly to prevent himself collapsing. He opened his eyes, and grabbed the back pack. Trying to focus his weight on his right foot, Dean trudged into the motel room. Sam was already sound asleep in one of the beds, and John was sitting on the other bed, removing his shoes.
"Go get ready for bed. Tomorrow morning I expect you to be up and ready at 4 AM sharp. You need to learn that what you did today is not acceptable." John still did not make eye contact with his eldest son.
Dean hobbled into the bathroom, and got ready to shower. He slowly lifted his hurt ankle into the tub, and allowed himself to succumb to the warmth. He looked to see how bad his ankle really was. It was a deep shade of black and purple, among that symptom, it was swollen to nearly two times its normal size, and there was a large gash on the side. The gash was pouring blood, and Dean checked to see how deep it was. The color drained from his face when he saw white. The bone, he could see the bone. He gulped down a scream, and let his head fall back, as he suddenly felt light headed.
"Hey you done in there Dean? Or do you need time to put on your makeup?" John yelled through the door.
"I-I'm almost done." Dean shouted back.
He lifted himself out of the tub, and put his jogging pants on. He pulled an old ACDC shirt over his head. He sat on the side of the tub, and wrapped his ankle in gauze, placing a sock over the bandage to hide it. He scooted out of the bathroom, throwing himself on to the bed. The instant his head hit the bed, he was asleep.
The alarm beeped at 2 in the morning, waking Dean from his painful slumber. His ankle still felt terrible, but his head had mostly cleared up. He slapped on a pair of sports shorts, but kept the same shirt. He didn't want to risk hurting is head again, because he knew taking off the shirt would make him dizzy. His stomach growled and he wanted to eat, but he doubted the food would stay down. By the time he had brushed is teeth, combed his hair, and made the bed it was 4 o' clock. John swung the door open, and walked in. Dean was standing in the middle of the room, waiting for John.
"March out, and give me 10 push ups, 10 curl-ups, and 20 laps around the parking lot." John commanded, allowing dean to walk out the door.
"What about Sammy?" Dean questioned.
"I'm letting him sleep in today, he got a mild concussion. Don't want him to overdue himself. You should be okay with it since YOU caused the problem."
Dean looked away, as he sat down on the gravel. He got in the stance to do the push ups, allowing his left foot to be slightly lifted, which caused his back to be arched more than normal. John realized what his son was doing, and immediately slapped his hand against the boys back, causing Dean to straighten out and yelp in pain. Dean did the push ups, allowing tears to fall down his face. He say up an instantly felt dizzy, but he lay back, propped his knees up and did the curl ups. They were easier considering there was not much his feet would have to do. Now was the hardest part, running laps. Dean stood up, and stumbled to the starting line that his dad had drawn with chalk.
"Go!" John yelled.
Dean started out in a fast run, which quickly turned into a speed-limp once he was out of his father's eyesight. He cried, whimpered and winced with every step. Dean could practically hear the bones in his ankles snapping every time he put his left foot down. He rounded the corner, and approached the line for the second lap. He couldn't stop the sobs that escaped his mouth.
"Are you crying? Pick up your pace and shut your trap!" John screamed.
"Yes sir." Dean gulped, wiping the tears from his face, as he began running faster.
Around the tenth lap is when Dean was hit the worst. The same thing kept happening. John would yell at him to shut up and run faster, but Dean simply couldn't. He was close to the line, ready to start the eleventh lap, when he slipped, crashing down on his already painful ankle. He screamed out in pain, as he hit the pavement. John grumbled, as he made his way over to his sobbing son.
"Get up! I said get up you little bitch!" John said, heaving his son up off the ground.
Dean tried to stand on his own, but he was in too mush pain. He just collapsed a second time, but this time he curled up into a ball, clutching his ankle. The screams just poured out of his mouth, every time John tried to get him up.
"God you're hopeless! You can't even take a stupid sprain? MARY WOULD BE DISAPPOINTED!" John yelled at his son, smacking the boy's back, with a painful force.
Dean yelled louder, as his father kept hitting his back. He felt the skin getting red, and it began to burn. That was when Sam woke up. Sam peeked his head out of the door, to see his father hitting someone who was lying on the ground. He heard the person's wails, and ran over. He stopped half way when he realized who it was. It was Dean.
Sam bolted over, and grabbed his father's sleeve, yanking him off of Dean. John stumbled back in shock of what Sam had just done.
"WHAT THE FUCK DAD!" Sam yelled, smelling the liquor on his father, "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING?"
"This son of a bitch can't even handle a sprained ankle! You could have died yesterday, and so this is how he has to pay!" John replied, trying to get back to Dean's punishment.
"Don't you lay a god damn hand on him you drunk idiot!" Sam shouted.
John, stood back and stared at Sam. he had never seen his son this distraught. Sam bent down beside Dean.
"Dean? Hey talk to me, what hurts?"
"M-m ankle... and b-back." Dean sputtered through the sobs.
Sam lifted up Dean's shirt, and saw the already forming blisters. My god what did dad do? Sam thought to himself, and tears welled up in his eyes. Then he lifted up Dean's left pant leg. He saw a bandage soaked in blood. He slowly unwrapped it, as Dean whimpered. He saw a large gash that looked infected, and Dean's bone was slightly sticking out of the gash. Sam screamed when he saw the state of his brother's ankle. John looked over his younger son's shoulder to see what all the hype was about. John's mouth fell open as he saw how serious his oldest son's injury was.
"Oh god," John gasped, seeing the blisters on Dean's back, and the state of the boy's ankle." Oh god what did I do?"
" Just shut up, and get the car!" Sam yelled.
John ran to the impala, and started the engine. He ran back, and picked dean up. The boy was barely conscious, and was still bawling. Sam was running behind John. They placed Dean in the car, and Sam held Dean's head in his lap, stoking his hair.
"You're going to be okay. Dean listen to me, you're going to be okay."
They ran into the ER, John holding Dean, and Sam trialing behind them with a tear stricken face. A group of doctors, rushed over with a gurney. John placed Dean on the gurney, and the doctors were off, leaving Sam and John in the ER.
Three hours had passed and there was still no information on Dean's condition. Finally a doctor approached them.
"John Winchester?"
"That's me." John replied, while standing up.
"Dean is okay. He is resting in the ICU. He just came out of surgery. We had to place multiple screws and plates in his leg. He had an open fracture, which had become infected. We started him on antibiotics, and he seems to be responding well. We also noticed he had multiple blisters and extensive bruising on his back." The doctor said, his voice trailing off at the end.
The doctor looked at John, and John knew what that look meant.
"Are you insisting that I intentionally hurt my son?" John shouted. He hoped that becoming enraged would cover the fact that he had hurt his son.