AN: To view the image this is based on you can go here: petite-madame. tumblr post/7890448800/the-end-of-the-family-business-dean-watercolor

The young man left the hospital room against his better judgment, the sound of the picture frame smashing against the door behind him, marking his exit. The shattering glass gives satisfaction to the former hunter within. He sits at the edge of his hospital bed, trying desperately to figure out what brought him to this place. The memories are a jumble in his head, interspersed with pain. He looks at what's left of his leg and it all comes back in a crashing wave. His head spins and he brings his hand up to it. He almost topples over to the bed with the dizzying wave of memories and pain.

He can't even remember what it was they were hunting...a black dog, maybe. Whatever it had been had led them on a goose chase through the mountains and forest. Once they downed it, they were easily two day's trek from the car. At least this time they were ready for the trek out. They had camping gear and some MRE's from Bobby's stash. Bobby had said he got some of them from their father. He wasn't so sure about eating them, though. They had found a rocky outcropping and burned the remains of the hunt there. By the time they were done, it was time to set up camp.

"Hey, Sammy! How are the wards?"

"All in place. We should be safe here for the night. Tent okay?"

"Yeah. Son of a bitch gave me a few problems, but it's all good now."

They spent some time setting up sleeping bags and a fire pit. Dean brought out some of Bobby's MRE's and then settled down to eat some sort of dinner. "This is disgusting." Sam groaned and set his meal to the side.

"You're not going to eat that?" Dean asked, reaching for it.

"Um, no. You go right ahead." Dean grabbed it and dug right in.

"These aren't half bad, ya know."

"Whatever." Sam just shook his head and poked at the fire with a stick. After a while of staring at it, he roused himself. "I'm going to hit the sack. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Yeah, night Sammy. Hope we can hike far enough tomorrow that we leave the stink of that carcass behind."

"Tell me about it. Night." Sam crouched down and into the tent, zipping it up behind him. Dean hung out for awhile, staring at the fire. Eventually he, too, got up. He kicked some dirt into the fire, putting it out, and took a short walk into the woods to take a leak. He crawled into the tent, pulled his boots off and slid into his sleeping bag.

An unknown number of hours later, a sound outside woke them both up. They had both sat up. When they realized the other was also awake, they looked at each other with raised eyebrows. There was a snap of a branch outside. The boys immediately grabbed their shoes, guns, and flashlights and headed out. They stood there listening. Another broken branch. Dean looked at Sam. "I thought you said wards were in place!" He whispered angrily.

"They are! Maybe this is something else...we ARE out in the woods after all!" Sam whispered back.

There was a huff and another broken branch coming, now, from behind the tent. Dean rolled his eyes at Sammy and signaled for him to go around the far side of the tent, while he took the near side. Dean took only about four steps when there was a roar what seemed like three feet above Dean's head. He shined his flashlight up and just caught a glimpse of a giant bear, rearing up on it's hind legs, when something caught his leg and pulled him off his feet. The bear had swiped his giant paw at Dean and his claws had caught his pant leg, sending him spinning in the air. He landed on the tent, collapsing it into a heap, knocking the wind out of him in a giant wheeze. The bear came down from it's upright stance and landed, with crushing force, on Dean's right leg. He screamed and brought his gun around, which he amazingly still had in his hand. The bear removed his giant paw from Dean's leg and replaced it with his mouth. Dean screamed again and squeezed off three of four shots in the bear's direction before it reared up again and went crashing off through the forest.

"Son of a bitch! Damn it! Shit, mother fucker!" Dean grabbed a handful of tent in his left hand in a white knuckled death grip and threw his right arm up across his face. He was breathing heavily and clenching his jaw so tight it would have started to ache, if he was aware of anything other than the white hot pain coming from his leg. He became aware of someone calling his name and lifted his arm from his face to see Sammy run over.

"Oh God, Dean." He was looking down at Dean's leg with a look of stunned shock. Dean lifted his head up to take a look and almost gagged. Between his right knee and his ankle was just a bloody, mushy, mess.

"AGH!" Just trying to raise his head up, shifted his leg. Sam pulled off his tee shirt and just hovered over his leg with it, unsure of how to even apply pressure to the wound.

"There's a lot of blood here. I think...your leg...God, Dean..." He reached out to inspect Dean's wounds, but as soon as he touched his leg, Dean let out a scream. "Dean, I've got to look at it. I need to stop the bleeding."

"Just put a...tourniquet on it!" Dean said in between huffing breaths.

"But Dean, we have at least a two day trek out of here..."

"I know what it means! What other choice do we have?!" Sam reached for his waist only to find he wasn't wearing a belt. "Damn it, Sammy, take mine." Sam reached over and unhooked Dean's belt, pulling it from the belt loops. Dean groaned and growled with the movement it caused. Of course the belt didn't hook small enough and so Sam had to slide a stick in and twist it around a few times. Dean, at some point during the application of the tourniquet, finally passed out.

The next couple days passed in a blur of blinding pain and delirium. He remembered Sam stopping every now and then and trying to get him to drink some water. He remembered being too cold and he remembered being too hot. More than anything, though, he remembered thinking it was all over. What a way to go out...by bear. Plain old normal bear. He came awake while in a helicopter. He completely freaked out and punched the paramedic in the face. Everything until about two days ago is lost. They probably kept him pretty heavily sedated after punching the medic.

Sam wasn't there when he first woke up. That was a good thing. Sam didn't need to see his big brother cry. The first thing he did upon waking was check to see the damage to his leg. For some stupid reason he thought maybe some metal rods and some crazy metal brace for God knew how long. He wasn't prepared for what he found, or rather, what he didn't.

Which brings him back to the now. Sam had been here wanting to 'talk'.

"Dean. You need to talk about it. You can't hold this in. Not like you did when Dad died."

"Feelings. You want to talk about how I'm feeling?! I feel like shit, Sam! I feel like it's going to be awfully hard to hunt on one leg! You may as well take me out to the back forty and put me down like a lame fucking horse!"

"Dean you're not useless, you could -"

"Oh screw your fucking research, Sammy! I'm not going to sit around Bobby's place for the rest of my days, buried in moldy ass books!"

"I was going to point out that prosthetics these days are amazingly advanced. Dean you-"

"Oh yeah? And how are we going to afford some fancy fake leg? Huh? May as well strap a fucking peg leg onto my knee! Just get out, okay Sammy? Just leave me alone."

"Dean..."

"OUT, DAMN IT!" That's when I threw the picture. I looked down at it now. It was that damned picture Dad used to carry around of him and us when we were still little. Sammy had put it in a frame and put it next to my hospital bed. Like that was supposed to make everything okay?!

I finally lay back onto the bed again to look at the same ceiling tiles I'd been staring at for the last two and half days. I must have dosed off because I was awakened by a pillow to the face. I sat bolt upright in the bed.

"About time, Dean. I've been trying to wake you for ten minutes now! Bobby called, said Garth needs some help with a couple shape shifters down in Texas. You gonna shower first or what? We gotta get going." Sam was out the motel room door before Dean even knew what happened. He looked down at his legs, both solidly there. Holy shit, that dream was a little too intense for his tastes. Sam came back in the room to grab more gear.

"Sam."

"Yeah?" He said absently, still gathering his belongings.

"You ever think about life after hunting? Like what would you do if you couldn't hunt anymore?"

"Dean, come on. You've said it yourself. We won't see old age. Not in this job."