Dean gazed, transfixed, as pale green pus oozed from the hole in his swollen thigh.
He wasn't sure if it hurt. Wasn't sure of much actually.
He'd lost all sense of time. Then he'd lost hope of Sam finding him. And, with delirium taking over, he was losing all sense.
He could hear Sammy's voice. But it was too late - he was already flying with the angels. (Damn noisy wings though!).
"He hates to fly."
"Doubt he's gonna remember this flight."
"Tham?"
"Dean! Hey."
"Hev'n?"
"Huh? Heaven? Oh!" Sam smiled. "Don't think Heaven's quite ready for you yet Dean."
