don't own
His head was drowning in a sea of pain, his limps so heavy, and every movement felt like a knife wound being open again and again. Where was he? What happened? those questions kept fading in and out of his conscious. He had to get up, He had to keep on going, fighting whatever it was that had hurt him. But it was so hard, and he was so tired. NO a Winchester never gives up, he had to get up NOW. A whimper left his lips, but it didn't sound like him at all, he must be more messed up than he realist. He tried to open his eyes, to figure out his surroundings, it hurt, made his eyes start to water, the light from the midday sun so bright, that it made his head explode with pain, that last thing he thought before he blacked out was that his hands looked smaller than what he was use to.
