"Dammit," Dean hissed, the sharp throbbing pain in his neck making it impossible to turn his head. The Impala responded eagerly to the quick turn then jerked over the bumpy road. He'd seen the cabin a few days back and it had looked uninhabited at best; barely standing at worst. Dean eased up on the gas, his eagerness to get to safety put on hold in favor of the car's suspension.

The Rugaru had come out of no where, he remembered with a wince. Blazing heat rising from his back to the bleeding cut just above his shoulder acted as an unwelcome reminder. He'd been hunting it alone for the past two days, ever since Sam got a call from someone he'd met when he was soulless. Sam decided that Dean could easily catch the Rugaru and left. Dean had thought the same.

The small lakeside cabin came into view and Dean let out a slow breath. He could feel the blood pumping from the wound, a warm trail sliding down his left arm. Slipping the gear into Park, Dean flicked the key down and out before uncomfortably reaching for the door latch with his right hand. His left arm was almost completely numb from the dangerously placed bite. Dean was no doctor but he knew that the Rugaru had gone for his main blood vessel.

And judging by the way he fought to keep his eyes from crossing and his head from spinning, the creature had gotten very close.

Dean straightened out of the car, leaning heavily on the door as he closed it. The cabin was indeed empty and run down but it would work. He, left arm safely tucked close to his chest, reached into the back seat through the open window for his back and swung it over his right shoulder. A groan escaped through gritted teeth.

He struggled to walk, keeping his eyes focused on each step. The green grass below his feet blurred and Dean blinked several times. His actions felt slow, like when something is played at half speed.

Finally he saw the cabin's ratty porch in his path. Lifting a heavy foot up the short step, he grunted, his heart pounding harder with each movement. The beating and throbbing in his arm were mismatched, one pounding harder than the other, but he couldn't figure out which. He heard himself mumbling, some kind of encouragement to himself to just get inside, but his own words didn't make any sense to him. They were oddly formed and barely audible.

With his body resisting every motion, Dean fell against the door for support, right shoulder hitting it and thrusting it open. He sucked in a breath when his legs collapsed beneath him and he hit the hard floor with a sickening thud. A moment passed and he didn't move, just squeezed his eyes shut and focused on breathing. In and out… in and… his body refused to release the breath for fear of the shooting pain that occurred every time his shoulders rose and fell.

He adjusted slightly, moving his right arm out from under his back and forcefully pressed his hand over the wound. His palm, immediately covered with blood, slipped over the gash and a cry caught in his throat. "Bitch," Dean mumbled through calculated breaths. "Son… of a… bitch."

The battle for consciousness was a losing one so he shifted and glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings. It was one large room with a cot on the far end, a small table with four chairs on the opposite side of the room with an old style kitchenette laying between them. The couch and chair lay closest to him. He carefully shifted, breathing out the tune of the song he'd been blasting the way to the Rugaru's house to distract himself, and sat up, leaning against the side of the couch. When his back made contact with the fabric, even under the many layers he wore, he felt as if someone ripped off a massive band-aid from the spot.

Dean had almost forgotten about the burn he'd gotten when he'd spun around and lit the Rugaru on fire with his lighter and bug spray. That part had been fine. It was when the creature reached for him and gripped his jacket that the burn had happened. He remembered the white hot pain drag from the nape of his neck down to waist and the motion now felt similar.

Though the tune he hummed was barely right, he continued as wiped his bloody hand over his jeans before pulling his cell phone from his pocket and dropping it on his leg, his shaking hand without the strength to hold it up. He wouldn't bother Sam, Bobby was dead, Garth wasn't an option… He swiped through the address book, focus fading quickly. Dean shook his head once roughly and looked back, clearing away some of the edging darkness from his sight. He spotted her name and through the fog in his mind, it seemed familiar. She must have been important to still be in his address book, but for the life of him he couldn't remember anything more than her name.

Almost without noticing his finger hit the Call button.

Dean found the Speaker button then leaned his head back against the damp smelling couch. A ring… silence. A ring… silence. Each time the ring faded then played again, Dean's heart jumped from the sudden sound. He felt as if he were walking on the edge of a cliff and each time he heard a noise, he almost fell but caught himself.

The ringing continued for a minute, then two, but no answering machine came on.

"Hello."

Through the ringing in his ears, Dean recognized her voice. His eyes rolled back under closed lids and he gave a humorless laugh. He knew the wait to pick up was intentional; she'd been considering bothering to answer him. "Erin."

"What do you want Dean?" Her voice was barely pleasant but he could tell she was trying.

"I promise…" he grunted through another breath, his shoulder and neck on fire with pain. "I wouldn't have… called if this… if this wasn't an emergency." The last words formed on tight lips. Every gasp felt like the bite was ripping open a little more.

Dean wasn't sure if he couldn't hear her reply over the loud buzzing that had taken precedence over the ringing in his ears. Then he heard her sigh. "Where are you?"

He hadn't bothered to catch the road name, if the cabin was even on a real road, but he knew the area. "Lake Masota," he breathed, repeating it again when he realized she probably didn't hear him. "There's a cabin… abandoned… cabin…" He tried to form more words but his body refused.

"Alright, I got it," Erin said over the line. "Just hang on, I'll be there in an hour. I'm not gonna hang up so just talk to me as long as you can, alright?" Silence answered her question. "Dean?"

Dean's head dipped limply to the side as the pain took over and he fell asleep.