Dean wiped the sweat from his eyes. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his side, ignoring his desperate need for sleep, driven by pure Winchester bullheadedness, he continued his slow climb up the hill.

When he reached the crest, he staggered and dropped to his knees, panting heavily as he looked into the valley far below. A large frame house, surrounded by several smaller outbuildings, stood halfway across the valley. Probably another half day's walk.

Teeth clenched against the pain, he pushed himself to his feet and started down the hill.

"I'm coming, Sammy," Dean muttered. "I'm coming."