AN: Honestly, I don't know what my brain is doing. I wanted to write fluff like nobody's business this week, but that has yet to happen. So this story is brought to you by a messed up, crazy dream I had last night. Sam is 13 and Dean is 17 in this. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing and it's depressing sometimes.

Warning: Un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own and I apologize in advance.

They were hunting a Wendigo. Pretty simple, pretty routine and it was going fine. That was until Sam's boot got caught in a foothold trap.

"How the hell did this thing even close? It's completely rusted!" John muttered as he tried to pry the trap off again.

"At least it's not a bear trap and it didn't go through my boot." Sam pointed out, "Why can't Dean just help me back to the Impala while you finish off the Wendigo?"

The teen in question was standing about ten feet away, flare gun in hand, as he stood guard over his family. He shot a quick glance to his brother and stuck his tongue out at him before retuning his attention to the dark woods around them.

"Cause if you walk on or jostle this thing too much it could close even further and we don't want that. You haven't had a tetanus vaccine lately, so I don't want to risk infection by letting this thing break the skin. Dean!" John called his eldest over, "I want you to watch over your brother and keep an eye out. The Impala isn't too far away; I'm going to go get a crowbar out of the trunk to pry this thing off. If the Wendigo shows up, yell. Got it?"

"Yes sir." Dean responded. John nodded his approval and left, moving as quickly as he could without spraining something.

"You know, I really hate woods." Dean finally said after several minutes.

"And why's that?" Sam asked, picking up a twig and breaking it apart.

"Well, for starters, there are frickin' ticks everywhere. Those things are nasty. Secondly, nothing good ever happens when we're out here. Someone usually ends up getting hurt. Or lost. Or hurt and lost. Dad ends up getting pissed and won't take us on any hunts for months. Oh, and did I mention ticks?" The older boy ranted as he paced in a wide circle around Sam. The younger boy just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Who'd have thought the Dean Winchester was afraid of a little bug." He teased, earning a glare. Dean turned full towards him and opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a branch breaking made him spin back around.

The Wendigo was standing about twenty feet away and looking directly at them. Dean cursed himself for letting it sneak up that close on them. He automatically stepped between it and Sam. Before he could even open his mouth to yell for his father, the thing was suddenly right in front of him. :Damn this one is fast.: He thought before it sent him flying.

"DAD!" Sam yelled as loud as he could as he fumbled for his flare gun. The Wendigo slowly approached him. He found it and was about to fire when something knocked the monster down. Dean scrambled away from it before it could claw him. He crouched in front of Sam, covered in dirt and twigs. Sam noticed how he was favoring his left leg and that there was blood dripping from his cheek.

"You ok Sammy?" Of course Dean would disregard his own injuries in favor of making sure Sam was alright.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Move so I can shoot this bastard." He told his brother, raising the gun again. Dean jerked to the side and Sam fired. The Wendigo shrieked as it went up in flames and crumpled to the forest floor. Getting to his feet shakily, Dean limped over to his brother.

"Nice shot." He told him as he cradled his chest with an arm. Sam shrugged before frowning up at his big brother.

"You ok?"

"I'll be fine. Where's dad?"

"If that isn't the million dollar question. I yelled for him, you'd think he'd be here by now."Sam bitched.

"Huh, I don't know. DAD!" Dean tried and waited for a response, there was only silence. He looked down worriedly at Sam, something must be wrong if their dad wasn't responding. He was about to say something about it when he saw Sam's eyes go wide with fear. Before he could turn around, something grabbed the back of his shirts, claws ripping through the fabric and scraping his skin. A quick motion sent him flying back into a tree where a loud crack was audible as the back of his head connected with it. He slumped down to the ground in an unmoving pile of limbs, unconscious.

Sam instinctively yelled as the second Wendigo threw his brother into a tree. The creature turned its attention on him. It started creeping towards him and he tried to scoot away.

"Dad!" He screamed, knowing it was probably futile. The Wendigo in front of him suddenly burst into flames just before John Winchester came sprinting into view, smoking flare gun in hand. He rushed up to Sam and gave him a once over. Satisfied he wasn't hurt, he went to work on trying off the trap.

"Where's your brother? Don't tell me he went off after it when I told him to stay with you." He growled as he worked.

"There were two of them dad. We got the first one after it threw Dean." Sam replied, angry that his dad would think such a thing about his brother, "He tackled it before it could get to me and I managed to shoot it. The second one just appeared out of nowhere behind him and threw him into that tree over there. I haven't seen him move since, so go check on him! I'll get this thing off on my own."

John hesitated before nodding and rushing over to his first born. His heart clenched when he saw Dean in a heap at the base of the tree. He couldn't see the boy's chest moving and he shakily felt for a pulse. Letting out a shaky sigh when he felt one, although it was erratic, he moved his hand in front of his mouth and felt faint breathes escaping Dean's parted lips. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he set to checking Dean over for injuries. As his hand ghosted over his left knee, he could feel the heat and swelling that accompanied a sprained joint. He removed his plaid button up and wrapped Dean's knee tightly. His concern rose when there was absolutely no reaction from the teen. Normally, even unconscious, there would be a small twitch in the boy's face when he was in pain.

Skipping over the rest of his body for now, John lifted one of Dean's eye lids and shined the small flashlight he had in his eye. The pupil was blown, leaving only a sliver of green along the edge.

"Shit." John muttered, letting the eye close and feeling for a head injury now.

"What's wrong dad?" Sam asked softly as he approached, the trap finally off of his foot. John's hand froze when he touched something wet and sticky on the back of Dean's head. Pulling his hand back he saw it was covered in blood.

"We need to get to a hospital. Now!" John ordered, scooping Dean into his arms and rushing towards the Impala with Sam right behind him. Normally they would avoid hospitals like the plague, but when it came to head injuries on this level, there was no messing around.