Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural, I just own the plot of this story.

Authors Note: Thanks for reading! Reviews are always loved!


Usually Dean would have easily been able to beat up or at least outrun this man, but in his weakened state Dean could do nothing but watch as the man shoved the knife deep into Dean's spleen.

That'll teach you to treat people with respect," The man grunted as he walked off towards his truck, dropping the knife on the ground and taking a swig from a flask he produced from his pocket.

Blood pouring out of him, Dean started limping towards the motel, only a few blocks away. His head reeled with the radiating pain in his side and he struggled to breathe. When he finally made it back, Dean was about to knock on the door and plead for help, when he remembered what his father had said to him earlier that day. 'I'm worthless,' Dean told himself. 'Why would anybody care if I died?' With that thought in mind, Dean turned away from the door and with a futile attempt at dignity, stumbled onto a patch of grass a few yards away. By now the blood had thoroughly soaked Dean's shirt and Dean knew he was going to die.

"Dean!" A panicked voice called from somewhere in the distance.

'Sam,' Dean thought, suddenly remembering the one person that would come looking for him.

"Dean!" The voice called again, this time rushing towards him. "Sammy, call 9-1-1!" The voice commanded, as he knelt next to Dean, attempting to stop the flow of blood.

By the time the ambulance had arrived, Dean had already slipped into unconsciousness. The next time he woke up he was in a hospital bed with a multitude of tubes sticking out of him from various places along his body. His father was asleep on an uncomfortable looking chair located to the right side of him. Most of his body was numb from the vast amount of pain medication pumped into his blood stream and he felt extremely tired.

He was about to go back to sleep when he noticed his father stir and awake.

"Dean," John said, his voice rough with anxiety as he rushed over to his elder son. "I am so glad you're okay," He whispered, running a hand through Dean's hair.

Struggling to find his voice, Dean croaked, "But I thought you hated me?"

John looked pained. "Son," He said, grabbing Dean's hand and squeezing it tightly, "I know I am not the best father, but I love you more than anything else in this world."

Dean blushed. His father and him had never been very "lovey-dovey" like this before.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked.

Upon hearing his son's words, a smile crept onto John's lips. "Dean," He began. "A miracle has happened."