A/N: Hello! Sorry for the lack of updating, but I've been busy with finishing my final year project for uni and then sorting out what I actually want to do with my life now lol but here is the next chapter ^_^

I have taken on board the comment about demons being smoke like and possesing people, but I grew up watching Buffy, Angel and Charmed, so to me, 'demon' is kinda generic- if its evil (corporeal or otherwise) its a demon. I'm sure you'll be able to follow me on that lol and if not I'm sure I'll live.

Thank you to all of those who have alerted and favorited =D and to also to those who reviewed. Like I said, I'd love to hear your feedback on how I'm doing.

Enjoy!

Two days later, Dean insisted on being checked out of the hospital.

"Thanks for everything," said Sam, shaking the doctors hand.

"My pleasure," smiled doctor Collins in reply. "Now, those stitches will fall out themselves in about a week or so. Your brother will need to take it easy for a while.

Sam laughed. "I'll try and convince him.""

"Are you sure he doesn't want to stay an extra night?"

"I'm pretty sure," Sam said, glancing over at Dean who was making his way toward them slowly. "My brother has always hated being cooped up."

"As long as you're sure."

"I am."

"Ok. He can take the bandages off tomorrow morning and he must take care when washing."

"Thanks again," Sam smiled. He watched the doctor walk away then turned to Dean as he came within earshot. "Weren't you supposed to be in wheelchair? Your stitches could pop."

Dean shot a daggered look at Sam. "Do I look like an invalid to you?"

Sam looked at his brother. He was still a little pale, had dark rings around his eyes and was clutching his stomach, which looked bulky underneath his t-shirt because of his bandages. "Well... kinda."

"You say that again and you can walk to the motel."

"You can't drive."

Dean frowned. "Shut up."

Sam tried to help him by holding his shoulders and supporting some of his weight, but got a stare that, if looks could kill, would have sent him to his grave. So they made their way, slowly, to the car where Dean tried to open the door at the driver's side. Sam stopped him.

"Dean, I'm serious. You can't drive."

"Come on, man," Dean groaned. He walked round to the passenger side and gingerly got in the car.

Sam started the engine and turned on the radio. Some mellow country music came drifting from the speakers. He smiled as he heard Dean huff in complaint. "Like you said," he told Dean, "diver chooses the music; shotgun shuts his cake hole."

"Yeah, well that's when I was driving. Turn this crap off, Sam."

Sam grinned and turned it up for a few seconds, before quickly starting the Metallica tape that was already in. He turned to Dean. "Happy?"

"Much better."

Sam drove to the motel as carefully as he could, ignoring Dean whenever he sighed with irritation due to the car being slowed to below ten miles an hour. The motel wasn't, in fact, too far from the hospital, but the slow car journey made it seem a whole lot longer.

"Finally," Dean muttered as Sam pulled up to their room and shut off the engine. "I thought I'd be old and grey before we got here."

Sam shook his head and got out of the car. He hurried round to the other side of the car to offer his hand to Dean. He quickly retracted it when his brother gave him a look that made him think that he'd rather bite it off.

They made their way into the room, Sam carrying his hospital bag; he'd needed it when he'd found out he was able to stay with Dean past visiting hours. Once inside, Sam threw the bag onto his bed and made a beeline for his laptop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean shuffling to the bathroom.

"Hey, you need to rest."

Dean snorted. "I've been lying in a hospital be for five days, what I need is a shower."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"So am I! I stink, Sammy."

Sam clenched his jaw and ignored the old nickname. "You can't get your bandages wet."

"Give me a break," Dean muttered impatiently.

"Look, doctor Collins said you can take your bandages off tomorrow. You can have a shower then."

"...You're not going to let up are you?"

"Nope."

Dean sighed. "Fine." But instead of moving to his bed, he made for the fridge instead.

"Now what are you doing?"

"I need a drink!"

"I'll get it. You get into bed."

I'm going to go insane if he doesn't heal soon, Sam thought as he walked over to Dean and moved him gently to his bed.

"Geez, what are you Sam, my brother or my Goddamn wet nurse?"

Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Just lie down." He waited until Dean had positioned himself comfortably before grabbing him a soda from the fridge. "Here," he said, opening the can and handing it to him.

"I said I wanted a drink."

"This is a drink." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam cut him short. "I don't think beer is going to do you much good right now. Plus you can't drink it with the pain meds you're on at the moment anyway."

Dean sighed and reluctantly took a swing. "Thanks," he muttered. He reached for the remote, wincing slightly as a dull pain shot through his middle. "What are you doing?" He asked as Sam moved to his laptop.

"I'm going to find out what that... thing was."

"All I care about, is that it's a dead thing. That's good enough for me."

"Dean, that thing almost killed you!" Sam said, louder than he'd intended. Dean looked a little shocked at his younger brother's outburst. Sam sighed. "And it's my fault."

"Come on, Sam," Dean said gently. "It's not your fault. I told you before not to beat yourself up about it."

"Yeah, but-"

"-but nothing, alright? You're my little brother, man... and I'm not going to let anything hurt you."

Sam smiled slightly. "Even if it means getting sliced and diced in the process?"

"If that's what takes." Dean looked into Sam's eyes and smiled, which Sam returned, before turning back to his laptop. Dean rolled his eyes. "Geeking out on me again," he said, more to himself than Sam. He flicked the TV on and started surfing.

"Shut up and watch Oprah." That comment earned Sam's eardrums a deafening blast from the television; Dean had found a music station that was blaring Metallica, and cranked up the volume.

Joy.

Sam searched for hours, but rather than feeling as though he'd accomplished something, he felt as though he was constantly running into brick walls. He'd checked out the usual websites, along with a few of the more... eccentric and obscure, but still came up empty handed.

He found creatures that ate human bones, but they ate the entire body, instead of just the limbs. He found different creatures with black spines protruding from their backs, but they were all water dwellers. And wherever he seemed to look, there was always a link to the Wendigo, which really pissed him off because that beast was no Wendigo.

Dean had nodded off during Sam's fruitless search, but jerked awake when Sam made his way to the fridge.

"Sorry," Sam said softly, "didn't mean to wake you." He started to reach for a beer, but then grabbed a soda instead.

"'S alright," came the sleepy reply. "How long have I been out?"

"About an hour or two."

Dean stretched carefully and yawned. "You find anything?"

Sam clenched his jaw. "Nope." He opened his can and took a swig. "Great big pile of nothing."

Dean frowned and propped himself up slightly. "Really?" Sam nodded glumly. "Where'd you check?"

"All the usual sites, plus a few unusual ones."

Dean scoffed. "Like those losers who ran the Hellhound website?"

"Yeah. But wherever I searched..." He shook his head and sighed. "Nothing. Although I did keep getting linked to the Wendigo."

Dean frowned. "That's not what it was."

"I know. Shooting a Wendigo in the head would've just pissed it off, not killed it." He drained the rest of his drink and threw the empty can in the bin.

Dean watched as he started pacing, running his fingers through his hair. "Sam," Dean said. He stopped pacing. "Whatever it is, it's dead. We haven't heard of any other attacks in this area like mine, right?" Sam nodded stiffly. "So stop killing yourself over this research."

"But what if it did something to you?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, that's the problem!"

"Sam-"

"We don't have a clue what that black stuff was! The doctor said it got pumped deep into your wound!"

"Yeah and he also said they got rid of it," Dean said. He frowned and grimaced slightly. "To be honest, it's something I'd rather forget." He shuddered at the memory.

"What if there are side effects?" Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm serious! Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but what's going to happen to your body in six months time? A year?" Sam dropped onto his bed and held his head in his hands.

"So we keep an eye on me."

Sam looked up. "What?"

Dean shrugged slightly. "We'll see how I heal up and keep an eye open for unusual symptoms."

Sam sighed. It didn't seem like the best plan in the world to him, but since they had zero information on the beast, he didn't have much of a choice. "Ok," he said reluctantly.

"Good," Dean said.

Sam looked at his older brother briefly and toyed with the idea of telling him about his vision. No, he thought. First I've got to help him heal. Telling him would just stress him out and if it's going to come true, Dean will need to be at his strongest to have a chance of surviving.

Sam stood up. "You hungry?"

"Yeah, hospital food is the pits."

Sam laughed. "Bacon cheeseburger and fries?"

Dean flashed his signature grin. "Sounds like heaven."

Dean healed well over the week that followed his hospital release. One thing about the Winchesters- they're robust.

Sam insisted that they stay in the same place while he healed and refused to look for any further jobs until Dean could at least stand on his own without wincing. And although they were confined to the same room for nearly twenty four hours a day, with disgusting, flaky wallpaper that could drive someone insane, Dean was secretly enjoying the time off.

Since leaving high school, all Dean had done was hunt. Of course he'd enjoyed most of what he did- meeting interesting people, finding out they were some kind of evil being and torching their sorry asses- it was a strange perk of the job for him. But there was always a part of him that wanted a break; a day off from the weird and dangerous to relax.

However, even that little corner of his mind got bored easily. So, when he finally got behind the steering wheel again, after threatening Sam he'd tie him up and shove him in the trunk if he didn't let him drive, Dean felt ready to hit the road and leave the hell of the past two weeks behind him.

Little did he know that luck would not be on his side and soon, he would be fighting for his life in a way he never thought possible.