Hey y'all :):):)

Phew! Sorry for the slow update again! I totally didn't know I was really slow until one of my friends politely told me that I was: 'As slow as a turtle with a 10 ton weight on its back.' :S (Which is always a real self-esteem booster lol)

They also said I was: 'As graceful as an elephant wearing rollerblades in a china shop.' :P (Don't I have lovely mates! hehe)

Anyway, this chapter mainly centers on Dean but don't worry Sammy-girls! He will be back soon!! ;)

So, hope you all enjoy!!

"Ah! God…" His head was on fire. He was sure his skull had split clean in two, the agonizing pain sending shivers down his battered frame, lodged up against the steering wheel, now not even recognizable as a wheel.

He swallowed, a mixture of blood and bile burning the inside of his throat, making him wince as his chest expanded uneasily, dragging much needed air into his lungs.

The surroundings were blurry, a haze of darkness, glass and pain in which he searched, trying to get a grasp on some sense of reality. His left arm was trapped awkwardly behind him, twisted so tight that all feeling had left his fingers, the blood flow utterly restricted. His stomach was lodged against the dash, trapped painfully between the door and the steering wheel.

With a grunt, he attempted to move, crying out in agony at the movement, a spark shooting through his muscles and rattling his bruised bones.

"Jesus!" His emotions were raging in overload: hurt, fear, anger, frustration… he was pinned, trapped inside his precious baby and completely helpless in a place where only God knows what could be stalking them.

He shook his head as a wave of dizziness crept over him threateningly, allowing black spots to dance mockingly before his dazed eyes. "No, d-damn it," he slurred slightly, the pull of unconsciousness becoming increasingly harder to resist.

A thought struck him as fast as a speeding bullet, snapping his exhausted head upwards, despite the spiking feeling travelling down the base of his neck, "S-Sammy?"

Silence greeted his ears: the worst sound that could ever be heard at this time.

"Sam? C-Come on dude, a-answer me," His plea went unheard, a remnant of their fight from earlier. The realization stabbed at Dean's heart, stinging bitterly with each hitched breath. The last things he might have ever said to his brother, and they were about the time he had died.

In denial, he attempted to push himself upright: a failed effort as he briefly collapsed once more, panting against the ruined interior of the Impala.

"No, no, he's not dead, he's not," he whispered to himself, eyes closed tightly, willing away everything that had happened. "Just unconscious, not dead, he's…"

A loud creak interrupted his mantra, his eyes going wide as he listened. There were no footsteps, no sounds of breathing, just the heavy beat of Dean's frantic heart from where he lay.

Biting his lip, he twitched the fingers of his bent arm, relieved to find that some movement still resided in their numb forms. He rolled his shoulder, the bone cracking causing his breathing to pause. Then, deepening each breath through his nose, not trusting himself to open his mouth in fear of what would emerge, he forced his arm to move, needing the extra strength from both arms to free himself.

"Ah!" He yelled, jostling the awkward angle at which his arm was bent. Tears fell unwillingly from his eyes and he blinked them away, twisting his body in its confined space. The arm that had once been held hostage behind him, eventually fell weakly from his back with a dull thud against the door, making Dean curse loudly.

"Sammy?" No soft voice answered him, just heightening Dean's fears as he struggled, ignoring the red color that trickled into his eyes, running from an injury somewhere on his forehead.

Can't think about that now - need to get to Sam. And as he said it, the muscles on his arms bunched, pushing his body up with a sharp burst of adrenaline. Teeth bared, he felt himself rise off of the dash, ignoring the throbbing igniting from every part of his body.

His side brushed against the steering wheel and suddenly, it all rushed him. The pain was intense, white hot as it screamed from his flesh, the light-headedness returning before all of his stored up energy disappeared.

Limply, he fell back against his hard 'pillow', hands splayed out in front of him, reaching for his life-line, his brother…

One whisper made it past his lips and then his eyelids fluttered, at last closing and sending Dean into a warming oblivion. "Sammy…"

Smoke? Huh? Well that's weird…

Dean groaned, taking in the new smell as he sluggishly awakened, eyes only a half-mast. His ribs felt like they'd locked, compressed by his enclosed sleeping area as they battled it out with his weakened lungs. The now free arm tingled, still struggling to return blood flow to its starved vessels. Other than those and his head feeling like he'd gone ten rounds with a brick wall, things were just awesome.

Still, he thought, puzzled, not quite capable of completely coherent thought by this point. I'm sure there wasn't smoke before… Green eyes wandered aimlessly over the shattered glass of the windshield, the broken frame and the peculiarly horizontal tree ahead of him.

He frowned, "T-Tha's a new one."

A warm feeling seemed to spread around him, warming his frozen limbs and sending a shiver up his spine: a reminder that he was still alive.

He sighed contentedly, his rambled mind allowing his eyes to close once more, "W-Who t-tipped the world o-over?" He giggled like a drunkard, so easily amused by such simple things. Everything around him was shifting into a wavy catastrophe, any previous thoughts on what was what now vanquished from existence.

"I w-wonder…" a yawn wrenched itself from his parched lips, his eyelids fluttering in their desperate attempt to keep him awake, "I wonder wha' Sammy would think of t-this place…"

With a smile, he closed his eyes, his brain not quite capable of forming a fast reaction to his own words.

Memories flittered behind lightly closed lids, all revolving around one person in particular: a young man with long unruly brown hair that fell unceremoniously into his eyes so that he had to keep flicking it away in annoyance, a notion that even Dean couldn't deny to be slightly cute. His huge doe-like eyes gazed with a sense of reserved innocence around him and then there was that smile: that one smile he always reserved just for him. Dean couldn't help but smirk at the thought of those brightly flashing dimples and somewhat child-like appearance.

He inwardly shrugged to himself. I guess he can't help looking like a toddler… He's my baby brother after all.

His lips twitched at the corners, pulling at dried blood around the corners of his mouth. Any thoughts about his little brother always seemed to make him feel, I don't know, content, at peace even…

He just has that effect on people.

It was strange the way that every one of Dean's memories, or at least fond memories that he could recall, had to possess this one special person within them. Without him in them, they just weren't worth remembering…

"We're close, right?" He saw a teenage kid asking him, eyes wide as he gazed up at him, the top of his head barely touching Dean's chin. It was a fact the elder brother prized beyond anything else. He couldn't resist winding up the little squirt whenever he got the chance.

Dean chuckled with a nod, "Scarily."

There was a slight shuffle as the younger boy jumped onto the wall beside him, swinging his legs joyously as they stared ahead at, well, nothingness.

"You blame Dad?" At the question, Dean raised an eyebrow, turning to look at his brother, who quickly added, "For us being close I mean."

"Um…" Dean looked away once more, the famous smirk making its way onto his youthful and handsome face. "Nah, I blame you. Always were clingy…" A light punch on his arm made him chuckle and he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just telling it how it is."

"Yeah, well if you ask me, I've got extreme talent."

"How so?"

The teenager stretched leisurely, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Getting you to be just as clingy back with your levels of testosterone?" He let out an appreciative whistle. "I deserve some kinda award for that one."

Dean scoffed in surprise, managing to hide his pride for the kid's snappy remarks behind mock pain. "Ouch! Hey you keep going like that and you're gonna crush my spirit someday."

The younger brother snorted loudly. "'Break your spirit'?! Dude, that's an actual impossibility! You're like a sugar-high bunny on crack."

"… Am I supposed to be offended by that?"

All that answered him was a cheeky shrug and the reply, "I'm just telling it how it is."

Dean grinned, taking a swipe at his brother's head and watching as the boy ducked, pushing himself off the floor. He landed on his feet with ease, straightening as he beamed, that so special dimpled smile greeting him.

The elder brother sighed, leaning back on his arms, eyes to the cloudless sky. "You shouldn't be talking like that, you know. Anyone would say I'm becoming an influence on you."

The melodious chuckle delighted him as he continued his gaze, and little brother spoke, words that always warmed Dean's heart. "Yeah well, I learned from the best right?"

As the soft patter of footsteps echoed around, Dean smiled widely, eyes still locked with the endless blue sky while his brother's words, so filled with love and pride made themselves known through his mind.

"Thanks, Sam."

With a gasp, Dean's eyes snapped open, staring ahead in pure horror. No, no, no! It hit him hard, harder than the initial impact of his beloved Impala crashing. He took a deep breath, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Sammy!"

His concussion was long forgotten, any remaining thoughts of confusion banished to the back of his mind, his duty as big brother overruling anything as trivial as pain.

A groan wrenched itself from his parched lips as he twisted, hands trying to find purchase beneath him as he fought desperately to push himself upright. He was the protector, the hero… he couldn't fail now.

"Damn it!" he cursed, muscles trembling as he willed his body to lend him the strength he needed: the strength to keep his memories alive.

He paused, eyes pricked like a cat's when sensing danger and cautiously, he sniffed the air, already knowing what smell would greet him. Smoke? He tilted his head, eyes straining against the darkness for the source of his disruption. It didn't take him long.

Despite the night air marring his vision, he could make out the strong pillar of dark grey smoke whispering out from the hood of his baby before reaching upwards towards the stars. He frowned to himself, then coughed loudly, feeling the smoke tickling his throat and taunting his lungs.

Shit! Doubling his efforts, Dean strained again, succeeding in raising his torso by a couple on inches. The same deadly thought occurred to him with each ragged breath he took. 'There's no smoke without fire…' He ground his teeth painfully together and he proceeded with his struggle, feeling a mixture of sweat and blood trickle from his brow.

"Come on!" And with a cry of hurt and anguish, he straightened his arms, causing his injured side to slam against the steering wheel. He howled behind tightly clamped lips, eyes watering from the fire now spreading through his trembling frame. His arms began to shake, willing to submit to exhaustion once more.

"Don't!" he begged himself, sadness lacing his voice. "Please, don't!"

He had to get out of here. He had to find Sam. He had to save him cos… he just had to.

Breathing heavily through his nose, Dean closed his eyes in distress. He knew what was going to come and after all, he'd been in agony before, but this was different. If he lost it this time, both he and Sam wouldn't make it.

"Strong mind, strong body…" A 14-year-old Dean had told Sam, his face stern in his attempt to teach such a valuable lesson, one that had stuck with them through all their hunting years. "You have to have a strong will 'else your body won't be able to take…" He broke off, not quite sure what to say. Sure, Sam had found out about a month ago that supernatural creatures really do exist, but it probably wasn't the best thing to talk about it. Right now, it was still a very sensitive issue.

Sam sighed sadly. "You mean, or else my body won't be able to last if some monster comes up and tries to eat me?"

The elder brother winced at Sam's poor choice of wording, slightly taken back by the emptiness in his voice. The whole hunting thing was a tough thing to get your head around, but it seemed more like Sam had just accepted it straight out. That scared Dean more than anything else.

"Well, yeah…" He scratched his head lightly. "But it applies to anything and you gotta have the ability to keep your mind intact for your muscles to function."

"Isn't that what you have to do anyway?"

"Um… In dangerous situations, it's kinda helpful."

Sam nodded, crossing his arms fervently over his chest as he gazed up at his brother. "So, how long before he wants me to go out and fight with you?"

Dean paused, before shaking his head softly. "That's not what this is about."

"Oh really, so why is that all of a sudden your giving me lessons in life?" Dean didn't reply, as he looked down tiredly at his feet. "Dad asked you to do this, didn't he?"

"… What makes you think that?"

"Maybe he thinks I need to be warned before going out 'ghostbusting'." The younger brother scoffed, his long mop of hair falling over his eyes, barely managed to cover his glare of anger.

A small laugh met his ears and Sam snapped his head up, cheeks turning pink as his eyes fell on Dean. His big brother was actually laughing at him. "It's not funny, Dean!"

And yet still, Dean proceeded to laugh, waving a hand heartily. "Ok, ok, but seriously! You think me and Dad run round in jumpsuits sucking up ghosts with a vacuum cleaner?"

With his ears turning red, the younger brother murmured, "No, I'm not that naïve."

"Whatever, dude," Dean smirked, before his face became serious, eyes twinkling with hidden knowledge. "And you're wrong you know. Dad doesn't want you to go out 'ghostbusting', never has. Why do you think we kept it from you for so long?"

Sam hesitated, unable to deny the strong truth of these words. "Well tell me then, why? Was I not strong enough or something?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Then what?"

Running a hand through his spiked sandy hair, the young hunter sighed, sounding much older than his years. "Sam, you're a smart kid, but when it comes to Dad…" He sniffed lightly. "Would you believe me if I told you he was doing it to protect you?"

Sam didn't reply, rolling his shoulders slightly: an action which Dean interpreted as a careless shrug.

"He was doing it to protect your innocence, dude."

"… My innocence?"

"Yep."

Dark eyes fell, looking at the floor as slight understanding began to filter into a once tightly closed mind. It made sense about why he was kept in the dark: a child's innocence was perhaps one of the most precious things to be granted in life.

He frowned. But that still didn't explain… "Then how come you knew about it?"

A grin plastered itself onto Dean's face, one of his many masks to hide his true feelings. "Ah, that ship sailed before I could get on many years ago."

"Oh…" In truth, the one surprised word was all Sam could say in order to express how he was really feeling. All these years and at least he had been given a chance at just being a normal kid, but Dean's was snatched away at the tender age of four. Since then, he had been bound to a reality of horror that until one month ago had only existed in Sam's nightmares.

Dean nodded slowly, bright green eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of his brother deep in thought. Deciding to avert the subject before it became a much hated 'chick-flick', he cleared his throat loudly. "Yeah, so anyway, back to what I was saying: strong mind, strong body…"

"Wrong."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

A soft smile lighted Sam's features, making him appear like the carefree child he had once claimed to be. "Strong heart, strong soul: that's what'll help you to survive."

Dean felt his lips curl as the two shared a smile and he inclined his head in acceptance. "Touche, squirt."

"Ah!" The utter pain in that noise was enough to cause nesting birds in the surrounding trees to screech out in protest, their peace terribly disturbed.

It wasn't like Dean honestly cared. At the moment, he was putting his entire energy into staying conscious as he squeezed past the disfigured steering wheel that was jarring his body. His wounded side brushed it again, forcing him to hiss, the throbbing feeling doing nothing to ease his discomfort.

"Ok, ok," he breathed, eyes glazing over as the world began to blur. "Nearly there… on three… one…" His arms clenched, preparing themselves, "two…" he took a deep breath, holding it before he exclaimed, "three!"

His arms pushed his body upright, sending it flying past the deformed wheel, ripping a scream from him as flesh ripped on its jagged edges. Adrenaline failed him as he fell limply back down, body hanging over the wheel as he struggled to get his erratic breathing in control.

"In…" he gasped, "out… in… out…"

The smell of smoke burned his nostrils and his eyes were stinging, already wet from the array of tears that had been drawn from him through his ordeal. Every muscle seemed to ache, in desperate need of rest.

Dean shook his head, drops of sweat flying around him, "N-No time."

Rolling off the wheel, his fingers gripped the ruined wheel and he pulled himself forward, chest scraping against the ruins of his baby's interior. He winced with each movement, his inflamed side making itself known with the introduction of black spots as they danced before his dazed eyes.

Shattered windscreen, ruined interior, destroyed exterior… how the hell was the Impala ever going to come back from this?

Pushing his devastated thoughts to the back of his mind, he dragged himself further through the empty frame, broken glass clinging to his hair and clothes while delighting in carving itself into his skin. Somehow, Dean barely even recognized the pain: he was beyond it, now just too intent on getting out of there to even pay a second thought to his actual condition.

If he had, he'd have realized how bad of a shape he was really in…

He bit his lip hard, tasting iron in his mouth as blood dribbled freely from the corners of his mouth. His bloodied hands slipped on the smooth black bonnet, but not once did he cease, eventually content with sliding like a snake down the metal.

The billowing smoke roared past his face and he hacked loudly, the battle between oxygen and ash making itself all too well known.

Launching himself forward in a poor imitation of a pouncing cat, he hit the soft earth with a thud, followed quickly by a groan as he body curled in on itself, desperate to find some reprieve from the pain.

"Ah, God!" he murmured brokenly, his voice cracking with pent-up emotion. Green eyes disappeared between tightly closed lids as a spur of vertigo settled upon him, tempting him towards the welcoming dark.

He shook his head, spiky hair flicking up slightly. "N-No, gotta s-save Sammy…" True to his word, the weakened warrior rolled onto his knees, arms spread wide like a blind person searching for some kind of leverage on their surroundings. Suddenly, his body pitched forwards but stubborn arms locked, refusing to let him fall.

Not yet anyway…

Uneasily, he crawled forwards on hands and knees, fingers finding purchase in soft soil as he moved, the drip of blood as it fell back to earth somehow succeeding in keeping him lucid. Dirt encrusted in his fingernails, crawling into every crease of his worn clothes, his appearance becoming more and more ragged with each couple of centimeters.

God, what'll Sammy think? Dean smiled, dragging himself weakly past the hood of the Impala, feeling the heat of rising flames licking at his heels. Keep moving, keep moving!

His toes tingled unpleasantly as the fire burned behind him, just seconds away from reaching the gas tank. So not the way I expected to go… he mused, but his expression was serious. Sam had to have been thrown away from the car right? It wasn't like he was trapped underneath…

The elder brother froze, his face a mask of terror as he twisted, staring at his baby, "S-Sammy?" No, he isn't, he can't be. I'd know! He's not -- he's not near the car… is he?!

In the panicked decision to turn back, the flames growled at him before bursting outwards. Dean ducked, recoiling from the beast that leapt over his head, lightly brushing his bruised skin. That was only the warning: the next thing would most definitely not be as kind.

The Impala rumbled tiredly, clearly sensing its doom, feeling the touch of fire against the gas tank. It was a good thing Dean knew his baby well enough to understand her. In fact, it may have just saved his life.

With timed precision, Dean forced his feet beneath him, then, wincing with the shock of hurt shaking his frame, he dived, fingertips outstretched longingly. Behind him, the Impala screamed before the fire found its destination. The explosion shook the earth, a fireworks display shooting up around them, snapping at the woodland hungrily. Leaves fell away in fear and many resting birds took flight, fleeing to safely from the enraged monster as it devoured a once powerful huntress, finally beaten.

Dean felt the ripple in the air before the initial impact hit him, sending him careening further away from his faithful companion. His body collided painfully with an upturned root and he cried out, writhing where he lay as the orange war raged above him.

He kept his eyes tightly closed, knowing that this time, it was inevitable. The darkness was clutching at him, pulling him away from his duty and his brother.

Drawing in a ragged breath, the elder brother managed to open his eyes a crack, hoping to see what had become of his baby. What he saw instead was much worse…

It took him a second to focus, suffocating in the night that encased him, but finally his vision managed to clear for an instant. His mouth fell open in shock, fear passing through his pale face as his gaze connected with another's.

A pair of hazel eyes, only open to a half-mast, stared blankly back at him, a glaze dulling their once vibrant color. Thickened streams of blood broke over them: a horrific contrast to stark-white skin, while a mop of dark hair attempted to hide everything away and obscure it from view.

"S-Sss…" was all Dean could force out before his eyes rolled blissfully back into his head and he once again, gave in to unconsciousness…

Do I get away with a duh duh duh at this point? :S

Please leave me a review and let me know what you think and whether I should continue or not! :D

(Oh and btw, I'm going away for a week or so, so again, the whole 'turtle' thing will be coming into play... apologies!)

Thanks for all your awesome support so far!!

Hugs, Ami-Rose x x x x x