Sam cringed at the blood that drenched the fabric of Dean's shirt.

The knife was small. Way too small to do any serious damage and that kind of bothered him.

Suddenly Sam felt cold. His heart beat painfully inside his chest.

These things weren't meant to do that kind of damage.

"Dean! Wake up!" Shaking hands felt for a pulse. There – fast but steady.

Sam shook Dean again.

"Damn, c'mon, man, wake up!" Voice frantic.

Dean moaned, eyes fluttering slowly open.

"Smy?" His head turned slightly in Sam's direction.

"Yeah, I'm here. C'mon, we have to get outta here." Sam urged, not liking the stark pallor of his brother's skin.