"Okay here we go kiddo" John tried to lift Dean slowly into a sitting position.

A gasp filled with pain escaped Dean's lips and his eyes shut tight against he pain. It was just sitting up, it shouldn't be this painful. His chest felt like t was on fire, and his head swam through a sea of muddy colors blending into a spinning mosaic.

John waited for Dean to steady himself. He could only imagine the amount of pain Dean was in. His whole chest was a mix up of deep gashes (which to John's dismay were still bleeding) and bruises. A couple of rips seemed to be broken judging by the amount of trouble Dean was having with breathing. Not to mention the fact that Dean had been laying on that cold damp ground for god knows how long and was probably going to get pneumonia.

"Hey dad where exactly are you guys I got a car and I'm headed your way." Sam's voice cut through John's thoughts and he stopped to consider this for a moment. He had no clue if Dean killed the creature or if he had just scared it off. Dean wasn't a little boy any more. It was going to be pretty tough tot get dean into the Impala and fight off the monster if the situation called for it.

Finding the phone again John replied, " Alright Sammy where exactly are you? We're about half a mile in from the west gate."

"The west gate, alright I'm right outside the north one so ill be thee in a second. How's Dean dad?"

"Not to good kiddo" was all John could manage. He had to get Dean moving. He was fading fast, and John could tell Dean needed to get to a hospital sooner rather than later. He switched his grip on Dean so he was facing dean, holding him under the armpits. "Alright Dean this may hurt a bit all right?"
"Can't be worse than your cooking" Dean managed to reply. His father was defiantly scared and if he was scared then Sammy had to be downright terrified.

Both Sam and John gave a brief chuckle at Dean's answer. Leave it to Dean to try and make jokes when he's bleeding to death thought Sam. Just then the midnight black Impala became visible under his headlights. He rushed up the car, popped the truck and grabbed a sawed off shotgun. He also tucked his favorite revolver into the back of his jeans.

Somehow dean was standing. John still had no clue how Dean managed to stay upright. He had lost a ton of blood, and something was defiantly wrong with his left leg. Dean wasn't even trying to put weight on it. All that matters was that he was standing. Now all John had to do was get Dean across a half of mile of dark forest terrain, which was possibly hiding the deadly creature that did this to dean. John bent down to pick up dean's gun and said, "Still with me Dean?" A slight head nod told john all he needed to know. "We've got to get you back to the Impala Deano. Lets try and walk okay?"

Under the dm flashlight beam Sam could see the tracks his dad had been mentioning. He looked closer and saw the footprints that diverge with the tracks. The trail to the right was run over by a set of frantic footprints that looked about the same size as his father's old boots. Sam started running in that direction, keeping an eye out for John and Dean.

It was slow going with Dean the way he was. John was keeping him upright as dean struggled to take each step, and each breath. "God, this can't be good" John thought as Dean's head flopped against the inside of his shoulder. Dean was never like this. When dean was accidently shot in the gut on that werewolf hunt in Montana, he had forced himself up and had managed to walk about a good quarter of a mile towards John and Sam before collapsing face down in the dirt. What is up with him?

"S' really c-cold dad. Tired" that was the first thing Dean had said in along time. Crap that's gotta be the blood loss kicking in thought John.

"Sorry kiddo, we've got to keep moving. Got to get you home okay?" John couldn't tell if that was dean nodding his head or if Dean's head just drooped momentarily. He really prayed it was the first one. Just then an eerie light appeared ahead of them. Whatever it was, it was moving towards John and he needed to protect dean. He pulled out his gun and raised it to eye level as he tried to pull Dean to the side, putting himself in between his injured son and whatever was coming towards them.

Sam thought he was another flashlight beam behind some trees up ahead of him. His heart skipped a beat a he approached his brother. God I hope Dean is still alive Sam silently prayed in his head. He darted past a tree and saw his father with his gun raised. "Dad it's me!" Sam called out.

John lowered the gun as his youngest son rushed towards him. He was going to need all the help he could get. His shoulder was killing him, and he was tiring out pretty quick.

Sam rushed up and just stared at Dean for a second. This was not how he pictured his brother would look for the first time they had seen each other in about three years. Dean's head was hanging limp against his cheat. That same chest that was coated with blood, and was barely rising with each of dean's pained breathes. "God, Dean" was all he Sam managed to say. It just wasn't right Dean shouldn't be looking like this. He then turned his eyes to his father. The last time they left, things hadn't ended so well. Okay fine, they ended horribly but for now John just looked happy to see him. Sam saw the tired pain expression his father wore and moved closer to try and pick up some of dean's weight. It was that moment when he noticed his father's blood covered hands. Covered in Dean's blood. Just the thought sent chills down Sam's spine.

"Sammy I think we should try and carry him. He can't really walk."

"Okay I'll gab his feet" Sam reached down and grabbed Dean's mud covered boots and stared up at his father. He had expected a blast of anger, or some kind of hate but this was totally different. All he got was fear, concern, and a tired resignation begging him to let things go back to the good old days when they hunted as a family.