Chapter four then...

The Impala was speeding faster than ever down the streets while its occupants kept a close lookout for a sixteen year old hospital escapee. They did not know if they would have any luck, but they also knew that they had to try. Sam had been quite distressed, by the looks of it, when Dr Roberts had called and told him that Mal had run away from the hospital. No one had any idea how it had happened as the restraints had been left on him, as the hospital staff had learnt from the boy's last escape attempt. Dean had not been quite what he was feeling. It was strange; almost like he had felt a wave of anger mixed with worry rush through him, if only for a second.

So far neither Winchester had seen any sign of the boy, but they kept driving – kept looking – refusing to give up. They parked by alleys to see if any living soul should be hiding in any dark corner or behind dustbins, but they had had no luck. They had argued about him returning to his house, but after little discussion they had decided to at least go there and see if they could find anything. Sam had got hold of the address earlier on so it was easy enough for them to get to the deserted house. Dean had dared to ask Sam at one point if he was sure that the father was not there, but one glare had been enough for Dean to realise the stupidity of his question.

Once they arrived at the house and picked the lock open, they looked through the few rooms – even the basement, which Dean quickly left as the smell of stale blood still lingered in the room. Dean swore loudly when they got to a bedroom where a window was open out to the cool night air. Drawers were open and there were footsteps across the dusty floor. Mal seemed to had been here to pick up some stuff, before leaving again in a hurry.

"Where now?" Dean asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don't know." Sam said, looking as defeated as Dean felt. "Where do you think he would have gone?"

"He probably wouldn't have gone to his friends' house as they would most likely send him right back to hospital – and he would know that." Dean reasoned. He didn't know if his beliefs were correct, but they were simple gut feelings.

"Come on." Sam said, as he headed back out of the room.

Dean took a glance out of the window, but it showed him nothing. He cursed again and followed his brother.

Dean started to feel like the driving was completely pointless. They drove past a big field with long swaying grass before nearing a small woodland with towering dark fir trees. Sam told Dean to stop the car and Dean thought that it was probably better to oblige to Sam's order.

"Dude, please don't tell me we're going in there?" Dean said, eyeing the dark forest with suspicion.

Five minutes later they were walking along a narrow, dark, winding path, both with a torch illuminating the path and trees directly in front of them and around them. The torches seemed to only make the trees seem taller and more fearful. Dean shook his head to clear it of such thoughts and instead tried to focus his eyes and ears on the smallest movements and noises.

"Sam?" He said questionably.

"Yeah?" His brother answered vacantly.

"Don't get mad, but…how do you think he would have got himself all the way out here?" Dean asked the question that had been bugging him for a while now.

"I don't know." Sam asked, shining some light into the trees to his left. "I just thought we should, you know, check it out."

Dean looked up at his brother and found Sam looking at him.

"What?"

"Nothing." Sam said, though a hint of a smile appeared on his face. They both looked forwards and saw the path splitting into two in front of them. "Split up?"

"I hate this." Dean said as he pulled his jacket a little closer around himself and took the path going to the right.

"Call if you find anything." Sam said to him as he turned off to the left.

"What? You want me to do a Tarzan yell?" Dean joked, flashing a smile.

"Ha ha, very funny." Sam said, though Dean could hear the smile in his voice as he turned his back to Dean and walked off.

Trees could be incredibly annoying, Dean found out, as they constantly cast fake shadows from the torch's light. It was incredible hard to try and make anything out as every time he thought he saw something, it was simply a weird shaped tree stump. He was just about to give up when he heard raspy breathing from somewhere to his right. He stopped for a few seconds to make sure that it was not just the cool night wind in the leaves overhead before walking off the path towards the sound. He walked slightly slower than before, desperate not to miss anything now that he finally felt that their hours of looking were finally going somewhere. He moved around a bush and saw the cause of their midnight stroll, leaning against a tree trunk. Dean hurriedly took out his phone and called his brother.

"Sam? I found him." Dean quickly gave rough directions to where they were and hung up the phone.

Dean walked carefully forwards and crouched down next to the boy. Mal's eyes were closed and he seemed to be breathing with some difficulty. He had not acknowledged Dean's presence, but when Den looked a little closer he saw that the boy was shivering and his face slowly turning a pale blue. Dean quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it tenderly around Mal's shoulders. Mal suddenly drew a sharp breath and tried to shy away from the contact, but it only caused him to fall to the ground. Dean caught him before he hit the soil and lifted him up into his arms, just as Sam came running behind him.

"Come on, we've got to get back to the car." Dean said as he started walking back down the path, back the way they came, trying to ignore how light the boy was.

Sam nodded, picked up the rucksack that had been lying next to Mal, and they hurried back towards the car. Mal mumbled something inaudible a couple of times, but neither Sam nor Dean thought that now was the best time to talk. Once they reached the Impala, Dean manoeuvred himself and Mal onto the back seat. He rummaged in the jacket pockets and pulled out the car keys which he tossed to Sam.

"Go to the motel." Dean ordered as Sam got into the driver's seat and turned on the engine.

"Dean…" Sam started.

"Just do it, Sam!" Dean snapped at him before turning his attention back to the teenage boy who was slumped in the seat beside him. He had not wanted to snap at Sam, and knew that he would have to apologise for it later, but now was simply not the time to argue.

He put a hand on Mal's forehead. Yep, definitely running on a high fever. However, even though Mal's forehead was burning, the rest of him was shivering with cold. Dean tucked his jacket around him tighter, hoping that it would offer the teenager at least a bit of warmth.

"Here." Sam said and he handed Dean his own jacket, who offered a quick thanks before wrapping this too around the boy.

Mal's eyes did not open once on the whole journey back to the motel, but instead continued to shiver. Dean put a hand on his chest to steady him when it looked as if he was going to tip forwards. He drew it back quickly when he felt something warm, wet and sticky against it. Blood.

"Drive faster, Sam." Dean said, knowing that there was nothing he could do right now. Sam urged the Impala to increase its speed and it roared in consent.

The car screeched to a halt outside their motel room. Sam was the first out of the car and helped Dean to move Mal out. Dean carried Mal's limp body into the room and laid him down on his bed.

"Sam, get me the First Aid Kit, will you?" Dean asked as he removed Mal's jumper and t-shirt carefully. The fronts of both items were stained with wet blood.

It was the knife wound in Mal's right shoulder that was making trouble. Dean had momentarily forgotten about the individual injuries, but now at least understood a bit more of what was going on. Sam returned with the First Aid Kit and looked mildly shocked at the sight of the injury.

"It shouldn't be that bad," he said, "not after that amount of time."

"Well, maybe the wound was not only a knife wound." Dean said as he leaned a little closer to look at the wound that was stained with dry blood, pus, dirt and material from the t-shirt. "We need something to clean this with – disinfect it."

Sam looked through their box of medical supplies, but found nothing.

"Spirits?" Sam suggested.

Dean nodded and Sam came back a moment later with alcohol.

"This is going to hurt like hell." Dean warned the still form on the bed, but when he received no reaction he quickly poured some of the contents in the flask over the wound.

Mal shouted out and Sam had to rush to Dean's side to keep the boy still. Mal struggled feebly and started mumbling constantly, but still inaudibly. Sam helped Dean clean and bandage the wound, before sliding off Mal's shoes and tucking him under the covers in the bed.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters, only the character of Mal.