Dean slammed his fist heavily into the mattress as he watched his father and brother disappear through the doorway. He couldn't believe what had just happened. What was his father thinking taking Sammy with him on this hunt? He, of all people, should have realized how dangerous it was going to be. And Sammy was hurt - and tired. That had been more than evident just by looking at him.

But instead of acknowledging that – and yielding to Sammy's request to stay behind - his father had determined that it was going to be Dean who sat this one out. And why was that? Because he wasn't in any shape to hunt.

Says who? Some silly doctor who had decided that he should stay in the hospital overnight? Just because he'd lost a little bit of blood. And because they couldn't figure out what the foreign substance in his blood was.

Not his fault they were all stupid.

But they'd already taken care of the blood loss. They'd given him enough blood to replace what he'd lost. And he sure as hell wasn't going to tell them about the Aswang poison. Some things were just better off being left unsaid – and unexplained.

So, all things considered, there was really nothing else they could do for him. All he had to do was get rid of the stupid IV that was still pumping some sort of murky liquid into his veins. It was probably only a type of water solution anyway that was intended to stop him from getting dehydrated. They couldn't possibly be giving him any kind of medication. Because they didn't have the foggiest idea what was wrong with him. Other than he'd been in a fight and lost some blood.

Big deal.

He was still in better shape than his brother. And his father would have known that – if he'd bothered to stop and pay attention. But he was too wrapped up in being the Big Game Hunter. Trying to stop some bloodthirsty creature from killing another unsuspecting person. Never mind that it probably poised an even bigger danger to Sam. Hell, the last Aswang had already gone after him the first time he was hurt. And he hadn't looked half as bad then. But his father had obviously forgotten about that. Either that or he had just chosen to ignore it when he dashed off with Sam and left him behind.

Well…fat chance on that one. Because there was absolutely no way in hell that he was just going to wait around in a stupid hospital bed while his father and Sammy were out on a hunt.

And screw anybody that thought he should.

Dean reached over and yanked the curtain across the front of the bed to prevent anyone from looking into the room and noticing what he was doing. As the curtain swayed gently into place, he meticulously removed the IV from his arm and inserted the needle securely into one of the pillows. Not wanting the liquid solution to saturate the pillow, Dean closed the valve at the bottom of the IV bag before he spun the pillow around so that it was lying crossways on the bed. Then he grabbed the second pillow, placing it at the bottom of the first pillow before he swung the sheet over both of them. Dean jumped off the bed and plumped the pillows up to make it look like he was still lying in the bed. As long as no one looked too closely, they would think that he was simply sleeping on his side. It should be enough to fool them for a couple of hours anyway.

Satisfied that his absence wouldn't be detected immediately, Dean peered cautiously around the curtain. Not seeing anyone nearby, he grabbed the bag of clothes that was sitting on the floor beside the nightstand and pulled out his jeans. As he slipped them on, he was shocked to discover just how much blood had soaked into the fabric. But, because most of the stains were concentrated near the waist, he figured his t-shirt would cover the majority of it. Lifting the shirt out of the bag, he was dismayed at its condition; there was barely an inch on the back of the shirt not covered in blood. And that wasn't all. The shirt had been completely slit up the front; obviously done by some over-zealous hospital worker to remove it from his body when his father had brought him into Emergency.

Great. Another one of his favorite t-shirts ruined.

Deciding that the ripped, bloody t-shirt would likely draw more attention than he needed, Dean tossed it back into the bag and tucked the oversized hospital gown into his jeans, making sure to leave enough out in order to drape it over the bloodstained waistband of his jeans. The makeshift shirt would look better than his ripped t-shirt and be less noticeable than going shirtless. Dean took a quick look at himself in the mirror and decided that, at quick glance, the tucked-in gown looked good enough to be mistaken for a regular shirt. Because that was all he was hoping for. A little bit of leeway in order to get off the ward and out of the hospital without attracting attention to himself and having someone realize that he was actually a patient.

Once he had gotten dressed, Dean cautiously made his way to the doorway and peered up and down the hall. Noticing a nurse walking in his direction Dean ducked back into the room and leaned tightly against the wall, hoping she was not headed to his room. When she didn't come in or pass by his room, Dean glanced into the hallway once again. This time there were no nurses or doctors in sight so Dean bolted from the room, headed in the direction of the stairway. When he reached the stairs, Dean gently pushed the door open, walked into the stairwell and quietly eased the door shut in order to avoid detection. As soon as he had closed the door, Dean spun around and sprinted down the stairs to the exit…

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

John instinctively stepped in front of Sam, using his body to shield his youngest son from the Aswangs. In the millisecond it took for his mind to register what was happening, John realized that bringing Sammy with him had been a mistake. A big mistake. A very big mistake.

It was, without a doubt, the worst mistake he had ever made.

As he mentally kicked himself for his serious lapse of judgment, John rapidly assessed their situation: There were three very hungry, very powerful and very pissed-off Aswangs in front of them. His truck was behind them. The woods were to their left. And an abandoned warehouse was situated across the street on their right. But, with the three Aswangs hovering directly in front of them, all possible escape routes had been effectively cut off.

Not good.

In fact, it was nothing short of despicable. And John realized much too late that he had unknowingly walked right into their trap. On his own accord. He hadn't even stopped once to consider that this might actually be some sort of set-up. The thought had never crossed his mind. Because he had never actually considered that Aswangs were anything more than barbaric creatures that killed simply to cull their appetites. But they had outwitted him and now he was going to pay the price.

And to make it even worse, he had intentionally brought Sammy with him.

The realization that he had gone from hunter to hunted in a mere matter of seconds, caused John to alter his perspective. Survival became his only objective. If not for him, at least for Sammy. Because, come hell or high water, there was absolutely no way that John was going to let the Aswangs get anywhere near his youngest son. No matter what it took.

And as their predicament sunk into his mind and like the cornered animal that he had become, John took an instinctive step backwards to distance himself from the murderous creatures. In doing so, he almost ran into Sam who had maintained his position directly behind him.

His eyes never straying from the trio of predators, John calmly whispered, "Sammy…on my count, we're going to start moving very slowly to the side of the truck. Stay behind me and keep your back pressed firmly against the truck. Don't provide them with any opportunity to grab you from behind. You're going to climb into the cab and lock the doors. Then make as much noise as you possibly can. Honk the horn. Rev the engine. Anything. Just make enough racket that you'll be able to draw some attention this way. And no matter what happens, stay in the truck. There won't be anything you can do about it. And it will be out of your control. Do you understand me?"

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He was terrified and his father's words only succeeded in increasing his anxiety. He had never heard his father to talk like that and Sam knew that he must have believed that their situation was just short of hopeless

Still, Sam managed to spit out a very small, "Yes Sir" in response.

John inhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on the Aswangs. "Good…now, on the count of three we move together…One…Two…"

"Dad?"

"Not now Sam," spat John forcefully.

"But Dad…I've still got the gun. I can shoot it. I know I can. I'll be able to take down one of them. Just give me a chance."

"No Sam," barked John. There was no way he was going to put his injured son in the middle of a gunfight. Not when they were outnumbered. And not when their foe had the upper hand.

But so far the Aswangs hadn't moved, remaining only a few feet away.

Waiting.

John knew they were waiting for him to make the first move. Because that's what all successful predators did. And he also knew that once he made his move, there'd be no second chances.

"Three."

John took a short, quick step to his right and Sam fell right in behind him. They watched nervously as the Aswangs tensed. Their bodies moving only slightly. Their senses heightened. Watching. Waiting. Ready.

Ready to move in for the kill.

John's second step brought him to the corner of the truck's box. He could feel Sam's small body behind him, aware that the sling on Sam's arm was rubbing against his back. John felt Sam adjust his grip on the pistol that he held. He heard the click of the gun as Sammy cocked the hammer, knowing that he would keep it trained on the Aswangs for as long as it took them to get him into the truck.

But with every step their quarry made, the creatures stirred, moving marginally forward, mimicking each stride in order to maintain control. They were patiently stalking them. Biding their time. Silently waiting until the time was right. When victory would be inevitable.

John took another step, bringing him completely around to the side of the truck. Taking care to mirror his father's movements, Sam was able to keep his body concealed behind John's big frame. Although he was completely shrouded from a direct assault, Sam kept the pistol aimed in the direction of the Aswangs just as his father was doing. Both Winchesters were poised and ready in case the creatures attacked.

Because they both knew it was only a matter of time.

But, as John once again stepped closer to the cab of the truck, the Aswangs held steady. They didn't move but remained hovering only a few short feet away. Their bright eyes never blinked; tirelessly surveying their prey. Their razor-sharp teeth shined like polished daggers against the blackness of the night. They were indeed a fearsome sight.

John was aware that they were preparing to attack. Their change of tactics meant that they were getting ready to finish the hunt. They would strike quickly and efficiently. Surrounding them to reduce the chance of escape. For these creatures were seasoned hunters and failure was not an option. Only success would guarantee their survival.

John knew he had precious little time to get Sammy safely into the truck.

As he cautiously shuffled his foot one more time to the side, the Aswangs pounced, moving together in perfect synchronicity. In the blink of an eye they had successfully encircling their prey. One flew swiftly over the back of the truck, positioning itself behind them. Another sped past, only to come to an abrupt halt beside the passengerdoor while the third Aswang swooped forward, closing the gap that had existed between them and effectively blocking any and all avenues of escape…