A/N: It has come to my attention that this fic is over a year old. As kinda a late anniversary I'm gonna try something a little different- Dean's POV. Sorry if it isn't the best. Thank you for your continued support. Love you guys.

A/N2: You might also have noticed the chapter titles. I'm bad at titles which is why there wasn't titles in the first place but I was getting confused about what chapter was which soooooo… enjoy I guess.

A/N3: Chapter 19 and 20 tweaked to fix plot holes raised by babyreaper (thank you) plot remains the same though so don't worry.

Dean knew he was in trouble when the black patches appeared. Okay, he knew he was in trouble when the SOB clawed him but he knew he was in real deep shit when the black patches appeared.

The black patches were fuzzy blobs that danced on the edge of his vision and frequently grow in size until they pretty much were his vision.

Adding the burning feeling coming from Jess' stitches with the patches and Dean's shitty luck, it looked like the Black Dog was one of the poisonous ones. Well that's just peachy.

It'd be awesome if Dean could remember where he's put his cell and could stand up to look for it. It'd be even awesomer if he could remember the antidote for a scratch from one of those overgrown Labradors but seeing as he hadn't even remembered they were poisonous in the first place… well, let's just say the chances weren't too high.

Suddenly Dean was pissed at Sam. For several reasons.

Sam would know the anecdote and would already be working his mojo while bitching to Dean about how Black dogs aren't poisonous: they're venomous or some crap.

Sam could stitch a hell of a lot better then Jess. Dean was amazed her stitches had held. Though now, he's probably jinxed it and they would disappear or something which would be just freakin' awesome.

If Sam had been there, Dean wouldn't have got clawed in the first place. Sam wouldn't have shot it while it was distracted by the thought of chomping down on Dean.

If Dean died, he hadn't said goodbye to Sam.

Sam wasn't here.

The last points on Dean's mental list (god, how geeky was that?) was venturing too close to chick-flick territory for his liking so the listing thing ended.

There was a raspy breathing. Dean tried to open his eyes so he could attack the intruder but his eyes were already open. The black patches had expanded until they just became a friggin' black mess. Dean was blind. The raspy breathing got faster and more panicked until Dean realised it came from him.

Dean started to wonder if he was going to die. No one knew where he was. Well, except Jess but she didn't know squat about things that go bump in the night exist.

He hoped Dad would find his body. Even if it was only so Baby wouldn't rust to pieces in the square of concrete the motel had the guts to call a parking lot. Baby deserved better.

If he got out of this, he would slaughter every friggin' Black Dog on the planet. First he would chop off their fugly heads. Then he would skin their mangy fur and salt and burn that flea infested crap...

... What was he thinking about?…

…Black… Black somethings…

…Or was it blue…

…he was so tired…

…it'd be so easy…

…just to fall asle…

TBH