A/N: Here's another chapter up! I'll keep giving my thanks to darksupernatural for her support! And thanks to those who've read and review! :D

Chapter 5

Dean whipped out his gun and aimed it at the werewolf, half of him wanting to check on Monica who laid a couple of yards away, unconscious by the look of it, and the other half knowing that he couldn't waste any time killing the thing before it took another victim. With that thought coursing through his mind, he fired.

The werewolf moved swiftly enough to dodge the first bullet, but just when Dean was about to pull the trigger to let out another shot, he felt a stinging sensation on his right hand as a claw collided with it, and tossed his gun into the air and out of sight.

The next thing he knew as he whipped out a silver dagger was a burning sensation setting his entire torso on fire as the creature raked another claw across his abdomen. He never thought to let out a scream as he numbly felt his blood life draining ever slowly, yet very quickly. Still he tried to keep on fighting, never once relinquishing the blade that could mean his survival.

Before he could drop to the ground due to the excessive blood loss, the werewolf snatched him at the throat, squeezing until he dropped his only weapon, his lifeline, and cut off his air supply as it prepared to sink its teeth in his flesh, dooming him to become the one thing he had hunted all his life.

As he grew weaker and weaker trying to fight it off, he closed his eyes, accepting that maybe this was what fate had intended for him. But he never expected to be dropped before the thing ever had a chance to bite him, tempting to fall into oblivion.

"No, no, no, no, no…." A voice lamented, "Dean?"

Sammy?

"Dean? C'mon, I need you to open your eyes for me," the voice pleaded, tapping his cheek.

Wait a minute…last time I checked, Sammy didn't sound like a girl. Heh, serves him right…

The increased pressure on his abdomen made him gasp and open his eyes to mere slits, focusing them on his savior.

Monica sighed in relief at seeing his opened, albeit glassy eyes. Making sure she kept the pressure on Dean's wounds with her jacket since she had no intention of using his jacket, and while hoping to slow down the blood flow, she maneuvered him carefully so that his head would lie on her lap. Swallowing in the fear that was about to erupt at the sight that met her eyes when she regained consciousness, she moved one hand away from his wounds and fumbled with her cell to call for help.

She cursed her knowledge on how to care for wounds because it unfortunately does not extend to severe cases such as Dean's. She can handle wounds that could need stitching, but noticing that some of his insides were showing, not to mention that there was a high probability that there were more internal bleeding, then she's shit out of luck. Taking him to a hospital would more than likely be better for him, especially since the nighttime and the onslaught of rain was making the situation worse.

"N-no…d-don't," Dean gritted through his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain, his breaths coming out in short, shallow gasps as he weakly reached up for her hand to stop her calling for an ambulance, "n-no…h-hospital." Damn, it hurts so much just to talk…

"What? Why?" Monica asked nonplused, clicking off her cell as she looked at him and noticed the thin layer of sweat coating his face and his shivering. He's going into shock, she thought as she placed her hand on his forehead and felt the cold and clammy feel of his skin. She then felt for his pulse. Slow and thready, shit.

She grew more fearful when he started struggling for air, his lips turning a light shade of blue as his tired lungs starved for much needed oxygen. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap…

"J-j-just…n-no…h-h-hospital," Dean gasped out, closing his eyes and so desperately wanting the darkness to claim him.

Dean knew his time was almost up as he felt his heart beat slower and slower while he tried in vain to pull in more oxygen to his almost uncooperative lungs. The dark spots edging in the corner of his vision and the coldness seeping into his body also made its presence known as if taunting him of his inevitable demise. Damn and I thought it was going to be the hellhounds that would be the ones to take me out…

"Don't you dare," Monica threatened, shaking him a little too roughly and using the anger to override the panic and fear that was so close to consuming her, "I'll kick your ass if you so much as think about it."

Apparently the threat didn't work when she felt his cold body go limp in her arms.

"Shit," she cursed when she didn't feel his breath on her cheek. She said a couple more expletives when she placed her fingers on his throat and didn't find a pulse.

One look at his pallor face, blue-tinged lips, and his half-open glassy, unseeing eyes, and Monica knew he was dead. Oh my God, he's dead…he's dead…no, no, no, no, no…

Shaking her head as she pulled herself together, refusing to believe that he's gone, she moved out from under him to begin CPR.

"I'll tear you into a new one if you don't start fighting," she hissed threateningly in his ear as she tipped his head back and pinched his nose, preparing to administer mouth-to-mouth.

After the second lungful of air she forced into his unresponsive lungs, she felt a surge of electricity coursed through her when she placed her hands on his chest to start the compressions.

The next thing she knew, Dean gasped and coughed, and started gulping lungful after lungful of precious air. All Monica could do was stare, dumbfounded at what happen, as she quickly turned him on his side so he can breathe a little bit easier.

What the hell?

Monica was with out-a-doubt sure he was dead way before she started the chest compressions, but how the hell did he suddenly and literally came back to life?

She didn't ponder that further when she heard noises behind her.

"Dean? Monica?"

"Over here!" Monica called once she recognized Sam's voice, turning Dean on his back and assessed his vitals, still not believing what had happened.

"What the – Dean!" Sam panicked, rushing when he saw his brother on the ground covered with so much blood and wondering how his brother could still be alive.

He looked like he wanted to shove Monica out of the way to care for Dean himself, but one look of her threatening glare made him stop in his tracks, and instead decided to settle himself on Dean's other side.

Sam won the battle against his stomach when it fought hard to bring up everything he ate that day after his first assessment of Dean's injuries. It amazed him how his brother managed to hold on this long when his brother's internal organs were exposed.

"Dean? Stay with me man. C'mon, open your eyes," Sam beseeched, tapping his brother's cheek.

Dean, being Dean who could never resist his baby brother's demands especially when Sam uses his puppy dog eyes, forced his eyes to open against their will and focus them on Sam.

"You okay?" Dean whispered concernedly, his eyes searching for any kind of wound Sam might be hiding.

"Yeah fine, Dean," Sam gave him a tiny smile, wondering when his brother would ever stop being his protector.

"How do you feel?" He asked, knowing it was a stupid question considering his brother's condition, but wanting to engage his brother in a conversation to ensure he stays awake.

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean forced out, grimacing slightly of the pain.

"Jesus boy, what the hell have you gotten yourself into now?" Bobby asked worriedly, trying to not let the fear creep into his voice.

"Did you do this?" Bobby asked Monica teasingly.

"Ha, ha, freakin' ha, very funny," Dean breathed out, suddenly growing very tired. His eyes flew open as he grunted in pain when Monica pinched him, not even noticing he had closed his eyes.

"Oh my God," Jennifer exclaimed, hand flying to her mouth in horror once she saw the extent of Dean's situation, "he needs a hospital!"

Reaching for her cell to call 911, she almost dropped it in surprise when Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Monica yelled, "NO!"

"What? Why?" Jennifer looked at each of them incredulously, unconsciously putting her phone away.

"Too many questions," Sam said simply as he took off his jacket to place over the wound and Monica's blood-soaked jacket.

"Don't you remember? Both of you aren't under the FBI's radar anymore, so there's absolutely no reason for either one of you to be worried," Jennifer refuted, taking out her cell phone again to call for help.

"Well, we don't want to risk it," Sam implored. Using his very effective puppy dog eyes, he pleaded, "Please, just help us take him back to the motel and Bobby and me can patch him up."

"You do know he's going to die if he doesn't get to a hospital soon?" Elizabeth inquired.

"He won't," Monica said with such conviction that Elizabeth couldn't help but look at her questioningly.

"Fine," Elizabeth conceded, "but we are not taking him back to the motel."

"Why?" Sam questioned suspiciously.

"Well," Elizabeth responded, "for one, it's quite unsanitary. And two, I know a better place where we could take him, a small cabin actually, but it'll be a long drive and I can't promise you that he'll make it."

"He will," Monica said with the same unyielding conviction that was in her voice earlier, and again Elizabeth had to stop and look at her sister questioningly.

"Fine," Elizabeth conceded again, "let's load him up, and while we're at it, we just might as well take him too," she said, gesturing towards the still form of the werewolf.

"Is it dead?" Bobby asked, finally noticing the werewolf.

"Nope, just stunned," Elizabeth said as she used the tip of her boot to lightly kick the werewolf's leg to prove her point.

"Aren't you going to kill it and then salt and burn him?" Sam asked as he prepared to gather Dean in his arms and start the long hike to the waiting vehicles, not feeling an ounce of sympathy towards the thing that almost killed his brother.

"Well I can't very well do it here in the park," Elizabeth pointed out, "so we'll just have to take it with us. Besides, the place I told you about will provide plenty of coverage for what we'll be able to do."

"Whose place is this?" Sam asked curiously as he carefully deposited his unconscious brother on a relatively huge bed, hoping not to aggravate his injuries further.

"Mine," Elizabeth said simply as she prepared the surgical equipment while Jennifer prepared the IV's, the blood transfusion, and anything that might help.

Sam blinked at that – should've known… – but quickly recovered by eagerly asking, "So what do you want me to do?"

"Leave," she said simply as she helped Jennifer prepped him for surgery.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Sam asked, clearly refusing to leave his brother's side.

"Sam, your brother is in good hands," Elizabeth said, fed up of Sam always second-guessing them, "and besides, we're not one of those air-head heiresses. We do have actual college degrees."

"Now leave," she ordered in a tone that left no room for arguments.

Dejectedly, Sam left his brother, again, in the hands of complete strangers. The difference is that even though he distrusts a lot of doctors, at least he would know he left his brother in the care of people who know what they were doing in a somewhat relatively safe place such as a hospital. In the case with the sisters, well, he can only hope they would know what they're doing.

Looking around the place as he searched for the kitchen, he couldn't help but sigh appreciatively at the accommodations. Yep, that's what you get when you have countless amounts of money, he thought as he looked at each beautiful priceless antique after another. Each luxurious room with their own quality of uniqueness is more like stepping in a museum – a very priceless museum, that is. As he sat down gratefully on a plush white sofa in a rather large den and looked around, he realized that the mansion-size cabin was purposely made to look luxurious and priceless. What he really liked about the place was that whoever decorated it did not make it too feminine and yet too masculine. It was just…perfect. If there was ever a word he could find in the dictionary to describe this place, it was: perfect. And safe, he thought afterward.

Looking at his watch and noticing that thirty minutes had passed since he left his brother's side, he decided that a trip to the kitchen to grab some caffeine would at least alleviate some of his nerves. The long ride from Portland to the outskirts of California had been really nerve wrecking, if not unpleasant due to the downpour. The thought of Dean dying any minute in his arms kept replaying in his mind almost as if messing up with his sense of reality, but thankfully, and thanking Monica's expertise of driving in wet weather (in the dark, no less) and making the trip in less than four hours, Dean hasn't died. Yet, Sam thought. Yep, he needs his caffeine.

"Hey boy, I was wonderin' if you had gotten lost somewhere in the depths of this place," Bobby teased with a warm encouraging smile from his place at the breakfast table as he gave Sam a cup of black coffee, knowing his nerves was really taking a toll what with worrying about his brother and all that.

Sam didn't say anything as he settled himself across from his friend, but nodded his thanks for the coffee, his eyes roaming around the large kitchen/breakfast room and furtively glancing in the general direction of where his brother lay, no doubt in agonizing pain. Come to think of it, Sam was pretty sure he hadn't yet heard his brother screaming.

Bobby, noticing Sam's worried glances, put his own cup down and said gently, "Sam, Dean's gonna be okay. He really is in good hands. Trust me, he'll be demanding a cheese burger and acting like his old self in no time."

"But how do you know that?" Sam asked imploringly.

"Because I know these girls."

When Bobby could tell Sam wasn't satisfied with his answer, he continued with a sigh, "Elizabeth was a doctor. A surgeon, to be exact, and Jennifer was an RN."

"Was?"

"Well yeah. That was before they became hunters."

"And Monica?"

"Well then, what she was, is actually even more impressive to those who would refuse to believe it at first," Bobby said with a mysterious smile.

"Which was what, exactly?" Sam asked, his patience growing extremely thin.

"A spy," Bobby said simply, enjoying Sam's inner struggle between worrying for his brother and his desire to know more about the sisters, but what he enjoyed more was the inevitable skeptic look that flashed across the younger man's face.

Before Sam could remark upon that, Monica sauntered into the room from the basement, already changed from her blood-sodden clothes to something warmer and asked, "What did I hear about a spy?"

When both men didn't answer her, she decided to situate herself next to Bobby at the table, grabbing herself some coffee on the way, "Bobby, you didn't bore Sam with that story about me being a spy, now did you?"

"So you weren't one?" Sam asked suddenly fascinated.

"Why?"

"Just curious," Sam said, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly.

"So I've noticed," Monica said, not giving more than that.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Well, have you really been one?"

Monica could see the unabashed interest in his puppy dog face that made him seem younger than he really is, and even she couldn't seem to resist them. Looking down at the contents in her drink, she muttered, "That was a long time ago."

Bobby watched their little exchange with amusement dancing in his eyes, part of him a little relieved that Sam found something that could keep his mind off of Dean's welfare even for a little while. Looking at his watch, Bobby was amazed that an hour and a half had passed with no word of how Dean was holding up. Is that good or bad?

"So who'd you work for?" Sam asked keenly, unaware of how uncomfortable the topic was for Monica.

Monica tried not to wince when she replied, "the CIA."

"Wow, that's impressive. So have you killed anyone? Blow shit up? Give car chases? All that exciting stuff spies do?"

Monica narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her cup as she took as sip of her coffee, knowing exactly where he was going with it as well as noticing the barely contained sarcasm in his voice.

Thinking that the best course of action for Sam's little interrogation would be the straightforward, frankness truth, she responded, "Being a spy isn't all that glamorous and exciting as the movies portrayed them to be. As a matter of fact, it's the complete opposite."

Clearly uncomfortable she nonetheless cleared her throat and took a deep breath before continuing, "To answer your questions in order: yes, I have killed people – men, women, and children. I've also had my fair share of messing around with explosions and, as you've said, blowing shit up. But not once have I had to conduct a high speed car chase."

Through her discussion, Sam was trying to detect some kind of remorse or anything that could determine what kind of a human being that could coldly terminate another human being, and was amazed to find not one trace of any kind of compassion. But she did seem uncomfortable talking about it. Maybe it's because she's not comfortable talking about it openly? Maybe she's not comfortable letting people know what she's capable of? Stop being such a hypocrite Winchester. Don't you remember what you've done to Jake and that Casey chick? Yeah, but I had very good reasons for it…

"So how did you meet Bobby?" Sam asked, easing off of the subject of what she did for a living, but questioning her relentlessly.

"You mind taking this one?" she asked Bobby as she excused herself at the table and took off, heading for the stairs, probably went to see how Dean was faring.

Shaking his head at Sam disapprovingly, all amusement that was there a moment ago now gone, Bobby said, "Now look at what you've done, you idgit."

"What?" Sam asked innocently.

"Well I guess it wouldn't hurt for you to know," Bobby began, scratching his head and letting out a long tiring sigh, "I met the girls after John sent them to me. You see, your daddy was working on a case where the girls lost a loved one to a monster. In that case, after they were exposed to the truth about what's out there, they saved Johnny as much as he saved them, so in return, after many persuasions that is, he sent them to me to teach them. In return, they made sure my business has prospered as well as provided me with some more high-tech medical supplies, but I think it's mostly because they didn't want me breaking into another hospital and stealing their provisions."

Stunned, all Sam could do was gape at Bobby, clearly surprise at the wide range of generosity and gratitude the sisters displayed towards Bobby. Now come to think of it, whenever he or Dean had gotten seriously injured after a hunt and had gone over to Bobby's place to get patched up, he never once questioned Bobby of how he managed to get his hands on every technologically advanced medical equipment known to mankind that only hospitals possessed, chunking it all to the belief that Bobby had stolen it from some other unfortunate hospital.

That fact that what the girls had done for Bobby for almost four years was indeed like a slap in the face. He couldn't ponder that further when Elizabeth approached them. He was a little disappointed when he could not read what was in her eyes or find any other sign that could indicate how the surgery went.

Unsure of how she should bring the news to them, but making sure her face was completely unreadable, Elizabeth began somberly, "Sam –"

"Is he alright? What's wrong? He can't be d – I mean he's not, is he?"

It took her a full minute to understand what Sam was implying. Hearing the quiver in his voice and looking into his tear-filled hazel green eyes, and then looking at the devastating look on Bobby's face, she snapped out of it, "Oh no Sam! He's alright. He's completely alright." She quickly reassured them.

"But?" Bobby asked, the fear evident in his voice.

Sitting down for this one, she took a moment before answering, "First just let me say that he is doing terrifically well. Better than I could ever imagine. Actually…he's healing at an alarming rate."

"What do you mean?" Both Sam and Bobby asked simultaneously.

"Well, for one, he should've been dead way before we ever got to him. With the extreme blood loss, a collapsed lung, his kidney, stomach, spleen and liver all nicked, not to mention a crushed larynx, I must say I'm pretty amazed he's still even breathing. He never even needed the blood transfusion nor the ventilator to help him breathe. His blood pressure never bottomed out and there weren't any complications that I was anticipating. Just as soon as we stitched him up, he was conscious and talking to us and everything else. The girls are cleaning up in there. Just as soon as they're done, you two can see him."

"Wait, so he's awake?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Not right now he isn't. I gave him some pain meds that'll knock him out so his body can get some much needed rest. But I must say, that must've been one hell of a miracle for Dean to be able to pull that one out of a hat," Elizabeth smiled as she returned to her patient.

"Uh Bobby, where's the werewolf?" Sam asked, suddenly remembering the creature that almost cost him his brother's life, eyes searching the room as if trying to spot where the wolf might be lurking from.

"Huh, amazing. I thought that was going to be the first question you were going to ask when you stepped in the kitchen, but I must say I'm impressed with you," Bobby chuckled, but at the bewildered look on Sam's face, he clarified gruffly, "Instead of you asking about that damned thing, all you asked about was the girls. You gotta get your head on straight boy; there are worst things out there than three measly women."

Sam opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, feeling for the first time in a long time like being sent to the principal's office to be scolded. True, he didn't ask the whereabouts of the werewolf at once after leaving Dean's side – Dean will always come first in his book – and okay, so what if the girls' identities might have a higher priority than that damn wolf? At least he's asking now, right?

"It's in the basement," Bobby snapped irritably, getting up and leaving Sam to sit alone in the kitchen.

As if on cue, Sam heard the unmistakable sounds of muffled angry howls coming from deep in the basement.

TBC...

A/N 2: Yep, there's the long-awaited hurt Dean I kept promising! ;) I hope this lives up to your expectations, Merisha! LOL. ;D Again, if y'all would like to see any improvement or if you see any mistakes, please let me know! I won't know what the problem is if nobody tells me :) I'd really appreciate it! So please read and review!! :D Pretty please with cherries on top cue Sam's puppy dog eyes - extra cherries! :)