Dean Winchester had two things on his mind as he followed Sam through the ever darkening forest. His main concern was making sure the two of them got back to the car before sunset. The second was how much his younger brother currently resembled a drunken calf. Sam had already taken several nosedives due to his knee and head injuries, and it looked like he was about to take another.

Dean's breath caught in his throat as a wobbly Sam lurched off balance. Dean was sure he'd tumble to the ground, but at the last second Sam was able to grab onto a low hanging branch. Dean cursed as he watched Sam brace himself against the tree. What he wouldn't give for one more round with that rotted whore Hannah Eagan. It was bad enough getting his ass kicked by a broad, even a dead one, but for the pain she'd inflicted on Sammy...

Concern for his unnervingly still brother bested his anger, and he pushed away his vengeful thoughts. Hell had her now, and she would be punished for her sins for all of eternity.

Dean walked over and placed his hand on Sam's back. Still clinging to the branch, Sam's forehead rested on his arm. Dean took the opportunity to check the wound on the back of Sam's head. A small amount of blood still oozed from the large lump near Sam's skull.

Sam raised his head slightly at Dean's careful touch. "I'm fine." Sam said wearily.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Really." Although the hazel eyes that stared up at him were equal in size, Dean had no doubt that a slight concussion was hiding behind them.

Sam glanced at an unconvinced Dean, then lowered his head back onto his arm. After a few deep breaths he stood up straight, his right hand still gripping the branch. "At least I can breathe."

Keeping his back vertical, Dean bent at the knees to retrieve the branch Sam had been using as a walking stick. A sharp pain hit him as his cracked ribs reacted to the movement. "At least I can walk." Dean shot back, stifling a groan.

Sam reached for the stick, but Dean held it out of reach, shaking his head. "Uh uh. Break time." Dean held up his palm, silencing Sam's insistence that they keep moving. "That tree is the only thing keeping you from falling onto your face. You pass out, I am not dragging your flat ass back through the woods. Now sit down before you fall over."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I said I'm fine. I don't need a break, and I'm not going to pass out."

The mighty Taurus rears it's obstinate head yet again. It was times like these that Dean couldn't help but wonder if he'd let his stubborn little brother watch too much Monty Python when they were kids. Sam was only a few limbs and a British accent away from becoming the Black Knight.

"Sam, you have a sprained knee and, more than likely, a concussion. We are taking a break. Now."

Dean's stern tone may not have resonated with Sam, but it sure seemed to scare the local wildlife. The audience of robins and squirrels made a hasty retreat as the two brothers continued to argue. Dean had gotten nowhere with his high-handed approach and was ready to resort to begging when a shrill ring sounded. Sam shot Dean one last look as he searched for his ringing cell phone. He threw in one final comment as he pulled out the phone.

"I do not have a flat ass."

Dean rolled his eyes and bit back a retort as Sam answered the phone. He walked over and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist. Knowing a preoccupied Sam would put up less of a fight, Dean used the distraction of the phone call to ease Sam down to the ground.

"Jenna? Is that you? Jenna. Jenna, honey, slow down. I can't understand you." Sam didn't even seem to notice Dean's sneaky maneuver. He allowed Dean to lower him down and lean him back against a tree as he focused on the urgent call.

Dean sat next to Sam, groaning in relief as he slipped the backpack off his shoulders. They'd abandoned the shovels and most of their heavy gear, taking only their guns and ammo back with them. On a normal day he could carry one hundred times the amount he was currently lugging. But, as the dull ache in his middle reminded him, this was no ordinary day. He leaned back against the large oak and tuned in to Sam's conversation.

"Jenna, slow down. What did you see?" Sam pushed the phone hard against his ear and stared down at the ground. He was silent for a few seconds, listening intently. Suddenly his head shot up, and he looked worriedly at Dean. "Did it hurt you?"

Dean fully turned towards Sam as his mind quickly processed what he'd heard. Jenna was the Donovan's little girl, the one who's saved her brother from being killed by their mom. Had something else happened? Something was obviously bothering her, but what? While Sam's last question had definitely gotten his attention, it was the pronoun that made the hunter really take notice.

"It".

Dean got into Sam's eyeline and mouthed the word, "What?" Sam shook his head and held up his finger, wordlessly telling Dean to wait.

"Jenna, does your daddy know you're on the phone?" Sam bit his lip as he listened to the answer. "Ok, I want you to put the phone down and go get him. I promise I'll stay on the line."

Sam put a hand over the end of the cell phone. "Jenna says the thing that took her brother just came for her. She saw it crawling in through her bedroom window. She screamed, and the thing went back out the window just before her dad came in her room."

Dean nodded his head knowingly. A dream. That poor little girl was going to need some serious therapy to deal with what she'd gone through. He shook his head sadly. "Poor kid."

Sam continued in a low voice. "Her dad doesn't believe her. Said it was just a nightmare."

"Considering what she went through, it definitely won't be her last." Dean's blood boiled. One child dead, another nearly lost his life, and a third scarred for life all due to some insane forest-dwelling psychopath. If there was any justice in the world, Hannah Eagan would burn in hell for all eternity. Even that was getting off lightly for all the pain she'd caused.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, then abruptly pulled his hand away from the phone.

"Mr. Donovan? Hello, this is Officer Darrow. Yes, your daughter called me about a possible disturbance….Mmmhmm….Is she alright?" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, then widely reopening them . He blinked a few times as he continued. "I'm still in the area, Mr. Donovan. Maybe I should drop by...I understand you believe it was just a nightmare, I just thought with what your wife saw….yes, I remember what happened last time, I just wanted….Yes, sir, I understand, but I think there's something...no...please, Mr. Donovan, if you'll just listen...Shit."

Sam shut his phone off and sighed. He dropped the phone in his lap and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. "Damn."

Dean laid his hand on Sam's shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. "He seemed pretty pissed."

"Yeah." Sam whispered, biting his lip.

"She'll be ok." Dean lied. He knew more than anyone what effect witnessing a horrific event can have on a child.

Sam bit his lower lip. "I don't know, Dean. She sounded really freaked out. She really believes she saw something in her room."

Understandable. Dean had witnessed the aftermath of Sam's many nightmares; had felt the heartbreak at not being able to chase the scary shadows away. Sam had only just met this girl, but he seemed to have developed a strong sense of protection towards her. Dean's heart ached for them both; for the normal life snatched away from young Jenna, and for the normal life Sam had just gotten a taste of before it was brutally ripped away.

Sam's judgement was being clouded by his emotions, not to mention the goose egg he now sported on the back of his skull. Dean tried to reason with him. "I get that you're worried, but it was just a bad dream. Remember when Dad came back all covered in blood from hunting that water wraith in Buffalo? You woke up screaming for nearly a week. You said the boogeyman was coming to take you away. Think about the hell Jenna's been through. Man, I'm surprised she can go to sleep at all."

Sam wouldn't be able to move on from this case unless he was sure Jenna was alright. Dean flicked on his flashlight and glanced at his watch. So much for making it back before dark.

"It's already after nine. By the time we get back to the car, head back to the motel, and get you stitched up it'll be close to midnight." Dean paused to make sure Sam was paying attention. The younger man was looking straight ahead, his hands turning the cell phone over and over. Dean reached down and gently pulled the phone away. Sam blinked dazedly and finally looked over at Dean.

Once he had Sam's full attention Dean continued. "First thing in the morning we'll head over there and see how she's doing, okay?" He flashed Sam what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "She'll be fine, Sam. Her father will take good care of her."

Sam turned away from Dean and leaned his head back against the tree, a deep frown visible from the light of Dean's flashlight. A sigh escaped his lips as he shut his eyes. "I guess."

Dean echoed his brother's movements with his own sigh. He dropped the flashlight in his lap and scrubbed his hands over his face. Their simple salt and burn had left them with numerous physical injuries, and some new emotional ones as well.

Dean let out his frustrations in a guttural growl which grew into a loud bellow that ripped at his ribs, but cleared his head. He could wallow later. Right now he had to get Sam out of the woods and back to the motel where he could properly take care of him.

Dean stiffly pushed away from the tree. "Come on, Sam. Time to move." He gave Sam's shoulder a slight nudge as he got up.

Sam's eyes opened, and he looked at Dean with confusion, his eyes slightly glazed. "Move?"

"Time to blow this pop stand." Dean said distractedly as he pulled another flashlight out of his backpack. He gritted his teeth as he slipped the pack over one arm, then crouched down in front of Sam. "Give me a hand here." he said over his shoulder. A few seconds later he felt the pack move slightly as Sam helped ease Dean's other arm through.

Once the pack was secured, Dean turned around and gave Sam an encouraging smile. "Your turn, Sammy. Up and at 'em." Dean reached out for Sam's arm.

Sam allowed Dean to take his arm, but made no move to get up. "We're leaving?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but lately I've had enough nature to last me a lifetime. Besides, if we stay out here any longer, I'm going to need a transfusion." Dean swatted at the cloud of bugs hovering above the brothers. Sam continued to stare at Dean blankly.

"Come on. The car's not far." Dean tried to pull Sam to his feet, but again was unable to get him to budge.

Sam pulled his arm free and began to lightly massage his temples. "Dude, my head's killing me. Go get the car and come pick me up."

Dean sat back on his heels, concerned but a bit amused by Sam's state of mind. "Sure thing, Sammy. I've always wanted to go off-roading in my magnificent, priceless classic car. I can probably remove those pesky sideview mirrors and take care of her suspension all in one blow."

"What?"

Dean shook his head at Sam's puzzled expression. Although it killed him to see his little brother hurt, a concussed Sam was at the very least entertaining.

Dean cast his flashlight about, illuminating the surrounding trees. "We're in the middle of the forest, remember?"

Sam blinked. "Oh. Right."

Dean shined the flashlight at Sam's chest, it's yellow glow lighting up Sam's pale face. "Think you can make it?"

Sam huffed out an unamused laugh. "Don't really have a choice." He grabbed his makeshift walking stick and began to push himself up.

Both men stifled sounds of pain as they worked to get Sam to his feet. Dean did his best to hold Sam steady as the younger man struggled to find balance on his left leg. It took some doing, but eventually he was able to take a few tentative steps.

Dean watched Sam stagger around in the glow of his flashlight. He was putting on quite a show in the glare of the spotlight, now closely resembling a drunken calf in the midst of an earthquake. The sight would've been funny had they not had nearly half a mile of forest between them and the Impala. "You need a hand?"

Sam limped over to Dean and took one of the flashlights. "I'm good." He aimed his light at Dean. "What about you?"

Dean self-consciously removed the arm that had been supporting his cracked ribs. "Ready when you are."

Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began walking away...in the wrong direction. Dean rolled his eyes and caught up to him. He walked up next to Sam and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Other way, Stretch."

"Oh."