First of all, I'd just like to thank everyone for their support! I'm just so happy that you all took the time to read, review, watch, favorite, or even PM me. I didn't know what to expect when I began posting, I didn't even think anyone would even read it, so I was geared for disappointment. This is so much more than I ever expected and it makes me want to hug all of you. Thank you so, so much! Rabbit, is the first chaptered story I've ever posted anywhere, and the feedback makes me optimistic for the future. All of you are awesome!

…And I'm sorry this chapter was so late! I know I said I'd try to get a chapter out every week, but I failed the first week I tried! It's because I honestly have had the worse week I have EVER had. Because of this, when I was writing... I wasn't always in the best state of mind, so if its... awful, I really, truly apologize! I'm also sorry if Sam and Dean are OOC... Hopefully in time, I will get better!

To Hannah: I wanted to reply to you personally, but you weren't signed into an account, so I couldn't. But I just wanted to thank you for your review!

WARNING: This chapter is a little more graphic than the others. Personally, I don't think it's too bad, but its enough to where I felt it needed a warning. It's only a little bloody, nothing else.

The wendigo stalks slowly towards Blake, its sickly gray sallow skin stretched taut over its gaunt limbs. Blake is blissfully unaware, caught in a fitful slumber. The wendigo cares little whether she's awake or asleep. It raises a grotesquely gnarled hand and slides its razor sharp claw under the skin of Blake's forearm, shearing a strip of skin about an inch wide and around six inches long off of her arm.

Blake's eyes pop open and she yelps loudly, the first thing she sees is the wendigo slurping the strip of skin into its mouth as if it were a pasta noodle. The wound doesn't bleed much since her arms have been held above her head for so long and most of the blood has drained away, but it feels as if someone is holding a molten hot piece of metal to her skin, or lack thereof. Especially when the wendigo breathes on it, she isn't sure if it's doing in on purpose or not, but every time it exhales, its hot, putrid breath sets the nerves in her arm on absolute fire.

The wendigo raises it clawed hand again, and Blake panics, recoiling sharply as she draws her knees up to her chest and donkey kicks the wendigo's stomach, ignoring the scorching pain in her left calf. The wendigo is unfazed, and its hand continues on it path, catching the last button on the bottom of her shirt with its claw, and slowly dragging it upwards. The buttons unfortunate enough to be caught in the path of the wendigo's claw pop off one by one, until finally, Blake's shirt falls open.

In different company, perhaps Blake would be concerned with modesty. But as it is, she knows that all the wendigo wants is the most likely tastier meat on her abdomen. She suppresses a shudder at the thought, and she strains to wriggle away from its talons. Unfortunately, her position does not allow her any leverage, and the only thing she accomplishes is making the rope chafe and increase the pressure on her wrists.

The wendigo's claws dig into the skin below her ribs, pulling it slowly and beginning to shred the skin. Blake bites back a yelp, she wants to kick the wendigo again, but at this point she's too scared it will make it jerk its hand back do damage it wasn't going to do otherwise.

Unable to do anything, Blake clenches her eyes shut and hopes desperately that something will come along and distract the wendigo from eating her.

Maybe dreams do come true.

The wendigo jerks abruptly, its talons disengaging from her flesh with a sickening suction-esque sound. Blake gasps in pain, her eyes flying open to see the wendigo flailing around in a nearly comical fashion, a dark, furred form clinging to the wendigo's leg with its fangs.

"Wess!" Blake yells, struggling against her bonds. "Get out of here, Wess!" She shrieks, desperation making her heart clench in fear. What was the wendigo going to do to Wess?

"Let go, Wess!" Blake howls hoarsely, tears in her eyes. "Get out of here!"

Just when she thinks the wendigo has recovered its wits enough to begin retaliating against Wess, a sharp whistle sounds and Wess leaps away from the wendigo and back towards the entrance of the cave. The whistle is followed closely by something that sounds like a gun shot, but it's definitely not normal, and the wendigo bursts into flames.[1]

Blake watches the wendigo disintegrate with wide, stunned eyes, her breath heavy as a couple tears leak down her cheeks. She shakily turns her gaze towards the entrance to see two silhouettes standing in the brightness, the distinct form of Wess sitting at the silhouette's heel.

Ecstatic, almost uncharacteristically bubbly giggles pour from Blake's lips as more tears clear paths through the grime on her face.

They came to save her.

"Damn, she's worse off than I thought. Help me cut her down, Sam," Dean commands as he tucks his arm under her knees and places his other arm along her shoulders. Sam pulls out a knife and slices through the rope, Blake's weight settling neatly into Dean's arms as he planned.

Blake groans, the shifting of all of her weight, no matter how careful Dean was being, was excruciating. All of her joints crack and pop as her position is shifted and she can barely pull her arms down from their place over her head, she only manages to do so with great difficulty and even greater pain. She can't move her fingers, and her both of her arms are entirely numb, except for the missing strip of skin along her right forearm. Unfortunately, she can still feel that quite well. She's only lucky that it's not the arm pressed against Dean, but it meant the wound below her ribcage was and it stung something awful.

Blake's head thumps against Dean's shoulder as she exhales slowly, "You came," she murmurs quietly.

"Of course we did," Dean grunts, "you called and needed help."

"Yeah, Blake, even if you hadn't called, we were headed this way anyway. We would've seen your car and stopped," Sam adds, coming to stand next to Dean, Wess at his side.

Blake can only smile, this must've been what it felt like to have someone looking out for you. It was a nearly foreign feeling, since her parents died, there haven't been many people to care about her. Once she got over her initial shock and pigheaded denial, it felt nice.

Content with where her thoughts brought her, Blake wraps her unbroken arm around Dean's neck to hopefully make herself an easier passenger. The action rubs the wound below her ribs, but she ignores it as best she can.

"Alright, so what's next?" Blake rasps, trying to get comfortable in Dean's arms.

"Well, first we should probably get you back to the car and get you cleaned up, then to the hospital," Dean replies, stepping out of the wendigo's lair and into the evening sunlight.

Blake sighs and rests her head against Dean's collar bone, sleep sounded downright godly at this moment.

"Hey, you should probably try to stay awake," Dean says, rousing Blake.

Blake nearly whines at the interruption, "If I was going to die, I would've done it before now," she reasons childishly.

Blake can feel the tiny shrug Dean gives as he purses his lips in thought, "...Carry on, then."

"Dean!" Sam exclaims, "She can't sleep, we don't know if she has any sort of head injury."

"Well, the wendigo knocked me around a bit, yeah, but I don't think it gave me a concussion or anything. I slept for like… ever hanging like that. I don't think it will be a problem now," Blake sleepily informs Sam.

Sam sighs, obviously he lost that argument, "Alright, but I just want to be sure you don't fall into coma," his tone was light, but all of them knew it was a valid concern after a head injury, "so we're going to wake you up every couple of hours, okay?" He asks, though Blake knew it wasn't a question.

Blake smiles gratefully, "I understand… I- uh… Thank you both, for everything. I know I haven't been the most… ah, fun person to deal with. But I'm glad you decided to put up with me…" She mumbles, trailing off as her eyes flutter closed.

Dean laughs under his breath, "She fell asleep," he mutters incredulously.

Sam laughs too, lips quirking in amusement, "Wow, uh, I guess she was really tired," he comments, Wess following at his heels.

"Dude, she was captured by a freaking wendigo… those ain't prime sleeping conditions. Hell, we don't even know how long she was in there, it took us a couple hours to get here after she called us… and you know calling us wasn't her first thought," Dean says, his boots making horrendous crunching noises in the dead foliage as he makes no move to quiet his steps. He's paying more attention to not jostling the snoozing female in his arms.

Sam makes a noncommittal sound of agreement in the back of his throat as he quietly contemplates Dean's words, "You're right… She's not going to like it when we have to wake her to clean her up at the car, though."

"Yeah? Well, I do charity work but I ain't a saint. If even one drop of blood finds its way onto my leather seats, I just might lose it," Dean snorts, his tone playful.

Sam rolls his eyes, "I'm sure you will."

Blake mumbles and twitches in her sleep, surprising the two of them.

"What's she saying?" Sam asks Dean, staring at Blake wearily.

"I dunno," Dean say, leaning his ear closer to Blake's mouth. "…Peaches? I think she just said 'peaches.'"

"Why's she dreaming about peaches?" Sam asks skeptically.

"Don't ask me," Dean mutters, shrugging.

Blake giggles, climbing through the higher branches of the tree with extreme agility. Every once and a while she reaches out and snaps up a round, fuzzy peach and folds it into the crook of her arm. Peering through the branches, her eyes zero in on a form on the ground. Her father is down there, she knows he's been watching her like a hawk to make sure she didn't fall.

"Do you think I have enough, daddy?" Blake calls, trying to show the man the peaches.

Her father nods, a rare smile pulling at his lips and warming Blake's heart, "That's plenty, c'mon down. I'm sure your mother will need your help baking them later."

Blake nods and easily picks her way down to the bottom, smiling. When she gets to the lowest branch, she leaps to the ground and proudly presents her father the peaches she had picked.

Her father's lips quirk in a half smile as he ruffles her hair, "We should get out of here," he suggests, digging his keys out of his pocket.

Blake nods enthusiastically, "We wouldn't want to get caught after we already picked them…" she says, bouncing to the car, her arms full of the peaches she had picked and gathered off the ground.

"Blake?"

Blake turns to look at her father, whose image had started to warp and twist, as if he were just a mirage. "Yeah, daddy?" she asks innocently, smiling wide.

"I love you."

Blake gasps loudly, jerking awake and scaring Dean who was still carrying her. Tears sting her eyes, and she stubbornly forces them back. The dream was nice, but some of it had been doctored up by her conscience. Especially the last part. It was still her favorite memory of her father, though. It hurt her chest to think about it too long.

Blake exhales slowly, relieving some of the tension that had built up in her stomach and sags back into a comfortable position.

"Bad dream?" Dean asks conversationally.

Blake smiles fondly, resting her head against his collar bone again. "No… not at all."

"Well you woke up just in time, now we get to play doctor and try to piece humpty dumpty back together again," Dean says, just as Blake notices Sam digging around in the trunk of the Impala, which was parked next to her Grand Am. She liked her car well enough, and it got her from point A to point B without breaking down, but it couldn't hold a candle to the Impala.

Blake pauses and blinks in confusion, what Dean said earlier catching up to her. "Wait, did you just compare me to a giant egg?" She asks.

Dean shrugs innocently, smirking, "And all the king's horses," he jerks his head at Sam, "and all the king's men," he says, clearly referring to himself. [2]

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean, but continues digging through the trunk. Finally he closes the trunk and sets the first aid kit on top of it, circling around the Impala to pull a medium-sized forest green metal ice chest from the backseat.

"Here, she can sit on this," Sam says, putting the ice chest in front of Dean and retrieving the first aid kit.

"Okay, do you think you can sit, Blake?" Dean asks.

Blake nods, "I should be alright."

"Okay, hold on tighter to my neck and I'm going to slowly lower you to the cooler, alright?" Dean slowly explains.

Blake breathes slowly and mentally prepares for the pain that shifting her position will bring, "Okay, I'm ready."

Dean nods, and slowly crouches, carefully transitioning Blake into a more upright position as he goes. Blake groans, chewing on her lip as her joints give horrendous cracks and pops in protest of the movement, but finally, her backside meets the cool metal of the ice chest and Dean slowly pulls his arms from her. She's a little shaky, and her head is still adjusting, but otherwise, she feels good.

Sam crouches in front of her with the first aid and several bottles of water. He cracks one open and hands it to Blake, "Here, I'm sure you're extremely dehydrated."

Blake takes the water from him and drinks greedily, downing half the bottle in a couple gulps, steadily sipping from it after the direst of her thirst is sated.

Sam frowns, "How long were you out there Blake?" He asks in response to seeing her reaction to the water.

Blake sighs happily and clears her throat, "I dunno, it's probably about eight right now… right?" She asks, continuing once Sam nods affirmative after checking his wristwatch. "I got up around 5:20 this morning… so, um, 14 hours or so?"

Dean shakes his head giving Blake a hard, disapproving stare, "So it took you… what? Ten hours to call us?"

Blake shrugs and glances away casually, "I almost didn't," she says with a forced air of nonchalance.

Dean scowls, "Why? Why wouldn't you call us while you were DYING? Are you really that prideful?" He asks, his voice low and gravely.

Blake shrugs, "Well, calling you and then making you carry me to the car did hurt my pride, but that wasn't it."

"Then what was it? Because obviously I don't understand," Dean snaps moodily.

Blake shakes her head, "To be honest? I don't really even know," she murmurs softly, running her fingers over the rope burns on her fractured wrist. She swallows thickly, "I think it was you, Dean… I wanted to give up, but every time I thought about just giving in… I would remember something you said yesterday in the motel room, and it made me try a little harder," she says, her voice a near whisper as she avoids both Winchester's gazes in shame.

"It's not a bad thing to want to live, Blake," Sam explains gently, still crouched in front of her, bandages in hand.

Blake sighs softly, "I guess… but what is there to live for? I'm tired." She says quietly, layering a certain tone of emphasis on 'tired,' that the Winchesters both understand it's not the sleepy sort of tired. Blake exhales slowly, her voice gaining strength, "But all I know now is that it's your fault I'm alive right now, Dean… and I don't know whether to thank you or let Wess piss in your shoes."

Dean shoots her a weak glare at the mention of Wess pissing in his shoes, but it has no real anger behind it. "What I think you need is someone to live for, because apparently Wess isn't enough. I have a friend I want you to meet after we go to the hospital and get you patched up a little more… I think he'll do you some good. His name's Bobby." Dean says, using the voice he used on Sammy when he was little, it was firm, yet gentle, but didn't leave any room for arguing.

Blake bites her bottom lip and worries it with her teeth, "I… I don't think so. Thank you again for saving me… but I think I need to… to try to help myself."

"Since when have you not helped yourself? Blake… we just think it'd be a good idea for you to stick with us for a while, you don't have to go to Bobby's," Sam says gently, cracking open another water bottle and setting about flushing her wounds out.

Blake shivers at the cool water, "I don't know, Sam… Don't you two have bigger things to worry about other than me?" She asks skeptically.

"Why wouldn't you be just as important as everything else? We're hunters, we save people. That includes you," Sam says, working to carefully rinse the wound on her arm.

Blake winces, resisting the urge to yank her arm out of his grasp, "I'm a hunter, too. I save people just like you do, which makes me different from most people."

"Yeah, and that also gives us more of a reason to want to help you. If you've spent so long putting your life in the line of danger to save others, don't you think YOU deserve to be saved as well?" Sam argues, finished bandaging the arm with the missing chunk of skin and starting on cleaning up the rope burns on her broken wrist.

"But I'm fine! You two act like you think I'm going to find the nearest bridge and leap. I've been fine so far without you, haven't I?" Blake asks, frowning at Sam.

"No," Dean cuts in, "you haven't. I just carried you out of the lair of a wendigo that was going to EAT YOU. Does that sound fine to you?" He snaps, obviously getting a little frustrated.

Blake's shoulder slump and she tiredly rubs her eyes with the hand Sam's not working on. "Okay, say I actually agree and go with the two of you… What then? What are you going to do with me?"

"We only want you to stay with us for a while, maybe go on a couple hunts. We really just want to make sure you're okay," Sam says, frowning thoughtfully, his eyes bright with concern.

Blake grimaces and looks away, was he using puppy dog eyes on her? Somehow it seemed so unfitting for Sam, who was so large and capable, but at the same time, she couldn't find a facial expression that fit him better. He was really good at it too. His puppy dog eyes were even better than Wess's, and Wess was actually a dog.

"So what? Will I just follow you everywhere you go in my car? How do you think that's going to work?" Blake retorts, doing her best to poke holes in the Winchester's plans.

"You could ride in the Impala," Sam offers, putting a splint on her wrist.

Blake shakes her head, "What about Wess? What would we do with my car?"

Sam frowns, "Wess can ride in the Impala too, right, Dean? And Bobby's isn't too far from here, he would look after your car."

Dean grimaces, obviously not thrilled with the idea of Wess riding in the Impala, "He doesn't shed, right? Do you cut his claws? What if he needs to pee? …He doesn't have fleas, does he?" He asks anxiously, pacing back and forth.

"He sheds but if I brush him every night it shouldn't be bad, I do cut his claws, if he needs to pee he'll bark, and no, he does not have fleas," Blake says, answering all of Dean's questions.

"We can put a blanket over the seats in the back, Dean. Besides, they're leather, they're easy to wipe down," Sam says, trying to argue Dean's fears about Wess away.

"Easy to wipe down? That means you're anticipating accidents!" Dean exclaims, anxiously mussing his hair and beginning to pace faster.

Blake rolls her eyes, "See Sam? I just think it would be better for all of us if we just went our separate ways," she says, expertly masking the flicker of disappointment with annoyance. Wait, disappointment? Was she seriously disappointed? Blake's eyes widen and her breath catches in her throat, the weight of her revelation startling her.

She WAS disappointed. She wants to go with them. But why, she hasn't needed anyone for years. She's been fine all this time, what's changed?

Blake stands abruptly, her fight or flight reflex kicking in, and flight was the winner. Sam blinks up at her, still crouched in front of the cooler. "I-I'm fine. I'm just going to find a motel and patch myself up there," Blake mumbles, her calf screaming and sending fire through her whole leg as she limps pathetically to her car.

"Nuh-uh, I don't think so, sister. You ain't running again," Dean chastises, easily catching up with Blake and scooping her up into his arms, "You run 'cause you're scared." He says matter-of-factly, depositing her back onto the lid of the ice chest.

"So what? Am I a hostage now?" Blake asks sarcastically, even though she's relieved that Dean stopped her. One, because she didn't think she was going to make it to her car without at least falling, and two, the more she thought about going with them, the more she liked the thought.

Blake mentally shakes her head, it must be because she was lonely and latching onto the first humans she could find. How pathetic.

"Yup, for now, you're stuck with us. I'm not going to let you run off while you're bleeding everywhere." Dean says.

Blake grumbles unhappily outwardly, but she still can't help being relieved. The mixed signals are starting to confuse her.

"You can make your decision later, but for now we need to get you cleaned up. Dean's right. We won't let you leave until we're sure you aren't going to die of blood loss," Sam tells Blake firmly, surprising her. She didn't think Sam was capable of being firm. Shows what she knows.

Blake nods and glances to the side uneasily, surrendering, "Alright."

Sam quickly and carefully finishes rinsing and wrapping the rest of Blake's wounds in tense silence, not bothering to try to stitch them because they were going to the hospital anyway. There, the wounds could be professionally stitched and looked after, but they were a couple hours from the closest hospital so they had to be at least bandaged now.

Sam begins neatly repacking their supplies back into the first aid kit, "Do you need to be carried?" He asks Blake once he's done.

Blake sighs in indignation, "No, I can walk," she mutters.

Sam gives her a pointed look, "I'll help you then."

Blake thinks about trying to turn him down, but figures she won't get anywhere by herself. "Okay," she murmurs.

Sam helps her up and wraps his arm around her shoulders, forcing her to lean on him as he helps her hobble to the Impala. Blake stops and gives Sam a weird look, "What about my car?"

"I'll drive it," Sam says, popping the shotgun door open and helping Blake inside.

Blake struggles weakly, "What about Wess?"

"He can ride with me," Sam insists, making sure Blake's comfortable, even though she's still trying to wiggle away.

Blake sighs and gives up, "Okay."

"Good," Sam says, not sounding as smug as Blake figured he would. It was probably because he knew she didn't have a choice in the matter, but she didn't know that.

Blake whistles for Wess, watching as he bounds over to her happily. "Hey buddy," She coos, scratching him behind the ears, "you're gonna ride with Sam, okay? I want you to be good for him, now go get inside the car and be on your best behavior."

Wess wags his tail and barks, loping back around to Blake's little Grand Am.

"Good boy," Blake mutters, yawning as Sam shuts her door and heads to her car.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road, huh, princess?" Dean asks sarcastically, sliding into the driver's seat.

"I'm not a princess," Blake huffs, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window and promptly falling asleep.

Dean quirks an eyebrow at her, "Did she really just…"

Blake snorts a little and begins to mumble, already deep asleep.

Dean shakes his head and starts the Impala, wondering if the sound will wake her up. She doesn't even flinch. "She fell asleep," he mutters, snorting in disbelief.

"NO!" Blake growls, glaring daggers at the doctor. "You are NOT going to cut skin off of one part of my body and stick it on another!"

The doctor sighs, "Mrs. Bonham, your husband is very worried over the amount of time this wound will take to heal if a skin graft is not applied."

Blake twists around to try and shoot death at Dean with her eyes, who had claimed she was his wife for insurance purposes, "I'm sorry, doctor, but this is my body, not my husbands. And I don't mind how long it will take to heal without a skin graft."

The doctor sighs again, "Okay, Mrs. Bonham, but there isn't much else we can do for it then, because the skin is too far apart for stitches."

"Yes, I understand. Thank you," Blake says, nearly hissing. "When can I be discharged?"

The doctor frowns, "You've received a brace for your arm, and all of your other wounds have been properly treated, so yes, you may leave. But I do not recommend doing so this soon." [3]

"Thank you, but I'll be fine. Can I leave now?" Blake asks impatiently.

The doctor nods, "You'll have to use the wheelchair though."

Blake bites back a groan, "Okay," she twists around to glower at Dean, "Let's. GO."

"Oh, c'mon, honey! You love hospitals! Remember when little Aubrey was born?" Dean asks, grinning wildly as he reaches over to encase one of Blake's hands in his.

Blake glares at him, "Best day of my life," she grits out, wondering when this torture will end.

"She was just so cute, looked just like you, honey," Dean says, reminiscing on fake memories, clearly enjoying Blake's discomfort as he pats the back of her hand.

"I remember, dear," Blake grumbles, wanting nothing more than to yank her hand out of Dean's grasp. "But since I'm not giving birth to our little bundle of joy, I'd rather not be here."

"You sound very upset, Mrs. Bonham," the doctor observes.

Blake gives him a strained smile, "My husband here is just teasing me, he knows I hate being in hospitals. I can leave now, right?"

"Uh, yes, you may. We'll just have to move you into the wheelchair and sign the discharge forms."

"Great," Blake says, hopping off the emergency room bed.

"Mrs. Bonham! You shouldn't be on that leg!" The doctor gasps, trying to guide Blake back onto the bed.

"I'm fine," Blake grunts, shrugging the doctor's hands off.

"Don't worry, Doc. She can be quite stubborn," Dean reassures, sweeping Blake off her feet and dumping her in the wheelchair.

"Oof!" Blake gasps, smacking Dean in the arm angrily. "Be careful, jerk! That hurt!"

The doctor looks appalled, "Mr. Bonham! Your wife is injured, you shouldn't-"

"She's fine," Dean says, interrupting the doctor with a cheeky grin that suggests Blake will very much disagree with the next thing that comes out of his mouth, "she's used to me being rough, right, sweetheart?" He questions, grinning as he winks suggestively at Blake.

Blake smiles sweetly, startling Dean, "That's right! Just as much as you like wearing my lingerie," she chirps, giving Dean a smug smirk.

Dean shoots Blake a dirty look, "We just have to sign the papers at the front desk, right?" he asks the doctor, suddenly much more ready to leave.

The doctor is obviously somewhat put off by Dean and Blake's behavior, "Uh, yes, the nurses should have it ready there."

"Ugh, finally!" Blake sighs. "Let's go," she says, giving Dean a pleading look.

"The nurses should be able to get you a pair of crutches up at the front desk, make sure to ask," The doctor advises.

Dean nods, "Thanks, doc," he mumbles as he wheels Blake out of the room.

The two of them quickly sign the discharge papers and get a pair of crutches, and a sling for her arm, much to Blake's chagrin, at the front desk before Dean wheels Blake out of the hospital.

Blake fondly pats the crutches, "I have a feeling these things will be my best friends."

Dean snorts, "What? You don't like being carried?" He questions, grinning.

"No. Not particularly, you'd be surprised to find," Blake says.

"Could've fooled me. That was three times, wasn't it? Once from that dump of a house with the werewolf, once when I moved you from the floor to the bed, and once from the wendigo's lair, all within a week," Dean points out, smirking.

"Excuse me for being injured," Blake sighs.

"Well, you just happen to be an injury-magnet. Seriously, how have you made it on your own?" Dean questions incredulously.

"I've been fine on my own! Thank you!" Blake indignantly snaps, blushing.

"Not the way I see it. Anyway, we're gonna stay in this town for a day or so then head up to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. That's where Bobby lives, we're gonna drop your car off and after that? Well, who knows." Dean explains, helping Blake out of the wheel chair and onto her crutches.

"Where's Sam?" Blake asks, looking around for him as she wiggles into a comfortable position on her crutches. "Isn't he supposed to be here with the car?"

"Yeah, he is," Dean agrees, also looking for Sam.

"I just wanna sleep," Blake says, trying not to sound as sad and pathetic as she feels.

"There he is! Finally," Dean says as Sam pulls up in the Impala.

Sam hops out and opens the back door for Blake, "Sorry, I wasn't that late, was I?"

"Nah, just about five minutes," Blake says, difficultly crawling into the backseat with her crutches.

"Good, sorry, first I couldn't find a motel, then the line at the fast food place was really long. But the good news is, I got food," Sam says, climbing into shotgun and rummaging through the paper bags in the front seat as Dean gets in the driver's seat and starts the car.

Blake gratefully takes the burger he offers her and immediately rips the paper wrapping off, "Thank you!" She gushes, taking a huge bite of her burger soon after. "Mmm," she hums in delight, happy to have some food after over 24 hours without.

Blake quickly finishes off her burger, not at all hindered by only being able to use one hand, and gives a happy sigh, "That was the best burger I've ever had."

Sam laughs, "Do you want your fries, too?"

"Fries? Yes, please," Blake grins, taking the cardboard container of fries from him and chowing on those just as fast as the burger. "These fries are heavenly," Blake mumbles, eating them by the handful.

"Don't choke," Dean sarcastically advises, watching her in the rearview mirror.

Blake gives him a distracted thumbs up, her mouth full of food. She swallows the last of her fries and washes it down with a gulp of soda, "I almost forgot what food looked like," she says, enjoying the dramatization of her ordeal. "Now all I want to do is sleep… We do have a motel room, right?"

Sam gives her a puzzled look, "You… decided to come with us?"

Blake nods and stretches out over the backseat, yawning, "Yup," she confirms, curling into fetal position and closing her eyes.

"I'm glad you finally agreed," Sam says.

Blake is quiet.

"So what made you change your mind?" Dean asks, his eyes flickering up to the rearview mirror.

Silence.

"Blake?" Sam calls.

"Is she alright?" Dean asks, unable to see her from the rearview mirror because she was lying down.

"I don't know," Sam mutters, leaning over the seats to check on Blake.

"…So?" Dean asks impatiently after a couple moments of silence.

"I think she's asleep," Sam replies uncertainly.

Blake snorts and instinctively covers her face with her braced arm, soft snores echoing from her.

"Yeah, she's definitely asleep," Sam confirms, twisting back around to the front of the car.

Dean laughs, shaking his head, "She did the same thing earlier," he says incredulously.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, as soon as I got in the car, she conked out and slept like a log," Dean answers.

"Wow… either the whole ordeal tired her out more than she's willing to admit, or she's narcoleptic," Sam remarks.

Dean laughs, "Maybe she was fibbing about being a light sleeper back in the city with the werewolf," he says, pulling the Impala into the motel parking lot.

"Maybe," Sam agrees, climbing out of the Impala once it was parked.

"Okay, so are we gonna wake her up or carry her?" Dean asks, also clambering out of the Impala. The only thing they needed to take inside was Blake; Sam had taken all of their things inside when he checked in.

"We don't have to wake her up, I'll get her," Sam volunteers.

"Nah, I got her," Dean says, "just go open the door for me, will ya?"

Sam cocks an amused eyebrow at his brother, "Sure," he says, smirking a little as he opens the door.

"What?" Dean asks in response to Sam's apparent amusement.

"Nothing, nothing," Sam says, holding his hands up innocently.

Dean shoots Sam a withering glare as he picks Blake up off the Impala's backseat, carrying her bridal-style into the motel room.

"It's just that…" Sam begins, trailing off purposefully to garner suspense as he closes the door behind Dean and Blake.

"What?" Dean snaps, becoming irritated and placing Blake's slumbering form on the closest bed.

"You seem a little soft on her, Dean," Sam points out, laughing under his breath.

"What? Am not! That's crazy talk, Sam," Dean gruffly defends himself, peeling Blake's shoes and socks off to make her more comfortable before covering her with the top blanket.

"Sure, sure," Sam snickers, pulling the blankets back on his bed to get ready to go to sleep. "The way I see it, you've got three choices. Choice number one, sleep in the bed with Blake and see what happens in the morning when she wakes up to your face. Choice number two, share a bed with me and risk having her think we're gay AND incestuous. Last but not least, choice number three, sleep on the floor," Sam smugly explains, kicking his boots off and shimmying out of his pants, leaving him in only boxers.

Dean sighs angrily and yanks the closet door open, grabbing the extra bedding stashed there to make himself a pallet on the ground. "Bitch," he grumbles.

Sam laughs, "Jerk."

A/N: Okay, just a couple footnotes in this chapter that I wanted to explain.

[1] - The gunshot sound was a flare gun.

[2] - This is from the nursery rhyme, 'Humpty Dumpty.' Just in case any one was confused, Humpty Dumpty is also usually pictured as a large egg. I'm not sure why...

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

All the king's horses and all the king's men

Couldn't put Humpty together again.

[3] - I have no idea if any of this is accurate about hospitals. I researched, but research can't always explain everything to someone who understands little about hospitals. I sincerely apologize if anything is horrifically incorrect!

And lastly, I love you all and thank you for reading! *heart*

EDIT: Haha, so I totally forgot that the wendigo broke Blake's wrist last chapter. What a fail on my part, I know. This chapter has been altered to reflect that accordingly. Thanks~