John couldn't believe how cold and clammy Dean's skin felt and he immediately checked his pulse. It was extremely weak, but at least he had one. Dean's breathing was extremely shallow and he was deathly white. John recognized the telltale signs of shock and knew he had to get Dean out of the cold night air as soon as possible.
John turned back to Sam. "He'll be okay, Sam," he said, his voice full of compassion. "I promise. We just have to get him outta here. Can you help me?"
Sam nodded but he refrained from saying anything.
"Okay. Good," replied John. "I need you to help me lift him over my shoulder."
Together the two of them carefully turned Dean onto his back. Sam was shaken by the lack of response from his brother; he wasn't used to seeing Dean so helpless. But he focused on helping his father instead of worrying about his brother. If anyone could pull through this, Dean could.
John squatted in front of Dean, straddling his legs with his own. As he maneuvered him into a sitting position, he told Sam to get behind Dean and hold him up. John wasn't sure how much Dean weighed now, but he knew it was significantly more than the last time he had done this about three years ago and he knew that it would require all his strength to hoist Dean over his shoulder.
John lifted Dean up to his shoulder and he could feel the stitches in his sides pulling against the strain of taking on the weight of his semi-conscious son. As he struggled to his feet, he had a hard time regaining his balance. Sam tried to help him steady himself but the combined weight of his father and brother proved to be too much for him to really be of any help. John straightened his legs and fought to put his own physical aches out of his mind. After a few slow, deep breaths, he felt stable enough to venture back to the vehicles.
Walking up the incline back to the sub-division proved to be extremely difficult and John had to stop to rest more than a few times. Once they had navigated their way to the top of the hill, John felt like his sides were going to rupture. But he had to get Dean to the truck and was grateful that they had parked the vehicles on the road that was just up ahead.
As they neared their destination, John panted to Sam, "Open the passenger door on the truck and climb in." He took a few deep breaths and added, "I need you to help guide him in."
Sam wordlessly followed his father's instructions and they were able to get Dean into the truck with minimal effort. After John had situated Dean in the truck, he noticed that a fair amount of blood had soaked through the shoulder of his shirt where he had carried Dean. He quickly lifted Dean's shirt to inspect his injuries and was horrified to discover that the wounds on his back were bleeding. He hoped that they weren't still bleeding from the Aswang's attack and that they had just reopened from the journey to the truck.
Dean stirred as John started the truck. His eyes flickered open for a moment and he attempted to sit up in order to make some sense of his surroundings.
John's hand on his chest stopped him. "Just relax, Sport. We're takin' you to the hospital."
Dean lay back down and closed his eyes. His encounter with the Aswang slowly came back to him and he responded weakly, "Not the hospital. Just go back to the motel."
Sam looked down at his brother. "But Dean, you need to go to the hospital."
Dean tried to crack a smile. "Yeah? And what are you going to tell them? That you did this when I was teaching you to play Scrabble?"
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Against his better judgment, John drove directly to the motel. Dean had managed to remain conscious long enough to point out that they currently had enough trouble with the various agencies in this town. And what would they think in Emergency when the same person they had accused of harming Sam a couple of days ago now showed up with gashes that they couldn't easily explain?
Once they had taken Dean into the motel room, John set about dressing his wounds in much the same manner as Dean had tended to his a few nights back. When he was finished, he left to get some antibiotics, forging a prescription from a pad that he had taken from a doctor's office in Iowa.
Sam was too distraught to sleep and instead chose to sit beside Dean on the bed. He was careful not to move because he didn't want to cause his brother any more pain. So he just sat and watched Dean until he finally succumbed to exhaustion.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The ringing of the alarm clock woke the three Winchester males from their slumber although none of them awoke feeling the need to reach for a weapon. John's wounds were bothering him from carrying Dean to his truck and Dean struggled to wake up due his own injuries. Sam's shoulder was a bit tender but all in all he felt pretty good. Much better than his father or brother anyway.
As Sam readied himself for school, Dean attempted to sit up in the bed but he was immediately hit with feelings of dizziness and nausea. He lay back down for a few minutes until the feelings went away and then he tried again. The second time wasn't so bad and when Sam emerged from the washroom, Dean was able to stand up and proceed into the washroom.
Dean leaned on the counter to steady himself and sweep away the remaining nausea. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and shook his head. He looked like hell. Then he inspected his wounds and he realized how lucky he was to have escaped from the Aswang.
Dean came out of the washroom dressed for school. His father was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. As he pointed to an extra one he had bought for Dean he said, "Where do you think you're going?"
"School," came the reply before Dean grabbed the coffee and took a long, deep sip.
"Do you think that's wise?"
"Probably not," shrugged Dean, "But I don't have a choice."
"What do you mean you don't have a choice?" queried his father.
"Just something I gotta do, that's all."
"Care to tell me what that is?"
"It's nothing," replied Dean, before he turned his attention to his brother, "Come on Sam. I'll drive ya to school."
John sighed but didn't say anything. There was no sense arguing with Dean, he was almost as bull-headed as John was himself. Whatever it was that Dean felt he had to do, John knew he'd never be able to tear it out of him. As he watched his sons exit the motel room he remarked, not entirely joking, "I don't have any money for bail, you know."
Dean smirked as he closed the door behind him and proceeded over to the car where Sam was waiting for him. He slid gingerly into the Impala and drove out of the parking lot.
As they approached the school, Sam turned to him and said hesitantly, "Dean…About last night…"
But Dean raised his hand to stop his brother and replied, "No chick flick moments, Sam."
Sam grinned slightly and shook his head. His brother would never change; he didn't like to talk about things, he just did them.
Dean pulled up to the curb in front of Sam's school and Sam opened the door to get out. But before he did, he glanced at Dean and said quietly, "Anyway…thanks for last night," and then he got out of the car and shut the door.
As he turned to walk to the school, he heard Dean say, "Hey!" and he looked back at his brother.
"That's what big brothers do."
Again Sam shook his head and replied, "I doubt all of them do."
"Well, this one does."
Dean put the car into drive and pulled back onto the road.