A/N: I am so sorry for the long delay! My life got really crazy what with tests and band stuff and more tests. But hopefully I should be able to update more often now! I had a really hard time writing this chapter for some reason, so I hope it's ok. Thanks to those of you who have reviewed, it really means a lot! Enjoy!

Chapter Eighteen

"We can't take him in there!" Jo exclaimed when Sam pulled up in front of the abandoned cabin.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Someplace warm and clean! Sam, he needs…" Jo was cut off by a moan from Dean. He was slowly and painfully coming back to consciousness.

"S'mmy?" Dean groaned, searching for his brother through hazy eyes.

"I'm right here Dean. It's ok." Sam reassured him. Dean visibly relaxed at the sound of Sam's voice.

"Dem'n…" Dean moaned, ever the hunter.

"It's alright. She's dead. You killed her."

"Y' sure?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm sure."

"We're going to move you into the house now, Dean. Ok?" Jo asked.

Dean blinked up at her, seeming to notice her for the first time. "Jo?"

"Yeah, it's me, Dean. You ready to move?"

"Hur's…" Sam froze when he heard the slurred word. He couldn't remember the last time Dean had admitted to being in pain. This was not a good sign.

"I know. We're going to fix that. We just have to move you first, ok?" Jo asked gently.

Dean didn't answer. Sam climbed out of the Impala and carefully picked up his injured brother, still wrapped in a blanket and hoodie. Dean's face contorted with pain when Sam lifted him up, but he didn't make a sound. Sam carried him inside and placed him on the moth-eaten couch, Jo following close on his heels with the first-aid kit. Sam grimly noticed the blue tinge to Dean's fingers and lips and the shivers that continued to rack his body.

"He's hypothermic. We need to get a fire started," Sam told Jo urgently.

"I'll go get firewood."

As she left the room, Sam slowly lifted the blanket and jacket covering Dean and got his first good look at Dean's injuries. He breathed in sharply when he saw the extent of the wounds. Jo had inventoried Dean's injuries to him on the ride over here, but he wasn't prepared for this. Cuts and slashes covered his torso, and his right arm was a mangled mess. His right side was bright red as though from a burn, and the little skin that could be seen beneath all the blood was a mottled black and blue.

"Oh, Dean. I'm so sorry," he said softly, replacing the covers.

Jo came back in the room with an armful of wood and started to build a fire in the fireplace.

"How you doing, Dean?" Sam asked worriedly.

Dean didn't answer. Sam leaned in to examine his eyes. There was no sign of a concussion, but the green orbs were glassy and unfocused.

"Don't worry, Jo's getting a fire started. We're going to get you warm real soon."

"S'mmy, hur's. Make i' stop. Please," Dean groaned deliriously.

Sam's heart broke at the sound of his brother's plead. Dean never asked for help, and he certainly never pleaded. His big brother had always been strong for him. Now it was Sam's turn to return the favor.

"I will. I promise." Sam assured him softly. Dean groaned and closed his eyes, face twisted in pain. Sam wanted nothing more than to dope him up on pain-killers, to make him numb to his injuries, but he knew he couldn't do that until they had the hypothermia and bleeding under control.

After pushing the couch closer to the fireplace, Sam pulled the rubbing alcohol and thread and needle out of the first aid kit. He grimaced when he saw how low they were on thread. They were going to need more than what they had to stitch up Dean. Turning back to Dean, he examined the fresh slash on his head. It wasn't too deep, but it was still bleeding freely.

"I'm going to stitch up your head. It might sting a little, ok?" Dean didn't answer. Sam quickly cleaned the wound and carefully stitched it up. Dean winced a little, but other than that he stayed still. Years of hunting injuries had gotten them both used to the feel of stitches.

As Sam finished tending the wound, Jo walked over carrying several water bottles.

"I warmed up some water," she said, her eyes on Dean.

"Thanks," Sam took the bottles and placed one at Dean's armpits, neck, and crotch. Dean squirmed away from the warm objects.

"You need to stay still, Dean," Sam said urgently, placing his hand on Dean's less injured arm.

"Hur's…too hot," Dean moaned.

"I know, Dean, but it's for your own good. We need to get you warm."

"No, hur's," Dean struggled harder. Sam noticed worriedly that several of the wounds had started bleeding more with the movement.

"Dean, you need to stop."

"No…"

Sam took in a deep breath. "Dean Winchester, stop struggling right now. You're going to hurt yourself even more, and this is for your own good," Sam bellowed, channeling his father. Dean stilled right away. Sam hated to do that, but it was the only sure-fire way he knew to make Dean listen when he was delirious like this.

"Thank you," Sam breathed out.

"Here, drink this," Jo said softly, raising a water bottle to Dean's lips. He managed to take a few small sips before he started coughing. Jo took the bottle away, giving him room to recover. After a minute, the coughing fit subsided and Dean leaned back, exhaustion and pain marring his face.

"Do you think you can drink some more?" Jo asked gently. Dean shook his head slightly. Jo sighed, resigned, and turned to Sam.

"Let's get that bullet out of his leg."

Sam nodded and grabbed the scissors while Jo dug out the tweezers. Sam cut through the leg of Dean's pants, revealing the ugly bullet wound. It was red and puffy, and it oozed a combination of blood and pus. Sam grimaced as Jo quickly cleaned the wound. Jo paused as she picked up the tweezers.

"Dean, this is going to hurt." Dean didn't give any sign of hearing her. "Hold him down," Jo added quietly to Sam.

Sam pressed his hands down on Dean's leg, securing it in place. Jo gently eased the tweezers into the wound, moving through muscle as she tried to find the bullet. Dean tensed and screamed as the tweezers entered the wound. He involuntarily tried to kick out his leg, but Sam held him firmly down. By the time Jo had extracted the bullet, Dean had passed out from pain. Sam was secretly grateful his brother didn't have to be conscious for the rest of their ministrations.

"Shit, he's lost a lot of blood," Jo said quietly when she had finished stitching up the wound and covered it in gauze. "He needs more."

"I know," Sam replied grimly. He had been thinking the same thing, but there wasn't anything they could do about that now. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at his brother, trying to decide what to do next, what was the most urgent.

"Can you take care of the burn? I'll start cleaning out the wound in his side," Sam said after a moment's thought. Jo nodded and went to the kitchen to get more water to warm up. Ideally they would use cool water to take care of the burn, but since Dean was still hypothermic, warm water would have to do.

Sam carefully cleaned out the stab wound. It was a deep, but by some miracle it hadn't punctured any organs or gotten infected. Sam slowly stitched the first layer of muscle together, once again glad Dean didn't have to be awake for this. Jo walked over and started washing the burn with warm water as Sam started on the next layers of stitches.

After several minutes Sam placed a layer of gauze over the now closed wound. He glanced at Dean's mangled right arm and felt his stomach twist involuntarily. Broken bones he knew how to handle, but the hand…

"Do you have any idea how to fix his hand?" Sam asked Jo quietly. She stopped pouring the water and examined the puncture wound.

"I have no idea, Sam," she sighed after a moment. "The hook went straight through his hand. I don't know what to do."

Sam chewed his lip, trying to think of what to do. The hospital was out of the question. Maybe if they could find some small-town doctor that wouldn't ask many questions…

"Mom would know what to do," Jo said quietly, as if to herself.

"Your mom!" Sam exclaimed, causing Jo to jump. "She's on her way! She can help!" Sam pulled out his phone.

"What? Why is she on her way?" Jo asked quickly.

"She called me earlier. She was worried about you."

"You told her where I was?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry."

Jo sighed. "It's fine. At least she'll be here soon."

Sam walked into the kitchen as he dialed Ellen's number.

Ellen picked up immediately. "Sam! What's happening? Did you find them? Are they all right?"

"Yeah, Ellen, I found them."

"Oh, thank God. How are they?"

"Dean's…not good. He's lost a lot of blood, and that bitch messed him up pretty bad. Jo's ok. She…" Sam paused as he glanced over at Jo. For the first time since finding Dean, he took in her condition. Even through the baggy, oversized shirt, he could see her shoulder was still dislocated. Blood soaked through the fabric at her forearm and her side. Sam silently kicked himself for not checking her over sooner. He had completely forgotten the torture she had gone through in his concern for his brother.

"She's a little banged up, but she'll survive."

Ellen sighed in relief. "Thank you, Sam, for finding them. I'll be there soon, I'm about three hours out."

"Great. Would you mind picking up some medical supplies? We need surgical thread, and some stronger pain meds wouldn't hurt. And some O-positive blood."

"I'm on it."

"Thanks, Ellen. And we're not at the motel anymore, we're at a cabin off 82."

"Why are you there?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you when-"

"SAM!" Jo's urgent yell cut him off.

"Ellen, I've got to go. Something's wrong." He hung up and ran back into the living room to see Jo trying to roll Dean onto his side as he convulsed violently on the couch.