They were so close to the car when it happened that Sam had allowed himself to relax, just a little bit.

That was why he had almost been too late when he launched himself at the demon. All he saw was its white eyes gleaming in the darkness as it advanced, soundlessly, aiming for Dean. There was no time to think, no time to research options or ponder on strategy. He wasn't able to holler a warning because his throat was paralyzed by the panic that welled up in him. He went all instinctual when he aimed for the kill, there was no moral qualms for the demise of the host, only fear for his brother's life.

Dean had been behind him, already tired from their earlier hunt and that may have hampered his reaction time. But Sam had felt it; something linger in the air, like the hunt wasn't over. There really was no sign of something being awfully wrong, it was just something Sam kind of sensed. Then Dean's flashlight had caught on something that stole its light and Sam knew.

He had no idea where he found the speed up the slope; he was just there as the demon stroke out at Dean. If it had gotten his brother full on, Dean would be dead now. But San threw himself at the massive body and the impact made its fatal blow miss enough to only catch Dean's side and send him to the ground. He saw Dean go down and his heartbeats thundered in his temples when the fear dissipated and rage took its place. He knew he had to get to his brother and help him out, there was no question that Dean was badly injured. But first, he had to kill.

The white eyes flared in his direction, lighting up the night as hands curled around his neck and squeezed. This host looked like an over-sized wrestler, all muscle and demonic strength. Reaching for his knife he was flung back, weapon knocked out hos his hand effortlessly. He heard Dean coughing and wheezing and knew that although he was injured, he was still alive and that what made him lose concentration for a fraction of a second. Which turned out to be enough for the demon to get the upper hand. The steely grip of his opponent made him realize that this was no low rate demon, this one was all business. He heard bones break when he was slugged up against a tree that immediately broke from the force and he was flung backwards through thick branches and sharp twigs. The demon didn't relent until it had him pinned up against a stem thick enough to endure the force of him being repeatedly slammed up against it. Dry and sharp crackling followed when the trunk finally gave in under their combined weight and snapped. He stumbled over the broken wood, loose rocks rolled under his feet and he hit the stony ground hard. There was no pain; his body simply exploded in a spout of anger that made his muscles hard as steel. No oxygen was reaching his lungs anymore and his eyesight started to dim when he arched under the assailant, hands roaming the terrain search of a weapon. All he knew, with every fiber of his being was that he had to kill this thing and get to Dean.

But time was running out, his eyesight was fading fast, everything was blurred and his heartbeat drenched all other sounds. His fingers touched a thick, broken branch of the tree they had slaughtered and he gripped it and drove it into mass above him.

There was a growl as the hands tightened even further, blinding him totally when he pulled the impromptu stake out and thrust it through the flesh and bone all over.

The grip around his neck loosened slightly, and he took a deep breath before he gritted his teeth and struck again. All sounds were muted, he saw nothing but a dimming white light flickering as the demon left the host and black, sulphuric smoke slid over his face and burned his skin as it looked for a way inside. The tattoo on his chest throbbed and the black smoke let out a muffled rumble and rose to the sky. He felt weightless and floating when the nauseating pain finally registered and plummeted him into a whirl of lights flashing behind his eyes to then, at last, explode into a velvety, pain-free darkness.

At first Dean had no idea where he was or what he was doing flat on his back in the middle of a bush. The darkness was thick around him; the sky clouded starless, the crowns of the high trees sucking up what little light the void above him emitted. It felt like a truck had run him over and hung him out to dry. The last thing he remembered was going face to face with a tree and obviously the wood won. Trying to move, he felt his ribs screeching in protest and his knee refusing to obey him. The other leg seemed uninjured but stuck. He mumbled a curse and tried to get up but to no avail. He had somehow gotten stuck under a trunk and his midsection and knee were killing him. Whatever assaulted them, the fucker got him good.

"Sam?" He asked, voice muted by the ridiculous bush around him. When there was no reply he felt the panic rise and brushed the twigs out of his face. The movement sent stones rolling and the stem of the tree sank enough to press slightly on his chest and a muffled groan escaped him. He fell back, not believing his fucking luck. They beat demons and slimy creatures and he was looking at the possibility of meeting his demise hugging a tree?

The stillness of the night was total and Dean felt his mouth go dry. He had no recollection of the fight after he was introduced to the tree, had no idea how Sam had fared. Was he even alive any longer? The fucking thing that had ambushed them was a pro. Usually they'd take a lone one down with their hands tied behind their backs but this one had been cunning and stronger than a fucking juiced up freight-train. And Dean had been MIA. Had he gotten his brother killed?

"Sam, you there? Let me hear you bitch and whine, Sammy!" When there still was no sound, he realized it was time to call the troops. Frenetically he looked for his cell in the pocket, digging around and finding nothing. Not that it would help, Bobby was days away and he'd go insane if he had to lie here and wonder if his brother had been taken or was already dead. At this rate he was ready to cave and call Ruby or Bela or the National guard, anyone to get him to Sam. If only his fucking cell wasn't missing!

"Sammy, did you steal my cell, you jerk? You hitting on my girls? I swear I had it and now it's gone, so not cool, man. Since I have nothing better to do I wanted to check my texts and see if that awesome chick I met at the bar last night still wants me? Sammy?"

His voice came out shaky and there was no way he was able to hide the fear in it. He'd been waiting for signs of life for at least ten minutes now and felt like a freak where he lay, trying to suppress the panic while searching around him for the cell. All he found was gravel and twigs.

"You should just have asked, Sam. I have a couple of numbers I could have sold you. Remember that chick in that place where we took down the freakin' Encantado that almost drowned us? I got the twins' numbers, you can have one. Of course, they are probably too normal for you, that right? You seem to have a kink for the weirdos. I'm sure I have a couple of those in my phone book too." He swallowed convulsively, trying to get his voice under control. What if the demon had been sent to hunt Sam and take him prisoner? They wanted Sam to lead an army and kidnapping their general wasn't below them. Neither was ritual slaughtering. If they had Sam, there was no telling what they were doing to him. All while he was lying here and doing nothing about it? Why the fuck hadn't his brother watched out? What the hell had he gotten himself into? Why hadn't he watched out for Sammy?

"Sam?" He yelled, chest throbbing and voice raw with the anger he always fled to when the fear got to be too much to handle. "Man, you gotta wake up, Sammy! Don't bail on me now you freak, don't fucking bail on me, Sammy!"

The wince to the left of him had his heart leap up into his throat. "Sammy? Talk to me, man. You still with me? How bad is it? You hanging on?"

He wasn't sure if Sam had tried to answer him or only whimpered in reply. But the fact that Sam wasn't up and glaring at him was enough for Dean to realize it was bad, really bad. Still he had to try to get Sam to call somebody and ask for help. He hated doing this to Sam but it was their only hope.

"Sam? Listen to me; my foot's stuck and I can find my phone. Can you get to yours? We fuckin' need help and pronto here."

"Dean?" Sam's voice was winded and confused.

"No Einstein, I'm the tooth-fairy. Got your cell with you?" The fact that Sam was able to form a word had his hopes up.

"Think so."

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's slowness. "Well, check!"

There was mumbling, clicking and whining. And Sam was clearly slurring as he spoke. "Dean, no signal. How bad's it? "

"Well, considering that I'm stuck under this bitch, I'd say we're in deep."

There was more movement to his left; the sound of rolling stones and breaking twigs before Sam whimpered and retched.

That had Dean's hopefulness turn to outright fear for Sam's current state.

"Lie still, dammit!" Dean's hands got a hold of a promising rock and he rolled it in under the trunk above him. It didn't do much to his situation and with his luck, the stones around him were sparse. He'd need a mountain to get enough room to crawl from out under. Just his fucking damned luck as usual.

Sam's face appeared, hovering over him, and the pallor was evident, even in the darkness. Saying he looked like hell was the understatement of the year. Not only was he competing for bleached linen of the year, he was all scratched up with a band of dark bruises around his neck. Dean didn't see the rest of him, he had apparently crawled over from where he had fallen. Dean noted the dried blood under his nose and that his hair desperately needed a wash. The worst thing was his breathing; there was a gurgling sound accompanying every wheezing breath Sam took.

"Y'kay?" Sam asked fretfully.

Dean glared with disbelief. "Dandy. I always hump trees, haven't you noticed?"

"M'sorry, m'gonna get you out," Sam mumbled and tried to get up.

"Whoa, man! Just hand me your cell and lie down. A fucking satchquatch on top of me will not make this day any perkier. Just stay still."

Sam looked at him, disgusted.

"Don't puke on me, man! Whatever you do, don't fucking puke on me!"

"That a tree?" Sam sounded totally bewildered.

"Sam, what the fuck? You trippin´ on me?" Dean was getting desperate.

Sam sent him what supposedly was meant to be an irritated glance and heaved himself up, stumbled over the rocks, flailed for support and fell through the branches and twigs, ending awkwardly curled up around the tree. His arm gripped the broken branches and he had something of a half-crazy stare as he pulled and kicked, trying to move it.

"Got'cha, le'ggo o' Dean," he panted as if he were talking to a living being. And despite his waxy and ashen face, he still had the brawn to actually move the tree enough to have it roll towards himself.

"Sam! Don't!" Dean cried out in distress and clawed at the gravel to get up . His foot magically came loose and the trunk rolled away enough to set him free to move. He held his breath and worked himself backwards, from under the entrapment. His knee sent daggers up his spine and his ribs jabbed at his intestines but he gritted his teeth and kicked the stem away with his good foot, trying to angle it away from Sam. In horror, he more sensed than saw how his actions backfired and set the tree sliding downwards, gaining speed from the inclination and taking Sam with it, over the loose rocks. It was too dark for him to actually make out what really happened; it was all a blur of motion.

Dean's mouth went dry as the motion stopped with a dull rumble, accompanied with awful sounds of branches, or bones, breaking.

Dean cursed out loud when he felt his leg refusing to co-operate, sticking out straight like it didn't even belong to him. When he rolled around to get up, it finally clicked into place and the pain almost took him out. His fingers dug into the gravel when he breathed through the wave of white-hot.

Then Sam coughed with a gagging sound and Dean finally got a grip on himself and looked in his brother's direction.

It was so dark he barely made Sam out; the only thing standing out was his checked flannel shirt that peeked through the broken branches. It moved and undulated in the dark while Sam coughed and wheezed.

Then the movements stilled and Dean started shuffling down the slope to get to Sam.

"Dude, your date's a bitch," Sam whined.

Dean hated laughing with bruised ribs.

Sam just glared in the general direction of the winded laugh. He recognized it for what it was, relief - but there was no way they were out of the woods just yet. And the thought of getting an injured Dean into the car and driving him to a hospital just seemed too much right now. All he wanted to do was lie down, close his eyes and sleep. His entire arm was on fire and every time he took a breath it hurt like hell. Knowing it was probably worse for Dean, he bit back and got to his feet, slowly. Despite the constant whirling feeling, he got to his brother, half crawling and rested on his knees at Dean's side.

"Dean, you look like crap. C'mon, I'll help you to the car and get you looked after."

The look he received was one of blatant disbelief.

""I look like crap? And this from the one that is spitting blood?" He moved to grab Sam's arm for leverage and pull himself up. Sam brushed him off and rose to his feet, to avoid Dean grabbing his left arm.

"Just take it easy, will you? Where's the flashlight?"

Dean wasn't that easily fooled though. "Dude, what's wrong with you? You fricken know there's no chance we'll find it in one piece since one's not glaring you in the face right now."

"Right." Sam shrugged. He should have thought of something not so obvious, shouldn't he? It was just kinda hard to actually think at all right now with the pounding going on in his head. "I just wanna find something to stabilize your leg with."

Bending forward to look for something to make splints of was a big mistake. The moment he moved it felt like a knife going though his chest. And Dean didn't miss the moan. To really make a fool of himself, he felt his legs just give in and he suddenly found himself on the ground.

"My leg? What the -? You alright man?"

Answering was simply out of the question because he would puke like a sick pig. Closing his eyes and willing away the pain was all he could do.

"Sammy?"

Sam moved his hand over the ground in front of him, hitting a piece that seemed sturdy and long enough to do the work. Without looking at his brother he picked it up and wordlessly waved it in the air to let Dean know what he was doing. Concentrating on something else than the pain and breathing though his nose didn't do much, just enough not to gag.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Sammy? My leg's just fine. You're not thinking straight, man! Lie down and let me have a look at you."

"M'fine." Sam fingers followed a second, promising piece of wood. Grabbing it he held his breath and angled himself up to a more erect position. He wanted to wail but instead he just squeezed the stick in his hand, letting his nails dig into the palm, hard, in order to get a grip on himself.

"Sam?" Dean was clearly getting pissed off now, Sam was able to hear as much in one word alone and he wasn't in the best of moods himself. Luckily he was too tired to really get into it so he only lifted the second stick up for his brother to see.

"Told me your foot was stuck. You expect me to carry you to the car?"

"For fuck's sake.,Sammy, I'm fine." Dean moved to get up and growled when his weight hit the injured leg. Trying to straighten himself he almost toppled over and Sam threw a tired glance from under his bangs at his idiotic brother. He would have sighed demonstratively but he needed to use his teeth to hold onto the already torn shirt while he ripped strips from it for Dean's leg.

"I really hate this Nurse Ratchett thing you're pulling, dude!" Dean growled and eased himself back down.

Sam had too much fabric in his mouth to bother answering.

As if it wasn't enough that his fucking knee was holding him back, the butt of his pants were getting soaked from sitting in the moss. This night was just full of splendor. Not to mention Sam's oddly slow moves and refusal to even look at him. It was like he had retreated into himself, shutting off completely. He sounded and looked like shit and still decided to be his fucking stubborn self, not listening to reason. Dean wanted to whack him over the head but that would probably end in Sam keeling over. Couldn't risk that because damn, as fumbling and uncoordinated as he already seemed, it wouldn't take much to knock him over. And dragging Satchquatch to the car was out of the question.

Like a petulant child his brother was sitting with his back to him and ripping his shirt to shreds. Not once using his left arm. Probably thought Dean hadn't noticed how closely he guarded his left side. Dean dreaded when he'd have to start battling the stubborn bitch to have a look at the arm. It was going to get ugly. He so didn't need that right now, what he wanted was to get out of the soaked jeans, get a pain-killer and lie down on a bed and sleep for a week. But with Sam in this current mood, they'd end up at an ER, wait for hours and some nurse would tell him to do exactly that; go home, take a pain-killer and rest. Then Sam would refuse to let anybody touch him and they'd end up arguing all the way back to the motel. And he'd probably have to drag Sam to the ER all over the next day.

"You done?" He snapped, already pissed at the thought of what lay ahead.

Another glare from under the long girly hair had Dean snort irritably

"Would you get a move on already. I'm freezing my butt off here. " He jerked one of the stripes from Sam's hand and gritted his teeth. as he aligned the twigs to the sides of his knees and slid the fabric in place.

"How many stripes do you need?" He muttered, more to hide any possible sign of weakness than anything else. The knee still gave him hell when the tied the splints in place. He rose tentatively and noted that the first-aid did make it less painful.

"Ust nough ta 'ix yah jibs," Sam responded with his mouth full of shirt.

"If you think you're fooling me 'bout your arm, you're a moron." Having the leg set actually did lessen the pain and he rose cautiously. Sam spit out the fabric and looked at him. It would have been a poignant stare if he wouldn't have swayed enough to almost topple over.

"Jesus, Sam, you won't make it to the car, will you?" It was slowly dawning on Dean that all this bitching and sulking was just a way to hide the fact that Sam was probably hurting too much to even walk on his own. And Dean really didn't have much aid to offer right now. "Maybe we should stay here and wait till dawn?" he suggested.

"Hell, no," Sam mumbled and leaned on his hand for leverage when he worked to get to his feet.

Dean instinctively reached out to grab Sam's coat and steady him. To Sam's credit, he only gagged twice and spit blood on only one of Dean's boots in the process.

"Sam, look at me or I'll clock you one," Dean ordered, gripping his brother's coat harder.

"What?" Sam whined. "My legs fell asleep, whadda'ya want?"

"You're a fuckin' liar Sam," Dean remarked dejectedly. "You sure about this? Because if you fall face down in a ditch and drown, I'm not so sure I'll be able to save you. You're no lightweight."

"Don't need no saving," Sam mumbled and Dean could practically hear the pout. "Just lean on me and I'll help you to the car."

Dean would have laughed if it wasn't that Sam actually seemed to believe what he was saying.

"Right." Dean wondered how far they'd get before his stubborn-ass brother would take a nose dive? At least they'd already rolled down the slope so what they ha left before they reached the dirt road was relatively flat. The darkness was a slight disadvantage though, he discovered as much when his foot hit a pothole and he winced. Not wanting to lean too much on Sam, he swayed on his feet, trying to find some balance. He was sure he'd have his ears full if Sam hadn't been as winded as he was after merely ten steps. Still his dumb-ass brother had to twine his good arm around Dean's waist in the girliest manner ever. When Dean reciprocated, Sam flinched and stumbled. It was just in the nick of time that Dean managed to make him take two steps to the side and lean his back on a tree. By that time Sam was shivering all over and fighting to get air, head drooping and the wheezing breaths cut sharp through the night.

Dean waited, standing close enough to catch him if he didn't manage to pull himself together.

"It's not just the arm is it?" He didn't get an answer, not that he had expected one. "Sam, this is no time to go Rambo on me. Plant your ass while I go get the car, it's not that far but the way you're traipsing, it might as well be on the moon."

"No."

The negation came out surprisingly strong and unyielding.

Sam still refused to look at him, stubbornly clinging to the tree with his good hand, he kept his face turned down. "Dean, we gotta go, now!"

Then he finally looked up and Dean was taken aback by the glazed, blank eyes. Hard resolution the only thing evident on his brother's face. Sam was on survival mode and there was no debating. Sam had closed off all emotions and would walk till his body gave in. Dean wondered if he was even really there and not in some dazed state of mind with imagined demons lurking in the dark? It occurred to Dean that Sam was actually his own worst enemy right now; not reasoning, his OCD making him fail to see the big picture. Dean almost wished Sam would black-out so he'd get some rest. If he did, Dean would go for the car and get some help. That was really their best option. Leaving Sam behind was perhaps the logical thing to do, but Dean found logic highly overrated in their line of work. And leaving your brother behind was unthinkable, after all they were at war and Sam would be defenseless in this semi-coherent state.

"C'mon, Satchquatch," he urged and Sam obliged.

Sam's vision was constricted to a narrow tunnel. All his mental capacities went to getting one foot in front of the other and holding onto Dean. He hated the fact that he wasn't able to be the support Dean needed, that in fact it sometimes seemed to be the other way around. Only thing he knew was that Dean wouldn't be able to drive the car safely with just one foot and a concussion, he'd have to drive them to the nearest clinic. Because if he only looked through one eye, the world wasn't that blurred. And with a couple of pain-killers, he was sure he'd be able to get Dean the aid he needed. And that was all he cared about right now.

He'd lost count of the steps, concentrating on actually getting air into his lungs and walking had proved to be difficult enough. It felt like they had been walking for hours when he finally spotted the car, or actually, almost tripped over it.

"Jeez, Sam, don't jump my baby." Dean muttered at his side as Sam leaned his good side up against the solid metal.

Dean unlocked the driver's side door and told him to hold on. Sam hesitated just for a moment, wondering if he'd actually manage to get himself inside because it did require bending and moving. Biting down hard on his lip, he moved to open the door and more slithered than sat down on leather upholstery.

"Hey!" Dean protested. "Three seconds too long for you? You realize it's gonna hurt like hell getting up from there, don't you?"

Dragging his left leg inside made his vision blacken and he had to brace himself not to fall over.

"Get in!" he ordered through gritted teeth.

"You're hilarious, Sammy, really but pardon me if I'm not laughing my ass off here. You think you're gonna drive? Man, you didn't see the car when it was right under your nose. Get real, man! Let me in and when I can get a signal on the cell I'm calling an ambulance for your sorry ass."

"You steer, I'll handle the pedals and gears." Sam felt snot running down his face and wiped it off.

"Sam, this isn't the time to -."

"Dean, now!"

"And you tell me I have crazy ideas? This one takes the cake, Sam! Of all the stupid, crazy stunts anyone's ever pulled, this is it. And I will clock you one for it, as soon as you're back up on your feet."

"Clutch down," Sam announced and with a long harangue of curses, Dean turned the key in the ignition.

"They don't even pull this crap off in the movies," Dean pointed out. "And I've seen some pretty whacked flicks."

Sam shifted to first gear and lifted the clutch. Dean was right, he didn't really see the road ahead, not more than a few feet, then it all got twisted, broken and misty. The pain was clearly pushing through more often, dimming his concentration with flashes of white-hot waves that he was unable to suppress. The car moved slowly with Dean's hand steady on the wheel. Sam switched to second. "Tell me if I have to brake."

"I swear I'm gonna go religious if we make it through this." Dean replied with a voice dripping of sarcastic disbelief.

Sam was only glad they were going somewhere at all because he was able to sense the danger creeping closer and closer in the darkness.

And what was coming was stronger than anything they'd ever encountered before.

"Sam, what more is it you're not telling me?"

Sam didn't have the energy to try to explain that he was just sensing something out there, it would just be too X-Files for Dean. Or maybe he was just being paranoid? Right now it felt like he knew nothing for certain, he just needed to get Dean out of here. The darkness was welling in over the road and he wasn't sure if it was his imagination or for real.

"Is the road looking right to you?"

He felt Dean looking ardently at him for a moment.

"Dude, you're really creeping me out here. You hallucinating too now? Just keep your friggen hand of the wheel will yah? Road's just as fine as any god-forsaken dirt road out in the middle of nowhere."

"Then shut up and drive, would you?"

"What the hell?" Dean suddenly let out, jerking the wheel to the right.

Instinctively Sam pressed the brakes to the floor and it sent the car skidding on the road. Dean cursed out loud and was over all him, both hands of the steering wheel.

"Fuck, Sam?" Dean's voice exploded beside him.

The engine died when Sam felt the side-window slam against his head.