A/N: Here's a one shot for your reading enjoyment. Set mid to late season two- probably after Playthings. Not part of the Hunter's and Guardians series. Brief mention of something from my fic Miner's Revenge. Features an Inuit Indian legend crossed with Wisconsin's legend of the Beast of Bray Road, a supposed werewolf or something like a Bigfoot that has been reported sighted since the late thirties. Hope everyone enjoys the read and as always reviews are welcome and very much appreciated!

Kris.

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Deep Canyon

"So, I think I got us a hunt." Sam said after swallowing a mouthful of beer. They were sitting in the back corner of a seedy bar called Charlie's Place in Northern Wisconsin. Sam, as usual was glued to his laptop while Dean had scored some much needed funds from a pool game and two phone numbers from the girls that had been hanging on the other guy's arm. That lasted about as long as it took for Dean to win about three hundred dollars from the pissed off pool player.

"So what's the gig?" Dean asked with a smirk on his face as he handed Sam half the money. That would keep them going for a while without using the fraudulent credit cards Special Agent Henricksen had an uncanny way of tracing. The bastard. Dean mused. They had been forced to get rid of nine of their cards and were down to two for each of them and they were for emergency only, hospital bills and the like that weren't covered by the new fraudulent insurance cards.

"There are rumors of an Adlet about three counties over. Its hunting grounds are part of the Sylvania Wilderness Area. Its stalking a camp ground there. Damn thing's caused the disappearance of two campers this month."

"What the hell's an Adlet?"

"Native American legend states that it's a demonic blend of man and canine. Bad tempered with a full on carnivorous streak. They're like feral dogs with human intelligence."

"Great. A smart dog that walks on two legs. Basically our own Beast of Bray Road."

"Huh." Sam quipped. "Keeping up on the news Dean?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"The Beast is real. It's the Adlet. And it's vicious. The two campers that went missing were found at the bottom of a canyon, ripped to shreds. Plus, we're basically in the same neck of the woods that the thing has been sighted for years. First in 1936, then in the eighties, early nineties and 2002. No more beers okay, Dean? Let's just finish eating and head out there."

"Yeah, whatever. Damn monsters- won't even let a guy celebrate a hard earned win."

"Dean, you hustled a game of pool, you didn't win the Super Bowl." Sam rolled his eyes and shut the laptop. They hurriedly finished eating, and dropping twenty dollars on the table left to hunt a monster.

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Three hours later the moon, nearly full, hovered high in the night sky; stars shining brightly around it. Dean pulled the Impala into the gravel lot that dwindled to a foot path at the entrance to the camp ground. Dean pulled the car off into one of the more secluded areas of the lot and shut off the engine.

"So how do we kill this thing? Is it a skin-walker?"

"No. It's actually an animal. We should be able to just shoot it and burn the carcass."

"So why don't we let this up to Ranger Smith and the rest of the Yogi Patrol and hit the beach?"

"Dean, would you stop being an ass? This thing is way too smart for the park service to track. Its evil and its killing people, that's normally enough for you to want to hunt and kill anything. What's with the shying away from a job?"

"Sam, we've been hunting nonstop since Dad… I'm tired. I just want a break. Is that too much to ask?"

Sam fell quiet. "No, no it's not too much, Dean. I want a break too, but we have to stop this thing. You know that."

"Yeah I know. Let's find this bad dog and put it down." They got out of the car and went to the trunk. Dean opened the lid and braced the divider with the old flintlock rifle they hardly ever used. He pulled out Sam's backpack and handed it to him. Sam loaded it with gear for the hike. He took the med kit, two blankets, two flashlights, a canteen and some energy bars and stuffed everything into the pack. Dean grabbed a duffel bag and began filling it with weapons. Sam and Dean each grabbed their pistols, Dean's Colt and Sam's Berretta, stuffing them into their waistbands. Dean put spare ammo into the duffel along with dry accelerant and two pairs of leather gloves. He was glad they hadn't carried lighter fluid since the "thing" with the miner's ghost in Utah a few weeks ago.

Sam handed Dean a bowie knife and strapped his own to his belt, fastening the bottom strap around his thigh. Dean grabbed the high powered rifle from the trunk and shut the lid.

"Let's go. I so do not want to go camping. I'm hoping we can find this thing and get out of here before we're reduced to playing Boy Scouts."

Sam laughed. "Dean, you would never have made it past Cub Scouts."

"Bite me, Sam."

"Sorry Dean. I just had supper. Not real hungry right now."

They began the long hike into the interior of the wilderness area and the vicinity of the canyon where the maulings had taken place. An hour later the moon still shone in the sky and the guys had made it to the canyon where the Adlet last killed its prey.

"This is where the last hiker died, Dean." Sam said as he shined his flashlight on the scuff marks on the ground in the leaf litter. Blood was everywhere, turned nearly black by exposure to the air. "It's probably still close. The last hiker was found this morning by her boyfriend. Poor guy, EMT's had to sedate him. Girl was literally in three pieces."

"Thanks for the play by play, Sammy. Didn't really need to know that."

"Sorry." Sam said; snickering as Dean turned green.

"Right. That's just soooo believable." Dean and Sam both stilled as a branch cracked in the darkness. All noise ceased. Dean raised the rifle to his shoulder as a snarl broke the deathly silence. Sam pulled his Berretta and quickly leveled it in the direction the noise echoed from. The snarl came again, this time from behind them and closer than before. Dean and Sam spun in unison. Dean sighted down the barrel and waited for the snarl again so he could get a fix on the sound. Silence.

"Did you get a fix on it Sammy?" Dean whispered. Sam shook his head, gun still held at the ready.

"Let's get our backs up against something, Dean. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Yeah, okay." They moved deeper into the canyon and edged against a large rock outcropping that sloped in a long trail back out of the canyon. They had moved high enough that they could see the bottom of the canyon below them in each direction for about a quarter mile. It was a good vantage point to hunt, if the bottom of the canyon was the beast's hunting grounds. The guys stood side by side, still armed to the teeth and barely feeling any better for it. Suddenly a snarl erupted from them at the same time a heavy weight landed on them both, knocking them to the ground. The rifle went off as a weight settled on both the Winchesters' bodies. Sam rolled out from under the weight as it shifted to pin Dean more fully to the hard ground. Sam stood and pulled at the upper body of the beast, pushing it off Dean.

With a snarl the beast turned and jumped on Sam, pinning him to the ground. Sam cried out in pain as sharp claws tore at his left shoulder, leaving five deep, jagged cuts. Dean pulled himself to his feet on Sam's cry and lunged at the beast. He caught the half dog, half man around the hair covered human waist. The force behind Dean's lunge sent the creature flying off the top of Sam. Dean flew with it, right off the edge of the trail.

"Dean!" Sam cried out as he caught a glimpse of Dean's form wavering for a split second before he and the Adlet tumbled down the side of the canyon. Dean rolled, head over heals for the first few tumbles, and then managed to tuck and roll to ease damage to his body. At the bottom of the canyon he gave a choked scream as his back came to rest hard against a boulder. Dean laid still. The Adlet pushed its way to unsteady hind legs and took off into the forest, dropping down onto all fours after a stumble.

"DEEAAANNN!" Sam screamed as he put his gun in his waistband and pushed his way to his feet. Grabbing the pack and the weapons bag, he scrambled down the rock laden slope to his brother's side. His shoulder was bleeding and nerves were shrieking in pain, but all Sam could see was his brother, lying so still at the bottom of a long drop. He made it to Dean's side by hitting his butt and sliding down the gravel that covered the last ten feet of the hill side, evidence of many years of erosion. He dug in his feet and stopped his wild descent before he could slide into Dean.

"Oh, God. Dean!" Sam knelt by his brother's chest. Dean was a mass of bruises and scrapes, some bleeding badly. Sam touched his neck, desperate to find a pulse. It was there. "Thank God. Dean? Hey big brother, can ya hear me? Dean?" Sam checked Dean quickly for injury. He had a large bump on the back of his head and his back, Sam noted through a tear in Dean's flannel and tee shirt was a solid mass of quickly forming bruises. His breathing was shallow; Sam thought it could be from the blow sustained to his back. Dean was unconscious and winded.

"Okay, Dean. I don't think anything's broken, but you're definitely hurt pretty bad. I need you to wake up for me now." Sam shook his shoulder gently. Getting no response Sam tapped his cheek with a large, open palm. "Dean, wake up….wake up, Dammit."

"Unnn…" Dean moaned, stirring slightly. He dissolved into a coughing fit.

"Easy, easy Dean. Breathe, just breathe." Sam watched Dean try to draw breath. He was having trouble. Sam elevated his head and shoulders to help clear the airway and Dean gasped.

"That's it Dean. Just keep taking breaths." Sam moved up against Dean and pulled him back into a sitting position, trying to be mindful of his badly bruised back. He breathed with Dean, coaching him the way he'd been coached so many times in the past. Dean's eyes were still closed and he relaxed against Sam, slumping in his arms.

"No, Dean, no. Don't do this! C'mon. I need you to wake up. Wake up Dean!" Sam jostled Dean again, trying to get a response. Nothing. "I have to get you someplace safe. That damn thing will be back." He put the weapons bag in the pack and settled it on his shoulders, wincing as the strap bit into the claw marks. He was tempted to remove the strap but realized the pack would keep falling off his shoulder as he wrestled with Dean, so he left it where it was and ignored the pain. Sam hefted Dean's unconscious form, under his arms and began pulling him upright. He managed to get Dean on his feet and had one arm flung around his neck when Dean coughed and groaned again.

"Sam?" It was a hoarse whisper but Sam heard as Dean's head lolled on his shoulders.

"Right here. I gotcha. I'm gonna find us some shelter and patch you up before the Adlet comes back for us. I need you to walk, okay Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy. 'M okay." Dean slurred. Sam began to move forward, remembering the map he'd studied of the canyon. There was a series of small cabins, old line shacks that a charity controlled for campers' use. He could find one of those and get Dean cleaned up then let him rest while he found and destroyed the Adlet. Dean stumbled and began to lean heavily on Sam.

"C'mon Dean. I know where we can hole up. I'll clean us up and let you rest."

"You hurt? Thought it hurt you." Dean slurred again, trying to raise his head long enough to look his baby brother over. He stumbled again and threatened to topple both him and Sam to their knees.

"Not bad Dean. Just a scratch." Sam grunted while trying to ignore the burn in his shoulder as he supported nearly all of his big brother's weight. He moved ahead to the spot from the map where he remembered one of the cabins was.

"'Kay, Sammy." Dean said as his head lolled again. Fear streaked through Sam at this last statement- slur-from Dean. No way am I ever hurt that Dean just lets it go. How bad is he? Sam picked up the pace some, now practically dragging Dean along. Sam soon saw the cabin and breathed a sigh of relief.

"We're here, Dean. Let's get you inside. You're freakin' me out."

"'M a little freaked too, Sam. Legs 'n head feel funny." Dean slurred as he stumbled into Sam again. Sam pulled Dean up again, getting a firmer hold on the brother that progressively seemed to become more unsteady and jello-legged. Sam stepped up to the door of the cabin and let go of Dean's wrist where it was around his neck. He reached for the knob and pushed the door open. Dean's arm slid off Sam's shoulders as he groaned and sagged.

"Whoa, Dean." Sam cried as he scrambled to keep Dean from hitting the ground in the doorway. "C'mon, let's get you on the bunk." Sam pulled Dean across the wooden floor and laid him on the twin bunk. There were two other beds in the cabin. Sam moved quickly to one and dropped the pack onto it, digging for the med kit. He pulled the weapons bag out and then one of the blankets before reaching the med kit. He grasped it and turned to Dean who now lay on the bunk watching him. Sam could see that Dean's pupils were uneven. Dean's pain glazed eyes took in the blood on Sam's shoulder and he struggled to sit up.

"Sam, you bleedin'? What happened? Lemme see." He forced himself upright on the bed and tried to gain his feet before Sam could push him back. Sam caught Dean as he slid from the bed to the floor.

"Dammit, Dean. I'm not hurt that bad. You got the worst of it. Let me take care of you first." Sam hefted Dean back to the bed and laid him on his side. He groaned.

"Sam, I don't feel so good." Dean looked around the cabin. "Where are we? My legs hurt. What's wrong with my legs, Sammy?"

"Let me take care of you, Dean. I gotta see how bad you're hurt." Sam was really starting to worry. Dean was out of it and his legs were hurting. Dean never complained when he was hurt. Sure, he'd make wise cracks about how hard a wall was or how he had a hard head while Sam was stitching him up. But this time Dean sounded scared. Sam's heart was in his throat.

"I'm gonna find out what's wrong. I'll fix it, Dean. Just stay awake for me while I clean you up okay?"

"Sure, Sammy." Sam struggled to give Dean a smile before heading off into the bathroom to get some water. The cabin had a hand pump and Sam flushed the system before filling a tin bowl and cup he'd found in the kitchenette. He had grabbed a kettle and filled it too. He set it on the fireplace and placed some of the dry wood in the cast iron grate and lit a fire to heat the kettle. He turned back to Dean to find him staring, slightly owl-eyed into the fire. Sam moved to his side and crouched into his line of sight to get his attention.

"Let's look you over, okay? Let me help. Need to get you to lie on your stomach alright?"

Dean made no move to roll over and Sam felt himself begin to panic. "C'mon Dean." Sam coaxed as he got Dean by the shoulder and hip to roll him over without aggravating his injuries.

"Sammy, I'm tired."

"I know Dean. Just give me a few minutes to figure out what's wrong and I'll let you rest okay?"

Dean turned his head and looked at Sam, reminding him of a lost child. "What happened, Sammy?"

"You got …hurt Dean." Sam swallowed hard. This was the third time he'd explained that to Dean. How the hell hard did he hit his head? "I'm gonna get you cleaned up now." Sam said as he moved to the fireplace and pulled the now steaming kettle off the flames. He added some water from the tin bowl to the kettle to make it bearable and went to the bathroom again, coming back a moment later with a washcloth. Sam dampened it in the warm water of the kettle and wiped Dean's visible scratches. He cleaned dry blood off his head and examined the lump that graced the crown of his brother's head. The blood came from another scratch; the lump had no broken skin.

Dean winced. "Sammy, head hurts."

"I know Dean. I'm gonna help." Sam blinked back tears as they threatened. Something was seriously wrong with Dean. "Okay. I need to get your shirt off so I can finish cleaning you up. Can you sit up if I help you?" Dean nodded and Sam moved to help him sit up. He groaned and began to fidget.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked; concern etched across his features.

"My feet are asleep." Dean muttered.

Okay this is so wrong. What the hell is wrong with his legs? Could his back be…No! No, his back can't be broken. He wouldn't have been able to walk to the cabin. He's just out of it. That's all. Just really, really out of it.

"Sammy?"

Sam shook himself from his worried-scratch that—terrified- thoughts. "Huh?"

"You look like someone took away your library card."

Sam shook his head, smiling at Dean's tone. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Then I can sleep?"

Sam's smile died on his lips. "Then you can sleep." He choked on the words as he pulled off Dean's shredded flannel shirt and moved to pull his tee shirt over his head. Dean raised his arms a little and stopped. He cried out in pain.

"Ahhhggghhh. Sam, my back hurts."

"Okay. Just lower your arms. Your tee shirt is ruined anyway. I'll just cut it off." Sam pulled his pocket knife and gently cut away Dean's tee shirt. He helped him lay back down on his stomach and had to fight back bile as he saw the condition of Dean's back. It was solid black and very swollen at his shoulder blades and then again at the small of his back just above his belt. Sam ghosted a hand over Dean's back and could feel heat radiating off the lower injury. He gingerly touched at the edge of the bruise.

"Dean, can you feel that?"

"What Sammy?" Dean sounded far away, tired. He turned his head and blinked the owlish eyes at Sam again. Sam pushed at the edge of the bruise again.

That, can you feel that?" Dean flinched.

"Why you ticklin' me, Sammy?"

"God. Um… okay. Gotta get the swelling down. Get the swelling down and you'll be fine." Sam muttered to himself more than Dean as he ran a hand through his overly long brown hair. He moved back to the bathroom and came back with a towel soaked in cold water from the hand pump. "This is gonna be cold, Dean. I'm sorry but you need this." Dean flinched and sucked in a sharp breath as Sam laid the sopping towel across the small of his back. He relaxed as the cold numbed the area and he could no longer feel its bite.

Sam moved to Dean's legs and gripped his right calf. "Can you feel me?" He asked as he squeezed and released, just to do it again as Dean remained quiet.

"What are you doing? Feels like you're squeezing my leg."

Sam breathed a sigh. "Yeah, that's what I was doin'. Let the cold work Dean. I'm gonna do the same thing with your head and I'll let you rest." Sam moved to get a washcloth and repeated the cold treatment for Dean's head. "Dean, can you drink some water and take a pain pill?"

"Think so. I want to sleep." Sam helped Dean swallow some Ibuprofen from the med kit. Sam prayed the anti-inflammatory drug would ease the swelling that was inhibiting feeling in Dean's legs and feet.

"Just rest, Dean. I'll wake you in a little while."

"Okay, Sammy. When I wake up we'll hit the road. I'll get you back to school." Dean muttered softly. So softly that Sam wouldn't have caught it if it weren't for his trained hunter hearing.

What the hell did he say? Get me back to school? Oh God, what's wrong with my brother? How the hell am I gonna help him? Please, please let him snap outta this. The pills have to work. Dean, I'll find a way to help you. I swear. I'm gonna help you.

Sam shook himself and swallowed his terror. He moved to put some wood on the fire and then went back to Dean's side. He was sound asleep and way too still. Sam raised the edge of the cold towel and looked at his brother's back. There was a distinguished ridge in the swelling right across the lumbar. Sam folded the wet towel over and concentrated the cold on that area. He knew that's what was giving Dean the trouble. He settled in to watch his brother and wait for the Ibuprofen to work.

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Click, click, click. Sam's head shot up from where it rested against his knees. He heard a rapid clicking on the wooden porch at the door of the cabin. His knees were stiff and his back hurt. His shoulder throbbed and burned. I fell asleep. How could I fall asleep on Dean? He needs me. Sam berated himself as he stood, pulling his gun from his waistband. He moved stealthily to the front window and looked out the opening to see the Adlet sniffing at the front door.

"You son-of-a-bitch. I'll kill you for what you did to my brother." Sam whispered. The Adlet lifted its head, cunning eyes taking in Sam's face, watching from the window. It snarled at him before rounding the corner and moving off the porch.

"Nnnmmm…Sammy?" Dean stirred on the bed. Sam started and turned at the sound of his brother's voice. Sam was at his side.

"Hey. How you feelin'?" Sam asked as he tucked his piece back into his waistband.

"I have a headache and my back hurts like a bitch. What the hell hit me?" Dean forced his way into a sitting position with a wince and a groan. Sam tried to help and Dean brushed him off. The damp, now warm towel slid off his back to rest on the bed behind him. Sam moved to help him put his ripped flannel shirt back on.

"Um… technically it's what you hit."

"What?"

"The Adlet knocked you off the ledge we were on. You tumbled about thirty feet and hit a rock with your head and back. You were pretty out of it for a while."

"Is that thing dead yet?"

"No. It was just on the porch. It saw me and took off. I think it's hurt though, 'cause it's not walking on its hind legs and it has a limp."

Dean tried to force his way to his feet and immediately started to slide to the floor. Sam caught him and eased him back to the bed. "Damn, my feet feel like I'm being used as a human voodoo doll."

"I told you, you took a hit to the back. Your feet were completely numb before you went to sleep."

"We have to kill that thing before it gets anymore campers." Dean said, though he still made no move to get off the bed again.

Sam turned and moved to the bed, sitting by his side, close enough that their shoulders touched. "You know, you had me freaked earlier."

"What? Why?" Dean gave Sam a puzzled look.

"Don't you remember?"

"Jeez, Sam quit beatin' around the bush. Why?"

"You were acting like a cross between hung-over Dean and seven year old Dean. It was the head injury. Scared the hell outta me." Sam said wearily.

Dean looked troubled. "I don't remember any of that." He said quietly.

"It's okay. I'd rather not either. It was…" Click, click. Click. Sam stood. "It's back on the porch again." Sam pulled his Berretta and stood from the bed. Dean tried to stand with him and couldn't.

"Sammy, I still can't move right. Get that thing, and be careful." He said quietly.

"Yeah." Sam moved to the door, keeping his frame in front of Dean's. The bad feeling had returned and lodged like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Sam moved towards the window at the left of the door. As he stepped into the threshold the door burst in, the Adlet coming in with it. Sam took the brunt of the impact as beast and wooden door landed hard on him, knocking him to the floor. The beast scrambled off the door and Sam pushed the splintered wood away, starting to roll to his feet. He gave a grunt of pain that turned into a scream as the Adlet bit into his injured shoulder. The pain he'd been ignoring for the past few hours flared and doubled as the Adlet shook its head, muzzle now covered in Sam's blood.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed, forcing his way to his feet to stumble to the bunk where the weapons bag lay. He reached it and saw his Colt beside it on the quilt. He grabbed the gun and turned, his legs giving out again. He sank to the floor and fired, catching the Adlet in the front shoulder. The bullet went clear through and the animal sagged on top of Sam. Pain flared in Dean's back from his movement and his world spun alarmingly as his head began to pound. He tried to move to his feet again, just to land bone-jarringly on his left side. "Sam?" Dean whispered as his world went black. Sam's slide into unconsciousness was the last thing Dean saw before he joined him.

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The sun shining on his face roused him to wakefulness. Memories slammed themselves into his brain as he squinted against the sunlight. He looked around him and his eyes settled on the ugliest thing he'd ever seen in daylight. The Adlet. Below the man-dog's dead form lay Sam, unconscious and bloody. Blood had pooled under Sam's left shoulder.

"Sammy!" Dean forced his way to his knees, ignoring the pain in his back and pounding head. He crawled to Sam's side before his legs gave out again. "Sam? Sam?!" Dean touched Sam's lax cheek to find it warm, too warm. He pushed Sam's destroyed shirt aside and looked at the bite marks that overlapped the earlier clawing injury. The edges of the wound were red and inflamed. It leaked a slightly yellow fluid and Dean knew it was infected.

"Dammit. Gotta stop the infection." Dean forced himself to forget the pain and gain his feet. He stumbled at first and gripped anything within arm's reach that would help him remain upright on his shaky, half numb legs. He went to the fireplace where he found cold ashes and threw the three remaining pieces of wood on it before adding kindling underneath and lighting it off. He moved to the nearest bed and used it for support as he slowly made his way to where the kettle of cold water sat on the floor beside the bed he'd occupied.

He stooped to pick up the kettle and winced as his back protested and he felt sick. "No, gotta help Sammy." He said to will himself to fight the beckoning darkness that crouched at the edges of his vision. He stumbled with the kettle in hand to the bathroom and used the hand pump to rinse and fill it with clean water. He put a washcloth in the water to soak. He lifted the heavier kettle and moved slowly back into the room with it, putting it on the fire. Dean forced unsteady feet to move back to Sam and he grabbed the carcass of the Adlet, pulling it from Sam's body. His back screamed at the strain and he began sweating but soon the beast lay outside the cabin.

He went back inside to find that Sam had curled onto his side and was shivering violently. "Sammy. C'mon kiddo, I need your help here." Dean said as he eased down to kneel beside Sam. Dean touched Sam's warm cheek and he began to stir beneath the touch. "That's it, c'mon Sammy."

"Dean?" Sam rasped.

"Yeah. C'mon, gotta get you on your feet. Need to look at that shoulder. It's infected. You're runnin' a fever, and honestly I don't feel all that hot either."

"Okay." Sam slurred as he forced himself upright. He went pale, fever spots standing out on his cheeks. He wavered and Dean reached out to steady him, barely staying on his feet himself. "Can you feel everything again?"

"My legs feel heavy. Can't quite coordinate like I should." Dean said as he and Sam stumbled to the bed.

"Sorry, Dean. I shouldn't have let it get the drop on me." Sam said as he collapsed onto his back on the bunk.

"You're shoulder was infected long before that thing bit you. You probably weren't battin' a thousand yourself. You should have taken care of those scratches before you looked after me, Sammy."

"Don't give me that crap Dean. You were hurt way worse than me. You still are." Sam said as he allowed his head to fall back against the mattress. He groaned and threw his good arm up over his head. "I don't feel so good." He said, swallowing hard. His eyes closed and he surrendered to the darkness.

"Sam?" Dean moved slowly to the fireplace and pulled the boiling kettle off the fire. He returned to Sam and set the kettle on the floor. The water continued to boil and Dean sat wearily on the bed next to Sam. He pulled his hunting knife from its sheath and cut away Sam's blood soaked sleeve. He then used the long blade to pull the cloth from the steaming water. He put the other hand to Sam's neck and tried to wake him. Nothing.

Dean laid the steaming cloth over Sam's wound. His head lolled and he gave a stifled groan of agony. His eyes flew open. "Gaaahhhdddd!"

"Sorry Sam. Have to stop the infection and stitch you up."

"Umm—mmmmm-mmm. Damn, warn me next time would ya?" he panted and groaned again as the cloth slowly cooled. Dean pulled it away, dropping it back into the kettle, and looked at the wound. It wasn't as red.

"One more time and I'll dust it with antibiotic and stitch you up."

"Just. Get. It. Over. With." Sam said slowly, still panting. Dean pulled the cloth from the steaming water and laid it across the wound again.

"Ahhhh!" Sam cried, arching his back. His head thrashed and his fists clenched, making muscles stand out on his arms. He collapsed, panting again. "Son-of-a-bitch!"

"Do we have any whiskey in the kit?" He asked.

"Yeah." Dean replied.

"Give it to me before you start stitching." Sam sat up on the bed after Dean removed the cloth again. Dean handed him the whiskey and got a suture kit ready. Sam took a pull from the bottle and another one as Dean put in the first stitch. Twelve stitches later with ten sips of whiskey, Sam was feeling no pain.

"Lay down before you fall down Sammy. I'm gonna call Bobby, have him come get us. Neither one of us are gonna be able to walk outta here."

"'K Dean." Sam slurred and lay back on the bed. He was asleep before Bobby picked up his phone.

"Hello?"

"Bobby, its Dean."

"Dean. Haven't heard from you in a while. How's everything goin'?"

"Not too good Bobby. Where are you?"

"On my way home from Ohio. Put a Weeping Woman to rest."

"Sam and I were hunting an Adlet. We're both hurt pretty bad Bobby. Mind helpin' us out?"

"Damn Dean. Why didn't you say so in the first place? Where the hell are you?"

"I'll send you co-ordinates. Hey… Bobby?"

"Yeah kid?"

"Thanks."

"You and Sam take care of each other. I'll get there as soon as I can."

Dean hung up and text messaged Bobby their coordinates after checking Sam's GPS. He forced his feet to move again and stumbled towards the bunk he'd used. His legs gave out and he hit the floor with a thud, pain rocketing up his abused back. He stifled his cry and gave into the darkness that robbed him of his vision.

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Bobby pulled into the camp ground parking lot three hours later and immediately spotted the Impala. He knew from the coordinates he'd received that Sam and Dean were ¾ of a mile into the canyon that made up this part of the wilderness area. They were in one of the charity maintained line shacks. He grabbed his pack with his first aid kit and his high powered rifle and hiked into the canyon to help the boys he considered nephews.

An hour later the older hunter made it to the cabin where the boys were. He was startled to see the body of the Adlet still laying outside the cabin in broad daylight. He hadn't seen one in years and had forgotten how ugly they were. It was a big one, over five feet long with a slightly humanoid head and canine muzzle. It was covered in coarse red hair and very muscular. He saw blood on its shoulder from the gunshot wound there and looked more closely when he noticed blood on its muzzle, too. His stomach lurched. That blood belonged to one of the boys.

The door was missing from the cabin, too. Bobby steeped through and saw it lying in splinters on the floor. Dean was a few feet from it, also on the floor face down. Bobby bolted to his side.

"Dean? Dean?!" Bobby shook Dean gently, looking him over for obvious injury. Seeing nothing He started to roll Dean over and a tear in his flannel caught his eye. Bobby pulled his shirt up and saw the dark mass of bruising across his lumbar. Dean stirred and moaned.

"Hey kid, easy."

"Bobby?"

"Yeah."

"Sammy? He okay? He had infection in his shoulder. Damn thing clawed and bit him 'fore I killed it."

"Let's get you up on the bed and I'll check you both over. What the hell happened to your back?"

"Got up close and personal with a rock after the mutt-man knocked me down from a ledge. Hurts like a bitch. Sammy said I was out of it and couldn't feel my legs for a while. I'm still not right. They feel heavy and hard to move." He groaned as Bobby pulled him to his feet and helped him move to the bed.

"Bobby, check Sammy. Please?" The older hunter moved to the bed Sam occupied. He shook Sam gently and checked his pulse. He was cool to the touch and his pulse and breathing were normal. Bobby shook him again.

"Sam? Hey, Sam? It's Bobby. Come on kiddo, wake up."

"Un…huh… Bobby?" He opened his eyes. Bobby helped him sit up and checked out his shoulder. It was no longer as red and the seeping had stopped.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked, sitting on the other bed.

"Yeah, Dean."

"Looks like you did a good job, Dean. Let's see if we can't burn dog-boy out there and get the hell outta here." Bobby said. He went outside and soon burned and buried the Adlet. He came back in and went to Sam's side where he was sitting on the bed.

Sam stood with Bobby and walked to Dean's side, getting steadier as he moved. Bobby and Sam helped Dean stand and each took an arm. They walked slowly with Dean between them back to the Impala.

"You guy's got a motel room somewhere near here?"

"No." Dean said as he slid into the passenger side with a wince.

"I'll take you guys to a place I know. Sam, you okay to drive?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Let's get outta here."

"I seriously hate camping." Dean snarked.

"You and me both, Dean." Sam said as he fired the engine and followed Bobby out of the parking lot, putting the last hunt and these woods in his rearview for good.

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A/N: Well there it was. Written in about three hours total. Hope you guys like it and I will be back to Hunters and Guardianssoon. As many of you know I now have a wedding fic to write and new psychic abilities to expand on. Catch you all soon and hope you'll review! Click the little button, people! It's what keeps me writing.