He gasped for a second, clutched his hand over the gaping hole in his side, fought the rising nausea, finally slid to the ground in defeat. Not now, not now...His mind was feverish, one phrase repeating over and over. Not now, not now. Not now, when he didn't know where Sam was, not when he wasn't even sure where he was. What the hell had happened? It had been a hunt, of course, a hunt gone wrong...wait, that was wrong. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear the fog and confusion from his sluggish thoughts, only succeeding in making the dizziness increase enough to cause him to vomit. He groaned as the retching pulled at his wounded side, as sticky, warm blood continued seeping over his fingers. What was he doing? Oh, yeah. Heading back to the broken-down motel room they'd been calling home for the last three days. Trying to get back. Wait, Sam wasn't with him, how could he think of just leaving him behind, how could he even consider going back alone? He instinctively pressed harder against the blood leaking down his side, even as he berated himself and winced and gritted his teeth with the pain. What was he doing?
He heard, distantly, shouting, and with a sudden flash of clarity remembered how he had come to be lying in a puddle of his own blood. He'd gone to a bar, not to hustle as usual, but to get himself good and sloshed. He frowned as he struggled to remember why he'd wanted to get drunk...oh well, didn't really matter now, did it? Not now, when he was getting dizzy and sleepy and trying to plug a hole put in him by some pissed off, inebriated overprotective boyfriend with huge arms and a huge knife. The memory suddenly brought relief as he realized that at least Sam was okay...where was he, anyway? Oh. Back at the motel room. That's why he was going there, to get to Sammy. That made sense to his confused mind, and suddenly getting to Sam was the most important thing he could do. With a pained grunt and a monumental effort, he pulled himself off the ground, clutched his streaming side, dragged his broken and bleeding body towards the motel. Towards his brother. He felt bad, knew that Sam would freak, would panic at the sight of the blood, but for once, he needed help and couldn't think of any way to hide it from his brother.
It was dark and hard to see much of anything, but he could see the neon sign proclaiming 'Vacancy! Inquire inside' flickering a little ways off, so he knew he was close, knew he could make it if he just kept moving...when had he stopped moving anyway? Taking slow, agonizing steps, he realized that he was on the road now, crossing Main Street -ha! 'Main Street' and not a car in sight- to get to that ugly pink vacancy sign. It barely registered when he stepped off the road, not until he nearly tripped on a clump of grass, stumbled back onto the road which he suddenly realized was actually the parking lot of his motel. He was there, just a few more steps...He cursed as he realized that he'd forgotten what room they were in, then spotted his beloved Impala parked off to one side alone, directly in front of a peeling white door with the number 22 nearly falling off. He was suddenly glad he was the there because he realized that the blood hadn't ever stopped coating his fingers and the dizziness and nausea he'd worked so hard to keep at bay were back in full force. He didn't have much time left before he passed out, he could feel it, but Sammy would help him. With the last bit of strength remaining to him, he knocked on the door twice, mostly just raising his arm and letting it fall against the already battered wood, no force behind it at all. No answer, damn his heavy sleeping, and it was all Dean could do to dig his hand into his pocket for the key to the room. With trembling and slippery fingers, he managed to get the key into the door, shoved it open, stumbled into the darkness.
"Sammy?" he croaked, but then he realized that the room was empty, that there was a note sitting on the table next to the bed, remembered that he'd gotten drunk because Sam had gone to hunt with Ruby, how could he?, and with a strangled cry, Dean Winchester's eyes rolled into his head and he collapsed onto the floor.