Dean lay on his back, panting and sweaty.
He was utterly spent.
He didn't think he could move his finger much less his body. But he did. He always does. He rolled over and pushed himself up off the ground. Things had gotten rough. He was sure to have a collection of bruises.
However his pain was not at the top of his priority list.
Sam had been watching his back and the last time he had seen his brother, he was smashing into a tree.
No matter how tired and sore, his first priority was, "Is Sammy OK?"