Seventeen year old Dean Winchester cursed as the branch hit his head, shit, a stream of blood tricked down his forehead.


He was in trouble and he was sure that he was unconscious, since he couldn't move anything.

He hoped his dad showed up soon before his condition got worse, so far he could tell that he had broken at least his arm and sprained his ankle pretty bad, so even if he regained conscious he would be able to move anything at all.


One thing foe sure, he was never going off on his own ever again.