A/N: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters portrayed therein. This story is a work of fiction.
SPOILERS: Anything from season 5 is fair game.

"I'm comin! Hold yer horses!" Bobby shouted as he wheeled himself toward the front door. He'd put his shotgun in the homemade holster on his chair, just in case he needed to unload buckshot in someone's ass for waking him at two in the morning. "Who's there!"
"Bobby," came a faint voice from behind the wooden door. Bobby immediately recognized the voice as Sam's.
"This better be good, boy," he said, pulling the door open. The sight before him almost made him eat his words. Sam stood hunched over in the doorway, looking beaten to hell. His brother was hanging on Sam's shoulder, looking like half the bones in his body were broken. "What the hell happened?" Bobby asked as Sam dragged Dean into the house, out of the blowing snow.
"Demons." Sam got his brother onto his back on Bobby's couch, and turned toward the older hunter. "We got ambushed. Dean got a tip about some omens in North Dakota. When we got there, about twenty demons were waiting for us. We're lucky to be alive."
"How in the hell are you alive? You shouldn't have made it out of there." Bobby said as he handed Sam a damp washcloth. Instead of using on his own bloodied face, he kneeled next to Dean and dabbed his face with the cloth, trying to clean him up a bit.
"I don't know, Bobby. One minute, we're pinned to a wall and screaming for our lives, the next we're sitting in the car in front of your house."
"No…if it was him, he'd have healed us before he left. My guess is Zechariah. Probably wanted us alive for the big prize fight."
"Nice of him to heal you before he took off again. Here," Bobby threw Sam a clean towel. "Clean yourself up. I'll patch up your brother."
Sam went down the hall to the bathroom to clean himself up. Bobby wheeled himself into the kitchen and took his first aid kit from under the sink. He wet another washcloth and wheeled back to the couch. He first checked Dean for broken bones. The only thing broken seemed to be his arm. Bobby set the bone best he could, and set to patching up the rest of Dean's wounds.
The boys had come to him beat up before, but this was the worst he'd seen them. Half of Dean's face was swelling like a balloon, and there were bruises all over his chest and arms. The boy was flitting in and out of consciousness as Bobby stitched up a deep wound on his arm.
Sam came back from the bathroom to find Bobby sleeping by the fireplace. Dean snoozed soundly on the couch. Grabbing himself a pillow from the couch and an extra blanket from Bobby's laundry room, Sam conked out on the floor next to the couch.

Screams woke Sam out of a peaceful sleep the next morning. He jumped off the floor and saw Dean sitting up. There was a different kind of look in his eyes, as if he didn't know where he was.
"Sam! Where are you!" he shouted frantically.
"I'm right here, Dean, right next to you. It's all right."
"I can't see you. Everything's black Sammy. I can't see anything."