Summary:  Dean always thought of himself as ‘slightly stupid’ just smart enough to get the job done, just dumb enough to have to work at it.
Disclaimer:  All things "Supernatural" belong to Kripke.

Dean Winchester never thought he was the sharpest tool in the shed, nor was he dumber than a box of rocks either. He always thought of himself as ‘slightly stupid’; just smart enough to get the job done, just dumb enough to have to work at it. Sam, on the other hand, well he was the smart brother, no if, and, or but, about it. Sam was the reader, the researcher, the thinker of the two, and hell, Dean liked that just fine. Yep, his brother could do all the hard stuff; he was just there for the coffee guzzling, beer drinking, pool shooting, kick ass fun; and of course, the butt whip’n finales that came at the end of every hunt.

Sam leaned back on the bench he was sitting on, the breeze blowing across his face. He steadied the newspaper, shaking it to straighten it out. He watched as his brother Dean, crossed the street, heading toward the local coffee shop. Sam’s eyes roved up and down the empty street, ah, small town life, you gotta love it, he thought, his head turning downward and back to the ‘Temple City Gazette”. He glanced down the page focusing his attention on one small article that stood out among the rest.

Mrs. Debra Bruno was taken to the local hospital last evening, when her car was involved in a hit and run accident. Mrs. Bruno called 911 from the accident scene. She advised she had swerved, and then hit something, just outside of Temple, Texas, at mile marker 131. Mrs. Bruno described the animal as lunging toward her windshield about 11:30 p.m. on her way home from work. The police report states, “The victims car impacted some type of animal on Highway 180”. Mrs. Bruno, though shaken up, advised this reporter that the animal was covered with thick wooly hair, around six feet tall, and looked somewhat like a baboon. Police advise that there is no baboon prowling the woods outside Temple. This writer has his doubts, since there have been three such sightings in the last month along the same section of road. If I were you, I would steer clear of that area.

“Here you go Francis, here’s your fluffy mocha latte crap”, Dean snickered as he handed the cup of coffee to his brother. He grabbed the plastic lid off his own cup and flung it in the trashcan. What do they put those damn things on the cup for, he thought, a man wants to gulp his coffee, not sip it through a hole. He pounced down on the bench next to Sam. His brother absently reached up to grab the cup of coffee from Dean, giving him a ‘kiss my ass’ grin as he did so.

“Yea, I found something”, Sam slid the paper over to Dean’s hand as he nodded toward the article, sipping his hot latte carefully. Dean pulled the newspaper beside him on the bench, watching his brother drinking his beverage. Well most men didn’t sip their coffee, but then again, most of the time, Sam acted like a girl. Dean snickered silently at his little joke, happily skimming down the article that Sam had pointed out.

The Impala pulled slowly up to the curb, right next to mile marker 131 on Highway 180. The highway was empty, both directions, not a car in sight. The doors squeaked loudly as the boy’s exited the car, both turning their heads to glance around the area, nothing looked out of place, unusual, out of the ordinary. Dean whipped out his EMF and flipped on the switch, slowly walking around to the front of the car. The screen was blank, no static, no motion, and no noise. The wind blew lazily across the grass, trees swaying in the cold breeze. Sam stepped up next to his brother, eying the EMF meter.

“Well, guess there isn’t anything supernatural here”. Sam’s mouth curved up in a little grin, faint snicker passing his lips as he stared as his brother. Dean’s hand was slapping the side of the EMF meter, eyes all scrunched, cursing under his breath. “Dean, it’s not broke…Stop that”. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam, stuffing the EMF meter back in his coat pocket.

After walking around the Highway marker three times, Dean heaved in a deep breath; eyes squinted up at his brother. Sam was now leaning on the Impala, stuffing his hands into his pockets for warmth, he looked from Dean out at the trees in the distance.

“Let’s get outta here Sammy; I don’t see anything worth looking at. Let’s go find this witness, what’s here name?”

“Debra Bruno”. Sam stepped to the passenger door, sliding in the seat, the car engine roaring to life as his door slammed; tires sending dirt and rocks flying, Dean making a U-turn on the empty highway, heading them back toward Temple, the sun sitting over the treetops.

The car skidded in the dirty parking lot, dust whipping up behind the tires as it screeched into the empty spot. Dean laughed out loud as he read the name of the bar flashing in red lights just above the door ‘Bum’s Tavern’.

“Love the name of this bar”, Dean smirked at his brother as he opened the driver’s door, tugging his coat on as the door slammed close.

The cold November air whipped around Sam, causing a shiver to rack his lanky form. He grabbed his light weight jacket with both hands, pulling it closer up around his neck. He really needed a warmer coat, but kept forgetting about it, they moved around so much, he barely knew which town they were in, let alone what the weather was going to be.

“It’s cold out here”, Sam said as he took hasty steps behind his brother’s short legs, both quickly heading toward the bar. The sun had gone down on the drive back, their trek to the highway marker a total waste of time. The night air was crisp and clear as the moon shined clearly on the parking lot, guiding them toward the waiting door. They both hoped that the conversation they were about to have with one, Debra Bruno, would help them to figure out what was happening out on Highway 180.

Pushing through the crowded bar, Dean found an empty table and scooted quickly into the chair, nodding at his brother to grab the other seat. Sam glanced around the hazy room, smoke hanging heavily in the air, Hank Williams Jr. playing on the juke box, bear bottles clanging amongst loud talking, rowdy customers. Sam was amazed, this place was hopping.

Dean watched as the feisty little waitress sauntered toward them, little cut off shorts barely covering her assets, low cut white tee blazing the name of the bar “Bum’s Tavern” in just the right places. ‘Holy crap’, he mouthed to his brother as his wide eyes looked from the skimpily clad waitress to his brother. She stepped up into Dean, pressing slightly into his shoulder.

“What can I get you?” she drawled out in a deep southern accent.

Damn she smelled good. Dean leaned in and gave her his best flirty grin. “Two Bud’s”, holding up two fingers his grin broadened to a little smile as he nodded at the waitress.

God, his brother was just a piece of work, Sam thought, glancing from the well endowed waitress back to Dean’s cocky grin.

She winked at Dean; “Sure”, she drawled and turned to retrieve the beers from the bar. Sam shook his head as he watched his brother follow the waitress’s backside swinging across the room.

“Okay, we need to find this Debra Bruno”, Sam said as he looked at his brother, hastily snapping his finger in front of his face. “Dean…Debra Bruno, focus Dean….remember?”

Dean finally drew his eyes away from the waitress’s backside to listen to his brother.

“Okay, Sammy, I get it, We’ll just ask this little hot thing when she gets back”. Deans’ lips curled up at the edges, eyes flashing wickedly at his brother.

“Whatever” Sam shook his head and watched as the waitress shimmed her way back up to their table, two beers in her hands.

“Hey sweetie, Thanks”, Dean leaned into her ear and yelled over the rowdy sounds of the bar. “Do you know Debra Bruno?”

The young waitress pulled away, wide eyes looking at Dean. “Yea, I know her.” She stated flatly, eyes scrunching up into a questioning look. Sam noticed the waitress seemed uncomfortable with his brother’s question, so he leaned in, wide smile on his face. “We’re reporters from the Temple Gazette, we wanted to talk to her about her accident on Highway 180”.

The young waitress shifted her feet, smiling warmly at Sam. “Oh, well, sure, that’s my Aunt Debra right over there, behind the bar”.

Sam and Dean followed her finger as she pointed to the elderly woman, big bust squeezed into a “Bum’s Tavern” tee shirt, two sizes to small. Her hair teased way too much, heavy make up caked in layers, red lipstick on her overdrawn lips, yellow smoke tinged teeth lingering behind her red lips.

The waitress smiled and turned to wait on another table, while Dean leaned across to his brother. “I’ll let you take this one”, he snickered at Sam, bringing the beer up to his lips, gulping it down, trying hard not to laugh at the look on Sam’s face.

Sam sneered at his brother, snatching his own beer off the table, he walked toward Debra Bruno without hesitating, he wanted to find out what was going on, and if it meant talking to the ‘Dolly Pardon Want To Be’, then so be it.

Sam grabbed a bar stool right in front of the busty bar maid, leaning across the bar, smiling warmly at her. “Debra Bruno” Sam's hazel eyes looked inquisitively at her.

“Yes Hon, what can I do for you”. She leaned across the bar, laying her ample bosom on the top of the bar, cleavage right in front of Sam’s face. He felt his face flush as he pulled back adjusting himself on the barstool. He glanced just over his shoulder, he could see his brother, laughing at him, tilting his beer up into a salute, he cackled at his Sam’s predicament. Sam turned his eyes away from his exuberant brother, blowing out a long breath of air, causing the smoke from all the cigarettes to wave in his wake.

“Yes mame, my name is Sam Winkler; I work for the Temple Gazette. I wanted to know if you could tell me about the other night, what happened to you out on Highway 180.”

Debra brought her hands up to here face, squashing up her own checks between her palms, eyes wide. Could this woman possibly lean any further across the bar, any closer to him, Sam wondered, as he looked her in the face.

“Oh Dear, it was awful. That thing just ran right out in front of me. I did not see it, it was dark, you know I was on the way home form work, and then there it was, right in front of the car. I hit it, I know I hit it, but when I calmed down, it was not there”. She spoke in one long breath; Sam could tell she was nerve wracked from the entire experience. She laid a shaky hand down the bar, eyes staring over at Sam.

“What did it look like?” He hated to do it, but the concern for the woman’s experience caused him to feel the need to help her. He put his hand down on her shaky hand. She smiled up at him, lipstick smeared on her teeth.

“It was a man, or something like a man. It was just standing in the road; I saw it right before my car hit it. It looked like a monkey, a hairy man…I just, I just don’t know”.

Sam patted her hand gently with his fingers. Boy, his brother would never let this go, he thought as he tried to comfort Mrs. Bruno. “It’s okay, thanks for talking to me”. Sam smiled up at the woman as he stood. She smiled warmly at him.

“You should talk to Tom Baldwin; he saw it too, not two weeks back”. She nodded as she handed Sam a beer. “Drinks on me”, she winked at Sam, her mouth moving but no words coming out. “You can pay me back later”. Sam was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to get away from this woman. Her wordless voice scaring the crap out of him, the smile waned on his lips as he took a step back from the bar. Holy Shit, he thought, as he pulled away from her, hustling quickly back to Dean.

Sam stepped hastily back to the table where his brother sat, eyes wide, long legs tumbling over each other to get away from the bar and Debra Bruno. Dean was on his forth beer by the time Sam suddenly reappeared, sitting quickly back in the empty chair. Dean leaned into Sam’s ear, eyes filled with curiosity. “Well, what did you find out?”

“Well”, Sam heaved in a breath of air, wanting to steady the thudding of his heartbeat. His mind was racing, Debra Bruno had actually propositioned him, he was stunned, no words to express the knot he felt in his stomach. She had to be twenty five years older than him. That was just way more than his mind wanted to comprehend; he brought his beer up to his lips and guzzled it to the bottom. He glanced back over to the bar maid, her lips curling up into a big smile, teeth still smeared with lipstick, she winked at Sam, who quickly diverted his gaze back to his beer bottle.

Dean watched as Sam seemed to stumble back to their table. Gees, Sammy can’t hold his liquor, he thought. Sam sat with a thud on the chair, an exasperated expression on his face. Dean noticed Sam seemed a little shaky, as he glanced quickly back to the bar, then gulped down his beer. Dean peered over his own beer from Sam to Debra Bruno. Did she just wink at his little brother? Wait a minute, he thought, wait a minute. Suddenly, the pieces all fell into place for Dean and a smirk appeared on his lips, beer spewing from his lips, he looked wide eyed back as Sam.

“Sammy, she did not, please…Tell me…Holy crap”. He could tell by the look on Sam’s face, he was right on the money. Dean’s beer bottle banged down, table shaking, laughter ringing from his lips, shoulders heaving. “Holy crap”, Dean wheezed out between laughs, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Shut Up”. Sam glared across the table at his brother. “I need another beer”.

Sam motioned for the waitress to come back to their table, Dean’s body almost falling out of his chair, laughing uncontrollably.

Sam shifted in the bed, mind reliving the incident at the bar, over and over and over. Dean was snoring loudly on the other bed, he had drank way too much tonight, Sam knew his brother would have a major hang over in the morning. He pulled his hand up to his tired eyes, rubbing his finger and thumb above his eyebrows. He really needed to go to sleep, what was his deal; it wasn’t like he was taking her up on her offer. He shuddered and pulled the blankets up closer to his chin, desperately trying to the get image of Debra Bruno’s lipstick smeared teeth, and ample breasts out of his mind.

Dean Winchester’s mouth felt like a dead animal had crawled in it and died. He drew his dry tongue up and over his teeth, did they feel soft?

“Dean”

His head felt like a snare drum was thumping away, his eyelids scrunching up.

“Dean”

He felt someone shake his shoulder, causing his head to throb harder.

“DEAN”

The voice was too loud. He knew it was Sam by the whinny way he said his name, as if whining was going to make him open his eyes.

“I got coffee”.

Whining no, coffee yes; Dean blinked open his bleary eyes, bright light causing the pain in his head to rise to a loud bang. Casting a slow look up at his brother; he pulled his body to a sitting position, feet falling to the floor. His shoulders hunched, hand to his throbbing temple. His stomach felt queasy, his eyes blurry, his brain banging around in his head. He reached a shaky hand up and grabbed the cup from his brother.

“Thanks” he whispered.

Sam tipped the bottle of pain reliever up, letting three pills drop to his palm.

“Here”, he nudged the pain pills to his brother’s hand. Dean grabbing them and throwing them in his mouth, he continued to drink the coffee, room slowly coming into focus.

Sam flopped down in the chair by the bed, slipping his own coffee, grinning at his brother.

“What time is it?” Dean cast a fuzzy look at his brother.

“10:45” Sam reached out a crumpled bag to his brother. “Donut?”

Although Dean’s stomach was not doing so well, he was also hungry, so he snagged the bag from his brother, pulling out the glazed donut and stuffing it in his mouth.

“HHMM ...” The coffee finally making its way to his brain, he was beginning to feel like Dean again.

“So, what did you find out last night, I don’t think you told me, or I don’t remember it?” Dean’s eyes looked across to Sam, the same curious look on his face from the night before.

“Between the laughter, the 11 beers, or that was it at last count, and your little escapades with the waitress, I don’t think you heard me.” Sam stammered out in a bitter tone.

“Well, excuse the crap out of me, wanting to let loose and have some fun. You could use a little of that too, you know”. Dean stood, shuffling slowly to the bathroom door, he muttered, “Shower”, and slammed the door close.

Sam’s shoulders tensed up, Dean was a nasty when he had a hang over. He heard the shower turning on, water running. He sighed, his brother had still not heard about his conversation with Debra Bruno, or the fact that there was another witness. Dean sure needed to take this hunt a lot more serious, Sam thought, as he grabbed the laptop, to check the address for Tom Baldwin.

Dean shivered and turned the shower as hot as he could stand. He rolled his head around on his neck, pressing both hands to the cool tile of the wall. He felt the water pellet his skin, warm trickles running down his face, across his shoulders and down his chest. He knew he should be more interested in the hunt, but he got tired of never kicking back, having fun. Sam was such a downer sometimes, hunt, hunt, hunt, he needed to learn to give it a rest every once and a while, enjoy life, stop being so damn serious all the time. They could have fun, and hunt evil, no one said they couldn’t do both.

The drive to Tom Baldwin’s house was silent. Dean’s dark sunglasses covering his pale hung over features. Sam had insisted on driving the Impala, allowing Dean to lounge on the passenger seat, head lolling on the headrest. Finally, Dean broke the silence.

“So, this guy, Tom Baldwin, he has supposedly seen this creature too?” He grimaced as the car hit a pot hole, “Be careful, dude”.

“Shut up” Sam stated flatly, never taking his eyes off the road. “Yes, according to Debra, he has”.

Dean’s lips curled up at the edges. “So, you two on a first name basis now”.

“Whatever” Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter, glaring at his brother, and back to the road, he could not help noticing the smirk on Dean’s face.

The sleek black Impala slid to a stop in front of Temple City Hardware; Sam turned off the ignition, and punched his brother in the shoulder. Sam had done all the research, Dean had been hung over, sleeping the morning away, it was starting to become apparent to Sam; that Dean was of little use right now, the urge to have fun, far outweighing his need for the hunt. After looking on the internet, Sam determined that Tom Baldwin was Assistant Manager of the only hardware store in Temple, and another witness to the strange sightings out on Highway 180.

The stopping of the car engine stirred Dean, his eyelids flipping open from his sleepy hung over doze; he winced as Sam punched him in the shoulder, rubbing his arm, casting a glare at Sam through his dark sunglasses. The ride from the motel to the hardware store had been a quiet one, Dean figured Sam was a little pissed off at him; could it be the remarks he kept making about the bar, the night before, and Debra Bruno? Ah, it was so much fun to be the big brother, Dean grinned to himself, grabbing the passenger door, slinging it open with a loud creak, he shuffled out of the car. His eyes gazing over at Sam, who walked silently next to him, face scrunched up like he was eating a lemon.

“Lighten up there Sammy, I was only kidding. You got to admit though, that stuff last night was funny”.

“Yea, real funny, gave me nightmares”. Sam shivered, as a slight pink tint rose up over his cheeks, eyes moving quickly down to the tops of his shoes, long bangs falling across his face.

Dean grinned; embarrassing his brother was way too much fun. He slapped Sam on the back causing him to peer up at his brother, long hair hiding his eyes; lips pursed in a tight grimace.

The door opening caused the loud chiming bells to ring in Dean’s head; he let out a little moan, hand pulling up to his forehead. Sam’s lips curled up in a small grin, Oh, hangovers are such a bitch. The hardware store was practically empty, except for the one very large man, dressed in hunting shirt, standing behind the counter.

“Hello, we’re reporters from the Temple City Gazette. We are looking for Tom Baldwin?” Sam stepped up to the counter, eyes blinking innocently at the large man.

“You got him, what can I do for you boy’s today?”

Dean gave the man the once over, he looked to be in his late forties, over six foot tall, and weighed in at a good 240. This was not a little guy, he mused. He thought about asking a question or two, but it seemed that Sam had this covered; all he wanted was to keep his headache at a manageable level. Smiling, he spied a bench in the corner, shuffling quickly over to it; he plopped down, arms crisscrossing on his chest, eyes watching his brother. Yep, he thought, as he sunk his body further down on the bench, Sam had this all under control.

Sam glanced over at his brother and back at Tom Baldwin, his head shaking in disbelief, Dean was totally useless on this hunt.

“So, my partner and I are writing a story for the paper about the strange occurrences out on Highway 180; we heard you had an encounter with it”. Sam smiled up at the man, his eyes taking in the fact the large man’s color drained from his face, and he seemed nervous when he started talking.

“Yea…yea….I saw it. I …ah…I was hunting out off Highway 180, around mile marker 132. I have some property and I deer hunt”. He nodded at Sam, a noticeable shaking in his speech.

“It was early a.m., around 4:45, and I was up in my deer stand, a deer came by, I had shot it. I was climbing out of my stand to go get the deer, and I saw it; whatever it is”. He heaved in a shaky breath, and continued. “It was huge, and heading toward my deer. It was gray with huge hind legs, a rounded head. It got to my deer; it stood up; sniffing in the air, like it smelled me”.

Tom Baldwin brought his hand up and ran it through his crew cut, eyes shifting from Sam to Dean, and back to Sam.

“It was big, as tall as me when it stood up. Then, it was running at me on all fours, scared the crap out of me. I was going to shoot at it, but I did not have time, it ran really fast. I hurriedly climbed back up into my stand. I watched as the creature, or what ever the hell it was, ate my deer, hide and all. It circled around under my stand for a long time, finally, around noon, it left. I stayed up there till dusk, when it never came back; I got the hell out of there”.

“Mr. Baldwin, do you mind if we go out to your property and check it out?” Dean stood as he spoke, attention totally on Tom Baldwin, he walked over and stood beside his brother. Sam glanced over and Dean, and then returned his gaze to Tom Baldwin.

“Sure, I won’t be going up there again; not anytime soon. Thing scared the shit out of me”. Baldwin grabbed a pencil and paper off the counter and began to scribble on it. “Here’s the address, the property has a barbed wire fence, and no trespassing signs posted on along the road front. You can’t miss it, right between mile markers 130 and 132”.

“Thanks” Dean smiled up at the large man, reaching out and taking the paper from his hand, they both turned to leave the hardware store.

“Be careful out there”. Tom Baldwin wiped his large hands down the front of his camouflage shirt in a nervous motion, as he watched the two reports exiting the store. God, please be careful! His mind was screaming at the reporters, fear gripping his chest.

“Chupacabra”. Dean and Sam both said in unison, the hardware store doors swinging closed behind them. Sam’s eyes were wide, mind struggling to remember anything they knew on hunting a chupacabra. Dean’s hand pushed him toward the passenger door, snatching the keys from his hands.

“I’m driv’n”. Dean was no longer hung over, the desire to hunt and kill this monster causing his step to quicken, his blood to pump fiercely through is veins.

It was after 2:00 when the Impala pulled off the highway, tires squealing from the pavement to the dirt, car sliding to a stop. Both brothers glanced around the field, past the clearing, to the tree line, the barb wire fence, ‘no trespassing’ signs hanging crookedly on every post. Dean opened the trunk as Sam pulled on his jacket, zipping it up, he quickly joined his brother at the rear of the Impala. Dean grabbed items from the trunk, handing them to his brother; gun, silver bullets, flashlight, gloves.

“Gloves?” Sam’s eyebrows scrunching up, a little frown passing across his face.

“Its frick’n cold out here dude, put them on”. Dean slammed the trunk closed, Sam rolled his eyes.

“Humph”. Was Dean always going to treat him like a baby? He stuffed the gloves in his pocket.

The wind moaned through the trees, the metal of the tree stand creaking, slowly swaying in the gusts, the cold air whining as it creaked through the corners of the shaky framework, chilling Sam to the bone. He looked over at Dean, who seemed to be perfectly happy, just sitting, waiting, eyes squinting in the crisp air. It had been over three hours of sitting, eyes fixated on the trees, the ground. The sun was staring to slowly fall behind the tree line, hazy steam rising from the ground. Suddenly, Dean raised his gun, right eye squinting shut, he lined up the scope and pulled the trigger. Sam watched as the deer fell to the ground, killed instantly by his brother’s bullet.

“Dean, what’cha do that for?” Sam whined, his breath coming out in puffs of air.

“Well, it’s going to be dark soon; I wanted to see if this damn creature would make an appearance. Maybe, it’s hungry”. Dean sat the gun back by his side, eyes watching where the deer lay in a lump on the ground.

“Oh”, Sam whispered softly, he hated hunting animals, it was just wrong. He shuffled his hands in his jacket, fingers touching the gloves, he smiled, glad his brother had made him bring them, he fumbled cold fingers, eagerly wanting to extract them and put them own his cold hands.

“Look” Dean whispered in a quick breath.

Sam stopped his motion, hands pulling his gun up to his chest, eyes glaring out through the side of the tree stand, hovering just past the deer, a large object stood, head cocked at an angle, nostrils flared out, eyes piercing through the graying light.

“I got it”. Dean murmured, raising his gun to his shoulder, holding it steady, he slowly pulled the trigger.

A high pitched scream rung through the trees, as the Chupacabra swayed on its hind legs, and then slumped to the ground, motionless.

“Love them silver bullets”. Dean let out a little giggle as he winked at his brother, he grabbed for the hatch and pulled it open so that they could exit the tree stand.

Sam shook his head as he followed his brother down the rickety ladder to the ground, both walked slowly over to the Chupacabra, Dean’s gun poking at it, grin widening on his lips.

The next moment was a blur to Sam; Dean poking the Chupacabra and then flying past him and melting into the ground. Sam’s finger pulling the trigger of his gun as the animal hoisted him high in the air and slung him full force into a tree. His limp body sliding to the ground with a thud, as the air left his lungs, and a bright white light closed in around him.

Dean’s eyelashes fluttered, squinting, he peered into the darkness. He blinked slowly, a breath heaving from his chest. He laid perfectly still, his body aching, his senses slowly beginning to work. He felt chilled, damp, as his eyes gleamed up at the stars twinkling above him, the moon hanging just behind the tree. God the sky was beautiful. He let out another gasp of air and watched it waft up above his head, a cold mist disappearing into the night. Why was he on the ground? What was that awful smell? His mind shifted into overdrive, think, think, think. He was hunting, no, no, that’s not right, they were hunting. Wasn’t Sam was with him? He felt fuzzy, overly dazed, and confused. Suddenly, his mind registered that it was night, it was cold, and he was lying on the ground. Guiding his hand to the cold ground beside him, he rolled to his side, pain shooting up his left leg, and down through his toes. “Damn” he muttered as his free hand gripped his kneecap. What’s wrong with my ankle?Shit. He squinted his eyes to see into the darkness as the aroma of …What the hell was that smell? Okay, Dean, get a grip here, what happened? Reaching his hand away from his throbbing leg, he instinctively grabbed the flashlight he always put in his pocket, thrusting it out and abruptly turning it on. The light beam settled toward the smell, Dean's nose scrunched up, Gees that was an awful freaking smell. There, in the middle of his light beam, a massive gray creature lying on the ground, not six feet away from him, hairy chest bloody, a distinct bullet hole on the it’s forehead, blood draining down its ugly face.

Suddenly, Dean’s chest hitched up as a struggled to pull in air, the memory of everything assaulting his brain. Where the hell was Sam?

“SAM…SAMMY”. His voice was taught, a high pitched wale as his mind raced, the Chupacabra, the gun shot to it’s chest, poking the creature with his gun, Stupid ass, what was I thinking?

He hastily pushed himself up, he had to find Sam. The waves of pain in his leg were causing sweat to build up on his face as he staggered, putting his weight on his good ankle, to a standing position.

“SAMMY”.

In desperation he swung the flashlight around the woods; the darkness crowding him in, his heart beating in his chest like a drum. His eyes searched the ground, straining to see, hectically looking for his little brother. He stepped up beside the Chupacabra, dragging his left leg as he went, eyes never leaving the light beam as it scanned the area. Sam, where are you?

He squinted as the light glimmered on a gun, Sam’s gun, lying on the ground. He shuffled toward it, flashlight still bouncing around, eyes keenly surveying the area. He stopped, air coming out in one big gasp. Oh God. He found Sammy.

Without giving a thought to the pain in his leg, Dean raced to his brother. Steadying himself with his hand on the tree, he fell to his knees, thudding on the ground by Sam. He laid the flashlight down on the grass, shinning up toward the tree, he gave his brother a quick once over. He noticed the dark bruising, cut, and large lump right above his brothers right eye, blood running down his face, and disappearing under the collar of his jacket. Not Good. His fingers reaching out for Sam’s face, he felt cold to the touch; his body lightly shivering. Dean brushed the long bangs from his brothers closed eyes, placing his fingers on his neck, he felt a steady thump. Thank God. Glancing down his brother’s torso, he saw the rips in his jacket, just above his stomach, crimson strips crossing his right side, just over his ribs. Really Not Good. Sam seemed to be struggling as air gurgled each time he took a breath. Bad. Dean leaned into Sam’s ear, speaking softly in a whisper, the night air still, his voice the only sound.

“Sammy, open your eyes…”

Was that Dean? Why was he so cold his bones ached? He knew he should open his eyes, find the blanket he must have kicked to the floor in his sleep, but his eyes seemed to not want to cooperate. Maybe his brother would put the blanket back over him. He felt numb; his head felt heavy, throbbing, his ears ringing. Why was he so tired?

“Sammy, I mean it, Wake Up!” Dean’s voice was forceful; he blinked back the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

Sam’s eyes opened slowly, the dim light making it hard for him to focus on his brother’s face. Why did it hurt to breath? His head lolled to the side and into Dean’s arm as he attempted to gain control of his senses, realizing he could not get enough air, panic began rising up in his face, eyes going wide as he struggled against the pain in his chest.

“Dea…”

“I’m right here Sam, easy, take it easy, breath slow, calm down…Sam, calm down”.

Sam listened to his brother, although he could not seem to get his face into focus, he felt comfort in Dean’s voice, his eyes slowly closing.

“No SAM, don’t go to sleep”.

“What’s that sm...smell?” Sam’s eyes were closed, his voice was slurred, his nose was wrinkled up; a grin quirking across his lips as a large shiver racked his body.

Dean gave his brother a light shake. A grin crossing his lips as Sam opened his eyes, lazily looking at him. His brother was going into shock. Dean gently laid Sam’s head back down on the ground and shimmed out of his leather jacket, lying it across his brother’s shoulders, tucking it in around him.

“No De…an, you need …”

“No Sam, you need my coat. Don’t worry, I’m going to get some twigs and start a fire. I got matches. ” Dean shook the little box in his hand and Sam could see his lips curl up in a small smile. He pushed himself up and off the ground, hand resting on the tree, steadying himself, visibly limping.

“You Okay?” Sam whispered as Dean limped out of his line of vision, the darkness slowly closing in around him.

“Fine, just a twisted ankle, no biggie”. Dean spoke into the air, not looking back as this brother. A few moments went by; Sam heard the breaking of tree limbs, the stacking of branches, and the flick of a match.

“Sam, stay awake, or I’ll have to kick your ass”. Dean’s voice echoed in the trees, Sam smiled, gazing at the stars above him, struggling to keep his eyes open and air in his lungs.

The fire was stoked, flames flickering in the dark night as Dean pulled Sam up and placed his head on his lap. Sam grimaced, a slight moan escaping from his lips, air gurgling in his chest, as he gazed at his older brother.

“Sam, we can’t get out of here till morning, it’s too dark, and the car, it’s about two miles away”. Not sure how we will get there. Dean’s hand rubbed his leg, the throbbing pain was getting worse. “Sam, I need to check your head and chest out”.

“Mmmmm ‘Kay” Sam voice was weak, a low whisper that Dean strained to here.

“Can you hold the light Sammy?” Dean placed the flashlight in his brother’s left hand, curling his fingers around it, placing his arm up and over his stomach. “That’s good, hold it right there”. Dean nodded at his brother. God, he looked so young”.

“Mmm Hmm” Sam murmured, his bleary, innocent eyes looking up at Dean, the look Dean remember when he was a small child. The ‘you’re my older brother, so you can fix this’ look.

Dean tenderly wiped the blood from his little brothers temple, face, neck. Sam twitched under his ministrations, pain etching across his face.

“This cut’s not so bad Sam, just needs like three stitches. See what happens when you hit a tree, not smart kiddo. I’m going to put some butterfly bandages on it, till we can get back to the motel and I can stitch it up”.

The flashlight wavering as Sam’s eyes drooped shut.

“Sammy” Dean lightly patted his check, Sam’s eyes darting back open.

“Sorry”, he mumbled.

Dean finished up the butterfly bandages and softly laid Sam’s head back down to the ground. He reached down and took the flashlight from his brother’s hand.

“You warmer now?” Dean queried as he moved to his brothers side, hand pressing gently on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam nodded his head at his older brother. Dean noticing he was struggling just to get air.

“Okay, I need to check those ribs out”.

Dean picked up the leather jacket and placed it beside his brother, unzipping Sam’s jacket, his shaky fingers pulled up his brother’s torn shirt. Three large gashes decorated his brother’s chest. He held the flashlight in closer, so he could get a good look. The bruising was evident, it looked like Sam had a least two broken ribs, dark and puffy skin under the cuts. He shook his head and sighed, running the antibiotic cloth wipe across Sam’s wounds, wiping off the blood, he stopped when he heard his brother gasp. He glanced up at Sam’s face, seeing panic, his eyes going wide as he struggled to get in air.

“Sam…” Dean reached both hands up and grabbed his brother’s arms.

“Sam, calm down, breath, breath, in, out, slow…Sammy…slow”.

“Can’t breathe…De…”

“Shhhh, it’s okay”. Dean pulled Sam’s shirt back down and laid his leather jacket back over his brother, tucking it in. He placed his hand on his little brother’s cheek, thumb rubbing small circles.

“Calm down Sammy…I’m right here, it’s okay….Shhhh”.

Sam felt the cold night against his chest, Dean looking intently at him, letting out a little sigh, Sam didn’t think Dean meant for him to hear. The sudden, sharp pain across his right side made him gasp. God…god…god, it hurt, can’t breath, no air, no air. He felt panic rise up in his chest as it pressed on his lungs, Dean grabbing him tightly. He struggled to listen to Dean’s steady voice, soothing tone against the pounding in his ears, the thumping of his heartbeat.

“Calm down Sammy…I’m right here, it’s okay….Shhhh”.

He felt Dean’s hand on his cheek and he leaned into the touch. Dean always made him feel better, made him believe everything was okay. He felt Dean’s thumb making small circles on his cheek, soothing, comforting, as the air made its way back to his lungs, his mind drifted, remembering this motion from his childhood, he relaxed, eyes blinking slowly, he smiled at Dean.