Walking
out of the canyon was taking its toll on both of the Winchesters. The injured legs made the going slow, but the
coughing fits Dean was experiencing brought him to the ground. Sam noticed the blood and worried.
The hours
passed slowly as the heat of the sun drained the strength from both of the
men. Dean slid to ground and sat still.
“Dean, we
have to keep going,” Sam insisted.
“I can’t,
Sam,” the tired voice was barely a whisper.
“I don’t have anything left. I
can’t do it.”
“Get up,
Dean. You’re not staying behind to face
those things alone. Get the hell up,
now!”
The older
hunter looked up at his brother. Sam
could see the dark circles below the green eyes. He knew his brother was in a bad way, but he
also knew he’d die if Sam left him there.
“You’re
not dying on me, Dean. Are you gonna let
that bastard win?”
The hunter
stared into his brother’s hazel eyes. “No,” he whispered and struggled to
rise. Sam reached down and helped the
best he could.
The two
men struggled in the dark, stopping for rest breaks. Another attack occurred while the two men
were walking. Dean was knocked to the
ground with another mountain lion on top of him. Sam shot the cat and watched it fall on top
of his brother.
With Sam’s
help, Dean was able to push the man off.
Sam examined his brother and found some bites on his neck. Bandaging them, the younger brother gave the
older man a drink of water and another antibiotic.
“Let’s
keep going, man,” he spoke softly.
Dean
sighed, held up a hand for help. “I didn’t
know you were into torture, Sammy. I
need to remember that next time we have to question someone.”
Smiling, the younger man, grabbed the shotgun he’d dropped and the two men continued to
help each other through the canyon.
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