The next time Sam wakes up he's in a car. That much he can discern easily—the engine rumbles loudly, and the bumps and hills on the road make each jerk to his body completely shock-inducing. He's not exactly sure what woke him up this time. Perhaps it was the arguing voices of his father and brother, or maybe the pain that drove needles through his nerves.

It's a difficult task to get his eyes fully open. He makes it happen eventually though, and surveys his lackluster surroundings. It's not the Impala, that's for sure. A moment passes as he tries to recognize the vehicle, and then realizes it's the truck. Their dad's truck.

Sam tries to speak, but the words come out unintelligible and garbled. Dean looks back at him from the passenger's seat. "Sammy?"

"Y-Y' o-okay?" Sam mumbles.

"Better off than you, little bro." The words hold no humor. "You stay with me, you hear?"

Sam tries to answer, but instead ends up having a bout of coughing overtake him. His back arches off the leather seat as he hacks, and he moves a hand to cover his mouth. When the fit subsides, he lowers his limb out of exhaustion, but doesn't fail to notice the blood covering his fingers.

Things are a lot worse than he thought.

He stays like that for a while, trying to not let himself collapse into the waiting arms of unconsciousness that seem so fucking comfortable. Probably one of the hardest battles he's ever fought.

Sam wonders what happened to the Jiuweihu, as well as Ihtiras. The wolf is nowhere to be seen, and Sam almost misses his comforting stature. Hopefully he's all right.

Just as day seems to be turning to a caliginous night, the car stops. His family has been trying to talk to him for most of the ride, but Sam can't bring himself to answer, instead steadying his focus on the trees passing by. He could do without going into those woods again.

Bright lights assault him as the backdoors open. His father's arms wrap around him and he moans in pain as he is carried bridal style. He clings onto John's shirt, not wanting to leave the man; which is ironic, due to how ready he'd been to get the hell out of dodge once this thing was over.

He's taken into a building and laid down on a soft comforter. Many more people gather around them, and Sam loses track of where Dean and his dad are. He starts to panic, memories of Dean being trapped and torn into by the Jiuweihu playing over and over in his mind. He thinks he screams Dean's name, but no older brother comes running to his aid.

A woman in a white uniform puts an oxygen mask on his face, but it does no good, because Sam is already falling to pieces all over again. Breath is too hard to get whether it is artificially supplied or not, and he feels hot tears run down his face.

Where is Dean?

He must've passed out again, because the next time he wakes up things are much more clear. Sam can tell he's in a hospital bed now. The roof he's staring at is stark white, and the smell of sanitary products is overwhelming.

He looks around to find his father sitting in a chair next to his bed, head in his hands. When Sam shifts slightly, John glances up in surprise. He quickly hides it, though, leaning over to push the call button on Sam's headboard.

"Hey, son," he says, and his voice sounds strained.

Sam works his tongue around his dry mouth, and says the only thing that's on his mind. "Where's Dean?"

Because if his father is with him instead of Dean, then there is something seriously wrong going on.

"He's fine," John says, but doesn't elaborate, which—hell no, that is not going to fucking do. Sam wants to know where exactly Dean is, because if he was able to, Dean would be in this room right now with Sam.

"Where," Sam asks again, tone deadly, making it not even seem a question.

John sighs. "He's in recovery from surgery. As are you. But he's all right."

"Bullshit. I want to see him."

"Hospital denied it."

"Why aren't you with him?"

"You were in more critical condition."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm not the one who got tackled by a friggin' fox the size of a lion."

"But you are the one who fractured your wrist and collarbone, broke three ribs, and had to get one-hundred-twenty stitches to repair muscle damage and a tear in your liver," John hisses. "Your brother has a concussion and a few cuts on his stomach."

Sam falls silent. He could care less about his own injuries. It's Dean's that worry him.

He closes his eyes as he thinks back to what happened. He'd seen Dean fall, and just...exploded. And what Ramje had said to Sam before he began tearing into him…

He didn't want to think about it.

"Where's Ihtiras?" Sam wonders. "Is he okay?"

John laughs. "Oh how the times have changed, becoming friends with the supernatural." He shrugs. "The daemon is fine, to my knowledge. The Jiuweihu is dead. As soon as it attacked you, the daemon launched itself at it. I'd heard the gunshots and managed to make it just as the Jiuweihu was about to pounce. The distraction was enough." He smiled. "You were right. Stabbing it in its tail did the trick."

"Good to know." He doesn't care. "Now let me see Dean."

His father nods. "I'll go and see."

Sam ends up having to stay in the hospital for a full week, against his protests. Dean was discharged a few days beforehand, and came to see him as soon as possible. The staff were stubborn in their desire to keep the brothers apart, which is why Dean insisted he be released against medical advice.

Sam, on the other hand, still has to use a cane. Plenty of jokes came with it, but walking was such a difficulty with the amount of stitches on his body that he felt he deserved a damn rest.

Casey also ends up coming to see him, which is a shock—turns out his formal cause of injury was due to a bear attack while he was out hiking. They had a short conversation on the things he'd missed out on, such as Noah's funeral and the consequences Trey faced. Without Sam there to testify, Trey was released with all charges dropped against him, which pleased Sam. An innocent kid should not be sent to jail for a supernatural creature's wrongdoing.

Sam had to tell her that he was leaving, which was difficult, but it turned out she already knew. Dean had told her the news a few days prior. So, they wrapped it up with a small kiss, a farewell, and a hug.

Currently, the Winchesters are making their way back to the cabin—or what used to be their cabin. Arriving at their destination, Sam gets out of the car with help, and the first thing he sees past the rubble is the Impala. Ash covers her frame, but she's as beautiful as ever.

John decides to look around for any surviving things while Sam and Dean make their way to the site of the Jiuweihu's demise—the corpse had to be burned. As they walked through the brush, it was mostly silent. Dean eventually starts up a conversation. They haven't talked much since the incident, or about the incident at all, but he supposes now is as good a time as any.

"I'm sorry."

Sam knows exactly what he's talking about. They keep walking.

Eventually, Sam says, "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," Dean says tiredly. "Anything would be a start."

"Why'd you do it?" he asks sincerely. "Throw the amulet away. Put everybody in danger. I've never seen you that reckless."

They come to a stop at Ramje's body. Its tails are draped around its corpse, eyes closed and face bloody. Probably from Sam's blood, in fact. What catches Sam's eye, though, is the small gold penchant laying in the grass beside it.

"Speaking of…"

Dean leans down and picks it up. It's the amulet, the one that was thrown toward the fire. Ihtiras must have retrieved it, but the wolf is nowhere to be seen now. Sam almost wishes he would return so he could get the chance to thank him for everything he had done for their family.

"I'm sorry," Dean says again, putting the necklace back to its rightful place. He picks up the can of gasoline and pops the cap off.

"Yeah. Me too." Dean pours the liquid over the black cadaver vigorously. "I'm not leaving, you know."

Dean looks at Sam and raises a single eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Not yet at least," he continues.

"Why the change of heart?"

Sam exhales and licks his lips. When the salt is completely poured over the Jiuweihu, he lights the match and drops it. The body catches fire immediately, burning away its fur and wrinkled skin.

"Ramje said something to me, Dean, and I don't know what to think of it."

"Whatever that dick said was probably just to mess with you, Sammy. Just forget—"

"No," Sam snaps. "He asked me to join him."

Dean backtracks in his words. "What?"

"He said things were a lot bigger than I knew. That I had this darkness inside of me and I could be useful."

An expression of thought crosses Dean's face. Sam watches, heart sinking. "I don't know," Dean says at last. "But we don't need to worry about it, okay?"

They watch the flames. "Why?"

"Because," Dean says, and then smirks. "You have me. And nothing is going to get to you as long as I'm around."

Sam shakes his head and chuckles, but can't help but feel like something is watching them. Like there's something else there...around...lurking. And like there's something inside of him—darkness, as the Jiuweihu said.

But then, he looks at Dean, and all his worries crumble away. Because Dean's right. All they really need is each other.

On the edge of the woods, a man stalks. He studies the daemon, who in turn is watching the Winchester brothers burn the corpse of the nine-tailed fox. Oh, how they shall pay. He gets on one knee before he starts the duties he knows he must begin and puts a hand in the dirt. He shan't forget the sacrifices Ramje made to this cause, and the things it cost him.

But the creature was foolish. Got too eager to make a move, and played his cards too fast. The man looks at the two unsuspecting boys.

The taller one, the one who was injured more grievously, was strong. He could sense it. An asset—something that could be vital to his plan. The Jiuweihu had seen this, too, and the more the man thinks about it, the more he can see how it can seriously be put toward his and his method's benefit.

But first...

Carefully stepping as to make no noise, he comes to stand behind the wolf. Handling the purified blade derived straight from Tuvalu, he smirks. The Winchesters thought they knew how to kill this beast, but they were misled. He knows everything, though.

The daemon doesn't even see it coming.

Nobody hears the body collapse.

And there we go! Thanks to anyone who stuck with this, IF there was anybody that stuck with this. I mostly stopped posting because I lost confidence in if it was any good or not—and who knows, it's probably not. But if I can help on person enjoy it, then there's no harm in uploading the rest.

It would be lovely to know what you thought about it in a review. I was proud of this story when I first wrote it, but I don't know, it feels less special to me now because I'm starting to doubt myself.

Either way, the ending is ambiguous because I was planning on leaving it up to whether I wanted to do a sequel or not. I still might. It's not completely out of the question. If you guys are interested, let me know! Otherwise, I've been writing a new story in the MCU for some Irondad and Spiderson on AO3 called Contentiously Amiable, if that's your cup of tea.

Thank you for all the support, and I hope everybody is staying safe in this tricky and confusing time!

Love y'all,

KToonX