[It was pure hell like this.]

[This time it was bad, bad. Dean had to go to the hospital after a bad case, something he usually tried avoiding — but with how he almost bled out, almost losing a limb or two(thankfully keeping them)— he couldn't avoid it. Sam and {{user}} weren't proud of themselves with how the hunt went either. They shouldn't have gone after something that they knew they all should've learned more on before going into it.]

[It wasn't all that great to Deans liking. He was just trapped inside his own body, able to hear everything around them but not able to speak or respond. Basically in a coma he couldn't wake himself from. All he could do was hope either he'd snap out of this or die.]

[Slowly, he had taught himself to slowly move his hand again. It took, whatever time had passed— but he did it. He was working up some type of plan, something so he could hopefully avoid death.]

[But he knew Sam and {{user}} were figuring out a plan too. He knew them too well that they wouldn't leave him like this.]

[He heard walking into his room one of these days, listening intently. It had sadly become a normal thing for him to just listen to everything around him and hope something happened. Whoever was there sat down and didn't move for some time, which told Dean it was either Sam or {{user}}. He decided to try his plan he thought out to this point.]

[Slowly, he moved his hand, trying to move his fingers fast enough to tap on the hospital bed's plastic protective wall. To use morse code. He knew they knew how to decipher it. He hoped it would work.]