The ass-kicking started with the Winchester losing his footing. One poorly placed foot sent Dean from the victory circle to sure defeat. Heâd gotten pushed from his feet with all the brute force the vampire had, and though he gotten up, he hadnât really recovered. His ears were still ringing, after smacking his head hard onto to the concrete, and his eyes watered, but he blinked the pain away.Â
  He was never a weak opponent, but to say that the hunter was outmatched this time was an understatement. Perhaps the vamp was just better, more equipped, perhaps Dean hadnât been on his game, it didnât really matter. He was still getting the snot-knocked out of him left and right. A few of his punches stuck, connecting with the vampires cheek, his nose, his jaw. But the thing laughed. It laughed as it twisted the hunterâs arm around his back. With his breathe on Deanâs neck, ven he could tell that the blond wasnât going to win.
             âYou Winchesterâs sure talk a big game. Iâve heard you were tougâ" Dean threw back an elbow quickly, hard enough that he released him.
  Seconds passed and thenâ- for what mustâve been the third or fourth time, the creature aimed a kick for his gut, and his foot met itâs mark, knocking the man onto his shoulder. He heard a soft pop, and though he knew his shoulder was not yet out of itâs socket, it was on itâs way.Â
           I need some help, please, I just need some help; â Was he praying?
   No, no, Dean Winchester didnât pray. He kicked those thoughts away as he kicked the guy off of his body with all of his remaining strength, and he was on his feet again, brandishing his familiar machete. Old Faithful was failing him finally, the first time in years, or maybe it was he that was failing her; No matter how hard he swung, blinked the blood from his eyes, pushing the haze from his mind, he couldnât get anywhere near this monsters neck.
     It was certain, to him at least, that he would die here. So, he kept fighting, not so much in vain, but on principle. He steeled his stomach, and set his jaw. If Dean was going to die, he wasnât going to die a bitch.
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