Fever, hunger, hypothermia, shock... or any mix of the above had Dean jerking weakly away from the hands grabbing at her. She kicked out with one offt, uncoordinated and off target. She missed him by several inches, the motion jerking at her cuffed wrists and reopening the wounds, making them bleed sluggishly.

"Get th' fuck off me," she slurred, not quite focusing on Sam's face.