A/N: Hey folks! I'm sorry that this update has taken me so long. My RL has me still in a tight hold. But I'm still trying to wrestle it down – sometimes with success. *looks at this chap* ^^

A/N: The hugest of thanks to all of you who have read, alerted, favorited (does this word even exist? ^^) and especially reviewed this. You guys are so awesome! And your encouraging words mean so much to me! :) *beams*

And I'm so sorry for not replying to all of you. But I'm getting to it. Promise ;)

A/N: Also my hugest thanks to Enkidu07 for beta'ing this despite major time issues. Honey, you rock! And I really don't know what I would do without you! *smishes you*

Disclaimer: See chap one.

Okay, enough of my ramblings. Have fun reading and please let me know what you think about it. *puppy dog eyes*

Previously: "Shut up, both of you." Dean growled. He felt Caleb lean more on him. Both of them were now almost completely supporting the other hunter's weight. "Damien, stay with us. Car's right here."

"'m still here." Reaves blinked sluggishly. "Not goin' … anywhere."

Chapter 2

Against the grain should be a way of life
What's worth the prize is always worth the fight
Every second counts 'cause there's no second try,
So live like you'll never live it twice
Don't take the free ride in your own life

If today was your last day – Nickelback

Once again Dean's gaze drifted over the dark woods behind them.

They had reached the car without any further incidents but the faster they left these woods for good, the better.

"Sam, get in the back with Damien." Dean readjusted his hold on Caleb. He felt the older hunter leaning heavily on him, nearly letting him support all of his weight.

Sam just nodded quietly and started climbing into the car. Dean didn't need to see the kid's eyes to know the fear that was still palpable in them.

He cursed silently. This was just another reason for Sam to hate hunting. New ammo for fights.

A low groan brought the middle Winchester out of his thoughts.

"No… riding shotgun? Dude … since when am I forced… to sit in the back… with the kids?"

Caleb smirked though it was a bad imitation of his normal grin.

"What? And help you escape Sammy's fussing and mother-henning? No way, man." Dean played along, thankful for the little piece of normality Caleb was offering him.

"You're … cruel … D-deuce." The older hunter gasped as a new wave of pain ripped through his body. His knees buckled.

Dean tightened his grip to keep him upright.

"Easy, Damien. Try to breathe through it." Dean coaxed though he couldn't quite hide the tremble in his voice.

"E-easier s-said … than …done." Caleb gasped again, his breathing coming in short, quick pants.

New searing pain made him double over slightly. Dean tightened his grip even more. He now was the only thing that kept the psychic upright.

"Easy. It's going to be okay." Damn, he felt so goddamn helpless.

White-hot anger flared inside his chest. This thing, whatever it was, would die a slow and painful death, he would make sure of it.

"T-think …. hafta s-sit down." Reaves gasped, voice pained and breathy, his eyes squeezed shut.

Nodding, Dean helped him into the car.

It was a slow going process but eventually Caleb's back rested against Sam's chest.

Getting a water bottle out of the trunk, Dean handed it to Sam.

"Let him drink some of this. He can't get dehydrated." Dean said seriously. His gaze travelled back over his shoulder to the thick, black wall of trees. For the blink of an eye he was sure that there was someone or something standing at the edge of the woods. But when he blinked again it was gone.

"He can … still hear … you." He heard Caleb mumble grumpily.

Dean smirked. "Just hang in there Damien." He closed the door and jogged around the car.

ooooooo

Rainclouds raced over the dark night sky, illuminating the surrounding wasteland one second just to drench everything into pitch black darkness the next.

The Impala sped over the wet, dark road.

Everything was quiet. The only sounds were the tires humming on the road and Caleb's ragged breathing.

Dean's thoughts raced. They were out of the woods but that didn't solve the whole arrow-poison problem. They needed help fast.

For the fifth time in two minutes Dean's gaze travelled to the rear-view mirror. He was surprised to meet Caleb's gaze there.

"Deuce … take a picture … it'll last l-longer and … it'll be safer f-for all of … us. K-keep your eyes … on the road."

"Who wants a photo of your ugly mug? Everyone knows that I'm the good looking one." Dean held Reaves's gaze a moment longer, searching for assurance in the older man's eyes, before focusing back on the road in front of him.

"What now?" Sam asked. Right now Dean could easily picture a four-year-old toddler asking his big brother to make everything alright.

Caleb seemed to sense it too.

"I'm gonna be 'kay, runt. Don' worry." Dean could see Reaves's struggle to act normal, to push past the pain the poison was causing.

"We have to clean and dress the wound properly and get help. I'm sure Dad and Mac will know what to do." Dean glanced back into the rear-view mirror. He couldn't see his brother's eyes in the poor dashboard light but he still could see the protest building inside of Sam.

"Dean, this is serious. Caleb needs a hospital." The lost look on Sam's face vanished and back was the teenager who had to question anything and everything.

"No, no, 'spital." Reaves's groaned and tried to sit up straighter. Eventually Sam's hand gently pushed him back as it became obvious that all he was doing was increasing the pain.

"Easy Caleb." The youngest Winchester said softly.

"Damien, I know you hate hospitals. I'm not a fan of them either but Sammy's right. This isn't just a tiny scratch. And we don't know what the poison will do to you." Dean tried to reasoning.

"No… jus' no. And you said … it yourself - it wasn't a … through an' through. An' if I … had internal bleeding … I would have been in s-shock by … now." Caleb's voice was strained and breathless.

"What? Now you're the doctor?" Dean eyed his best friend in the rear-view mirror. Even in the dim light he could see Caleb's obvious struggle to remain consciousness.

"Caleb we should really take you to …" Sam started but the psychic interrupted him.

"Think a-about it. Whatever t-this … stuff is, 'm positive … that it's m-more than some simple poison. Probably … spellwork." Caleb panted, one hand pressing down against the arrow wound.

"How can you know that, Caleb?" Sam insisted stubbornly. "We don't know who or what fired at us. It could also be some yahoo-wannabes. Look, I know you don't like…"

"This… isn't 'bout me … hating hospitals, Sam. If this … i-is some supernatural crap … docs can't do s-shit 'bout it. Probably wouldn' find anything in my blood at all." A sudden wave of pain made Reaves curl forward, one arm tightly pressed over his midsection. A small whimper escaped his throat.

"Caleb." Sam's voice worried and frightened. For a brief moment he met Dean's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Damien, it's okay. No hospital. Dad and Mac will know what to do. Just hang in there." Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. The knot in his stomach twisted painfully.

"Trying…." Caleb moaned in pain, his breathing shallow and way too quick. His eyes closed to mere slits. "F-fuck … this sucks."

"Caleb, come on, no sleeping, you hear me?" Sam shook the older hunter slightly. Worry and fear had morphed into full panic.

"'s hot 'n here. Can y' t-turn the … heater down, Deuce?" Reaves slurred, then his eyes rolled back inside his head, his body sagging limply against Sam.

"Fuck." Dean swore loudly. "Sam?" His eyes flickered back and forth between the road and the rear-view mirror.

He watched Sam pressing two fingers against the psychic's neck.

"He's unconscious. And I think his fever's going up again." Sam looked to the front seat where he met Dean's gaze again. "Please tell me you're not serious about taking him back to the motel. He needs medical help, Dean."

"Sam." Dean sighed wearily. His heart still pounded painfully against his ribs, the knot in his gut tightening with every passing minute. This was spinning out of control. He didn't know what to do. Caleb needed help, but he doubted that a hospital would be the right solution.

"Sammy, Caleb's right. We can't be sure about the poison. And knowing our messed up luck, I'm positive that this is some supernatural shit. And the docs don't know what we know. They can't help."

"But maybe they can. And what are you planning to do? Let him suffer in some crappy motel room in the middle of nowhere until we can find out something about this damn poison? Because right now we don't know squat." Sam argued while looking down at Caleb who was shifting restlessly.

"Damnit Sam, could you please stop fighting me here? I don't know okay!" Dean snapped frustrated. "We have to get a hold on Dad and Mac. If they think we should haul ass to a hospital we do that. But right now I'm agreeing with Caleb. A hospital is too big a risk."

He saw new fight building in Sam.

"And how do you want to explain the arrow wound or the poison?" Dean added.

"Hunting accident?" The youngest Winchester shrugged. "All I'm saying is …"

"I heard you, Sammy." Dean's eyes were fixed on the dark road in front of him. The argument was over. But he still wasn't sure if he had made the right decision.

"This sucks." Sam sighed heavily.

Dean laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Fishing the cellphone out of his pocket he tossed it to Sam.

"Call Dad."

Sam nodded silently and dialed the familiar number, his gaze never leaving the psychic's face.

They drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Goddamnit!" Sam eventually broke the silence frustrated. "I can't reach Dad or Mac. All calls are going directly to voicemail."

"Damn." Okay, Dean, think! "Try Jim's number. He will know what to do. I mean he's the Guardian. And maybe he can get a hold of Dad and Mac." Dean tried his best to ignore the slowly blossoming panic inside his chest. Panic wouldn't help anyone. He had to keep it together for Sammy's sake.

He focused his eyes back on the road. The clouds had won the race against the night sky and new rain was pounding against the windshield.

Finally he heard Sam's whispered 'thank god'.

A small weight lifted from his shoulders. At least they weren't alone in this anymore.

Dean tried to concentrate on Sam's rushed explanations about their current situation, tried to concentrate on the street in front of him but his gaze eventually travelled back to Caleb and his thoughts starting to drift.

This was wrong. This whole situation was just not right. Caleb couldn't be this hurt.

For the first time the whole extent of the situation hit home. They didn't know what had been out there in the woods. They didn't know what kind of poison it was that was wreaking havoc in Reaves's system – hell they didn't even know if it was really some kind of poison that was smeared on the arrow. Though nothing else would explain Caleb's rapidly worsening condition.

Dean tightened his grip around the steering-wheel. At this moment he felt so damn helpless and alone. There had to be something they could do. A hurt Caleb he could handle, but this? He hadn't even a clue where to start.

A hand on his shoulder tore him out of his dark thoughts.

"Dean, Pastor Jim wants to talk to you." Sam's soft voice loud in the silence of the car.

Dean took the cellphone while guiding the car one-handed down the dark road. The rain had picked up, the wipers barely able to clear the windshield.

"Dean, boy, are you alright? Samuel told me about the second attack. You're really not hurt?" The Guardian's words full of concern. Dean could easily picture the pastor pacing up and down the kitchen of the farm.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's Damien who got hit by an arrow not me." A low moan from the back made him flooring the gas pedal even more.

"Is it really some kind of poison we're dealing with here?" Dean still could hear a light sliver of hope in Jim's voice. Hope that all of this was just a bad reaction to the wound and nothing more.

"We don't know but Damien's pretty certain about it. He thinks it's some kind of supernatural stuff. Maybe even spellwork. But like I said – we don't know yet for sure."

"I was afraid to hear that. And you really don't know what could have attacked you out there?" The pastor sighed, probably running a hand through his hair.

"If you had asked me that two hours ago I would have said we're hunting a Wendigo but now I have no damn clue what's out there in the woods, killing all those people and apparently firing arrows at us." The frustration and panic was back, boiling in his chest.

"Dean, you need to calm down. We will figure this out I promise." A small pause. "How is Caleb? Samuel also told me that you are disagreeing in taking him to a hospital."

Dean felt a headache slowly starting behind his temples. "Not good Jim. But it's not the wound I'm worried about. I guess we got that one under control so far." A quick glance in the mirror showed Dean Sam's mouth slightly open in a silent protest. "I'm more worried about the stuff that's coursing through his system. And no hospital, Damien was pretty clear on that one and I agree. I mean, if this is really something supernatural related a hospital wouldn't be much of a help would it?"

"Dean." Sam hissed behind him, not able to hold his protest back any longer.

Dean ignored his little brother and refocused his eyes back on the road.

"I really don't like this and I'm sure Mackland will not be happy about this decision either but I'm agreeing with you. Did you already clean the wound with holy water?"

"No we haven't have time for that so far." Dean felt a sudden sharp pain running through his left arm, his hand shook lightly. He stretched his fingers slowly before gripping the steering-wheel tightly again.

"Good, do that immediately when the three of you are back at the motel. If there is no reaction I want you to take Caleb to a hospital, you hear me? The same goes for should his condition gets any worse, you understand me, Dean?"

Dean knew an order when he heard one even when it was hidden beneath calm, even words.

"Yes, I get that." Dean swallowed hard past the lump that had suddenly formed inside his throat. "Jim, have you heard anything from Dad or Mac lately?" Damn, he sounded like a frigging kid again.

"No. Not for the last two days at least. Though Jonathon had said something about poor service and being out of reach for a few days. But I'm trying to get a hold of them. You're still in Oregon? Briar Creek, right?" Dean could make out movement in the background of the line.

"Yeah, we're still here." The younger hunter's attention turned back to Caleb who again shifted restlessly in the backseat.

"Okay, listen, my boy, I have to check some things here but I will be in Briar Creek by early morning. You can hold your own there for that long?" Dean heard more movement on the other end of the phone.

He wanted to say no. Wanted not to be in charge of the situation at hand but he just nodded though he knew the pastor couldn't see it.

"Yeah, we'll be alright until then." He threw a quick glance into the rear-view mirror, catching Sam's questioning gaze there.

"It's going to be okay, Dean, I promise we'll figure this out. Just have faith, boy. And call me if something changes. " The pastor assured warmly and hell, Dean really wanted to believe that.

"Yeah. Bye Jim." The middle Winchester mumbled, ended the call and shoved the cell back into his pocket.

"Dean, what the hell…?" Sam snapped.

"Jim will be here in the morning. He also tries to reach Dad and Mac." Dean informed his still fuming brother.

"Dean nothing about the wound is okay. Okay, the bleeding has slowed but we can't be sure that there's not some internal damage."

"Sam…" Dean said wearily, his right hand rubbing unconsciously over his left arm, soothing the small cramp that had started there. "Pastor Jim said we should clean the wound with holy water. If this stuff goes apeshit we sit this one out at the motel. But if nothing happens we drive to the closest ER ASAP, okay?"

It was the closest thing he could offer as a peace offering.

He knew Sam was as worried about Caleb as he was so he couldn't blame the kid for playing momma bear though it was slowly but surely getting old to be treated as the enemy here.

"Okay, Sammy?" He asked again when his brother didn't answer.

The youngest Winchester sighed, his gaze going back to Caleb's fitful sleeping form.

"Okay." The kid eventually agreed in a soft voice. Again Dean could see Sam de-aging in front of his eyes, becoming the lost child again.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy. Damien's gonna be fine. You know him, stubborn as hell. He'll beat this crap – whatever it is." Dean assured confidently. He couldn't say who his words should reassure more – Sammy or him.

Through the curtain of rain he could make out lights on the horizon. Maybe five more minutes and they were back at the motel.

ooooooo

"Come on Damien, a little help here would be great." Dean groaned while dragging a semi-conscious Caleb through the still pouring rain into their motel room.

Sam had already opened the door and was now helping his brother to get the hurt psychic inside.

Caleb groaned in pain, his head had come to a rest on his chest, his pale face hidden by his way too long hair.

Together they settled the psychic on the bed furthest from the door. Caleb didn't show any reaction at all which really worried Dean.

He ran a hand through his still damp short hair, tried desperately to calm his racing thoughts. One problem at a time.

Dean exhaled slowly and focused his gaze on Sam who was hastily rifling through their bags in search for the first-aid kit.

Sam's clothes were still soaked to the skin. Come to think about it – they all were still soaked. An involuntary shiver ran through Dean's body and re-woke the gash on his arm.

Absently he stretched and flexed his fingers to ease the sudden pain.

"Sammy go get changed before you catch a cold or god knows what else. You're soaked." Dean said, his big-brother-instincts kicking in full force.

"Dean, it's okay. We have to take care of Caleb first and you need help if you want to clean the wound with holy water." Sam said, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering.

"Come on, Sammy, I can see the shivers from here so don't be stupid." He said gently and took the first-aid kit out of the boy's hands, briefly squeezing his arm in a reassuring manner.

With a serious look on his face Dean added "Besides, I can't deal with both of you down for the count."

"Dean…"

"Because dealing with you sick and cranky and bitching is a fulltime job as it is." Dean grinned and went back to the bed where Reaves shifted slightly. "So you better hurry."

Sam only rolled his eyes and went with a pile of dry cloths into the bathroom. "You're unbelievable." He muttered under his breath before shutting the door.

Eventually alone in the room Dean's grin faded quickly. A concerned frown appeared on his face as he eyed his best friend closely.

Caleb seemed even paler than before, the fevered flush on his cheeks stood in a stark contrast to it. Sweat plastered strands of his hair to his face but they couldn't hide the pain lines which were visible even in sleep.

Dean swallowed hard. God he wished his Dad were here. Or Mac, or Jim, or Bobby, or – anyone.

He shook his head slightly. Hell, what was wrong with him? He had to get a grip for god's sake. He couldn't let Damien down and him freaking out wouldn't help Sammy either.

Caleb moaned softly, his eyes moving rapidly under closed lids.

Dean slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand gently slapping the older man's cheek. He cringed at the warmth that was seeping into his palm.

"Come on, Damien, nap time is over." Dean said but got no reaction. He tried it again, harder this time. "It's time to wake up, Caleb. Come one, man, this is so not cool." God, he felt like ten again. But this time he got the reaction he had hoped for – Reaves's eyes fluttered lightly before opening to mere glassy slits.

"Hey, you with me Caleb?" Dean watched the unfocused amber eyes roaming through the room, trying to make sense of everything, and finally coming to a rest on him.

Caleb sluggishly blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision. "Deuce?"

"The one and only." Dean grinned, relieved to see the psychic awake.

"W-whr?" Reaves's eyes drifted through the room again though Dean doubted that he was really seeing something. " 'spital?" He got even more agitated.

"Whoa there, Damien." Dean placed a hand on Caleb's chest to keep him from bolting upright. Okay, so maybe not so awake then.

"It's okay, Caleb calm down. We're back at the motel. You fainted during the ride home." He saw his words slowly sinking in, felt the psychic relax beneath his hand. Dean waited for a smart-ass remark about the fainting-part but nothing came.

"Caleb, we have to clean the wound. And I think it needs stitches." Dean carefully lifted the damp shirt. The gauze was bloody but it seemed that the bleeding had slowed.

Reaves nodded slightly, his eyes barely open and fixed on something only he could see.

"G-get it … out. 's burning… H-hurts…"

The knot in Dean's gut twisted painfully. Concern and fear battled for the upper hand inside his chest. He had never seen the older hunter this vulnerable before and it scared him.

"Easy. It's okay. I'll take care of it but you have to calm down, okay?" Dean soothed. For a second time he felt Caleb relax underneath his hands.

As carefully as possible he removed the bandages.

The wound was ragged and angry looking. The bleeding had slowed to a sluggish trickle but it still needed a few stitches to fully stop it.

Dean fished the Peroxide and new gauze out of the kit.

His left hand shook slightly, the pain the gash was causing slowly increased. He pushed the pain into a far corner of his mind. He would clean it later.

ooooooo

Dean was through the second round of cleaning the wound with Peroxide when Sam emerged from the bathroom.

The middle Winchester cast a quick glance to Caleb whose eyes were closed again, though Dean could tell that he wasn't sleeping or hadn't passed out yet.

"How is he?" Sam came to a stand next to Dean, his gaze locked on the psychic's pale face.

Dean looked at his brother before refocusing on the task at hand. "Same as before. Can you get the holy water from the duffel?"

Tiredly he rubbed a hand over his face. He so didn't want to do this.

A frown appeared on Sam's brow. "Dean, you're bleeding." He grabbed for his brother's arm to get a better look at the wound but Dean stopped him mid-motion.

"It's okay. It's just a scratch. Probably some stupid branch that grazed me on the way back out."

Sam didn't seem convinced. The frown on his forehead deepened. "But this looks deeper than just a branch that grazed you."

"Sammy, come on, it's nothing, just a stupid scratch. I'll take care of it in a bit. Can we please focus back on Caleb now? I'd prefer to be done with this. I'm still wet and cold and I just want to hit the shower." He knew it was a low blow but it was also a tactic that always worked.

"Sure." Sam nodded and went for the flask of holy water. Dean didn't miss the lost puppy look on his face. Damn.

"Sammy…" He didn't know what to say exactly. Sam wasn't a kid anymore. A few nice words and a hug wouldn't be enough to make it all better anymore.

Sam showed Dean a shaky smile. At this moment he looked so much younger than his fifteen years. Maybe to just be Captain One-helluva Big Brother would still be enough to make things at least a little better.

Sam sighed and sat down on Reaves's other side, one hand gently placing on the older hunter's forehead. He cringed at the warmth he felt.

"Dean, we need to get the fever down." Sam said alarmed.

"Yeah, but one problem at a time." Dean took the flask Sam handed to him and unscrewed it. "First we need to take care of this." He shook his best friend's shoulder. Reaves's eyes fluttered slightly before they opened to mere glassy slits of amber. "Hey, you with us?"

Caleb blinked a few times to clear his bleary vision though it didn't look like it worked well.

"Caleb can you hear us?" Sam asked worriedly, one hand squeezing the older hunter's shoulder lightly.

"Loud … an' c-clearly, 'specially when … y' practically … yell into … m-my ear." Reaves's mumbled hoarsely and blinked again. His lids seemed to weight tons.

Sam grinned sheepishly and squeezed Caleb's shoulder again. "Anything that works."

"Damien, listen, we need to clean the wound with holy water. If this is really some kind of supernatural shit it's not going to be fun." Dean said seriously.

"J-jus' get it … done. C-can't … get much …. w-worse than this." Reaves's pressed out through gritted teeth, his eyes closing again.

Dean nodded slightly, his eyes locking with Sam's. "Hold him down. Like I said, if this is some supernatural crap …" He tightened his grip around the flask.

Sam moved behind Caleb, his hands tightening their hold on the older hunter's shoulders.

Dean exhaled slowly and then dosed the arrow wound with holy water.

The reaction was instantly, the holy water acting like pure acid.

Reaves's back arched from the bed, his legs kicking out in a desperate try to get up.

"Sam, hold him down!" Dean swore. He had a hard time doing the same with the psychic's legs.

Reaves's yaw clenched shut tightly in an attempt to suppress a scream. His body rigid with pain.

"Damnit, Caleb breathe!" Dean yelled emphatically, his own panic audible in his voice. He shared a quick glance with Sam, not liking the kid's huge eyes.

Ever so slowly the reaction of the holy water subsided and Reaves relaxed back onto the bed. His breathing coming in long ragged gulps of air, his face even paler than before, eyes clenched shut. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead and temples.

Sam let out a shaky breath and loosened his hold on Caleb's shoulders a little. "Guess you were right about the poison."

Dean eyed his little brother for a brief moment, silently asking if he was okay.

Sam nodded slightly, letting out a shaky sigh.

"Damien, you still with us?"

"That was … fun…" Reaves's gasped, his face a mask of pain.

"You know we're not done yet, don't you?" Dean ran a hand through his short hair, still trying to calm his racing heart.

The psychic nodded, preparing himself for the next round of agony.

"Sammy, you ready?"

The boy tightened his hold again. "Think so." He didn't sound convinced.

"One more time then we're done." Dean couldn't say who he tried to reassure. He so didn't want to do this. Hurting his best friend more than he was already. But it had to be done. And the holy water would hopefully slow down the spreading of the poison.

The reaction was still the same except that this time Caleb couldn't hold back a scream.

The pure agony in his friend's voice made Dean's blood ran cold.

"Come on, Damien, it's okay. It's going to be okay." The middle Winchester's words a mumbled mantra of soothing nonsense.

Suddenly Reaves's body went limp, relaxing back onto the bed and into Sam's arms.

"Dean?" Sam's wide eyes went from Caleb to his brother, his voice shaky with fear.

"It's okay. It's probably the best for him. At least he's not feeling the pain anymore." Dean said calmly. He tried his best to ignore the slowly blossoming panic inside his chest. Damn, they needed help. Real help. Not somebody on the phone.

"Sammy, can you call Jim again? Tell him that we used the holy water. And ask him if he had heard something from Dad so far." Dean angled for the first-aid kit again but never taking his eyes of his brother's face.

Sam nodded but didn't move. His gaze still rested on the psychic's lax features.

"Sam!" Dean said louder this time, more forcefully. It got the wanted reaction. Sam flinched slightly, his eyes finally meeting Dean's.

"Call Jim again, okay? I'll take care of the rest here." The middle Winchester repeated. He held his brother's gaze a moment longer, watched him nodding and crawling from the bed.

Dean sighed softly and rubbed a hand over his forehead. A headache slowly started pounding behind his eyes.

"Shit, Damien, hang in there, okay?" He mumbled softly.

ooooooo

John Winchester slowly slid behind the steering-wheel of his truck, successfully ignoring the many pains and aches which were spread all over his body.

God this hunt was fucked up from the get go. Sure, they got the damn Shtriga in the end but its death came still too late for a few of the kids.

He threw a quick side-glance to Mac who was pinching the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. His eyes were closed and a concerned frown slowly deepened on his brow.

"Mac? You okay?" John squeezed his friend's arm slightly to get his attention.

Mac's head shot up with a startled gasp.

"Whoa, there, tiger." Winchester eyed him concerned. "You okay?"

Mac blinked a few times and cleared his throat. "I don't know." The Scholar frowned. "I…" Mac's gaze got distant again.

"Damn it, Mac, don't you dare zoning out on me." John shook his friend roughly. "Come on, talk to me. What's wrong? Do I need to search for the next ER?"

Mac eyed the other hunter with wide eyes. "John, I … I think something's wrong with Caleb. I think he's hurt."

"What?" John asked shocked. "Did you …" Whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the sudden ringing of his cellphone.

oooooo

TBC…

Thanks for reading! And reviews feed me muse! ;)