Dean was hurt bad.

It seemed to take forever to pull him out of those woods to the nearest road.

It was purely by luck that Sam found the demon knife by the log where Dean had dropped it during the rather one-sided fight with the mysterious creature that Sam had found kicking his brother's brains in. He carefully tucked it into his pocket, just in case either demon came back.

Sam had almost given in to despair when he'd heard it, his own voice speaking the words of the exorcism through the trees. Moments later he saw the first demon, a blonde woman standing on an embankment. He fired a shot through her neck when she had turned, giving him just enough time to pick up the incantation where Dean had left off, sending her back to hell.

It was dark now, but he could see in the faint moonlight through the trees the thin young man standing over his own form, over Dean. Dean looked bruised and bloodied. What the hell? He wondered offhanded why the other guy wasn't on the ground. Dean was a tough son of a bitch, he should've been able to take on a couple of demons.

Only why was the other one still there? He was well within range, and Dean had been right next to him during the first part of the incantation. He should have been sent back along with his companion, but there he stood.

Without thinking, Sam raised the Glock and fired off a warning shot into the demon's shoulder, and then another, and another.

Get the hell away from my brother, he thought at the creature, gritting his teeth against the concussion of the gun's retort.

He didn't know how many rounds he'd squeezed off, but the demon down in the shallow ravine just smiled at him, all but unphased.

And then he simply vanished.

Sam almost thought he heard a soft rustle of feathered wings when he did.

Troubled, but more concerned with other things at the moment, he slid down the embankment toward Dean.

"Dean!"

He saw the previously still form on the ground shift and groan. Thank God, he was conscious, at least.

"Dean," he called again, all but crashing over his brother, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up, trying to get a good look at his injuries. He didn't expect Dean to take a swing at him, but managed to dodge it, barely.

"Get off me you son of a bitch," Dean spat. His eyes unfocused as he took another swing, his fist thudding against Sam's bicep. Sam could see a nasty bruise forming over the left side of his face and winced. Suddenly he half hoped their situation wouldn't be fixed too soon. That was going to hurt like hell.

"Dean, it's me... It's Sam... Calm down, they're gone..."

Dean calmed down a bit, staring up at him, looking dazed. "Sammy..."

Sam felt himself smile a bit, but then Dean got the strangest look on his face.

"...Dad?"

Sam blinked, frowning down at Dean as he choked up, curling in on himself.

Apparently he'd taken a few too many blows to the head.

"...Come on," Sam sighed. He hoped he could get a cell signal, small towns weren't always great for that when you got off the beaten path. "Let's get you out of here."

Dean cooperatively lost consciousness.

[XXXXXX]

Sam had resorted to a fireman's carry about a hundred yards on. It took them about 20 minutes to get back to the road, where he set Dean down against the wooden guard rail and called the room. When Cas picked up, he had told the angel to have Garth drive out to them and pick them up. They were now almost three miles from the motel, way further than Sam would be able to carry his brother.

Once they'd gotten Dean inside, he seemed to be coming around a bit.

"Sam," he croaked, still halfway over the rainbow. "Sammy,"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm right here."

"I hate California."

"Yeah, Dean. I know..."

"Let's never come here again."

"Okay, Dean."

"And screw this town, too."

"Yeah," Sam smiled a bit. At least it wasn't too bad. He'd live. Which was a good thing, too. Because Sam was going to kick his ass for getting his ass kicked once they got themselves back into their own respective meatsuits.

[XXXXXX]

Garth had decided to check into his own room after Dean had passed out on one of the beds. Everyone was tired, even Castiel, who had passed out in a less than dignified manner on the loveseat once he had been assured that Dean was all right. The angel wasn't used to slumming it without his abilities, and they'd been going all day. Sam sometimes thought he really was like a little kid, so easily amused and sometimes overwhelmed by a world he still didn't completely understand.

Sam stayed up to keep an eye on Dean, and just in case either of the demons came back.

He spent the time researching.

"You should rest," Castiel's voice almost made Sam jump out of his skin. Even without his abilities, the angel move in complete silence. Or maybe Sam was just that tired.

"I think I've found something. It took me a while, but I got to thinking about Hopphner."

Castiel took the seat across from Sam, tilting his head to one side.

"There was no rhyme or reason to the way he snapped, other than that fungus we found at the scene. Well, I dug a little deeper into their family history. Turns out they have a 19-year-old son who goes to college in San Francisco."

Castiel continued to stare his 'Please, I implore you to continue,' stare. Which, really, was like any of his other stares. You pick up on these things after you've been around someone for a while.

"He went missing a few days ago. His friends reported it in when he didn't make it back to his dorm Saturday night. It hadn't made it to the police report by the time of the murder, and Mrs Hopphner still isn't talking to anyone. But look," Sam turned the laptop so that Castiel could see the screen.

Castiel shifted his eyes to the picture of a young man with shaggy, dark hair and dark eyes surrounded by thick black eyeliner, wearing a black t-shirt and a denim jacket.

"This is the guy I saw last night. It might be a stretch, but I'd say our demon possessed this kid, maybe the kid knew what was going on with his mom and Frank Garten- some resentment the demon decided to act on."

"You said that the boy vanished," Castiel said, steering Sam back to the events of the previous night.

"Yeah, I must've shot him six times..." It slowly began to dawn on Sam the manner in which the boy had disappeared. Apart from Crowley, he had never seen a demon simply vanish into thin air like that. "Shit."

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him.

Sam twirled the computer back around, furiously pecking at the keys.

"Tell me more about the Princes of Hell, Cas."

[XXXXXX]

Everything. Hurt.

He tried to move, but even before the thought relayed itself to his nervous system, a wave of nausea hit him and he decided to just lay still for a while with his eyes closed.

He cracked one eye open, scowling at the visage of the sun's first few rays seeping through the curtains over the window. He could hear Sam and Cas talking, but the meaning of the words eluded him for the time being. For the moment, he just wanted to wallow.

"Ngh," he eloquently articulated to the room.

"Hey," his voice own responded. Sammy. Sam must've found him and brought him back to the room. He was beginning to catch up to the previous night in brief snatches, running through the woods, being dragged back to the motel, puking in the passenger seat of Garth's car. ...He'd go apologize for that later.

"N'time..."

"It's a quarter till eight. How are you feeling? Need anything?"

"Some morphine maybe... ugh. You take hits like a girl, Sammy..." Dean tried on his best grin, trying to push past the pain and get back in the game.

Sam gave him a small smile, prefaced by a half-hearted bitchface.

Dean rolled himself up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. As hard as he got kicked, he'd be surprised if a couple weren't broken.

"Sorry, Sammy. Meant to give it back in one piece..."

"Don't worry about it. I'll get you back later." Sam smiled, letting him know he was only half serious.

"What've we got, anything?" Dean steadied himself a bit on the edge of the bed, letting the pain settle and wash over him. He'd been beat down worse, he was pretty sure he could push through this and get the job done.

"Actually," Sam moved back over to his laptop on the table, where Castiel was picking red and green peppers out of his omelette and arranging them by colour on the plate. "Cas, stop playing with it and just eat it. You were the one who said you were hungry. Anyway, when I shot that guy off of you last night, he disappeared, like into thin air. I did some digging and turns out the host is the Hopphners' kid, Marcus Hopphner- age 19, goes to UCSF. Kid went missing Saturday night, now he shows back up here in Grass Valley and things are going nuts..."

Dean frowned. "Anything else 'weird' happen since the West Side Story riots?" The reference to the previous afternoon's debacle at the diner brought back the memory of his poor baby. That was the first thing he was doing when this was over.

"Nothing major. Some reports in the news this morning about tap water running red 'like blood', and apparently a 'poltergeist' at the K-Mart that they're passing off as the night crew getting sauced and wrecking the place."

Castiel was apparently content with the presentation of his omelette now, as he picked up his fork and began stabbing at it.

Sam sighed and patiently took his hand, showing him how to cut it and scoop it instead.

Dean smirked at the scene. He felt a little bad for Cas, but he had to admit it was pretty freaking hilarious to watch him struggle with something as mundane as eating breakfast.

"I do not know how humans have managed with such tools," Castiel griped. "Your ancestors did not require such implements."

Sam gave his brother a shrug. "We think we know what we're dealing with, though. It's not looking pretty."

Dean tried to stand, his ankle reminding him of the previous night's misadventures as he settled his weight on it, wincing and hissing through his teeth before steadying himself. It wasn't terrible, but it did freaking hurt. It'd probably be fine if he wrapped it. In the meantime, he hobbled over to the table and leaned over Sam to look at the laptop's screen.

"... Princes of Hell," Dean read aloud. "...Belial."