Since becoming a pastor and taking an active role in counseling those who were going through a difficult time, Jim was sometimes tasked with visiting an individual in jail. Walking through the imposing metal detector and surrendering his personal items for safekeeping, had become habit for him when he remembered how much of a help his visits would be.

Sitting with them; talking to them and hearing how they got to where they were, was always a sobering experience. During those sit-downs, he would do his best to impart words of knowledge and give that person something to live for again. Sometimes the talks helped, and sometimes they accomplished nothing.

Stepping out of the car, the hot sun shining on his face, Jim could not believe where he was. Looking at the county jail that loomed before him, he could feel his heart tighten in his chest. Striding across the parking lot, he could feel a hundred different emotions slam through him until he was momentarily breathless.

This was wrong; this was not supposed to be happening. There was no way he was entering the lobby to see his friend in jail. A staff member greeted him and took his things, before directing him to a square-shaped sign that hung right above a series of doors separating him from the rest of the jail.

According to the printed words, he was not allowed to share any physical contact with Caleb. All of the possessions he brought into the jail, would be kept at the front desk. If he wished to give Caleb any books or snacks, it would have to be done through his commissary account.

Making a mental note to distribute some money toward his account before he left, he followed the guard down halls that all looked the same. It was astounding to him that none of these people ever got lost. Taking a deep breath while he prepared himself to see his friend for the first time in days, he felt his spine tingle with a chill that stole his breath.

Wondering if anyone else felt what he did, his question was answered when the guard made no indication of it. On-guard against anything springing an attack on him, he walked with more purpose in his step. Feeling a hopeful surge in his spirit when the guard directed him to a door that was locked from the outside, he prepared himself to see his friend.

When the key turned and the door was opened, he saw no one. Nodding when the guard explained that Caleb would be brought in shortly, he examined the room. It was bare apart from the table in the center of it, and the artificial light that hung above it.

Pacing the room while he waited for Caleb to come in, he felt his throat stiffen with how dry it was. In a way, it was because of how nervous he was. No matter what ended up transpiring between them, he knew this would be goodbye for the foreseeable future.

His bags were already packed to travel to Carthage later that day. Even though he and Bobby discussed their options at length and elected to take Sam and Dean with them, a part of him needed to know what Caleb thought of it.

Picking up sounds from outside, he felt his skin crawl when he noticed the light flicker above the table. If there was any reservations in his mind that he was dealing with a spirit problem, it was now gone. The problem rested on his inability to do anything to get rid of it when the jail was as secure as it was.

Jim was curious to know if Caleb went through any of what he just did. Rubbing his hands together to ward off the cold, he focused his attention on the sounds coming from the hall.

The voices he heard floating through the room, were too low for him to hear. His heart thudded unevenly in his chest while he waited. When the knob turned and the door was opened, he got his first unhindered view of Caleb since before his arrest.

He looked decent all things considered. His skin was paler than normal and he lost weight, but the smile was still on his face. For that, Jim knew he should be grateful.

They waited until the guards left to communicate anything. During that time when there was nothing but the noisy thoughts buzzing through his mind, he thought about how his friend was coping. Caleb was not one to complain, and he was skeptical he would get him to admit anything.

When the guards finally did leave and they were given some privacy, Caleb relaxed. It was a marked change from the tense position he held while the guards seated him and took off one of the chains to allow him to sit easier.

It was surreal to be staring across the table at his friend and realize he was in jail. Before he walked through the room, he understood where he was and who he was seeing, but the reality of it was driven home.

"How are you?"

It seemed like a horribly inadequate question to ask when he had a pretty accurate assumption how he was.

To his surprise, Caleb smiled when he heard the question.

Caleb shrugged, lifting a hand for emphasis. When he did that, Jim could see some of his resolve start to falter. Even though his friend was projecting an image of confidence, Jim could see right through it.

"Can't complain: The view's great. The food ain't half-bad."

"Come on," Jim coached. "Do you really think I'm going to buy what you're trying to put out?"

The beauty of having lived with Caleb for the last several years, was that it granted him the ability to peel back the facade and understand what was happening underneath. Caleb winced when he heard Jim's comment, but made no further indication he was ready to talk about it.

"They, uh, they have me in solitary most of the time."

"Why?" Jim gasped.

Caleb scratched something behind his ear. It seemed he was trying to buy himself time before he had to answer the question.

"I have this stigma as an accused killer, Jim. Whenever someone picks a fight with me, I automatically get the blame. It sucks, but it is what it is."

"How long have you been in there before?"

It was impossible to miss the single tear that fell down his face. The unfairness of it was what broke the hunter's heart. Even if Caleb was looked at differently than the other inmates because of his status as a suspected murderer, it did nothing to ease the rage he felt for his friend.

"Few days. I just got out today. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here."

When Caleb turned his head to look toward the wall, that was when Jim could see the strips of skin that had been torn from his neck. Gaping at the wound that was only just beginning to heal, he was reminded of the feeling he got when he first walked in.

The injuries Caleb had on his neck, was proof that something was happening. Even though physical touch was forbidden in the jail, he could not stop himself from reaching across the table to inspect the wounds. They were nasty in how long they were and how painful they appeared. Caleb gasped when Jim's fingers grazed his skin, but he did nothing to pull back.

The pastor had the distinct feeling Caleb was enjoying a touch that was friendly and not one from the guards. The wounds appeared to be fine, but it was the thought of how he got it that was disturbing to him. The exhaustion in Caleb's eyes was the other thing he noticed when he got close enough to him. It did not take a genius to know he most likely had not gotten any real sleep since his arrest.

"What happened to your neck?" Jim asked, shaking his head when he pulled away from him.

"I got scratched in the night."

"I'd say you were more than scratched," Jim disputed. "It looks like you were gouged."

The only time he was ever aware of a spirit being angry enough to cause physical harm to someone, it was when it was especially furious. The feeling he got when he first walked through the back part of the jail to meet with Caleb, was further evidence of that. Without having to know the history behind it, he knew something happened in this jail.

The concern he had was somehow doing something to prevent future attacks. If this spirit was not targeting Caleb, he had to know it would be going after someone else. When Caleb lifted his hand to show the underside of his arm, he could see a mark that was similar in nature to the severity of the wounds on his neck.

"I got the marks on my arm right before I was thrown into the hole."

"What's the 'hole'?"

Jim had the feeling it was nothing good. The more he understood the rigid process that occurred in the jail, the more he longed to break Caleb out. Shaking his head when he finally tore his eyes away from the ugly marks on Caleb, he looked at his face and saw his eyes possessed a haunted look in them that he seldom saw before.

"It's what they call solitary."

"Is that why they put you in there the last time?"

Caleb nodded. "They thought I was trying to hurt myself, and so they put me someplace where they could watch me closer."

It was astonishing to Jim that the jail would not try to help Caleb. Instead of providing him with resources to help with the wounds on his body, they removed him from the problem and put him in solitary for something he never even did. Horror was the number one emotion racing through his mind when he took into account what was happening.

"Didn't they help you at all?"

"They did, but the nurse thought they looked self-inflicted."

"So that's the reason for solitary?"

"They figured they had enough problems without worry about me doing something else. If only they had a clue what I've been through in here."

Caleb bowed his head while he fought through the obvious pain that was in his heart. This was a side of Caleb Jim had never been privy to before. It was sobering, and disheartening. Caleb was usually someone who was lighthearted, funny, and able to make the best out of the worst situation. Having him look (and appear) so hopeless, was a new thing for the pastor to experience.

In a way, he wished the jail would take more notice of what was happening. He wished the officials in the jail would listen to what Caleb was telling them, that he never hurt himself. If they believed him, it would have saved him a pointless sentence in solitary confinement. Thinking about that word in relation to what Caleb went through, sent a chill down his spine.

"I felt something when I first came here. I thought it was just me. Then I saw your neck and I knew."

"It's some chick with red hair. I figured that would narrow the search a little. Especially since not a lot of people die in jails."

"Just the prisons they do," Jim theorized. "You're right about one thing: It definitely makes it a little easier to search around a bit."

Caleb nodded, running a hand down his face. "How long have you been in town?"

Jim shrugged, knowing he was about to enter into the territory of having to break the news to Caleb that he would be leaving soon. Their family was one of the few hunting families that managed to not only remain close, but also stay in one place. There was nothing more that Jim wanted than to be able to stay close to Caleb, but the call of duty to protect another life from being stolen, was his top priority.

"A few days."

"How are the boys?"

It seemed that question was one Caleb had the most difficult time asking. There was no one who was closer to the boys than Caleb. There was certainly no one else who had such a deep understanding of Dean, and who used that to develop their beautiful bond. Dwelling on their close relationship and how they were both suffering as a result of losing it, was painful for the pastor to think about.

"They're good," Jim said, hoping that if he recited those words enough times he would actually believe it for himself.

"How about Sam? How is he handling all this upheaval?"

Sam was one of the only people in their family who was handling things better than the rest of them. Maybe it was because a part of him was still too young to fully grasp the seriousness of what was happening. Or maybe it was because he figured that the matter would be resolved like it always was. Having that childish naivete was something Jim wished Dean could have when he was struggling.

"Sam's good. He's upset, of course. He's handling it a lot better than most of us are."

"What about Dean? How's he sorting through all this crap?"

"Dean is...he's really upset. He wanted to go to your arraignment, but I stopped that from happening."

"Good. It wasn't a place for him. For either of them."

That was what Jim knew to be true. If the boys were upset about the thought of their guardian being stuck in jail, how would they have reacted to seeing him in court? Especially knowing his bail would be denied. At the time, he could remember being convinced he made the right choice in not involving them, but now he was positive when he saw Caleb's response to it.

"I want to see them, but not here."

"I understand that. Listen, I need to talk to you about something else."

Caleb nodded, lifting his head to better capture Jim's gaze in his. There was not really a part of the hunter that doubted Caleb would harbor any doubts about the boys going to Carthage, but he wanted to have peace of mind knowing he was making the right decision. As a hunter, he knew it was the right thing to do. The other part of him that worried, was concerned only about the boys and if they would be able to handle it.

"What is it?"

"Your thoughts about the boys going to Carthage to see what the heck is happening there."

Caleb was silent while he processed that statement. Jim took it as a promising sign when he could see him slowly nod his head. If nothing else, he wanted this trip to serve to distance Sam and Dean from the sadness surrounding Minnesota.

"I think it sounds good. I just want you and Bobby to be on guard. Especially if it is a ghoul."

"Believe me, we will be." Years of hunting had given him the smarts to pay attention during hunts like that.


Carthage, Missouri

Dean supposed breaking free from the pain of Minnesota, was a good thing for him. It had been days of struggling with how to feel about Caleb's arrest, and his anger at not being able to see him. Being able to leave that frustration behind, was a gift he was finding hard to ignore.

They drove for most of the day with Jim and Bobby driving separately. Settling back against the cool leather of the passenger seat, he thought about the hunt that was going to be waiting for him. According to a report they stumbled upon, the ghoul killed someone else. That fact only served to renew the sense of urgency he had.

It was still difficult to leave Caleb behind in the jail. Although there was nothing he could do to spring Caleb from the jail, being there was still better than nothing. His guardian should have been there with them; should have been riding shotgun while he said something that made all of them laugh.

Clenching his teeth to keep himself from crying when he refused to do so, he was glad when they pulled into the motel. It was in a nicer part of the town and seemed to be removed from the crime of further downtown.

The trickier part of the job would be for them to find the ghoul responsible. Because of its ability to masquerade as anyone it recently took a bite from, it could be anyone. Their job would be to figure out exactly who, and kill it.

Shrugging on his sweatshirt when his legs got restless from sitting around, he looked for anything to do that would temper the anxiety he had. Remembering the burger joint down the street, he was glad to have somewhere to go to stretch his muscles.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, coming out of the bathroom.

"Out."

"Where?" Sam pressed, moving in front of Dean to block his exit.

"To that burger place. Does that answer your question?" Dean demanded, failing to keep the annoyance from his tone.

Sam thought over his options for a minute. During that time, Dean thought about if he would even be allowed to go out with the current situation. Deciding to worry about it later, he saw Sam nod his head.

"Can I go?"

Dean nodded. "I guess so."

It had been awhile since he had the chance to spend time with his brother by himself. The last few days had completely wiped him out. Feeling a smile spread across his face when he saw Sam's overjoyed reaction, he tossed him his sweatshirt and made the short walk outside.

The air was warm, giving him the false impression that he would not have to bundle up later. Waving to Bobby and Jim when he saw them unload some of their weapons from the car, he hoped they would choose to let him go on the walk.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he explained his plans to them. To his shock, Jim hesitantly agreed to let them walk down the street. Pocketing the knife Bobby gave him, he promised to be back before too late.

The streets were teaming with people who wanted to have a good time. Sticking close to Sam's side while his brother looked at everything that was happening, his eyes were wide as saucers while they tried to figure out where to look next.

Grabbing Sam's hand when a careless man on a motorcycle narrowly avoided hitting them, he glared after him before resuming his stride. The amount of people who were out that night, made him curious if the ghoul would dare try anything.

Turning toward the burger place that was squeezed between a cluster of other similar food restaurants, he blinked in the sudden light from the lighted sign. Keeping his hand in his pocket where it touched his knife, he walked in.

The inside bore little resemblance to the chaos of the outside. Grabbing a table that was nestled in the corner of the room, he carefully looked around while a waiter took their orders.

"Dean, why do they have pineapple on the pizza?" Sam whispered, his mouth forming into a look of distaste.

"Because they have no respect. Anyway, we're getting a burger. Cheaper, and hopefully untainted by disgusting crap."

Looking toward the kitchen area when his stomach growled in protest, he was dismayed to find the swinging door to be still. Smiling a little when the soothing rifts of a Led Zeppelin song come over the loud speakers, he sang to the song under his breath.

"What song is that?" Sam asked, his own body responding to the song.

"The greatest song to ever exist."

It was apparent Sam did not understand what the fuss was about. Crinkling his nose the way he did when he was trying to figure something out, he looked at Dean again.

"I can't understand the words."

"That's because you don't have the gift."

"What gift-"

Dean did not have the chance to reply to him. At that moment, the door to the pizza place was opened to reveal the last person he would have expected to find there.

"Matt?"