Dean was beginning to lose it, he could feel it. He mind seemed to swim in and out of focus with pain being the only constant. He could occasionally hear Caleb talking through a plan or feel Sam squeeze his hand or arm but everything seemed fuzzy, fake almost. They shouldn't have gone hunting; Dad was going to kill him for this. It was just lucky that he had been the one hurt and not Sammy, if it had been Sammy he never could've forgiven himself.

Caleb was saying something now, the pressure he had been putting on the wounds dissipating; granting him relief from some of the pain he was feeling. The relief was short-lived however as Caleb pulled him into a sitting position. Dean cried out in agony as his shredded muscles attempted to contract and his ribs shifted. He would've whimpered after but he could do nothing but hold his breath as his nerves seemed to fire in every direction. Finally it was over and Caleb softly lowered him back to the ground. How were they going to get out of this?

Caleb stared at the stairs as he sat waiting for Dean to recuperate from sitting.

"We need Pastor Jim…" Sam quietly stated his hand resting on his brother's forearm. "There's no way we can get Dean up the stairs without help." Damien sighed knowing that the 13 year old was right and nodded his head in agreement.

Pulling out his cell phone Caleb hit the second speed dial. He didn't have to wait long for Pastor Jim to pick up, "Caleb. You boys having a good time tonight?" Damien took a deep breath and decided to tell the truth quick; like ripping off a band aid.

"We went after the witch."

"You did what?"

"Dean's hurt…bad. The witch is dead."

"Where are you now?" Pastor Jim replied quickly knowing that if the boys were calling, the injury must be severe.

"In the basement of the witch's house, we can't get Dean up the stairs."

"I'm calling for backup and will be there in 20." Jim said concisely.

"Hurry, Dean needs help…fast." Jim nodded before replying, "I'll send someone over." Already thinking through who was close and capable.

Sam sat beside his brother's head, his eyes trained on his features, trying and often failing to ignore the quickly growing blood stain on the newly placed ace bandages around Dean's middle. His ears were attuned to the conversation that Caleb was having with Pastor Jim. "Help is on the way Dean, just hold on."

Dean's eyes opened appearing dazed and glassy, "Dad?" he questioned.

"No, Dad's out of state remember. We're staying with Pastor Jim." Sam stated concern coloring his tone. Dean nodded his reply.

Caleb looked toward the brothers noticing the blood stain widening. "Sam I need your help. Jim is sending someone to help us. I need you to wait upstairs and bring them down when they get here.

"I don't want to leave Dean." Sam was quick to respond, his middle school defiance starting to show up.

"Sam." A quiet, raspy voice said bringing both boys' attention to Dean's face, "Go upstairs. I'll see you soon."

Sam looked upset but immediately got up and headed to the stairs, quick to follow the orders from his brother.

"I take it you need to try to stop the bleeding again?" Dean said flatly.

Caleb nodded, "Your stomach in particular." Caleb sat beside the younger hunter pushing his hands against the wound causing the hunter to moan and close his eyes tightly in response. "Hang in there."

Rebecca was at home when the call came in; the number coming up as unidentified meant that it could be a hunter thing. Rebecca was the daughter of hunters who never had much of a taste for the blood, guts, and gore of the position unless of course the blood, guts, and gore was all in the process of healing, which was her business now. She had determined to go to college, became a doctor, and besides working in a #1 trauma center she also was on call for any and all hunting related injuries. Picking up the phone Rebecca was short and concise, "Yes?"

"Rebecca?"

"Yea."

"This is Pastor Jim. Listen I know it's been awhile but I'm in a bind. Are you still living over near Hudson's Woods?"

"Yeah, whatcha got?"

"A witch hunt gone wrong, 17 year old injured, bad; I'm on my way but I'm about 20 minutes out. Anyway you could head that direction?"

"Got it. You got an address for me?"

Rebecca jotted down the address stopping only to grab her trauma bag before heading to her car ready for whatever this new case would greet her with.