Sam had seen some scary shit in his life, but nothing quite compared to the sight of the young woman burning alive in front of his eyes, smiling at him through the flames.
Dropping the empty flamethrower, he ran to Dean, dragging him away further away from the conflagration.
"Sorry, man," Dean grimaced. "Guess I wasn't as ready to get out as I thought."
"Yeah, no shit." Sam tugged his pistol out of his jacket pocket and leveled it at the flames, although he had no clue if it would do any damned good at all.
"Sam, no!" Wiley shouted.