Like a team of army ants, the medical personnel scurried into the trauma room and quickly surrounded the gurney. Each person quickly assessing and implementing appropriate treatment, yet all of them working in synch with the other and communicating rapidly in the abbreviated hive language.

Fluid therapy, blood transfusion, oxygen saturation, organ function, prep for the OR. After only a few minutes, she was stable and ready for transfer upstairs where the surgeons stood ready to put her back together. It was not necessarily the best of signs but also a great help when the casualties were unconscious; the team could get on with all that they needed to do, the patient willingly submitting like a rag doll in their hands.

Evelyn glanced through the glass partition between trauma rooms and could not help the pang of jealousy that rose within her. Watching her colleagues start to move the woman out of the room and towards the lifts, she wished her current task was quite as easy. Almost on cue, a flailing arm broke free from the many hands that tried to restrain it and Evelyn got a thump on her arm from a swinging fist.

"Shit!" One of the orderlies hissed in response and quickly grabbed the escaping limb. "Sorry, Doc. You okay?"

Shrugging her shoulder and groaning with the pain in her upper arm, Evelyn nodded and frowned in annoyance at the patient before her. "Come on now. Stop it!" She ordered gruffly, unable to withhold the anger in her tone. "We're trying to help you!"

"No!" The man retorted desperately, arching his back and straining against the straps which the team had hastily strewn across him.

"Haloperidol?" Bev suggested quickly, ready with a fresh syringe and a vial of medicine.

"Not yet." Evelyn sighed, "We can't risk sedation until we know exactly what we're dealing with." She spun towards the door to the room and saw the two security guards that stood in anticipation just inside the doors. "Hey!" She called above the chaos of the staff trying to assess and the patient trying to escape. "Can someone go see where his folks have gotten to?"

"Dead!" The man suddenly husked quietly, "All dead!"

Satisfied that someone had left to seek out the man's family, Evelyn turned her focus back to him and saw that he had suddenly calmed. A wave of exhausted, relieved sighs moved around the room and she joined them wearily.

"Gone …"

Seeing the tears that suddenly flowed from his closed eyes and trickled down the sides of the man's pale face, Evelyn edged a little closer. "That's it … easy now … can you tell me your name?"

A slight shake of his head and a quiet sob.

"Well, my name is Evelyn. I'm a doctor. You're in hospital." She continued softly, "Can you understand me?"

"Hurts." He responded, his shoulders and knees lifting a little as he tried to curl around the pain in his abdomen.

"Okay!" Evelyn quickly placed a gloved hand on his chest and leaned a little lower. "Lie still. It's okay. We're trying to help with that." She frowned in concern and was aware of the team of staff prepping equipment and poised ready to try once again to treat him. "D'you remember what happened?"

A slight groan escaped his tight lips and he nodded, his face creasing in pain and fear. "Shot."

"Yeah." Evelyn confirmed quietly, "And we're trying to patch you up. Okay?"

"No!" The sudden return of anger and strength to his voice had everyone instantly on edge but he lay still, his jaw trembling as more tears fell.

"Easy." Evelyn soothed, pressing her fingers gently into his shirt and stroking the cotton against his skin.

"But - " He tensed against a wave of pain and held his breath as he willed it to pass. "You don't … you don't understand …"

Evelyn paused as he turned his head and suddenly he was gazing up at her, his eyes full of pain and terror.

"I can't be here." He whispered in earnest, "Please …!"

"We have to treat this." Evelyn countered, glancing at the blood-stained skin of his abdomen. She watched him close his eyes and took his silence as something of a surrender, if not absolute consent. Glancing up and nodding at her colleagues, she saw him suddenly tense once more as several pairs of hands began to touch him and she patted his chest lightly. "It's okay … it's okay ..."

Cleaning the dark blood from the leather seats had taken him longer than he had first thought. And it had given him time to think. Hands shaking from exhaustion and withheld emotion, Sam threw the last of the bloodied cotton shirts onto the small pile beside the car and trudged round to the trunk.

Sam's heart was heavy as he doused the pile of ruby-stained cotton with lighter fuel and flicked open the lighter. It was wrong, so wrong; burning evidence of his brother just seemed an awful omen and Sam bit back new tears as he watched the flames grow.

"He'll be okay."

Jumping at the sudden voice and flying back to the open trunk in readiness to grab a suitable weapon, Sam then saw the figure taking form on the other side of the fire.

"They got him to the ER." Malphas confirmed quietly. "He's in good hands."

"No thanks to you." Sam spat angrily, "I oughta send you right back to - "

"Fine." Malphas retorted wearily, "Go ahead." He watched Sam's stance relax and sighed as he saw him shaking his head in confusion. "I'm sorry, Sam …"

Sam frowned in interest and watched cautiously as Malphas approached him.

"I wish I could be what you want me to be." Malphas continued quietly, side-stepping the flames and stopping in front of Sam. "But … I can't change what I am." He was sure Sam shuddered slightly and a small smile pulled at his mouth. "What I can do is get rid of your pesky spook problem. Once and for all."

Sam gasped and gave a small shake of his head, backing up against the Impala for comfort.

Malphas's smile faded, "Or at least slow them down."

Watching Malphas warily, Sam rested his arms against the rear wing of the car and took a deep breath. "When did you … you know … 'leave' …?"

"Just before we arrived at the ER." Malphas replied, chuckling suddenly. "And quietly. Much as I would have loved to see the surprise on Bobby's face!"

It wasn't funny and Sam's glare said as much. Seeing Malphas instantly sober and offering a shrug of apology, Sam was intrigued by the sway he held with the demon and curiosity made him pause for a moment.

"Well." Malphas strode towards the passenger door and peered inside the hastily cleaned and repositioned seats. "Shall we?"

"My god, Bobby … what've we done?"

"Exactly what we had to do." Bobby replied easily his voice quiet as he watched her looking sadly down at him from the cab. "There was no other way."

Ellen held his gaze for a time and her frown deepened. "Are we really sure of that …?"

Bobby groaned and pushed back from the truck, lifting his cap to wipe his face and arching his aching back. "Well …" He replaced his cap and threw up his hands in surrender. "It's too late to change any of it now, so …" Looking back into the truck, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Little or no point in second-guessing …"

Ellen was silent, her gaze returning to the dark, sticky matter on her hands. "We should have listened to him … supported him." She closed her eyes and let out a loud, shaken sigh. "He's right, y'know … he's not a child."

Bobby gave a derisive snort and shook his head. "Yes. He is."

Lifting her head, Ellen met Bobby's stern expression and she took a deep breath. "After all that he's been through … all that he's seen …" She swallowed back the lump in his throat. "We never gave him time to explain."

"None of this is our fault, Ellen." Bobby reminded curtly, frowning in annoyance. "It was him that called that thing!"

"And us that interfered!" Ellen retorted quickly, anger flashing in her blood-shot eyes. "We made things so much worse!"

Bobby groaned and gave a dismissive wave of his arm.

"And now we've left him there. Scared, pissed at us and alone." Ellen saw Bobby pause and caught the wince that let her know she had a point. "And he's a Winchester."

Bobby spun to face her and frowned in concern.

"You know he's bound to do something stupid." Ellen concluded.

Nodding slightly, Bobby stepped closer to the cab and then gasped as one of the nurses came running out of the entrance to the ER and breathlessly ordered them to hurry inside.

Ellen was out of the cab in a flash and hurried after the retreating nurse. Oblivious to all else inside the crowded, noisy ER she followed closely as the nurse hurried back to the trauma rooms at the rear of the department.

The doctor looked up at Ellen and smiled in recognition. Beckoning her enter the room and approach the gurney, she nodded in reassurance. "He came round when we started to assess him." She smiled thinly, "And he wasn't best pleased."

Seeing the orderlies standing ready and the straps gently holding Dean down, Ellen returned the doctor's kind smile and stepped closer.

"What's his name?"

"Dean." Ellen replied, seeing the name catch Dean's attention and reaching out to grasp his hand as he stared up at her in confusion and pain. "Dean Harvelle."

"Okay. My name is Evelyn and I'm the Chief Resident. We need to stabilize Dean and get him quickly to surgery. Tell me, does he have any medical conditions, allergies or anything else we should know about …?"

Ellen was not listening. Stunned by the emotion in Dean's face, she squeezed his trembling fingers and moved closer to the gurney. It had been automatic, instinctive; they would need a surname and it was the first logical choice. She had no idea how Dean would react to hearing her say it. And it broke her heart as she saw grief and longing mingling with the pain etched in his pale face.

"I'm sorry. Ma'am?" Evelyn urged, placing her hand on Ellen's shoulder. "We need to know anything important that you can tell us about your son."

And there again was the look in Dean's eyes that made Ellen suddenly want to gather him up in her arms and promise him that all the hurt was nothing more than a bad dream.

"No." Dean offered in a whisper and shook his head, giving Ellen's hand a gentle squeeze.

"No!" Ellen repeated, gasping as she suddenly realized that Evelyn had been talking to her. She turned to the doctor and shook her head. "Nothing."

"Good." Evelyn nodded, "We've paged the surgeons. They'll be here soon."

Looking back down at Dean, Ellen saw the grimace that crossed his face and felt the tension in his hand as Evelyn began to gently examine his abdomen. She covered his fingers with her free hand and moved in closer, her hips brushing the outside of his thigh. "It's okay …"

Dean turned his head and focused on her, smiling gratefully. "Sam?" He then frowned.

Ellen held her breath and forced a smile to her lips. "He's fine."

"Where is he?"

Not knowing quite how to respond, Ellen then moved back to allow the nurses access to his legs and watched as they untied the straps.

"We just need to roll you over." Evelyn was explaining softly.

The grip on her fingers became almost painful and Ellen watched in concern as Dean screwed up his face and bit back on a cry of agony. He groaned and arched his neck back, trying to be cooperative but the movement as many pairs of hands gently turned him onto his side made sweat gather at his temples.

Instinct took over and Ellen prized her fingers free, stepping quickly around the nurses that supported Dean. Moving between the staff and crouching down before his face, she placed her hand on his cheek and quietly urged him to breathe calmly.

"Ellen - ?" Dean gasped.

"It's okay." Ellen stroked his cool skin and stroked back the damp hair that clung to his forehead. "Shh. I'm here."

"Where's Sam?"

"Safe, honey."

Dean opened his eyes and blinked to focus on her, wincing as the medical staff continued their assessment. "You … promise?"

"Yeah." Ellen replied, the lie made all the easier by the visible calming effect it had on Dean. She forced a smile to her lips and rested her hand on his face, hoping that Sam would not do anything stupid.

God knows how he had found them. But found them he certainly had. Sam again checked the rear-view mirror and cursed under his breath as he saw the dark, unlit sedan glimmering in the moonlight.

"Fuck …" He glanced at his quiet passenger and a frown settled over his eyes. "What now?"

Malphas turned and peered out through the rear window. He then looked to Sam and saw obvious fear and rising panic. "Lose him."

"What?" Sam gasped, staring out at through the rain-swept night to see the forest road winding up into the hills.

"Just do it." Malphas urged in quiet calm, "I know what I'm doing."

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Sam could feel his heart racing and he slowly shook his head. "Fine." He gritted his teeth as he felt the acceleration pressing him back against the leather seat.

Sam sighed in dismay as his sudden lurch forward had forced the pursuing driver's hand. The Ford's lights flicked on and the car was quickly matching their speed, if not gaining on them. Aware of the Impala sliding on the wet tarmac, Sam held his breath and pressed down on the gas, holding the wheel with both his hands and muttering a silent prayer.

The road was curved and the cambers dragged the Impala dangerously close to the edge, the grass verge the only thing that stood between the car and the drop amid the tall pines. Sam watched the corners approaching rapidly and felt the back of the car swaying away from under them. Confident in his handling of the car but suddenly wishing that his brother was driving, he held on tightly and listened to the howl of the powerful engine.

Sam chanced a glance in the mirror and saw the twin beams behind them swing across the road. Guessing the Ford had lost grip and was swerving too wildly, he then noted the growing distance and smiled in wary relief. Reaching the top of the hill, the road then altered gradient and for a moment he could see the straighter path amid the forest. Downhill and with less curves, he was sure that he could increase the gap and held back on the brakes as the Impala dropped her nose over the summit.

And then he heard it. Like a sudden clap of an engine backfiring. Only neither of the cars had done so.

Sam peered in the rear-view mirror and watched the Ford leap over the brow of the road and charge after them. In the surrounding darkness the bright flash was obvious and he recognized the flare, hearing the confirmation of another bang.

This time the Impala shuddered with the impact and Sam growled angrily. He could well imagine the gun that was pointing out of the Ford's window and he swallowed back the lump in his throat.

"Steady." Malphas urged softly, "Just wait."

"What for?" Sam demanded.

"Him to make a mistake." Came the reply, "It's just you and him out here. He's over-confident. And it will be his downfall."

Another shot thudded into the car and the rear of the Impala suddenly swung wildly. Grunting with the effort of holding the car steady, Sam quickly corrected the skid and then felt the drag on the near-side. "Fuck!" He spat in fury. "I can't hold her! Shit!"

The car was slowly starting to turn. Tipping to one side and losing grip on the wet asphalt, Sam had no choice but to ease off the gas. But he was still going too fast for the crippled car to cope with and he yelled in fright as the tires lost grip and the Impala swerved wildly.

The water sitting on the road gave little help as the car nose-dived into a tight spin, the headlight beams flashing dizzily across tree trunks, then approaching Ford and then tree trunks again. Sam cried out in anger and gripped the wheel, desperately trying to correct the spin and aware of the car banking into the turn. He hung his head and could hardly breathe as the centrifugal force pinned him against the door.

Then there came a sound that made Sam's heart leap into his throat. Over the whistling of the Impala's slipping tyres came a loud screeching. And Sam knew the noise.

"Let go!"

"What?" Sam grated, unable to focus on Malphas in the spinning car.

"Trust me." Malphas urged.

Sam closed his eyes and groaned in dismay, wishing dearly that he had not opened that damned book. But without any other obvious choice, he held his breath and lifted his hands from the wheel.

The screeching rose in pitch and was getting rapidly closer. Sam chanced opening his eyes and cried out in terror, holding his hands up in front of his face as the headlights sped towards him and the out of control Ford slammed into the side of the Impala.