The flames crackled and hissed in the large open fireplace, shooting warmth into the small lounge. Sam sat next to the fire and gazed into the bright amber flames, his thoughts lost inside his loud, worried mind. Aware of Emma's gentle voice offering comfort and reassurance somewhere nearby, he tore himself from the mesmerizing flames and looked across at her.

Morgan had woken a few minutes ago, enough to drink a little of the potion Emma had made for her. She had grimaced at the taste and her stomach had heaved but she had obediently drunk the mixture down. Emma had explained something of the ingredients but all Sam could smell was the potent garlic in the mix and he sympathized with the small child's disgust.

Emma was now applying more pungent brown paste to the sores and lumps on Morgan's skin and talking softly to her. Sam was sure that Morgan looked better already, although simply seeing her eyes open was wondrous itself compared to her previous listless silence. He watched Lena fondly stroking Morgan's hair and was almost jealous of the child's oblivion to all that he feared.

The suddenly loud rumble of an engine caught Sam's attention and he sprang to his feet, stumbling hurriedly through to the kitchen. He groaned in relief as he saw the old pick-up roll up beside the house and he rushed outside into the fresh-falling snow.

"Oh thank god!" Sam trudged over to the truck and smiled up at Bobby in delight. "Am I glad to see you guys."

Bobby nodded in understanding and turned off the engine. "That was a fun drive." He offered dryly, opening his door and jumping down into the snow.

Sam glanced at the Impala hanging up on the cradle by her rear wheels and smiled in agreement. Sliding around on the ice with such precious cargo in tow must have been harrowing to say the least. Looking back into the truck, he saw his brother was slumped against the passenger door and apparently fast asleep.

"Typical!" Sam chuckled, following Bobby round to the other side of the truck. "Only Dean could sleep through all this."

Bobby suddenly paused a few feet from the passenger door and turned to face Sam.

"What?" Sam urged, seeing something in the old hunter's face that made his heart leap into his throat. Panic rising, Sam stepped past Bobby and grabbed the passenger door handle. "Dean?"

Flinching awake and sitting up slowly, Dean seemed confused for a moment.

"Dean?" Sam breathed, opening the door quickly and stepping in close to his brother. "Shit! You look like hell. What's wrong?"

Dean groaned and raised one hand wearily. "I'm fine, Sammy. Don't start your fussing."

"But - "

"I'm okay!" Dean insisted a little louder, turning in the seat to climb down from the cab. He stopped suddenly and hissed under his breath, his hands moving to his left thigh.

Sam peered over Dean's lap and saw the duct tape binding the torn jeans. He gasped and leaned in closer. "What happened?"

"Trigger happy demon." Bobby answered carefully.

Sam spun back to see Bobby's concerned scowl and his throat tightened. "Shit, I knew you shouldn't have gone back for the damned car!" He husked, turning back to his brother's slouched form. "Dammit, Dean!"

"Alright, already." Dean protested, lifting his head and glaring briefly up at Sam. "Help me down, will you? It's freakin' cold out here."

Sighing loudly, Sam grabbed his brother's arm to support him as he turned and slowly swung his legs out of the door. Grateful for Bobby quickly moving in to help, Sam groaned in concern as Dean climbed down from the cab and hung weakly between them.

"Son-of-a-" Dean grunted in pain as he hopped away from the truck, leaning heavily between them as they moved towards the house.

"Seen any sign of them?" Bobby urged, gripping Dean's arm around his neck and peering around them worriedly.

"Not as such." Sam sighed, "They just keep messing with us."

"Who?" Dean demanded, his face tight with pain and concentration as he was carried between them.

Sam shook his head slowly, "We don't know."

"Doesn't matter who they are." Bobby offered gruffly, "They're asses are toast."

Dean gave a small laugh and nodded in agreement.

The three of them paused for a second at the kitchen door and Sam went inside first, turning to help his brother stagger through. He was aware of Emma hurrying into the kitchen from the hall and he cringed as his brother hissed a blend of choice expletives.

"Oh my goodness!" Emma rushed towards them and grabbed a chair. She slid it up beside Dean and watched in concern as he gratefully sank down into it and then slumped forward over his left leg.

"Em, this is my brother Dean." Sam began softly, "And our friend Bobby."

Emma nodded a quick greeting to the elder man and then crouched down beside Dean, peering at the makeshift dressing in horror. "Whose clumsy work was this?"

Sam could not help but smile as he saw Bobby cringe back in embarrassment. He then heard his brother's whimper of protest as Emma lifted the edge of the blood-soaked tape and he crouched down on Dean's other side.

"This needs a good wash." Emma explained, standing and moving towards the sink.

Looking up into his brother's flushed face, Sam placed his hand on Dean's arm and could feel him trembling.

"Sorry." Dean whispered, blinking his eyes open and managing a small smile. "Should've listened to you, huh."

"Wo," Sam grinned suddenly, "It must be really bad if you're admitting I was right."

Dean shrugged and his smile faded.

"It's okay, man." Sam offered softly, "Em knows her stuff. She'll sort you out."

"Oh yeah?" Dean enthused, quirking an eyebrow briefly.

"Can it, dude! She's like a grandmother!"

Dean's smile returned and he nodded gently. "Sorry. I forgot. Old ladies are your thing."

Sam gasped and gave Dean's arm a gentle nudge. "You're such a jerk."

Emma returned with a bowl of water and a towel. Placing them on the floor beside Dean, she frowned as she looked at Dean's thigh and then took a deep breath. "Right. Are we cutting them off or can you slip out of them."

Sure his brother was about to offer some cheeky response, Sam held his breath and watched Dean considering his answer. He then saw him begin to stand and quickly moved in to help him.

Between muttered curses and groans, Dean was helped to slide his jeans off of his hips and he then sank heavily back down onto the chair. He closed his eyes and turned his head away as Emma began to cut off the tape and peel back the gauze and wet denim.

Sam looked on in dismay as Emma revealed the ugly looking holes in Dean's thigh and he muttered in sympathy. He felt his brother flinch as Emma pressed the wet towel over the wounds and then pulled his jeans down over his knee. Moving closer, Sam was surprised as Dean suddenly grabbed his shoulder and clung on tightly for support.

"Let's see …" Emma leaned in closer and peered at the small entry wound, her face full of concern as she then looked at the larger, irregular exit hole. "Bobby?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Go into the lounge and ask Lena to give you some of my salve, would you?"

"Erm … sure." Bobby hurried from the kitchen.

"It was Ben." Dean said quietly.

Sam looked up and saw Dean frowning down at him.

"Didn't see any others." Dean continued, "I think Jerry was hurt but there was no time."

Sam placed his hand on Dean's forearm and nodded slowly. "I know."

"Dean?" Emma interrupted carefully. She waited for him to turn to her and offered him a small smile. "I need to clean this." Emma shrugged an apology and removed the towel to soak it in the warm water. "And it might sting, love."

"Groovy." Dean sighed.

Emma lifted up the dripping towel and squeezed water down over the wounds above his knee. She rinsed the dirt and fragments of denim from his skin and wiped away some of the dried blood.

Sam cringed away from Dean's claw-like grip of his shoulder and clenched his teeth. Dean was quiet in his protest, flinching only slightly at Emma's touch. But then she gently squeezed the edges of the larger wound and he bucked hard, a sob catching in his throat.

"Sorry." Emma offered quietly, rinsing more water over the jagged skin edges.

"S'okay," Dean grated, trying to relax and forcing himself to take a steady breath. "Just do what needs doing."

Emma smiled and nodded in agreement, sensing that this was not the first injury the two brothers had been faced with. The notion made her suddenly sad and she could recall vague memories of her mother quietly fussing over her father at all hours. They had tried to keep it from her but she had been aware of the lingering scent of alcohol and the way her father would carefully hold her, sometimes with obvious stiffness.

"Auntie Em, huh?"

Torn from her musing, Emma glanced up and met Dean's tight smile. She nodded and gave a small chuckle. "Never fails to amuse people." Shaking her head a little, she returned her attention to cleaning the bullet wounds. "Damned movie."

"Really?" Dean frowned, "Aw, how can you not love it?"

Sam snorted in amusement. "Quite easily, actually."

Dean watched Emma give a small apologetic shrug, obviously in agreement with his brother. He sighed in dismay. "Heathens."

Bobby rushed back with the small pot of salve and held it out towards Emma.

Emma smiled her thanks and placed it on the floor beside her. "Now, in the cupboard below the sink is a metal box. D'you mind grabbing it for me?" She asked distractedly, still peering in concern at the larger wound. "This will need to be sutured."

"Now?" Dean hissed.

"No. That might trap in infection." Emma picked up the pot of salve and scooped some out with her fingers. "But this will help."

"What's that?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Comfrey, Betony, Yarrow, St John's Wort." Emma shrugged and smiled up at him. "I know it looks foul but it works wonders."

Dean frowned in uncertainty as he stared at the brown sludge she held and then gave a small shrug. "If you say so."

"I do." Emma assured softly and smeared some of the paste over the smaller hole in his thigh.

Closing his eyes and wrinkling his nose in disgust at the strong-smelling salve, Dean bit his lip and again squeezed Sam's shoulder. He then cried out as she applied the same to the torn nerve endings of the larger wound and he tried to pull away from her, arching back over the chair.

"Wo! Easy." Sam soothed, standing quickly and grabbing his brother's arms to steady him. He closed his eyes as Dean leaned into his grasp and whimpered softly.

"Okay, okay. It's done." Emma offered hurriedly, wiping her hands on the towel and opening the box Bobby had collected for her.

Dean relaxed a little and sat back up straight, letting his head sink onto his chest. He was breathing hard and continued to lean into Sam for support as Emma placed gauze pads over the salve and began to bind his thigh with a thick bandage.

Sam placed his arm loosely around Dean's shoulders and glanced at Bobby. The older man seemed just as concerned, if a little apologetic, as he watched Dean and Sam suddenly wondered just what had happened. He then caught movement in the hallway and saw Lena wandering towards the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Lena asked in quiet dread, her face pale as she looked over at Dean. She stared in disbelief and then shook her head slowly, covering her mouth in horror.

"Lena?" Sam urged quickly.

Suddenly fighting back tears, Lena spun and fled from the kitchen. Sam glanced at Emma and saw equal worry in her pale green eyes.

"There we are." Emma sighed, turning back to finish her handiwork and glancing up at Dean. "We'll leave this to do it's job for a few days and then take another look." She explained gently, tucking the end of the bandage into the dressing. "Now. You need to drink some fluids and maybe have some food. You think you can manage that?"

Dean lifted his head to smile weakly at her and blinked away tears. "As long as you don't mean that shit." He replied, nodding towards the pot of salve.

"Oh no, honey. It's poisonous to drink it!" Emma laughed and got to her feet. "Come on. Let's get you into the warm. Now that you won't bleed all over my carpets."

"Nice." Dean laughed gently.

Sam helped his brother get to his feet and was all too aware of just how hard Dean leaned into him. Fear and concern made his heart race and he pulled Dean closer, helping him balance as Bobby quickly pulled the tattered jeans back up over his hips.

Turning towards the hallway, Sam took Dean's weight and helped him across the kitchen. It was a slow half limp, part hop and Dean was exhausted and sweating when they at last reached the lounge.

Sam tried to lower Dean gently onto the spare couch but lost his balance under his brother's weight. He groaned an apology as Dean dropped onto the cushions and hissed in pain. Sure of a smart comment on his lack of grace, Sam was instead concerned as he watched his brother's face relax as Dean rested back and gave in to his tiredness.

"What a mess …"

Sam turned and saw Emma standing in the doorway, surveying her patients.

Emma shook her head slowly and a smile pulled at her mouth. "When troubles come …"

"They come not single spies." Sam concluded for her. "But in battalions."

"Ooh, we have an educated man in our midst." Emma enthused, her smile growing.

Sam shrugged modestly.

"So." Emma sighed loudly and moved aside to let Bobby enter the lounge. She looked between the two men and shrugged her shoulders. "Who are we dealing with?"

Bobby lifted his cap and scratched at the matted hair beneath. "I'm not sure."

Sam frowned in thought and then moved back from his brother, nodding towards the hallway. "I think I know someone who might …" He took a deep breath and wandered from the lounge.

He found Lena in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The room was brightly decorated and filled with embroidered designs and quilted furnishings that made him feel suddenly homesick - despite not having a home, as such, to miss. His eyes misted with tears as he paused in the doorway and was somehow lost for words.

Lena was perched on the edge of the large double bed, clutching one of the many aged teddies that sat huddled together on top of the pillows. She rocked gently back and forth and sobbed quietly.

"You saw it, didn't you." Sam offered after a moment, "You saw Dean get hurt."

Lena nodded slowly, burying her face into the soft fur of the bear. "That's why I said he mustn't go back." She confirmed in a husked whisper.

Sam closed his eyes and hung his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Suddenly still, Lena groaned wearily. "I don't know."

Sam looked back up and sighed as he strode across the worn woven rug. He sat down beside her and gave a small nod of understanding.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey." Sam edged nearer and placed his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and he hugged her closer, gently stroking her arm. "It's not your fault."

Lena choked on a sob and fell against him. "It feels like it is." She pressed her face into his shirt and shook her head. "It always has. I'm cursed."

Sam closed his eyes and moaned softly. "No … it's nothing you've done. Trust me."

"But - " Lena sat up slowly and wiped her face with the back of one hand. "I saw Jim's death and …" Her face crumpled and fresh tears gathered. "It was months before he was diagnosed."

Sam's heart was thudding in his ears and his thoughts were spinning dizzily. Jessica's death, Max's killing spree, Cold Oak. His waking nightmares seemed to play themselves out and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to make them stop. Azazel's taunting laugh and arrogant smirk then sent a shudder through him and he could hardly breathe.

"That was why I got pregnant."

Focusing on Lena's soft, trembling voice and dragging himself away from painful memories, Sam opened his eyes and peered down at her. Beyond her long dark hair, he could just make out her pale face and saw the tears that dripped into his lap.

"I had to keep something of him. I couldn't let him go."

Sam frowned in confusion. "You mean …?"

Lena sat up slowly and wiped her face with her shaking hands. "Morgan's father left when I told him I was pregnant. Asshole. " She took a deep, tremoring breath and glanced up at Sam. "Jim was the only father she ever knew … the only man that ever mattered."

"God, I'm sorry …" Sam offered quietly.

"Why is this happening?"

Sam shrugged, a small smile forming. "Shit. I was hoping you might know."

Lena frowned up at him and bit her lip in thought. "There was … I saw the motel owner, Ben, he said he had come for Morgan …" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Morgan - or whatever was inside her - seemed to know him … he said he had told her to wait, that he had promised he would come … and then he took Morgan … and some gun you had."

Gasping, Sam stared at her in horror. "The Colt?"

"I don't know," Lena shrugged, "It was just real old and he seemed pleased when he took it."

"I'll bet." Sam agreed in a whisper. "Right … I need my laptop. We need to work out who he was." He stood slowly and dragged his hands through his hair. "We need to know who's coming."

- tbc -