"Did you call me because of my psychic thing?" Wiley asked suddenly.
Dean snorted. "We called because you're a hunter." He pressed a hand to his stitched-up abdomen. "Sam needs back-up to get this bastard, and that ain't me."
Sam started to speak, but Wiley shook his head. "Hold on." Closing his eyes, he tilted his head up slightly, and went quiet.
After a few minutes, he sighed and opened his eyes. "I almost bought it under the wheels of a tractor trailer yesterday when I had a death omen. I'm pretty sure it has to do with whatever's here."