The following day
Bobby's place
Fort Pierre, SD

Sam had to honestly admit that he had felt better and that it did bite that Sean was still scared of him, which in turn deprived him of the easy way out of this rather painful situation.

A hot shower had managed to work out some of the kinks in his shoulders and back, but he still felt like he'd been worked over with a baseball bat several times. Come to think of it, he generally had. Mike's fists had been hard as concrete.

Bracing himself on the edge of the sink, Sam eyed his battered face for a moment. The gash left behind by Carl's bullet gaped, ugly and oozing. With a bit of an effort, he managed to bandage it himself, then continued the inspection. His left eye was a bit swollen and red around the edges, he had a cut on his right cheek and a split lip. His right collarbone had gone dark purple over night with a green starlike pattern spreading out in all directions that faded into yellow at the edges. He could still feel the impact of Mike's knuckles there.

His back was aching, his wrists and ankles were tender and cut in places, he had dark purple bruises on his left leg just above and below the knee, and he felt the distinct urge to go back to bed and stay there until this all went away.

Shifting a little, he eyed the bruise that basically covered his entire left side from just below the arm and to his hip. "Shit," he muttered. Those muscles would be extremely sore for a while.

A sudden knock on the door made him jerk. "You asleep in there?" Dean called.

Sam sighed lightly, grabbed his boxers and shimmed into them before dragging his jeans on. On top of being sore and aching all over, his head was killing him. The gash along with the beating he'd taken had given him a lingering headache and he figured he probably had a low key concussion.

The knock on the door was repeated. "Sammy?" Now Dean sounded worried.

"Give me a sec," he called back, appalled at how hoarse his voice sounded.

He grabbed his t-shirt, then opened the door.

His brother might be a master at hiding his true feelings, but when Dean caught sight of his battered torso, his expression shifted from concern to stunned surprise to anger in one fluent go before he got it under control. "Holy crap, look at you," he said.

Sam made a face. "Not the time for jokes, dude," he warned. "I feel like crap."

"Don't blame you, man," Dean agreed and was obviously hard pressed to keep a lid on any snide comments. But he managed and for that Sam was grateful.

He slipped the t-shirt on, causing himself some added agony when he had to raise his left arm a little higher than was comfortable, while he made his way back to the bedroom they shared when they stayed with Bobby. He sank down on the edge of his bed and briefly closed his eyes.

"Dude, you're in worse shape than I thought," Dean said quietly and Sam felt the mattress give when he sat down next to him.

"It's not that bad," Sam countered and smiled vaguely, attempting not to reopen the tear in his lip.

"Bullshit, Sam," Dean countered a little flatly. "I can tell you're hurting."

A little pensively, Sam rubbed his brow next to the bandage. "It's just my head," he confessed. "This gash hurts."

"Yeah, well, you had a close encounter with a bullet yesterday and you haven't slept for a while. That'd give anybody a headache," Dean countered. "This is stupid. I'm gonna go talk to him," he added, rose and left the room before Sam could ask what he was talking about.

He assumed that Dean meant Sean, but he wasn't entirely sure. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with Dean's way of thinking.

***

Dean found Sean where he had figured he would be. The kid was sitting on the couch in the livingroom, leafing through a big old book that Bobby had obviously given him.

For a moment, Dean just stood in the doorway and watched him and not for the first time did he recall Sam at the same age. "Hey champ," he said after a bit.

Sean looked up and the expression that flitted over his face told Dean that this kid had some major hangups about Sam. The second Sean realized Dean was alone, he pursed his lips, then glanced back down at the book.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Dean asked.

Sean gave him a frown for his trouble, obviously not used to being asked for permission. Then he shrugged lightly.

Dean sat down next to him, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Look, Sean, I know you've got some issues with Sam. But ... I know my little brother and I know he would never do anything to hurt you. He's not the type."

Sean said nothing, just stared down at the book.

"He's really an okay guy, you know," Dean pressed on. "And you weren't afraid of him at first, were you?"

Slowly, Sean shook his head, still without looking up.

"I get that he was behaving oddly at the brick factory, but that really wasn't his fault. And he didn't hurt you, did he?" Dean asked.

Sean shook his head again.

"So ... why are you still scared of him?" In a sense, Dean knew why, but he figured it might help if Sean said it out loud.

For a minute all Sean did was sit there with his head bowed. Then he glanced up at Dean, a frown furrowing his brow.

"You don't know why, do you?" Dean asked.

Sean pursed his lips while the frown deepened, then he shook his head once.

"I think I know why," Dean said. "It's because you're afraid he'll act that way again. But I can promise you right now that he won't. The second ghost we saw out there did that to him, the one upstairs in the corridor. It influenced him, made him angry. He couldn't think straight and that's why he behaved that way."

"It was the same one," Sean said quietly.

Now it was Dean's turn to frown. "What?" he asked.

"The first and the second ghost. They were the same," Sean repeated, his tone indicating that he was a bit annoyed that Dean didn't get it the first time.

Sean's words made no sense to Dean at first. "The same?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

Sean nodded and glanced up at him. "They felt the same," he said.

"Felt the same? What are you saying, kiddo? You can ... read ghosts?" That sounded weird. "I thought you were a healer."

Sean considered that for a moment, concentrating hard to figure it out. Then he looked up at Dean. "The bad ghost felt the same way as the first ghost we met," he said, looking a little uncertain.

"Hang on. Are you telling me you knew up front that the guy we met first was a ghost?" Dean asked and Sean nodded seriously. "How could you know that?"

"He felt different," Sean said. "Like not all there."

Despite not really grasping the whole idea of these supernatural abilities that both Sean and Sam had, Dean thought he was beginning to know how Sean knew that others were hurt. He could actually sense other people's presence. And this latest revelation made him see an easy way of ridding that factory of its resident spooks. And he did hate leaving a job unsolved.

"Well, that makes my job a lot easier," he said and smiled. "But ... about Sam. He's not evil, okay? He would never hurt you. It's just like this ghost got into his head and made him react in a way that wasn't normal for him. Do you understand that?"

Sean blinked, then nodded. "I guess," he said.

"So ... you're not afraid of him anymore?" Dean asked.

Sean thought about it for a moment, then shrugged lightly. That probably meant that he still had hangups, but that his immediate fear was gone.

"I know that Sam can be a little weird at times. But that's just the way he is. He helps people and he's good at it. And I know he would never do anything to you or your mom. As long as he's nowhere near that ghost, it can't get into his head again and make him act weird," Dean said.

Sean didn't look convinced, but he said nothing.

For a moment Dean considered other ways of convincing him, but then figured it might be easier if he played on the kid's sympathies instead. "You know ... Sam's hurting pretty badly right now. Can't you sense that?" he asked quietly.

The kid's expression tightened a little, but he still said nothing.

"You know, Sean, I really don't get why you're so afraid of him," Dean continued. "It's not like he hurt you or anything."

"He hurt you," Sean countered without looking up.

Okay, he hadn't seen that one coming. "Uh ... not really," he tried although there was no doubt about that Sam, under the influence of that damned spook, had hurt him severely by dragging him to the car like he had.

"Yeah, he did. I felt it," Sean insisted, still without looking up.

Dean sighed. "Okay, yeah, it hurt. But I knew that he didn't do it on purpose, that it wasn't Sam doing that. It was that damned ghost."

Sean eyed him for a moment, is expression bordering on belief without quite getting there.

"Sam's not like that, okay? I've known him all his life and there's no way Sam would ever do anything to hurt anyone if he can avoid it. Do you understand?" It was harder work to convince Sean of this than Dean had thought it would be.

The kid thought it over while fiddling with a bent corner on the page he had come to, then he glanced up at Dean and nodded. "I guess," he said.

"Okay. So ... you think you can help Sam out? He's really not feeling very good and he could sure use your help," Dean tried.

Sean closed the book and pushed it off his lap onto the couch. "Okay," he said.

"Great," Dean said with a grin. "He'll be really happy about that."

Sean looked up at him with narrow eyes when they both rose. "So will you," he said.

Dean couldn't help a bemused snort. "Yeah, I will. I won't have to listen to him moaning about how much he hurts," he agreed.

Sean made a face, but followed him out of the livingroom and upstairs just the same.

***

The headache was debilitating. It made him want to crawl under a rock and stay there until it passed. He really just wanted to stay in bed.

When the door to the room opened, he looked up and squinted, then focused on Sean, who lingered in the doorway. His immediate reaction would have been to get up, but Dean held up a hand, stopping him, and he remained seated.

"Hey Sean," he said and tried a smile, which split open the wound on his lip again. He hissed and pressed a finger against it.

Sean's response was immediate. He strode over to Sam, pulled his hand away from his lower lip and touched the split for a second. Then he draped a hand over the gash on his brow and held it there for a minute while the pain and the headache oozed away into nothingness. Sean eyed him for a second, then touched his chest. All the aches and pains he had suffered from ever since Carl and Mike had taken their anger out on him disappeared.

Finally Sean stepped back and eyed him suspiciously. "You're not gonna go bad again, are you?" he asked.

"No, I promise I won't," Sam countered. "Thanks," he added with a smile.

Sean considered this for a moment, then nodded and glanced up at Dean. "Can I go now?" he asked.

"Sure. Knock yourself out," Dean countered.

Sean raced back downstairs, yelling for Angelina. Sam looked up at Dean for a moment, then reached up to peel the bandage away from his brow.

"That kid scares the bejesus out of me," Dean confessed and dropped down next to Sam.

"Why?" Sam asked and gingerly prodded the spot where the gash had been. It was still a little sore, but there was no indication of a wound or a scar.

"With what he can do?" Dean countered. "I mean, he's lucky like hell he's got a mom who won't take advantage of that. Think of the money she could rake in by using her kid as a ... faith healer. If she slapped a religious stigma on the kid and found the right crowd, he could heal a great many people for real."

"Without causing someone else's death, you mean?" Sam asked and glanced at Dean. He figured his brother would never truly forgive him for that one.

Dean shrugged. "I'm just saying. If this was a different world, he'd be worshiped like a damned god," he said. "Instead there are people out there hunting him for what he can do because they see him as evil. It's twisted, dude."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it is," he agreed. "So ... now what? I get the feeling that dragging Sean and Angelina around with us isn't such a hot idea."

"I don't think Angie wants that anyway," Dean said. "Besides, maybe Bobby can put them up for a while. I need to get back to Texas and deal with that damned spook before it gets someone killed."

"You mean spooks, don't you?" Sam asked.

"Nope," Dean countered. "Sean says they're one and the same. How that's possible I don't know and frankly, I don't care either. If Haskell and that bad spook are one and the same, then a salt and burn should deal with him no matter what."

"Well, I'm coming with you," Sam said and rose slowly. He still felt a little dizzy.

Dean grabbed his arm and hauled him back down on the bed. "The hell you are. You're in no condition to fight the influence of the bad spook right now," he said and got to his feet.

"The last time you went up against it, you were thrown out of a five storey window, Dean. And since we're not going to take Sean with us, there's no way in hell that I'm letting you face that thing alone," Sam countered and rose again.

"Sam," Dean said, his tone tight now.

"Don't even try to boss me around right now, Dean. I'm not in the mood," Sam countered sternly. "We're both going and that's that. As long as we don't go back to the factory, I should be okay. We know where Haskell is buried. All we need to do is dig him up, salt and burn the remains and that's it."

"Exactly. Which is why I'm doing it alone," Dean shot back.

"No, you're not," Sam disagreed.

"Oh yes, I am. You've been in enough trouble recently," Dean said and folded his arms over his chest. "You're staying here and that's final."

Sam glared at him. "You can't tell me what to do. You're not dad," he snapped.

"Am I interrupting something?"

They both started, then glanced at the doorway where Angelina was standing. "Uh ... no, not really," Sam said.

"Yes, you are," Dean said at the same time.

Angelina glanced from one to the other and back again. "Breakfast's ready. And Sean told me he's no longer afraid of you, Sam," she said.

"That's good to hear," Sam said, then glanced at Dean. "And you're not going alone," he added.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, have it your way. You're so damned stubborn," he said.

Sam sneered. "Right back at ya," he countered.

Angelina eyed them both for a moment. "You know, sometimes you sound like Sean," she said. "Both of you," she added, turned around and left.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean growled.

"It means we sound like five-year olds," Sam said and fought back at grin at the somewhat stunned look Dean gave him.

"I do not," he stated.

"Yeah, you do," Sam countered and left the room.

"No, I don't," Dean insisted and followed him.

"We both do," Sam said, hoping to lay this argument to rest.

"You maybe, but me? Not a chance," Dean persisted, overtook him and disappeared down the stairs.

Sam stopped at the top of the stairs for a moment, rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, you do," he whispered, then descended the stairs as well.

***

Bobby looked up when Sam stepped into the kitchen, then glanced at Sean, who was continuously banging his foot against the table leg, then did a double-take when he realized that Sam's injuries had vanished into thin air over night. "Didn't you have a gash on your brow last night?" he asked, asking about the most pronounced of Sam's injuries.

Sam smiled and settled down on a chair at the kitchen table. "Yeah, I did," he said and glanced at Sean. The kid stopped banging his foot against the table leg, briefly met Sam's eyes and then diverted his attention to the piece of solitary toast residing on his plate.

Bobby arched an eyebrow. He had seen a lot in his life, some of which defied explanation, but he had never met an honest-to-god healer. Sean, however, seemed to possess that ability in abundance and Sam looked as unscathed as if he'd never endured that ordeal. "Wonders never cease," he muttered.

"What can I get you, Sam?" Angelina asked. She had completely taken over the kitchen, which wasn't just tidy now but sparkling clean. Bobby had to admit that under normal circumstances he would have opposed her involvement, but the woman had seemed frantic for something normal to do, so he had let her.

"Uh ... you don't have to ..." Sam started, but Angelina grabbed his shoulder from behind and gave it a squeeze.

"Nonsense. After all you two have done for us, it's the least I can do in return," she said. She sounded overtly chipper and Bobby wondered if she wasn't a bit manic for some reason.

"Well ... whatever you've got is fine with me," Sam said.

Angelina smiled and got busy preparing him some breakfast while Bobby just leaned back on his chair, his mug of coffee in one hand, and watched these people assembled in his kitchen.

Dean was lost in his breakfast, paying attention to nothing other than what he was eating, and it in a way reminded Bobby of John's single-minded determination. Dean only had it with food and protecting his brother. All else he took in stride, much unlike his father had.

Sam had the usual out-of-place attitude, which made Bobby think that nothing in the world could be wrong with that boy, no matter what his father might have hinted at time and time again.

Angelina was a mother to a T, which in and off itself was a good thing, considering what she had to protect.

Then his gaze settled on Sean Banks and Bobby couldn't help a frown from spreading over his brow. That kid was different in a big way. And not in a bad way either. But what it was that set him apart from all those other proclaimed psychics and handlers of the supernatural out there was beyond him at this point in time. He decided to have a little chat with Angelina as soon as Sean was out of hearing range. Somehow he didn't think that the kid would understand what they were going to talk about.

After breakfast, Dean took Sean outside to play ball and Bobby had the odd suspicion he knew that Bobby wanted to talk to Angelina alone. Sam, however, lingered.

"Mrs. Banks," Bobby said. "Could you ... sit down for a moment?"

Angelina wiped her hands on a dishtowel and settled down on a chair across from him. "Just call me Angelina," she said with a fluttering little smile. She knew he was going to address matters and it made her nervous.

"How long has Sean had these abilities?" he asked. Sam grabbed his cup and disappeared into the livingroom, no doubt to give them time to talk.

Angelina stared ahead of herself for a moment, then focused on Bobby. "Since before he was born," she said.

"Do you have any idea how he came about these abilities?" Bobby asked on. It was as much based on curiosity as it was based on a niggling suspicion that her answers might reveal something new to him.

She pressed her lips together into a thin line and sighed lightly. "I have an idea yes, but it does not correspond with my view on the world," she said and managed the first sincere smile. "I don't believe in God."

"Even now?" he asked and she nodded. "Why do you think this has anything to do with God?"

She grimaced and leaned back on the chair. "Because of the way Sean came about," she said. "My husband was a very devout man. He put all his faith in God, but in the end it couldn't save him. He was murdered in his own church. I didn't believe in God before I met him and I certainly have not had any urge to start believing after his death, but ..." She rubbed one palm against one cheek. "There's always room for doubt, isn't there?"

"True," Bobby agreed. "How did Sean come about?" he asked.

Angelina picked up her mug and took a sip, then looked up to meet Bobby's eyes. "He was a miracle. Figuratively speaking," she said. "Ever since we got married, we tried to get pregnant, but nothing happened. So we did all the usual stuff, examinations, treatments, whatnots. In the end it turned out that ... I generally didn't have any ovaries. They were withered, dead. Makes it kind of impossible to conceive."

"A mistake?" Bobby asked.

"No, not at all. We were driving home from this ... examination that kind of cemented the message that there was no way. So ... we're driving along, it's dark, and I close my eyes for a bit. And I remember looking at the clock before I closed my eyes and it was a quarter past ten. When I opened my eyes again, we hadn't moved far, but it was two hours later. And we had maybe half an hour to go to get home from there. We were both aware that we had lost two hours, but neither of us ... could remember how or why. And my husband of all people was the first to suggest alien abduction," she said and couldn't help a smile. "Anyway, we didn't worry too much about it. We weren't hurt, didn't have strange dreams or any of that crap afterward. We came up with various strange explanations and soon it became a game. Until two weeks later when I found I was pregnant. Nothing had changed in my condition. The doctor who examined me was baffled. He couldn't find any medical way of explaining it. Jordan said it was God's will. A miracle. But every test the doctors did on me, proved Sean to be Jordan's child."

Bobby eyed her for a long moment, trying to judge if she was making it up. But she sounded very sincere and he had the impression that she was a fairly levelheaded woman all in all. "And what do you think?"

She snorted and set the cup down. "Me?" she asked, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "I don't know. All I know is ... I got my wish. And while I carried my son inside of me, I was invulnerable. He could heal when he was a fetus, Mr. Singer. So, you tell me? How can someone like that be evil? How can anyone assume that my little boy is evil?"

"Oh, there's no doubt that Sean isn't evil at all," Bobby countered. "But you are going to encounter people all the time that will see him as a freak, a monster. Which is why I suggest that you disappear from view. I have a friend who's running this ... sanctuary for people like that. It's out by the coast, close to the Canadian border. They're good people up there and they'll take good care of both of you. You will have to teach Sean not to heal people at random, though. He must learn to conceal this gift he's got. For his own sake as well as yours."

"A sanctuary?" she asked. "There are others like him out there?"

Bobby nodded. "A few. I've never met an honest-to-god healer like Sean before, but I know there are some people up there with some pretty spectacular abilities. And none of them are evil. They were all born with those abilities, but have had to go into hiding because their friends and neighbors fear what they do not understand. And it's unfortunately human nature to try and eradicate what we do not understand."

Angelina considered it for a moment. "I want to settle down somewhere. I want for Sean to be able to go to school and learn what he needs to learn. I want him to be around other kids his age. I don't want to drag him all over this country. He'll end up a restless soul and I won't do that to him," she said, then sighed deeply. "I think I'll take you up on that offer, Mr. Singer. I have a hard time trusting others, but ... I guess I'm going to have to put that aside for the good of my son."

Bobby smiled. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll make some calls. They'll pick you up in a couple of days," he said and rose.

"Thank you," she said.

Bobby nodded, then stepped through to the livingroom. Sam was standing just inside the door with a book in his hands, but he had obviously overheard the entire conversation. He met Bobby's eyes for a moment. "What do you think it is?" he asked quietly.

"Whatever you want to make of it, Sam," Bobby countered just as quietly and continued onward toward the phone. The look in Sam's eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. That boy wanted to believe there was something out there watching over him. Sam had always been more open to religion than Dean, but his faith had been shaken and Bobby couldn't help wondering if this encounter with Angelina and her son couldn't somehow mend the rifts just a little.

***

Two days later, a man and a woman in a big black truck turned up at Bobby's place and introduced themselves as Angelina and Sean's ride. Bobby talked to Geoffrey, the man, for a bit while, Lisa, the woman, helped Angelina get her things in the back of the truck.

Dean was sitting on the steps leading up to the house, watching quietly. Sam stood by the door and did the same. Neither of them were exactly happy to see Angelina and her son go, but they both knew that Bobby's friends could be trusted and it was important for both mother and son to lead as close to a normal life as they could.

After a while, Sean reluctantly came out and settled down on the steps next to Dean. "I don't wanna go," he said and glanced at Dean.

Dean smirked. "Hey, I don't want you to go either, but you'll be much better off in that place. You'll be able to play with other kids there and not sleep in a car all the time," he tried.

"I don't mind," Sean said and made a face. "What if you get hurt?"

As endearing as the kid's concern for his well-being was, Dean had to fight down the indignation that Sean obviously thought he couldn't get on without him. "Don't you worry about that. I've been doing this a long time and without you around ... well, I'll just have to be a little more careful, won't I?" Although he couldn't immediately see Sam from where he sat without turning around, he could still imagine the arched eyebrows. Without looking back, Dean grimaced. "Zip it, Sam," he said.

"I'm not saying anything," Sam countered, sounding innocent.

"Right, like you weren't going to," Dean huffed, then grinned at Sean and ruffled the kid's hair. "As I was saying, don't worry about me, Seany. I'll be just fine."

Sean didn't look convinced, but said nothing further about it. "Can I call you?" he asked.

Dean nodded. "Sure, if you want to," he said.

Angelina stopped at the foot of the stairs and smiled. "Time to go," she said and held a hand out to Sean.

He eyed it for a moment. "Can't we stay, mom?" he begged.

"No, honey. We can't. It'll be better there. You'll see. You'll have fun. There are lots of other kids there," she said.

Sean sighed deeply, then rose and took her hand before looking back at Dean. "I gotta go," he said and shrugged lightly.

"Take care, kiddo, okay? And call me any time you want to," Dean said.

Sean nodded, then glanced up at Sam. "Bye Sam," he said.

"Bye Sean," Sam countered.

Angelina took her son over to the car and got him settled, then closed the door and turned back to face Dean and Sam. "I owe you both my life. And Sean's life too. If ever there's anything I or Sean can do to help, you just call me and let me know."

Dean rose from the step he had been sitting on and Sam approached the top of the stairs. "Thanks, Angie. We'll keep that in mind," Dean said with a smirk.

She gave him a tentative smile in return. "I mean it. Thank you both. I don't know how long we would have survived on our own. If you hadn't come along ..." She shrugged, then took one step up and hugged Dean. Then she took another step up and repeated the procedure with Sam. "Although you scared the crap out of both of us, Sam, I know there's no evil in you."

Sam smiled lightly. "Thanks," he said. "Be careful out there. And you call us if there's anything we can do to help you or Sean, okay?"

"You have my word," she said, briefly met Dean's eyes, then turned and headed over to the car.

Geoffrey and Lisa took their leave of Bobby and moments later, the truck pulled out and drove off.

Bobby stepped up to Dean, who had settled back down on the step. "So," he said.

"That's one way of putting it," Dean agreed. "You think they'll be okay?"

Bobby shrugged lightly. "There are no guarantees, but they're going to be fairly well protected out there," he said. "And Angelina will be able to live as close to a normal life as she can. It'll be better for both of them in the long run."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean agreed and glanced up at Sam, who stood leaning against the banister, seemingly lost in thought. "Hey, Francis," he said and snapped his fingers.

Sam blinked, focused on him and frowned. "What?"

Bobby arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"What are you thinking about? You looked like you were miles away," Dean said.

Sam shrugged, glanced toward the gates out of the junkyard, then turned around and disappeared inside.

"What's up with him?" Bobby asked.

"Don't know," Dean confessed. "I guess the whole spook-thing got under his skin a little there," he added and grimaced. "Literally, as it were."

With a quiet nod, Bobby glanced at the door. "So ... what do you plan on doing now?"

Pensively, Dean rubbed the back of his neck and sent a long look out over the junkyard. What he wouldn't give to stay put for a while right now. He was still a bit tired, worn, from the whole falling-out-of-windows-deal and he assumed Sam wasn't entirely over his little ordeal either. But there was a job to do and if dad had taught him one thing then it was that you didn't leave until the job was done. "We're heading back to Texas. Got a few bones to pick with a certain ghost," he finally said and couldn't keep a sigh at bay. "I wish Sam wouldn't come, though." He eyed Bobby hopefully. "Can't you talk to him? He's more likely to listen to you right now."

Bobby made a face. "Dean, you're not a kid any more. You have to fight your own battles," he said. "Besides ... if Sam wants to go with you, he probably has a damned good reason. I can't imagine that he would be too keen on getting close to that spook again, considering what happened."

Of course, the guy had a point, Dean thought and rose again. "Well, there's no time like the present," he said and followed Sam inside.

***