She's back. I'm bringing Ellis back in for this one. And Taco too. Sequel to Hexes (Redux) and Marking the Soul. Set in Season 2. This time it's Dean's turn for me to whump the crap out of him. Sam gets a break. ;)

"Dean." Sam slid down on his knees next to his brother, leaving a trail of displaced leaves in his wake. "Dean, you okay?"

Dean opened his eyes hazily and snapped them shut with a painful cry. "Nuh..." he said weakly.

"Okay. okay." Sam soothed. "Just...stay down. Let me get a look at you." His voice was calm but the anxiety behind it wasn't hard to detect.

Sam's big hands went over his brother's torso and wrapped around Dean's wrist, where he had it pressed under his ribs, trembling. "It's okay, man. Lemme see."

Sam pried Dean's hand away from the injury and a gush of blood pumped out of the wound. "Oh god."

Sam slapped his own hand over it and pushed down. Dean cried out.

"Woah... easy, easy."

Adrenaline shot through him at the sight of the blood and Sam struggled to keep his breathing even, struggled to keep calm and evaluate the situation like he'd been taught.

He fished in his pockets with his free hand for something, anything he could use to stanch the bleeding. He came up empty. "Dean." He grabbed Dean's blood soaked hand. "Press down here again for a minute, okay?"

His brother was panting raggedly.

Sam shucked off his jacket and pulled off his own flannel shirt, then wadded it into a ball and shoved it under Dean's hand, pressing in again.

Dean yelled, kicking out against the mess of damp leaves on the ground with a boot heel.

Sam grabbed his flip phone out of his pocket, dialed Bobby with one hand while he held the other pressed against Dean's.

"Singer."

"Bobby!" The name was an exclamation of relief and fear.

"Sam?" There was a second while Bobby processed the anxiety in Sam's tone of voice. "What's wrong, son?"

"It's Dean." Sam paused while he tried to get the catch out of his voice. "He's..." Sam rolled his eyes heavenward and blinked to suppress tears. "He's been shot, Bobby."

"Balls!"

Sam went silent.

"Talk to me, kid. How bad is it? Where did he get shot? Is he at the hospital?"

"No. He's..." Sam swallowed again. "He's right here... It's by his side above his hip."

"Well what the hell are you talking to me for? Hang up and get him to a hospital NOW!"

"I can't." Sam stuttered. "We're...we're..."

"Sam." The voice was firm. "Get it together right now."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his hand shaking while holding the phone. "Okay. Yeah."

Bobby's tone turned patient, calm. "Is he conscious?"

"Yeah...yeah mostly. It's bleeding a lot..."

"You putting pressure on it?"

"Yes." Sam swallowed. "The FBI shot him. They had us cornered and we ran. That guy, Henricksen, the one from the bank...his men got the jump on us."

"Balls!" Bobby's voice betrayed his frustration. "You two boys have the worst luck. They still on your trail?"

"I think we lost them...but Dean's been hit." Sam pressed again, feeling the warm wetness of the blood between his fingers. "I can't get the bleeding to stop. they'll know immediately if I bring him to a hospital. They're probably actually waiting there for us now. They know they got him...I don't know what to do, Bobby."

Sam pressed harder and Dean yelled, the cords on his neck standing out.

"It won't stop bleeding."

Dean struggled for a minute and Sam dropped the phone onto the leaf litter, pushed him back down. "Hey, hey. Stay down, Dean."

"Sam, what's wrong?" He could hear Bobby's voice from the speaker.

"He's..." Sam held him down again, sweat slicking between his shoulder blades, despite the cold dampness. "He's fighting me." He shouted in the direction of the phone, then gently. "Calm down. Calm down. I got ya, buddy."

Dean stilled.

Sam reached blindly for the phone again, pressed it to his ear with his shoulder, panting.

"Where are you two?"

"We're in Upstate NY."

"Balls. Near Fredonia?"

"No...we're, uh, way east of that." Sam's hand was warm and wet. He tried to ignore that it was Dean's blood on them. Dean.

"Okay. I don't know anyone out that way, son. Closest I got is Fredonia...now think, did your Daddy have any contacts out near where you are?"

"I...don't...I don't know."

"You got his journal? Maybe you can look through it."

Sam paused. "It's in the car."

"How far are you from the car?"

"Not far. Dean ran a ways before he collapsed."

Bobby's answering grumble was fond. "Of course he did. Idjit."

Dean weakly grabbed at Sam's wrist, his hands slick with his own blood.

Sam turned his attention to him "Shhhh." His voice was shaking still, he realized to his dismay.

"He still bleedin?"

"Yeah." Sam's jaw tightened. " It...it's not stopping...it might be slowing a little." Sam held the phone between his ear and shoulder as Dean shifted.

"You gotta get him somewhere, Sam. Somewhere safe to patch what you can."

"I know."

Dean's brow was eloquent with unspoken pain as he lay there, shivering.

"Well think kid, and act quickly or your brother's gonna bleed to death."

The sweat from his fingers made him drop the phone again.

"You still there, Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam said, not bothering to reach for it again. instead he slid his other hand into Dean's, felt his brother's fingers tighten into his grip. Sam squeezed gently. "I got ya, Dean."

Sam wormed his way out of the questing grip and picked up the phone again.

Something rustled to his right and Sam jumped instinctively.

"What's wrong?"

"I heard something." Sam's eyes searched in the dim December light and he saw a pair of yellow eyes as a tabby cat jumped out of the undergrowth and skittered away. "It's just a cat." He paused, a sudden memory dawning on him. "Ellis. I know someone not too far from here, Bobby!"

"Who?"

"Ellis Parnecki. She was a friend of Dad's."

There was a pause. "She a hunter? I ain't never heard of her."

"No." Sam started to dig in Dean's jacket pocket. "She's a psychic. I think Dean should have her number in his phone."

"You take care of your brother and you call me, Sam."

"I will. Thanks Bobby." He hung up the phone. "It's gonna be alright, Dean. I know what to do."