The ghost was restless, angry, and violent. It threw Dean and Sam into the dilapidated wooden fence just before Mary dropped the match that toasted its bones.

"Never mess with a Winchester," Dean said as he pulled himself to feet. "Right, Sammy?"

"Yeah, uh, Dean?" Sam sounded breathless but he was outside the glow from the Impala's headlights.

"What? Are you all right?" Dean looked around for his flashlight, lost when he got tossed. "Sam?"

Mary had her flashlight and directed it on Sam who was on the ground, one hand pressed against his ribs, blood dripping down onto the ground. "Sam!"

"I'm fine, I'm all right," he told her, still sounding breathless. "I just – I think I cracked a rib."

"You think?" Dean asked as he and Mary both knelt beside Sam. "And all the blood would be from - ?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, right. All right," Dean took the flashlight from Mary. "I'll stay here and get started taking care of Sam, you go to the car and get the first aid kit."

"Excuse me?" Mary took the flashlight back. "I'll stay here with Sam and you'll get the first aid kit."

"You're gonna stay with Sam? I don't think so."

"I'm his mother."

"I've been his mother longer," Dean said and grabbed the flashlight.

"And that matters now, why?"

"Fine, we'll let Sam decide."

They turned to Sam who collapsed backward onto the ground with a groan and a deep sigh. Before Dean and Mary could react, Cas was there.

"Sam, I heard you call – oh. Certainly, let me take care of that for you." He pressed his fingers to Sam's forehead. "There."

"Thanks, Cas," Sam said. He got to his feet and walked away from Dean and Mary.

Cas looked at them. "Did I interrupt something?"