AN: So sorry for the long wait! It looks like this won't be the last chapter after all, and hopefully I'll have the next one out sooner rather than later. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, as is any and all feedback. I feel as if this chapter was a tad rushed, so if you notice any errors, please tell me! Thank you!

Sam could feel Dean's clammy skin as his grip on Dean grew tighter. Dean's breathing was shallow, almost gasping, and he was quickly becoming a dead weight as he struggled for consciousness. At this point, Sam's only thought was for his brother; and so his mind barely registered the crazy wind or the change of scenery, until the old man, Emrys, opened the door. Without touching it. The full gravity of the situation fell on Sam at once, and he froze, overwhelmed, until a gruff voice shattered his shock, "Well, what are you standing around there for? I haven't got all day! If you want him to see another day, you'd better hurry up!" Sam obediently followed, his mind racing to catch up with what had just happened.

He nearly froze again when he stepped inside of the unassuming little cottage. The inside was much bigger than it appeared to be. To his right was a good-sized living space. The outer wall was filled with bookcases that stretched up to the ceiling, each crammed tight with books. An assortment of paintings and photos were hung on the opposite wall- and did that painting just move?

"Put him over here." Sam tore himself away from the sight and hurried towards Emrys. The old man was standing in an opened arched doorway that Sam could have sworn wasn't there a moment ago. The new room was definitely some sort of medical room, with a decidedly medieval twist. Bottles of mysterious substances lined shelves, books with strange diagrams were open on a long wooden table. A mortar and pestle lay next to the books, with plants half ground inside. Sam hurried towards a long hospital-like bed that Emrys was gesturing towards.

As carefully as he could, Sam helped his brother onto the bed. He was soon joined by the old man, who had returned with a vial of some strange brown liquid. "Here, give this to him, it will numb the pain and help slow the serket venom. It will give us a few hours to work with." Shoving the vial into Sam's hands, the old man then turned on his heal and walked back towards his table, grabbing an assortment of books and ingredients along the way.

Sam's thoughts however, were focused solely on his brother. Without questioning, Sam uncorked the vial, winced at the foul smell, and then slowly poured it into Dean's mouth. Only half conscious, it took Dean a while to drink the concoction, but as soon as he had, Sam saw Dean's body visibly relax as the elder brother fell asleep.

Satisfied with Dean's momentary turn for the better, Sam was finally allowed the peace of mind to think about what had just happened. Which he soon vocalized.

"What the hell was that?" Sam's voice was laced with anger and his gaze was focused on Emrys. "You had better stark talking." The old man was grinding ingredients with his mortar and pestle, but looked up at Sam, and raised an eyebrow.

"That was me saving your Friend's life." The old man's voice was still harsh and worn, but, unless Sam imagined it, it had a bit of a warmer tinge.

Sam, however, was unsatisfied with the answer. "Who are you? How the hell did we get here? And what was that that you gave my brother?" The old man's gaze hardened, and he put down the equipment he was working with.

"I told you, I'm Emrys. Now you listen here boy, it was lucky that I got to you and your brother when I did. Who do you think you are, running into strange caves, especially after finding bodies in them? It was almost as if you two were looking for trouble…" Emrys trailed off, and his expression morphed from its previous agitation, to revelation, and then suspicion.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say two were friends with Gwaine or King Pratt for how bull headed you are…looking for trouble like that…but no. I am I correct in assuming that you and your brother are hunters?"

Sam wasn't able to hide his momentary surprise. But then in fit didn't it? The unexplainable that had just occurred. The man in front of him was a witch. Immediately, Sam drew his gun and aimed it at Emrys.

"What did you give my brother?" He quickly patted down the bed Dean was in, searching for hex bags, and never once taking his eyes off of Emrys.

"Calm down you idiot. It was a simple tonic for pain, enhanced to slow down the effects of serket venom. And you won't find any hex bags in my house, so you can quit looking for them!" Emrys' voice gained a decidedly annoyed tone with the last sentence. "I am not one of those damned witches you hunters are so fond of hunting. Demons are nasty creatures, and I for one, refuse to deal with them."

Sam paused in his search for hex bags, but didn't lower his gun. "So if you're not a witch, what are you?" Emrys' only response was to glare at Sam. "Well?"

"Well what does it matter what I am? I'm only trying to help! Who knows why, but apparently, you two somehow important to this world." The gun remained pointed at Emrys' chest. That was the wrong move, because the old man huffed in annoyance, and with only a flash of gold in his eyes as warning, the gun flew out of Sam's hand and onto the table next to Emrys.

"There. Much better. I am not a violent man hunter, and I prefer it if we kept things civil. You may have it back when you and your brother leave." Someone else might have been able to recognize the mirth dancing in the old man's eyes as he said this, but Sam was a bit preoccupied. "Now, I can't work with you dawdling in here and quite possibly trying to kill me, so I'll have to ask you to leave." With this, the old man grinned and shooed his hands at Sam, and try as he might, Sam couldn't help but walk out into the other room. As soon as he had crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him and with a *click* locked.

"Don't worry Mr. Hunter. I will do everything in my power to help your Brother."