The sound Dean made then was a sob of relief and a release when the woman beneath him fell limp. He dropped the lamp and dragged himself off her, leaning heavily on his left arm to pull himself up. With sheer force of will and determination, Dean hobbled, right foot still working, left foot in pain, left arm still working, right arm useless.
He managed to get out of the room and found himself in a living area. With a fireplace, and above it, a container he prayed was floo powder. He hauled himself over, and awkwardly took off the top with his one hand.
Reaching in, he pulled out a handful of powder and threw it into the fire, nearly sobbing in relief again when it flared up just right. He fell forward into it, calling out his address as he did.
And he was gone, leaving the nightmare of the witch and her terrifying dual personality behind him.