Okay this is a rare thing, updating three in one go, but I kind of felt bad leaving it hanging where it was. So here's chapter fourteen. I'm going home to sleep now! As much as I want to finish this, the rest will have to wait. Ta for the reviews! Appollo's Lady, your last two have cracked me up. I hope this chapter sits well with everyone. Goodnight :)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dean had seen the sheriff raise the gun, but he'd not had time to do anything about it. Everything had happened so fast, and all he'd been able to think about was Sam and making sure his younger brother was out of the way. It had taken him completely by surprise when he'd been hurled backwards over the side of the bridge with the gunshot ringing in his ears. He'd felt a sting against his right leg above the knee as he'd begun to fall, and the last thing he'd seen… No, it couldn't have been possible. He'd sworn he'd seen Reilly's blurred face, before he'd been thrown backwards. The ghost had slammed into his chest.

Now, limbs frantically flailing and lungs robbed of air, Dean thrashed about in the icy water of the river, desperate not to be washed too far downstream. Had he been shot? What had happened? He was still alive, which was good. But he felt like he'd fallen ten stories and had landed on concrete; his muscles screamed and cramped, and his spine felt as though it would snap in two.

Choking on bitter mouthfuls of river water he forced himself to swim. Eventually he made it to the muddy bank, and flopped in a heap on the shore, retching and coughing, a great icy pain cracking through his skull. Yes, he was still in the land of the living. But what good would it do if something had happened to Sam? Eyes rolling in his head he got to his feet, and ordered himself to run.

Sheer desperation pushed him up the bank in the direction of the road, but once at the bridge he realized Sam and the sheriff had gone. Dean's body shook so violently his teeth nearly shattered in his mouth. He all but collapsed against the bridge wall, trying to keep his panic in check, determined to calm down. There was a pain in his right leg rising above the other aches that wracked his body, and he glanced in its direction, making note of the blood pooling around his shoe. It would have to wait, he decided, stumbling along the suddenly uneven footpath as his vision swam and swayed. He had a job to do. He had to find Sam.

When he'd woken and had realized Sam was gone he'd been beside himself with worry, and had sworn things couldn't get any worse. When he'd found Sam on the bridge, however, hands bleeding and barely standing, he'd wished he'd never tempted fate with his thoughts. Now the situation was just ridiculous and Dean wasn't sure how much more he could handle. He arrived back at the motel room, mind reeling, gagging on bile that threatened to rise from his burbling stomach. He stripped off his frozen clothes and discarded them as he stumbled towards the bathroom. He headed for the first aid box, looking for something to keep him going. He figured a couple of pills and a rough bandage around his leg would do, and he located both, before tripping back into the room like a drunk, searching for some clean clothes.

How strangely things had turned. Dean almost laughed at the ring of salt around Sam's bed. He'd been worried about a ghost but now it turned out their biggest problem was a man. Who would have thought? He hadn't seen that one coming at all. He could barely think straight, and the situation was a million miles from being good. Oh God, the thought, Oh God oh God oh God- Suddenly, there was a frantic knock upon the door and Dean's head snapped around, wondering who it was.

He snatched up the biggest gun from their weapons bag and crept along the wall. He held his breath and with frightening speed, yanked the door open and grabbed the startled doctor by the shirt, pulling him into the room. Dean plastered him against the back of the door and held the gun under his chin for several seconds, before realizing who it was. The man looked as though he might die on the spot.

"What are you doing here?" Dean angrily lowered his weapon, heart pounding against his ribs.

"I- ah-" The doctor's words were stuttered as he wiped his shaking hands across his trousers, wide eyes darting this way and that. "I came to tell you that I think Sam's in danger-" His gaze fell upon the younger brother's empty bed.

Dean noticed the man putting two and two together and confirmed the doctor's fears. "You're too late," he stated bluntly, and turned to load another gun. He stopped short as the doctor's words sank in, spinning him back around. "Wait- Just how did you know that?"

The doctor backed away slightly, holding up his hands.

Dean let him know he had five seconds to answer, or there'd be a gun against his head.

The man then swallowed roughly. "My friend Ed told me." The colour had drained from his face.

Dean needed more information and demanded it.

"He, ah, works at the morgue," the doctor quickly said.

Dean furiously scraped at the puzzle pieces. "Does he know where Sam could be now?"

This was beyond the doctor's understanding. "I, well- he just told me the sheriff was up to no good."

"Does he know where Sam could be now?"

"I don't know! No! Please, Mister Richards, put the gun down-"

There was an anxious silence, before the doctor continued. "Please, I came here to help you, I'm not looking for a fight."

Dean hesitated a moment, before lowering his weapon. Exhausted, he stumbled to his bed and took a seat.

The doctor's eyes fell across the array of weapons Dean had spread around him, and the broken circle of salt marking the floor. If the medic was curious, he didn't show it.

Dean's leg was throbbing and he was still freezing cold.

Startling them both, the doctor's cell phone burst to life.

The man looked to Dean for approval before pulling it from his pocket.

"For fuck's sake, you're not my hostage." The older brother was too busy sorting the mess in his head.

The doctor flipped it open as Dean massaged his temples. "Hello?" The medic said, biting his lip. "Hello…?"

He stared at the screen a moment before snapping it closed. "Okay, that was strange."

Dean regarded the man, who was regarding his phone.

It began to ring again, and the medic's frown deepened.

He held it to his ear again. "Hello?" He shrugged. "It says it's Ed calling, but he must've forgotten to lock his keypad or something- Hello?"

Dean was on his feet. "Give me that."

The doctor complied and Dean listened to the silence on the other end. No, not silence. He distinctly heard Sam's voice, and then the unmistakable rumble of the sheriff. He was grabbing his guns and heading for the door before the doctor had a chance to ask what was going on.

"Where did you say Ed worked again?" Dean asked.

The doctor followed Dean outside, not comprehending. "At the morgue. Why?"

Dean didn't have time to explain. "Get in the car. We need to get there. Now."

See, I do love Dean. Nothing to panic about! Sam, on the other hand... ;)