Author's Note: I don't normally name the chapters but this one has won the title of 'The Chapter From Hell!" because it gave me such a difficult time! :)

Chapter 39

"Dean!"

Dean thought he heard someone calling him, but he couldn't be sure. The incessant throbbing that filled his aching head with the rapid cadence of his heartbeat made it rather difficult. Unsure of where he was or why his head hurt so bad, he waited, hoping that the pain and roaring thunder would ease and his memory would return. But then he heard the voice again through the drumming, and somehow he knew there was no time to wait. He tried to move, but a wave of nausea and a light pressure on his chest stopped him.

"Oh God!...did it...please..."

Fragmented words were breaking through the haze, inciting fear within him. He recognized that voice now. It was Leah's, and something was wrong. The panic in her tone was evident, weaving its way through the fog in his clouded mind and forcing him to fight for control of his senses. He had to help her, yet his mind and body seemed to be working against each other.

A sharp cry of pain breached the final wall of his inertia. Shaking himself free of the obscurity that held him, Dean slowly forced his eyes open, blinking several times before his vision was sufficiently clear. He heard his name again, only this time it was softer - no, it was weaker and there was no doubt now that Leah needed him. Doing his best to ignore the excruciating stabs of pain that left him certain his head was going to split in half, he targeted the nearby sounds of uneven, labored breathing and twisted toward them.

His slightly bleary gaze immediately collided with hers and he wrestled with his jumbled memories, desperate to put the pieces together. His lips moved, silently at first, until his low voice caught up and rumbled out.

"Leah. You hurt?" he asked, wishing his damned vision would clear enough for him to see her without the gray veil that left her features slightly distorted.

She didn't answer. Only put the question back on him. "You?"

"Asked you first." There was no mistaking the gravity of the situation, but he hoped she'd find some comfort in his weak attempt to tease her. Dean felt her cool fingertips brush his hand, which she held loosely on her lap. A touch meant to be reassuring, but its frailty only troubled him more.

"Shot." Her voice had grown more faint, barely above a whisper.

Shot? Did she say she'd been shot?

Reality slammed home as Dean remembered the scene that had played out before he lost consciousness. Manning grabbing his gun. The car spinning out of control. And the unmistakable sound of the gun going off.

Despite the queasiness that erupted in his stomach, Dean gave his head a brisk, desperate shake to try and knock back the blurry curtain. Leah's face was close to his, her head resting limply against the seat, her normally vibrant brown eyes dim and half closed. His gut clenched as fear coursed through his veins.

"No goddammit!" he raged. "Where, Leah? Where'd you get hit?" Striving to push aside not only his pain, but the near-paralyzing sense of despair that threatened to unnerve him, Dean leaned over her and began to check her body. His movements were a bit rougher than he'd intended, but all he could think about was finding the wound. Seeing exactly how bad it was. Saving her.

His fingers shook slightly as he found what he was looking for - a ragged, though fairly small exit wound just above her left breast. Her breathing was shallow, but he didn't hear any strange hissing sounds that might indicate a punctured lung. Easing her forward, he found the point of entry as well, then let her rest against the seat once more before dragging his t-shirt over his head and pressing it to the wound.

"Leah, I need you to keep this in place." he ordered.

He used a firm, commanding tone, hoping it would break through the pain and keep Leah focused. Taking her hand, he placed it over the shirt, showing her how much pressure she needed to exert, hoping she'd be able to maintain it if he had to let go. Though riddled with pain, she managed to press her palm against the makeshift bandage in an attempt to follow his lead.

"Good darlin'." he encouraged.

Dean sent a quick look over his shoulder to check on Nigel who was once again sprawled out across the backseat, unconscious. The mere sight of the man had him vehemently clamping his teeth together. Inside he was filled with insurmountable dread and seething rage, the combination urging him to find his gun and put a bullet between Nigel's eyes, but for Leah's sake he somehow managed to maintain solid control of his emotions. Helping her, getting her to a hospital, that was his main priority.

Leah let out a soft moan, and it drew Dean's attention back where it belonged. Get your ass in gear, buddy boy, he warned himself. There might be time for retribution later, but right now there were other things to see to. Like whether or not the car would start, finding out where the nearest hospital was and getting in touch with Sam to make sure that asshole Manning had been sent to hell.

With his right hand still applying pressure to the wound to staunch the flow of blood, he used the left, albeit a bit awkwardly, to turn the key in the ignition. The Impala sputtered and whined and Dean quickly let up, muttering curse words under his breath. She had to start, she just had to.

"You okay, Leah?" he asked. She was looking at him with a glassy eyed expression, but she was conscious and that was good. Though with the pain she was feeling, she probably wouldn't agree with that at the moment.

"Perfect." she said, trying to reassure him with a weak smile.

Dean felt a tug in his chest. He wasn't going to lose this woman. He couldn't.

His eyes went to the rearview mirror, making sure Nigel hadn't moved. Even though Manning's cousin was immobile, the guy was still a threat until Sam verified that Manning wouldn't be able to make a return appearance. Dean had known that earlier, yet he'd let his guard down and Leah was the one paying the price. That wouldn't happen a second time. He turned the key once again and this time, the engine groaned but fired up.

"That's my baby!" he crooned, thankful she hadn't let them down.

Leaning close to Leah's ear, he whispered the three words that he hoped would give her comfort, then promised her she was going to be all right. Her only means of acknowledgement was a few sluggish blinks, then her eyes remained closed. Dean gave her wound one more quick check before giving the Impala a little gas and easing them toward the road.

Pulling his cell phone from his pants pocket, he first called information for the closest hospital, then hit his brother's number. With the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, he placed his hand over Leah's once again and waited for Sam to answer.

Sam stood silently beside the grave, watching as the flames performed their hypnotic dance. Every time he executed this ritual there was not only a sense of closure, but one of sadness as well. To him, each salt and burn symbolized yet another restless, angry soul. Another life that had ended in a way so tragic it left them trapped and embittered, existing solely to wreak havoc or exact revenge. Not what anyone would want as their final outcome. Not even David Manning.

Blake stood nearby, one forearm draped across the wooden handle of the shovel as he, too, gazed into the fire. Swiping at the perspiration that dribbled a lazy path from his temple to his chin, the hunter nodded toward the casket. "Another twisted fuck bites the dust, huh Sam?"

Sam glanced over, unsurprised by the man's cynical attitude. "Actually I was just thinking about what a tragic ending this is to a man's life."

Black eyebrows lifted, but to Sam's surprise, no snarky remark followed. Blake simply stared at him for a minute, then shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Guess you could look at it that way, too."

With no desire to delve into the subject any deeper, Sam dug his phone out of his coat pocket so he could try calling his brother once again. He'd attempted to reach him several times since torching the body, but hadn't been able to get through. And it seemed as though nothing had changed. The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail.

"Damn!" Sam swore softly as he tucked the phone away. Manning's spirit was gone, no doubt about that, but he was beginning to wonder if something else was wrong. Dean should have answered by now. Frustration mounting, he tossed several shovelfuls of dirt into the grave to extinguish the dwindling flames, more than ready now to cover their tracks in case he had to head out in search of his brother and Leah.

Stepping forward to help, Blake dug into the pile of dark earth and the two hunters moved in silence, diligently working to restore some semblance to the dead man's burial site. They'd put quite a dent in the mound of dirt when Blake stopped and offered up an idea.

"Hey Sam," he said, swiping at his brow. "Why don't you take the truck and head back toward Amy's? You can look for that flashy car of your brother's along the way."

Sam shook his head and kept shoveling. "Take too long for you to do this alone. Dean said they were on their way here, so it's probably better that I wait for them. I'm sure they're fine. "

"Maybe. But I know it's eating away at you cause you haven't been able to reach him." He dug into the pile once again as he spoke. "Besides, I know I'll feel a hell of a lot better once I know Leah's okay. I'll get this done, don't worry." he promised. "Then I'll call a cab and have them pick me up on the main road."

It was tempting, but Sam had no idea where the couple was. Dean had said he was on the way to the cemetery so they could end up passing each other. He continued to fill in the grave as he mulled the idea over. "I don't know, Blake. I'd hate to..."

He was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. "It's Dean." he told Blake, relief flooding him as he saw the name. "Dean, thank God! Where..."

Dean quickly cut him off. "Sammy! It's done right? Manning's gone?"

"Yeah, we're filling in..."

"Leah's been shot. I'm on my way to Norman Regional Hospital. It's on Porter Avenue. Got that? Porter Ave. Get there as soon as you can. Tell Amy and her parents."

The line went dead before Sam could say anything. He tossed the shovel down as he hurried toward Blake. "Leah's been shot." he started to explain. "I need..."

"Whoa! Shot? How the hell did that happen?" Blake dropped his own shovel, his hand digging into his pocket for his keys. "Why the hell didn't your god damned brother take care of her?"

He started toward his truck, but Sam caught his arm in a tight grip, stopping his progress.

"I need to take you up on that offer. Can I use the truck while you finish up?" he asked.

Blake yanked his arm free, but instead of moving for the parked vehicle, he went over to gather up their tools. "There's no way in hell I'm not going. The morning shift can finish filling in this bastard's grave."

Sam grimaced. He hated to leave the grave as it was, but he had no choice. Blake was determined to go along and it was the man's truck. Besides, even if they'd finished covering the coffin, it wasn't as if the crew wouldn't notice the churned up ground in the morning.

"Fine." Sam snatched up his things and the two hurried to the vehicle, tossing the tools in back. As they climbed into the cab, the hunter's earlier accusation weighed heavily on Sam's mind. He knew in his heart that his brother had done everything within his power to keep Leah safe. Dean would have gladly taken the bullet for her, in fact, and Blake should know that.

"Look, Blake, I don't know what happened, but we both know how Dean feels about Leah. I'm sure he did everything he could to…"

"To what, Sam? Protect her?" Blake asked as they wound their way through the cemetery. "Guess it wasn't enough, was it?" He held up a hand, cutting off Sam's reply. "Spare me, okay? I know how you feel about your brother but I damn sure don't want to hear it right now. Just tell me where we're headed."

"Porter Avenue. Norman Regional Hospital." Sam told him as they pulled out onto the main road.

As they drove in silence, Sam wondered what the hell had gone wrong. How had Leah gotten shot? Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed Amy's number, wondering just what in the world he was supposed to say. From Dean's distressed tone and the briefness of his call, he had to reason that the injury was more than a mere flesh wound, but with so little information it wasn't going to be easy; they'd have questions he wouldn't be able to answer. Amy's parents were probably with her by now and he thought about their reaction. He hoped it wouldn't be similar to Blake's, but it wouldn't surprise him in the least if it was. Ed had been quick to point the finger at Dean the year before when Leah had been attacked by a chupacabra. Of course, nothing that Ed and Kate, or even Blake thought would compare to what was going on in his brother's head. It was pretty much a guarantee that Dean was already blaming himself for this whole damn mess, no matter how it had come about.

"Sam?"

The sound of Amy's voice dragged him back into the moment and with a heavy heart, he delivered the bad news.

TBC