SUMMARY: A vengeful spirit's attack leaves Dean hypothermic and fighting for life, while a concussed Sam, lost and alone, battles to get back to his brother. Story takes place mid-to-late Season 2, but before the events of All Hell Breaks Loose.

DISCLAIMER: Nope. Don't own Supernatural. Still playing in Kripke's sandbox. Will happily vacate premises when strike is over and Kripke & Co. are allowed to play here again.

A/N: SARTechs are Search and Rescue Technicians. I am not in the medical field. I've done the research to make events in this chapter as realistic as possible but, medically speaking, they go well beyond the Band-Aids and comfort hugs that max out my level of expertise. Please forgive any inaccuracies.

BRIDGING TWO SOLITUDES

CHAPTER FOUR:

Jason lunged desperately for Dean but the current grabbed the unconscious man first, pulling him between the rocks and beyond the reach of his would-be rescuer.

The rope around Jason's waist that once served as a lifeline to the safety of the shore, now prevented him from swimming after Dean. His hands moved to the knots that held the rope in place but the icy river water had robbed him of the dexterity to even grasp the rope, never mind unravel a hitch that submersion in freezing water had soldered in place.

He had been so close. Dean was alive, he was talking, they were almost safe. Now he could only watch helplessly as the river pulled him away. He fuelled what little strength he had left into a primal yell, frustration mixing equally with anger. He punched the water feebly as his shivering worsened, the spastic contractions now uncontrollable. It took him a moment to realize that when his body jerked against the rock at his back it was because he was now moving through the water, around it.

He looked up as he cleared the rock to see Penny hauling on the rope, hand-over-hand, reeling him in. She was straining against both his weight and the current, which was determined to pull him downstream. He tried to protest but neither his voice nor his limbs would co-operate.

A roaring sound in his ears momentarily confused him. Penny was shouting something at him but he couldn't make out the words. Then she briefly removed one hand from the rope to point downstream.

Jason glanced to his left and relief washed across his face as he took in the sight of the approaching rescue boat.

Please. Please, he thought. Let them be in time.

xxxXXXxxx

Capt. Doug Bishop watched this latest series of events unfold from the vantage point of the boat's wheelhouse.

Ethan Harris, the sheriff's deputy on site, radioed in as the rescue team made its way upriver. One of the 911 callers on the shore had jumped into the water in an attempt to rescue the man in the river. Doug had shaken his head at the news. He understood the instinct to help but without training and the right equipment to back it up, good intentions could turn a situation from bad to worse really quickly.

As the boat had rounded the bend in the river, he'd caught sight of a woman on shore holding onto a rope that stretched out into the river and disappeared behind two boulders that protruded from the water about 20 feet offshore. A chunk of river ice was lodged between the two rocks. As Doug guided the boat toward the boulders, the ice broke free and was carried off by the current.

A flurry of movement then caught his attention. As the ice was sucked away, between the rocks he could see one of two men reach in vain for the other who had slipped from his grasp. The fast-flowing current grabbed Dean, pulled him between the rocks and downstream toward the rescue boat.

Doug throttled back the engines and maneuvered the boat into place. SARTechs Steve Johnson and Mike Timlin stood poised for action at the side of the boat, Steve securing a safety line to the harness Mike wore over his survival suit. Receiving the ready signal from Doug, Steve tapped the shoulder of his partner, whose eyes were glued to the man in the river. With the touch, Mike launched himself into the water, swimming cross-current and allowing the river to deliver its victim to him. His muscular arm latched onto Dean, pulling him in so Dean's back rested against Mike's chest, his head supported by his rescuer's shoulder. Mike wrapped one arm around Dean's chest to secure his hold, raising the other arm to flash a thumbs-ups signal to his crewmates in the rescue boat.

The safety cable attached to Mike's harness kept the two men near the boat despite the current's determination to pull them away. With the signal from his partner in the water, Steve turned to the winch that held the safety line. As he hit the reverse switch, the cable was reeled in, pulling rescuer and victim toward the boat. Doug kept the engines running deftly controlling the craft against the powerful current. Experience allowed him to operate the boat on instinct, his eyes locked on the men in the river and the rescuers on board working to pull them out of the water.

As the safety cable pulled the two men alongside the boat, paramedic Matt Hardy and Steve reached over, grabbing hold of Dean and lifting him from the water and onto the deck of the boat. The moment he was inside, Matt and his partner Jenn Cabot began their work, assessing Dean's condition.

Steve turned back to his partner, offering him a helping hand as he hauled himself up into the boat.

With both men now onboard, Doug gunned the engines again, moving the boat against the current toward the second victim. The woman on shore was still trying to haul him in but the current was fighting her. As the boat rounded the rocks, he once again throttled back the engines as he maneuvered the craft alongside Jason. Grabbing a bullhorn from the floor of the wheelhouse, he called to Penny on the shore. "Let go of the rope, miss. We're going to pull him onboard."

Penny didn't want to let go. She stopped pulling but still needed the tangible connection to Jason until she was sure he was safe. She heard the reassuring voice of the older man at the wheel of the boat. She saw the two burly men in gold survival suits reach over the side of the boat toward Jason. She saw them pull him into the boat but still she refused to let go.

Even when he disappeared over the side of the inflatable craft, and she felt the rope go slack as one of the rescuers cut through it, there was a moment of panic. Only when he turned to her and flashed a thumbs up sign did she finally relax and drop the rope at her feet.

With Jason safely onboard, Doug turned his attention to Penny. He throttled the engines up slowly and gently ran the boat up onto the shore. Steve hopped over the side and ran up to Penny. "You okay, miss?"

Penny nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. How's Jason? The other guy?"

Steve unfolded the blanket he was carrying and wrapped it around Penny's shoulders. "The paramedics are working on them now. Come on, let's get you onboard."

xxxXXXxxx

As Matt assessed Dean's vitals, Jenn had cut off and tossed aside his sodden clothing, wrapping him in layers of blankets. His bare chest was left exposed only long enough to attach leads to the cardiac monitor before he was bundled up again.

He was hypothermic, that was obvious. His head injury was another major concern. His pupils were unequal, his reactions sluggish.

"Core temperature 87 degrees. Shit, he's in V-fib"

Jenn handed the defibrillator paddles to Matt, set the machine to charge, then pulled the blankets away from Dean's chest.

"Ready at 200. Clear." Dean's body jerked as the first shock hit.

The paramedic shook his head when there was no conversion.

"300. Clear."

Dean's body jerked again from the second shock. "Sinus rhythm. We've got him."

Dean retched suddenly, vomiting up water. The paramedics quickly, expertly rolled him onto his side until the retching and coughing subsided.

When his breathing calmed, Matt listened to his lungs before rolling Dean gently onto his back. Jenn re-fastened the cardiac sensors to his chest and cracked open heat packs, placing them between the layers of blankets next to his neck, armpits and groin, before bundling him up yet again. She placed an oxygen mask over his face and loosed his left arm from the blankets as she prepared to insert an IV, first connecting the fluids to an IV warmer. She cleaned the gash along his hairline and taped gauze in place until it could be properly stitched.

Then, as Matt relayed Dean's vitals to the hospital, Jenn noticed her patient beginning to stir.

Jason was protesting as Mike, the SARTech, insisted he lie down. He was determined to see what was going on with Dean. The paramedics already had Dean cocooned in blankets by the time Jason was hauled onboard and were busily assessing his condition. Relief was fleeting, however, as Dean's heart stopped moments after Jason landed in the boat, only a few feet from the stranger whose welfare he was now so emotionally invested in.

Come on, dude, he said silently. Don't give up now. Keep fighting.

He batted Mike's hands away as he took in the efficiently feverish activity surrounding Dean as the paramedics used the defibrillator to shock him back to life. He sagged noticeably in relief when Dean coughed and spluttered and the paramedic spoke three simple yet powerful words. "We've got him."

"Jason." He turned to see Penny's worried face staring at him intently as she took in the bluish colour of Jason's skin and the violent trembling of his limbs. "Please, let them help you." She nodded in Dean's direction. "He's in good hands."

Mike smiled gratefully at Penny as his patient relaxed and suddenly became far more co-operative. He placed an oxygen mask on Jason's face and placed a thermometer in his ear to take his temperature.

He looked over at Penny and motioned to Jason. "You two know each other?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We're together – eight years now."

"Good. That makes this easier. I could use your help if you're up to it." As she nodded, Mike handed her a pair of scissors and grinned at her puzzled look as she took them from him. "Your superhero boyfriend here needs to get out of these wet clothes as quickly as possible. Don't worry about buttons and zippers, just cut them off."

She grinned down at Jason, taking in his arched eyebrows as she took the scissors to his jeans. "Just as well you remembered my birthday last week or you could be in real trouble right about now."

His smile, partially obscured by the oxygen mask, faded as he realized Dean was coming to.

xxxXXXxxx

"Sir. Can you hear me?"

Dean heard a woman's voice. It wasn't familiar but she sounded concerned.

"If you can understand me, squeeze my hand."

He felt someone place their hand in his. He squeezed it weakly, amazed at the amount of effort the simple action took

"Good. Good. We pulled you out of the river. You're very cold, you've got a head injury but you're safe now. We're going to take good care of you, get you warmed up and feeling better before you know it."

Dean frowned. Out of the river? How the hell did he end up in the river?

He blinked rapidly, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the pressure on his chest, as he looked up at the woman's face. He could tell that her hair was dark but her facial features blurred before he had a chance to properly see what she looked like.

Another coughing fit tore at his chest and once again the paramedics rolled him onto his side. As he was rolled again onto his back, he glanced up and this time he could see the concerned brown eyes of the woman leaning over him.

A paramedic. She was a paramedic. His fuzzy brain took in the patches on the sleeve of her jacket, one predominantly featuring the red cross on a white background. He frowned at the orange vest she wore over the jacket. A life jacket?

An older man's face moved into his line of sight. Another paramedic. Matt smiled down at Dean, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"Hang in their, buddy. You've beaten the odds so far, so just keep doing whatever it is you're doing. We'll take care of the rest." He leaned in a little closer and the laugh lines around his blue eyes deepened as his smile widened. "When you're back on your feet, I'd go buy a lottery ticket if I were you."

Dean wanted to laugh at the absurd idea of a Winchester winning the lottery but could barely find the energy to stay awake, his eyelids as determined to close as he was to keep them open.

Dean's head lolled to the side as the paramedics continued to assess his condition. The blanket that had been hooded around his head and the oxygen mask now over his face obstructed his vision, but he could see another man being treated off to his right. As the other patient turned away from Dean, answering questions posed by the man leaning over him, the blanket wrapped around his head slipped down, revealing a mass of shaggy, dark hair.

Sam? Sam had been in the water too?

The cardiac monitor alerted Jenn to her patient's rapidly escalating heart rate.

"What's the matter?" Her voice was calm, comforting. "Are you in pain?"

She scanned her patient and the monitors tracking his vitals with practised ease, searching for the cause of his distress.

"Okay, I need you to calm down." Jenn held her patient's face gently in her hands, forcing him to look directly at her. "Breathe slowly. Come on, deep breaths."

Dean was lucid enough to realize panic wasn't going to get him the answers he needed.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to slow down his breathing.

"Good. That's much better," Jenn rubbed his arm gently, reassuringly, as the monitors signaled his heart rate and respiration leveling out.

By this time Dean had managed to work one arm free of the blankets and weakly lifted it, pointing at Jason, the man his battered mind was convinced was Sam.

Jenn took note of the gesture and glanced over to her partner, who was checking on Jason's condition

"Matt?" He answered her unspoken question with a smile and a nod. Jenn smiled down at Dean as she tucked his arm back inside the blankets. "Relax. Looks like he's going to be fine. He jumped in the water to save your butt so we're just being cautious, making sure he warms up safely. You can thank him when we get to the hospital."

If Dean had had the energy, he would have groaned out loud. Geekboy little brother to the rescue. He'd never live it down.

He grimaced as the crushing pressure in his chest returned. He caught the look of alarm that flashed briefly across Jenn's face before he scrunched his eyes closed in an attempt to push back the pain.

"Hey. You still with me?" The paramedic's voice had that tinny, distorted sound again, like she was speaking to him from inside a tunnel. He struggled to concentrate on what she was saying but could only see her lips move. "Matt, I need some help here, he's having trouble breathing."

'Lady, that's an understatement,' was Dean's last conscious thought before his head lolled against Jenn's hand and he slipped back into oblivion.

"Dammit. He's crashed again."

Matt pulled off the oxygen mask and tilted Dean's head back to open the airway and insert the intubation tube. He secured the Ambu bag to the tube and began the rhythmic pumping of oxygen into Dean's lungs as Jenn once again charged the defibrillator.

"200. Clear."

Matt removed the Ambu bag as Jenn attempted to shock Dean's heart back into rhythm.

"Still nothing. 300. Clear."

She shocked him again.

"Okay, got him"

Matt re-attached the Ambu bag and continued to breathe for Dean, as Steve and Doug moved in. They placed the rescue litter beside their patient, ready to lift the elder Winchester into it for the trip from the boat to the helicopter.

As the paramedics worked for a second time to shock Dean's heart back into rhythm, the rescue boat had reached the opposite shore. Doug lifted the twin engines as he ran the boat up onto the bank. Shutting off the engines, he stepped from the wheelhouse. He threw a mooring rope to Deputy Ethan Harris on shore and turned to help ready the two victims for transport to the helicopter, which had just appeared on the horizon.

Jason was reeling. Their rescue had taken place at dizzying speed. It seemed like only seconds ago he and Penny had spotted this guy in the water. Since then he'd lost track of the number of times he'd thought Dean was dead, only to be amazed that he was hanging in there.

"Dude, that's some will to live you've got going there," he muttered as he watched the two SARTechs pick up Dean and place him gently in the litter. Jason struggled to sit up, only to feel a hand on his shoulder gently but firmly push him down again.

"I don't think so, dude." It was the biggest of the three SARTechs, the one who'd been treating him. Mike, yeah, that was his name. "You're doing well. Let's make sure you stay that way. This ride's on us. Just lie back and relax.'

Jason reached up to pull the oxygen mask away from his face and motioned toward Dean. "Is he going to make it?"

"His heart's beating again – that's a good start." Mike glanced over at Dean. "You guys good friends?"

Jason shook his head. "His name's Dean. That's all I know."

xxxXXXxxx

Sam blinked in confusion as he regained consciousness. He lay sprawled on his stomach, the side of his face numb from the cold earth it was pressed into. He groaned as he tried lifting his head, the hammering inside his skull intensifying with the movement. Gingerly, he lowered his head again and sucked in a deep breath, trying to remember what the hell had happened to leave him lying face down in the dirt.

Slowly he opened his eyes, but could see nothing out of his left. Carefully, Sam rolled onto his back, wincing as pain flared in his knee, shot up through his hip and fuelled a fresh wave of nausea. He swallowed hard, grimacing at the bitter taste of bile. His left hand flexed slowly before moving up to gently rub his left eye. His fingers found dried blood encrusting the side of his face and temple and his left eye now swollen shut.

The memory of the spirit's attack came tumbling back to him in vivid detail – the sounds of someone running, seeing the woman fall and trying to help, then the explosion of pain in his head as she'd lashed out at him. Now he had fuzzy vision in one eye and couldn't see out of the other eye at all.

Not trusting his eyesight, he listened for any sign the spirit was still present but the forest around him was quiet. He heard little more than his own labored breathing.

His brother's voice cut through the pounding in his head. "She clubbed you, dude – with a tree branch. That's what you get for trying to play knight in shining armor to a ghost."

"I didn't know she was a ghost, Dean - at least until she ran right through me." Sam snorted, realizing he was talking to himself. He didn't care. He was lost, hurt and alone and Dean's presence, even if it was only in his head, was a source of both strength and comfort. He also chose to believe as long as he could hear his brother's voice, Dean was okay.

His brother sounded puzzled. "Something's off, Sammy. Most spirits can't do that – pick up solid objects, I mean. They walk through them, throw them at you but they don't go all Barry Bonds on you and start swinging for the fence."

Sam groaned as he slowly sat up. "Yeah, well I started this whole misadventure on the bridge, took an involuntary nap and woke up here. That's not exactly in the rulebook either," he mumbled to himself, scrubbing a hand across his battered face.

Sam shivered. He looked up and realized the sun was low in the sky and dropping steadily behind the tree line. He'd been out of it for a while. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed his left arm trying to generate some body heat.

Sam looked around in confusion, wondering what curveball this day would throw at him next. But the day was almost over, the sun rapidly disappearing behind the trees.

With his fuzzy vision, the sun was Sam's only guide. Without it to help figure out direction, he'd be wondering in circles in no time. He had no choice but to set up camp for the night.

He refused to think about what would happen if it was a cloudy day tomorrow but the words 'royally screwed' resounded loudly through his head – in Dean's voice.

As the sun went down, so did the temperature. For late March, the weather had been relatively mild. As long as he kept moving and stayed in the sun whenever possible, he'd managed to stay warm throughout the day. Staying warm at night would be another challenge entirely.

Sam dragged himself to the nearest tree and used it for support as he hauled himself to his feet. He was exhausted. His vision had been even more compromised by the black eye, his headache, thanks to the latest spirit's clubbing, was worse than ever and his knee had swollen even more while he was out cold, making it difficult to stand, let alone walk.

He squinted up at the sky, trying to gauge the sun's position. Sam figured he had about an hour or so of daylight left. John Winchester had made sure both his boys learned basic survival skills. Neither Sam nor Dean were big fans of camping, but they'd lost count of the number of times they'd come to rely on those lessons their father had drilled into them as kids.

Today was no different. Battered as he was, Sam was able to rig up a basic shelter. He used his belt, boot laces and the cord from the hood of his sweatshirt to lash together small, pliable branches from two parallel trees, creating a framework on which to lay the evergreen boughs he was able to snap off or cut off with his pocket knife. He then piled evergreen boughs on the ground, under the canopy he had created. As a bed, it was as uncomfortable as hell, although he had to laugh when he realized he'd slept in motel beds that were worse. Still, it was dry and kept him off the cold ground.

Then he built a fire. Sam cleared mulched leaves, needles and twigs from the ground in front of his shelter. He then used his bare hands to dig into the ground to create a small fire pit, piling the dirt he pulled out around the edge to form a firebreak. It was hard work because the earth had yet to thaw completely and his hands were freezing by the time he was done.

A dead tree a few yards behind his shelter had provided a small supply of firewood. It sat out in the open, the sun drying it to the point it might actually burn. He snapped off some smaller branches with his hands, then sat down and used his good leg to break off some slightly bigger ones. Without an axe, anything bigger than kindling was out of the question, so he'd have to make do and try to keep a fire going with twigs as long as possible.

He layered in pine needles and the smallest twigs, then used a match to set them ablaze before adding the larger twigs and branches. As the fire caught, he collapsed inside the shelter he had created, exhaustion finally trumping Winchester stubbornness. Shivering, he wriggled closer to his fire, trying to take in as much of its meager warmth as possible.

He wanted to sleep but he needed to stay awake until Dean got back. He frowned. No, that wasn't right. Dean wasn't here. He had to find Dean, make sure he was safe. Yeah, that was it.

But he'd just been talking to Dean, right?

Exhaustion and injury were playing tricks with Sam's memory and he was finding it increasingly hard to sort fact from fantasy, reality from comforting illusion. The confusion scared him. If he couldn't stay lucid, he was in serious trouble.

He allowed himself to collapse backwards into his shelter, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt to provide a cushion of sorts against his pine bough pillow and felt his eyes begin to droop shut. Sam blinked, staring at his campfire. It wouldn't last long once he fell asleep.

Sam's eyes drifted shut but snapped open again when he heard a noise on the far side of his campfire. Dean? Was Dean back?

A lone figure stepped from the shadows into the firelight. Sam gasped audibly when he realized it was the spirit of the young woman. The apparition paused on the far side of the fire before walking straight through it, the draft she created sending a shower of sparks into the air. She stopped, right in front of Sam, and stared down at him, a quiet rage tempering the despair in her voice. "What kind of monster are you?"

To Be Continued………

A/N: Once again, I'm ahead of schedule. Woo-hoo! Tomorrow's kind of a nutty day for me so next update will be sometime this weekend. Thanks to all of you for reading and for your incredible feedback. It really is fuel for the creative process. Please, keep letting me know what you think.