A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys! I'm glad that people are still enjoying this fic; thanks SO much for the reviews! :) Here's the next bit; please read & review!

I'd Follow You Anywhere

Chapter Six

The hospital was small compared to some that the Winchesters had visited. The latest victim, a forty-seven-year-old Mr. Clyde Donavan, was awake but hardly lucid. According to the doctor treating him, he was suffering from a broken leg, three broken ribs, a shattered right arm, and a huge headache. As far as the scans and x-rays had shown, he wouldn't have any permanent brain damage and the dazed state he was in was more due to the pain medication than anything else. Despite this, Sam and Dean were determined that they were going to learn something from this man, because it was not often that a spirit left anyone alive, accidentally or not. There was also the possibility that it might return and try to finish the job. There were just so many unknown factors in this case; everything was up in the air at this point and they needed answers fast.

Clyde Donavan's daughter, a gorgeous young woman with waist-length black hair, intense blue eyes, and light brown skin, refused to leave her father's bedside while the "FBI agents" tried to talk to him. She introduced herself as Caleigh Donavan, and eyed Sam and Dean with suspicion.

"Since when is attempted suicide a matter for the FBI?" she asked in her drawling Louisiana accent.

"Well, Ms. Donavan," said Dean, as he reluctantly stopped gaping at this southern belle beauty and tried to portray a bit of faked professionalism, "the FBI is concerned about the number of suicides in the general area. We're just following protocol, checking to make sure everything's okay. It's probably nothing." At Dean's choice of wording, Sam elbowed him in the side, subtly but none-too-gently.

Caleigh's eyes narrowed. "Are you implying that my father's near-death is nothing?" she hissed.

"No, Ma'am, not at all," Sam quickly reassured her. "My partner just meant that it's probably not anything more than what it seems."

"But there's a possibility that it was an attempted murder?" Caleigh's eyes widened with a bit of hope. "Maybe he didn't try to kill himself after all!"

"…Course not," Clyde Donavan mumbled blearily from his bed. "She just wanted me to go with her, that's all. And we would be together. She wanted…" He sighed and fell asleep.

Sam glanced at the machines attached to the patient. "Uh, is he—?"

"The doctor said he'll be in and out of it," Caleigh assured him. "He's okay."

"Right," said Dean. "Since your father is currently… unavailable, we'll have to ask you the questions instead."

Caleigh frowned dubiously at the Winchesters before finally shrugging and sitting in one of the visitor chairs, gesturing for her guests to do the same. Unfortunately, there was only one other seat available, and there was a quick and silent, but intense, glaring contest as the brothers vied for the seat. Dean claimed the prize, making a show of sitting comfortably in the horribly uncomfortable plastic seat, just to tick Sam off. It worked.

Still smirking slightly, Dean turned to Caleigh, who looked even more doubtful than before. "Have there been any recent… or even not-so-recent… deaths in the family? Or of close friends? Is there any reason your father would have tried to take his own life?"

Caleigh shook her head. "No, nothin'. Dad doesn't have many friends anyway; he travels for his job and doesn't really keep in touch with anyone. He's an only child, and my grandparents are alive and well upstate. He's been stayin' with me for a while, ever since…" She paused, biting her lip.

"Since what?" Sam prodded, and Caleigh sighed.

"Since Mom left. She ran off with another man, some business executive from up north or somethin'. Soon as Dad found out, he had a bit of a breakdown. He was crazy over her, and she dumped him like he was nothin'."

"I'm sorry," said Sam.

"Oh, don't be. She was a curse, to him and to me. I was glad to see her go, but Dad… well, he could never see how she was bringin' him down. I just wish he hadn't gone off the deep end, y'know?"

"What was your father talking about, before, do you know? Saying that someone wanted him to come with her?" Sam wondered.

Caleigh frowned. "It was really weird. When they had him loaded in the ambulance, Dad woke up and started talkin'. He said Mom came to him, and she wanted him back, so he followed her. Right off the edge of the cliff, apparently. But he was concussed. Delusional. Mom called a couple of hours ago, wantin' to make sure this incident wouldn't affect her court dates."

Sam and Dean exchanged startled looks. "Are you sure he said it was your mom?" Dean pressed. "Not someone else?"

"I told you what happened," Caleigh insisted. "Or what he said happened, anyway.
Remember, he did hit his head. And Mom's all the way in Michigan with her new boyfriend. Couldn't've been her, though I wouldn't put somethin' like that past her." She rolled her eyes.

Flummoxed, the Winchesters did their best to give her reassuring smiles. "Everything will be alright, Ms. Donavan," said Dean. "We'll let you know if anything more develops. And… if he wakes up, or you learn something else, or if you need anyone to comfort you during this terrible time…" He gave her his most alluring grin and handed her a card with his cell number on it. "Call me."

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Caleigh looked mildly interested. She took the card and managed a small smile and even a wink. "Sure thing. And thanks."

"Dude, this makes absolutely no sense," Sam complained as the brothers piled into the Impala. "I mean, ghosts luring people to their doom, sure. But this was no ghost. The lady is alive, but somehow she managed to pop down from the other side of the country and convinced her ex-husband to jump off a cliff. What the hell?"

"Well, we know one thing," Dean mused.

"What?" Sam snapped over the sound of the engine, which purred as Dean steered his Baby out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"If this latest jumper has anything to do with the other suicides, then whatever's doing this isn't just a bunch of vengeful spirits."

"You're saying that one… thing… could be behind all of this?" Sam ventured. "Something that can mimic the dead, rather than a handful of ghosts ganking their living family and friends? But what can do that?"

"Shape-shifter?" Dean suggested.

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. Since when have we seen shifters that imitate the long-dead? And why would a shifter be spending its time luring random people to their deaths? They don't work like this, man."

"Well, if you've got a better idea, by all means, lay it on me, Sammy."

Sam gently massaged his aching temple, wincing as his fingers brushed the bruise on the side of his head. "There's only one thing I can think of at the moment," he admitted.

"What's that?" Dean wanted to know, raising his eyebrows and glancing sidelong at his brother.

"Painkillers, bro."

Dean snorted. "Wimp."

"Jerk."

"Bi…" Before Dean could finish the customary insult, a soft snore emanated from the seat beside him. Sam had dropped off, just like that. Smiling slightly, Dean shook his head and decided to let the kid sleep. Despite Dean's teasing, Sam had had a rough couple of days and needed all the rest he could get.

Dean turned up his music, enjoying listening to it without Sam griping for once, and drove toward the hotel. After a couple of minutes, his phone rang. He groped around in the center console for it, not bothering to check the number. He knew it would be Bobby, calling to find out what was taking his two favorite idgets so long to wrap up this supposedly simple vengeful spirit case. Dean found that he didn't mind, considering the recent developments in the job. He had absolutely no idea what this S.O.B. could be, and he knew they needed Bobby to help figure it out.

"Hey," he answered, fully expecting to hear Bobby's voice coming from the other line.

"Dean?"

At the all-too-familiar but impossible voice, Dean's heart nearly stopped and the involuntarily slammed on the brakes, stopping abruptly on the side of a lonely country road. Sam flew forward, the seatbelt keeping him from going through the windshield. As it was, he got rudely awakened by an even worse headache from bumping his head on the window he'd fallen asleep against, plus his neck was killing him from the whiplash Dean had just given him. He painfully turned his head to complain to his brother about his reckless driving, but when he saw Dean's deathly pale face and the way his hand trembled as he gripped his cell phone tightly, he changed course.

"Dean? What's going on? Who's on the phone?"

Dean closed his eyes, swearing under his breath. With a shaky voice, eyes opening, he answered.

"It's Dad."

A/N: Dun dun DUUUNNN! And the plot thickens! :) Hope y'all are enjoying this still; there's gonna be quite a bit of angst and action coming up! Please review and I'll update as soon as I can, which will hopefully be very soon because I'm super excited about this story! :)

~Emachinescat ^..^