A/N: So this is my first fic in several years, and it's in a completely different fandom than I'm used to writing in. We'll see how it goes.
Crossposted on AO3
I am not a firefighter, though I took an intro firefighting course as part of my emergency services class sophomore year of high school, which was 4 years ago, so I don't remember jack. My portrayal of the Incident Command System at a fire and the actions ordered therein is based off my internet research and that one class 4 years ago, and if anyone with more intimate experience of firefighting would like to share feedback, please let me know. My knowledge of emergency services is almost entirely from SAR and my EMS certification.
Beta'd by the delightful Beanmom. MANY THANKS.
Prologue: Let Your Heart Hold Fast
To believe I walk alone
Is a lie that I've been told
So let your heart hold fast
For this soon shall pass
Like the high tide takes the sand
The call came in at 0115 hours the morning of February 2nd – Groundhog Day.
"10-24 Structural fire 1197 Harrison corner with 26, station 9 requesting additional units, station 7 to respond. Repeat 10-24 apartment complex corner of Harrison and 26."
"10-4 Dispatch, e.t.a. 8 minutes."
Dean pounded out of the living quarters surrounded by the rest of the crew on shift, the alarm tone wailing throughout the bay. As they jogged to their positions, the loudspeaker blared commands: "—Engine 23, Engine 31, Truck 3, Ambulance 2, Ladder 1, respond to fire at…"
Dean pulled open the door of Truck 3 and began pulling on his gear, starting with the heavy canvas pants. He was finished with the coat in less than 60 seconds (it was part of their yearly reevaluation) and vaulted into the driver's seat, starting her up and smacking the lightbar on. The truck rumbled to life, deep vibrations beneath his seat. The cycling lights bathed the street with alternating sweeps of red and white as the garage door in front of the rig opened. Benny hauled himself into the seat next to him.
To their left, the ladder truck was already pulling out. In front of it, Andy, guide lights and reflective suit shining, blocked the flow of traffic while they pulled onto the street. The ladder's sirens started wailing as it pulled away, and Dean shifted into gear in preparation to follow. Eliot and Patrick swung into the rear of the truck, buckling themselves in. Dean glanced back, making sure that everyone was in position.
Benny had been checking controls on the dash, but he paused for a moment to shoot Dean a wide smile. "You ready, brother?" he asked, fiddling with his radio.
Dean shot him the cocky grin that had been getting him into trouble with the fire chief during their poker game twenty minutes ago. "Damn straight. Let's go kick some ass and save some people."
Benny slapped his shoulder and drawled into his radio, "Dispatch, this is station 7. All units en route."
Andy waved them up and Dean set the siren to screaming as they pulled out, onto 19th and then immediately right on Folsom. The rig barreled down the street, past the empty four-story high school which always creeped Dean out in the middle of the night, and past an equally empty-looking line of townhouses. A small blue sedan tried valiantly to beat the truck to the intersection and he dodged it, muttering under his breath about asshole civilians. He listened vaguely to the information being relayed by dispatch on the radio in Benny's hand as he turned yet again, pulling onto Harrison.
The fire was visible from two blocks away, the blaze lighting up the night sky. There was a disgustingly cheery house exposed to the left of the apartment complex, painted bright white with revolting teal shutters, that looked like it might go up next if they didn't get the fire contained. And really, Dean thought to himself as he pulled up behind a line of other emergency vehicles across the street from the fire, that thing getting a bit singed and needing a different paint job might not be a bad thing.
The apartment complex itself had visible flames along a line of windows on the left half on the second floor, with smoke billowing out in dark curls everywhere. Streams of smoke ran across the moon constantly, making the crescent filter in and out of view.
Dean cut the sirens as he parked, and he hopped out the door while the other guys finished with their gear and began prepping for entry. He looked around through the chaos of flashing lights and incoherent shouts to find his chief. Henrickson was standing by the fence of a dark park, conferring with another man who Dean assumed was the IC. Dean jogged up and stopped to wait beside several other company officers. Henrickson finished his conversation and turned to them, the frown on his face lit by the fire behind them.
"Alright listen up. We've got three stories. The first engine was on-scene fast enough that we're playing this offensively. They've got two engine companies attacking from the outside and a ladder preparing to ventilate the roof. The initial evac wasn't conclusive and there's a truck company sweeping the first floor now with a handline. Kate, Eli, you're to assist in containment. The second to third floor stairwell has been compromised. Tracy's company is going in on the ladder with a handline to sweep the third floor. The structure is sound and should hold for as long as it takes to make the sweep. Dean, your company is going in on the second, using the stairwell in the front entrance, as soon as their company finishes its sweep of the first floor. We're thinking the source is near the rear of the building on the second floor. Locate it if you can, otherwise make sure it's empty and get out. Don't pull anything crazy, don't get cocky. Get in, get out, keep your men safe."
"Affirmative, sir." Dean and the other officers began to move off, Tracy already on her radio relaying instructions to her team. Dean passed by the group of gawkers being cordoned off by police.
"Dean! Dean!" someone shouted, and Dean whipped around. A familiar face towered over the other bystanders, waving frantically. Sam looked like he'd rolled out of his bed directly into his car, with his stupidly long hair sticking up on one side and his shirt half tucked into his jeans.
Dean jogged over, glancing at Henrickson. "Sammy, I don't have time, my company's about to move in. What are you doing here?"
Sam looked frantic. "Dean, shit, it's Meg. Ruby's friend, Meg Masters? She brought her daughter to our house a few hours ago. She does that sometimes, the girl is Ruby's goddaughter. Dean this is where she lives. She lives on the second floor, and she's not out here. She's got to be inside still."
"Son of a bitch," Dean swore. "And you're sure she's here?"
Sam nodded, eyes wild. "Yeah, definitely. Ruby called her about three hours ago. I came when I heard the address on the police scanner."
Dean set his jaw firmly. "We'll get her Sam, don't worry."
He began to turn away but Sam grabbed his arm. "Dean, Meg is – Meg used to be into some pretty hardcore shit. She's been clean lately, but there's a chance she was using."
Dean closed his eyes and heaved a breath before turning away, pulling his radio off his belt. "All units, possible 10-43, overdose victim located on second floor. Requesting ALS to standby. Truck 3 company prepare for entry and rescue operations."
"Captain Winchester, weather conditions are deteriorating. The fire is advancing in Division 3. Return your company to exterior for defensive actions."
"10-4, just as soon as I save these people," he growled and dropped the radio. Benny was aiming the handline in a wide stream at the flame that was licking over the walls around them. Dean bent to check the man on the floor in front of him. There was no way to check his vitals in full gear, but he held steady, hands cupped around the space between the man's mouth and his helmet. He paused, held very still, and waited.
The glass fogged.
"We got a breather!" Dean yelled into his radio. "Unconscious patient, no signs of trauma, outbound." He switched his focus to Benny. "Lafitte, you're to remove this man. I'm going to check those last two rooms."
"Dean, we need to get out—"
Dean cut him off. "I am your Captain, and this is an order. Get out and get this man out. Do it."
Dean couldn't see his face through the thickening smoke, but Benny hesitated, looking like he was about to argue. Dean stood, powered down the handline, and jerked it from his grasp. "Get him out of here, Benny," he snarled, and moved forward, turning the handline back on.
He didn't look back, but he heard Henrickson cursing on his radio. Eliot and Patrick had already left the building, carrying a vic with a cervical collar and backboard. The woman had apparently fallen down the stairwell in her panic to escape, and stabilizing her had cost them minutes they didn't have – minutes during which the semi-orderly assault on the midsized fire had fallen to pieces. Dean didn't know if it was mismanagement on the part of the IC or just the typical shitty luck that could happen with even the most contained blaze, but this building was about to become a deathtrap.
He paced up the hallway, past walls which had been light green, with a floral wallpaper border, but were now stained all over with streaks of gray. Patches of flame licked across the ceiling and he turned the handline on the flame as he passed. The carpet under his heavy boots crackled in long strips where it was singed. "Meg, Meg Masters," he called as he went. "This is the fire department. Is there anyone still in here? Is Meg Masters here?"
There were two apartments left, one on either side of the crumbling hallway. He paused just long enough to look them both over, then went with his gut and took the left.
The door was unlocked so he pulled the latch and stepped back before kicking it fully open. The living room, or what was left of it, was an inferno. The drapes formed a wreath of fire around the windows and the couch in front of them made a wall of flame. An entertainment center nearby was a solid column of flickering orange. Smoke was everywhere, swirling across his vision in thick clouds, blocking his line of sight to the rest of the apartment. A door on the left wall close to the windows was open and he went for it.
As he strode across the room, aiming the handline at the mass of flame centered around the window, his boot kicked an object loose on the floor. It was a toy, a stuffed rabbit, white fur singed gray. He stepped over it and paused momentarily
His radio crackled again. "Winchester, we're sending two members of your company back in to retrieve you. Get out of there right now. The damn thing's about to collapse in the back."
He ignored the radio, instead making his way to the open door, brushing a cluster of falling embers from the strap of his SCBA as he went. He shut down the handline as he entered.
It was a bathroom, and it was almost entirely intact. An unconscious woman was slumped over the edge of the bathtub, a line of vomit trailing down the ceramic edge from her mouth.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore again. He hastily grabbed his radio as he knelt beside her. "I found the OD victim. Patient appears to be unconscious. On my way out with her now. Prepare ALS."
He dropped the radio back to his side and lifted her carefully. He sat her on the edge of the tub, leaning against the wall, and shook her gently. "Meg. Meg, can you hear me?" Her head lolled, jaw slack, hair falling forward to hide her heart-shaped face.
"Shit," he muttered, throat tight.
There was a series of sharp snaps in the ceiling, and a groan from the stressed wood. It was past time to get the hell out. He pulled her over his shoulder, reaching between her legs to grab one of her wrists in a traditional fireman's carry, and grabbed the handline. Before he stood up, he eyed the rabbit again, which had been kicked into the doorway. Before he could think about it too much, he grabbed it and stuffed it under his coat between his suspender and shirt. It burned, hot against his skin through his t-shirt, but he left it in place.
He took Meg's full weight, and staggered slightly as he exited. He kept the handline off, dragging it behind him. The glass of the windows was starting to warp, and as he watched, a spiderweb of cracks arced over the surface, loud popping noises zinging through the intervening space.
Way past time.
He jogged for the exit, moving as quickly as he could. Straining metal screeched behind him as he moved out into the hallway, ducking a section of ceiling crashing to the floor. Glass shattered inside the apartment – the window giving out – and the fire roared. Backdraft.
The explosion of superheated air rocked him, sending him stumbling. A massive surge of flame rushed out of the open doorway, but thank fuck, he wasn't close enough to get himself or the woman over his shoulders caught in it.
"Dean!" Benny was in front of him, at the far end of the hallway, another firefighter behind him.
He was almost to them, less than 15 feet away, when the ceiling gave. He heard it groan an instant before a beam hammered into his lower back. He collapsed forward, knocked flat, and Meg rolled off. Her body sprawled out in front of him. Pain radiated from his lower back as he began to push himself up with a groan. Benny was shouting something, and he raised his head slowly, dazed. Just as Benny reached him, stretching out a desperate hand, the inferno engulfed him. Fiery pain erupted in his right leg, and then fiery pain erupted everywhere. His vision whited out.
Castiel was eating dinner when the call came.
His hip vibrated, and he held up a hand, interrupting Gabriel's entirely exaggerated story. Gabe harrumphed. "I mean sure, whatever, banging international models totally isn't important. I can wait."
"Gabe, shut up." The caller ID was unknown, but he recognized the California area code.
"Hello?" Cas murmured into the line as he answered.
"Castiel? Cas? Oh shit, thank fucking God. I was so afraid you'd changed your number." The woman on the line sounded desperate.
"Ruby, is that you? Why are you calling? It's the middle of the night in California." Gabe stiffened, dropping the affronted look and watching Cas intently.
"Oh God, Cas, I'm sorry, but I had to call you. Fuck, it's Meg."
A cold shiver shot down his spine and he blinked, his eyelids fluttering before he squeezed them tightly shut. "Ruby. What happened?"
"There was a fire in her apartment. It's – the whole thing is gone. Meg's in the hospital, but they don't think she's gonna make it. Cas, she's dying."
Cas pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut so he couldn't see Gabe staring at him with that horrified expression. "Ruby, what about Grace? Where is she? Is she okay?"
Ruby let out a sob, then heaved deep breaths, struggling to contain herself. "Grace is fine. She was with me and Sam for the night. She's here at the hospital with us."
Cas was breathing quickly now but he held himself together, rigid in his seat. "Can you put her on the phone, please?"
"Yeah, just a minute, just a minute, she's with Sam." Ruby gasped, breath hitching, and Cas ran nervous fingers through his hair. He bit his lip, grinding his teeth in and savoring the sting, and shaded his eyes with his hand.
As Ruby handed the phone off, he heard her say, "How is he? Did the doctor—" and then…
"Daddy?" Grace's voice was timid, quavering.
Cas choked out a quick sob. "Oh Grace, yes. It's me, angel."
"Daddy!" The word drew out into a wail.
"Oh baby, shhh, I'm here, I'm here."
"No you're not, Daddy. You're not here," she sobbed.
Cas pictured her as she was now, though he'd only seen her in photographs for the last two years. Drawn tightly around herself and around the phone, messy blond curls falling into her face, those beautiful blue eyes rimmed in red.
He sighed. "No, I'm not, angel, I'm in Japan right now. But I will be. I'll come back as soon as I can, I swear."
Gabe rapped sharply on the table. Cas unshaded his eyes, glancing up at him. His usual grin was gone, and he was completely serious for possibly the first time since Cas had met him. His voice was steady. "I'll call the base, get started on checking protocol. This will count for humanitarian reassignment, I'm sure of it. We'll get you there ASAP."
Cas closed his eyes again. "Thank you Gabriel," he rasped. Gabe gripped his shoulder tightly as he stood up and passed behind him, exiting the dining room of Cas' apartment.
Grace was still sobbing on the other end of the line. "Grace, darling, can you put Ruby back on for just a minute? I need to speak with her."
Grace hiccuped and whispered, "Okay." The line rustled as she passed the phone.
"Cas? What is it?"
"Ruby, listen. If…If Meg doesn't make it, your boyfriend is a lawyer, yes? If…it's necessary, please, would you have him begin working to make sure I gain custody? I will pay whatever is necessary." He cleared his throat, but the lump in his throat refused to budge, tightening its grip. "I can't – I can't let Grace go to Meg's family. I know I gave up custody with the divorce, but there must be something we can—"
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry," she interrupted him, voice gentle. "Sam'll take care of it." She paused. "And he's actually my fiancee now." She gave a quiet, strained laugh.
"Congratulations, Ruby, that's wonderful," Cas murmured.
"Yeah, but now with this, I just don't— Cas, she's one of my bridesmaids."
Ruby had been Meg's maid of honor at their wedding 10 years ago. Cas shuddered at the memory, at the fact that Meg was dying. Fuck.
"I bet Meg is very pleased to finally return the favor."
Ruby choked on another sob. "Yeah, yeah, she's so excited about it," she said. "Here, I'll give you back to Grace."
Cas stood slowly, leaving everything half eaten in the middle of his table, and moved to the armchair in the living room. He pulled his computer off the coffee table, flipping it open to begin checking who he needed to contact about getting reassigned. It shouldn't be too much of a problem. His commission expired in May regardless. He had planned on remaining in the Air Force for another 10 years, but that wasn't going to be possible now.
"Daddy?" Grace asked again. Her voice was quieter now, tired. She'd almost cried herself out.
"Yes, Grace, I'm back. I'll stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep, alright? It's really late there, and you've probably been up for hours."
Oblivion was reluctant to let go, and consciousness dragged him back slowly. For a long while, it was just too easy to relax, and sink into the hazy warmth surrounding him. But then other noises intruded, relentless, refusing to leave him lost and drifting.
He groaned and opened his eyes to the terse, bitten-off sounds of quiet arguing. The arguing stopped as soon as he made a noise and blinked himself awake.
"Sammy?" he rasped.
A large, warm hand wrapped around his, and Dean slowly shifted his gaze away from the ceiling. "Yeah, Dean, I'm right here." Sam was next to him, perched on the edge of a hospital chair. Ruby was seated beside him, eyes tight.
Dean closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, trying to focus. "Sammy, what happened?"
Ruby stood up abruptly. "I'll go find a nurse, let them know you're awake," she said, already turning around. She stopped herself halfway out the door, and turned back to flash him a strained smile. "It's good to see you back, Deano," she added, before bolting from the room.
Sam watched her go with a frown, then turned back to Dean with a sigh. "Part of the second and third floors collapsed while you were on your way out. Benny dug you out and carried your sorry ass back down, just in time for the rest of the building to go. The doctors say you have a fractured tibia, severe bruising on your ribs, and a lower back that's misaligned, but you're alive."
Dean took several slow breaths. "What about Meg?" he asked. "Did someone get her out too? Did she make it?"
Sam closed his eyes, and looked down at his clasped hands.
Dean turned away, dropping Sam's hand. "Dammit." The word got caught in his throat, and he felt the corners of his eyes burn.
He blinked it away.
"She lasted long enough that her daughter got to say goodbye. She only regained consciousness once, for just a minute, but Grace was there. Meg couldn't talk to her, the smoke was too much, but she did wake up. You did that Dean. You got her out of there."
Dean closed his eyes. "I didn't get there fast enough. I didn't get her out in time."
"Dammit," Sam growled, "that's bullshit and you know it. Meg overdosed on coke. She'd been clean for years, and then she picked exactly the wrong night to take almost twice the amount she did when she was using regularly, and her system couldn't take it. That's just how it goes sometimes when an addict relapses after prolonged abstinence." Sam didn't say that he knew this much because he was there when she was using before. That he was beside her, thin shoulders shaking, snorting his college fund up his nose.
Sam reached out and clamped his fingers down on Dean's shoulder, his grip a vice. "The fire started in the apartment next to hers where some asshole screwed up with his gas stove, and you probably couldn't have saved her even if you hadn't stopped to save those other people. In case you don't remember, two other people are still alive because of you and your men. And even though Meg died, her daughter got to say goodbye. That's important. You are not at fault here."
Dean didn't turn back. He ignored his brother's cursing and stared out the window.
On the shelf beneath it, the nurses had placed a bin with the clothes he'd been wearing when he was brought in. On top of his folded SFFD t-shirt was the rabbit toy, white fur stained gray with ash.
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