Dean gently accelerated his Baby, watching the better than their normal motels growing smaller in his rear view mirror as Sam and he left Brookston, Indiana behind. It was still early in the morning, only about 4 am, but they'd decided to not hang around as they created some havoc at the local cemetery dealing with a salt and burn.
Since Brookston wasn't the biggest place (nor the smallest) they'd ever been and since they had talked to quite a few locals while figuring out their task at hand, they didn't want to take any chances of being held accountable for a dug up grave and a few cracked head stones.
Eva Palmer's spirit hadn't been much appreciative of their effort to send it into the light and she had tossed first Dean, then Sam, and later one Dean once more around the graves for good measure. Not that it had helped her. Sam had kept her busy as Dean finally completed dousing her bones in gas and salt and set them on fire just on time. Had he taken just one second longer, Sam was sure he'd have experienced his second flying lesson from her as well.
After watching the remains burn down, the brothers had returned to their motel room, indulged in a shower and two hours of sleep and set out to hit the road. While Dean had been in the shower, Sam had already found them another case in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, meaning they were now headed south towards Lafayette. T or C seemed to have a mean case of a Poltergeist that needed taking care of and neither Winchester believed in losing much time when it came to Poltergeists. So it meant licking their wounds, ignoring their bruises and get the hell out of Dodge. Or Brookston.
The early rays of the rising sun started to illuminate the morning sky as they drove the first miles when suddenly Dean squinted his eyes at something in front of them. Knowing better than to ask Dean, Sam followed his line of vision and copied his brother.
"That's not the morning sun flickering there, is it, Dean?"
Dean pressed his foot harder on the gas as they passed the sign of "Welcome to Battleground".
"Something's on fire, Sammy," he growled.
A few moments later it was clear that the something was actually a lonely house. The pick up and van parked in front of if made it clear it was not abandoned.
"Damn it, people are still sleeping. Call 911."
"On it," Sam replied, already punching the digits on his phone. He lurched as the call was connected and Dean took the Impala into the fifty yard drive way at speed. He stated the emergency as fast as he could, leaving the line connected for the emergency services to trace his call because he couldn't give them a definite address.
Dean hit his Baby's brakes harshly, sending gravel flying in all directions as the car's tires dug into the ground. Immediately, Dean exited the car and ran up towards the front door. Fire was coming from a barred window right next to it and the brothers could feel the scolding heat hitting them in the face, threatening to take their breath away.
"...elp!"
"Damnit," Dean muttered and one look at his brother was enough to coordinate their breach of the perimeter. Sam shoulder barged the wooden door twice before it gave in. The taller man tumbled in and immediately started coughing, courtesy to the assembling smoke in the hallway.
Looking around, Dean noticed the staircase on fire and shared a worried glance with his brother. The shouts for help, however, came from their right, where a blazing door indicated another room.
Determined, Dean inhaled clean air a few times before moving closer and taking down the charred and flame covered door with a well aimed kick. Thick smoke billowed out through the new opening and this time the men could identify the shout for help coming from a woman.
Sam made out her slender figure hunched over something at the side of the king sized bed. Tears were streaming down her face and Sam wasn't sure if it was from the biting smoke or fear. Probably both. Stepping closer the Winchesters realized the something on the ground she was hunched over was a man who was easily as tall as Sam. He appeared to be passed out and thus unable to help himself.
"Help us," the woman croaked through her tears, once more shaking the unconscious man's shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. "My babies are still upstairs!"
"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, remembering the blazing stairs. There was no way they could get to the top floor that way. He exchanged a look with his brother and then glanced at hungry flames that took over the wooden house inch by inch. "Get them out of here, Sammy, I'll find a way upstairs."
Sam coughed, trying to shield his face from the smoke and nodded. His tearing up eyes locked onto his brother who was also struggling with the smoke.
"Be safe," Sam mumbled, knowing his brother would do everything to save the children who were trapped upstairs. Dean just blinked his eyes and nodded, then he was gone. Sam turned towards the woman.
"Can you get up, ummm... what's your name?"
"Hope," she croaked and coughed.
"Right, Hope. Let's get you outside? Can you walk? Do you need help?"
She coughed, breathing heavily and pushed herself up to her knees. When her feet found purchase underneath her body she started wobbling and another coughing bout racked her tiny frame.
"Help," she wheezed and Sam didn't hesitate. He swooped her up bridal style and carried her towards the burning hole that once was a door.
"Hold on tight," he muttered, more to himself than her, and hurried through the flames. He inhaled the acrid smell of singed hair and quickened his step until they barged through the still flame free front door into the sweet morning air.
Sam carried Hope a good distance further until he was sure no burning debris would get her. Then he turned back to look at the house. Seeing Dean at the far end that wasn't afire yet, but not far from it, he watched how his brother climbed up with the help of the water spout and swung his legs over the railing of a balcony that was engulfed by flames already on the other end.
"Help Luke," Hope pleaded between coughs and Sam took off back into the inferno. The man, Luke, still showed no signs of consciousness and Sam quickly checked his vitals before grabbing him to pull him up and into a fireman's carry. Luke was a dead weight, tall and lanky with loose limbs dangling all over the place and Sam was struggling to get him lifted up and onto his shoulders. Finally he managed to get as good a grip as possible on the man and started his way back outside.
Meanwhile Dean had made it onto the balcony and with one measured shoulder barge he forced the door open, granting him access to the room which was filled with smolder, flames licking hungrily at the door to the rest of the story. He scanned the room with a squint against the smoke and finally made out a bulged up comforter that looked suspiciously like someone was hiding underneath.
Dean scrambled over and pulled the blanket away. He was greeted with the screeching of two terrified young boys who were clinging to each other and started coughing right away.
"Shhhh, it's okay boys. I'm gonna get you out of here, alright?" Dean said as soothingly as his raspy voice allowed. "Don't be scared, I got you."
"Mommy," the younger one whimpered, hands holding on to his brother's pyjama top. He looked about three years old. His brother Dean estimated to be a year or two older.
"Your mommy is outside. My brother got her out. C'mon, boys, lets get out of here." Dean picked up the smaller child and took the older boy's hand, making his way onto the balcony.
"Lynx!" The five-year old suddenly squealed, looking back into the flaming building.
"No time for that now, buddy," Dean replied. They could buy the boy a new teddy lynx when there got out. "Sammy?"
Looking down over the railing, Dean made out his brother putting down a giant figure at the edge of the property. Hope immediately took to fussing over her husband and Sam lifted himself from his crouch and turned towards his brother.
"Dean, I'm coming," he yelled back over the crackling of the fire and shortly halted right below the balcony.
"Sammy, catch them," Dean called and looked at the young boy in his arms. "I'm gonna lift you over and my brother Sam will take you down, okay? What's your name?"
"Bear," the little man mumbled, eyes wide with fear. Even outside on the balcony the extreme heat from the raging flames could be felt.
"Okay, Bear. You ready?"
Dean didn't wait for an answer but took the boy's hands and made to lift him over the railing to drop him into Sam's waiting arms. Only the little boy was so scared that he wrapped his legs around Dean's right arm, clinging to him as tight as he could.
"Bear, please, you have to let go. I want to get you and your brother to safety. You'll be okay, I promise," Dean implored the little guy and started peeling the legs off his arm.
"You can do it, Bear," the boy's brother said bravely. "Please, I wanna get out off here."
"Tiger," Bear whimpered. "Scared."
"We're all scared," Dean replied. "But we have to be brave. You look like you can be brave. So let's try out Sammy's arms again, yeah?"
Finally the little boy let go enough for Dean to let him hang over the railing. Sam reached up and there was only a few feet of distance between his outstretched arms and the boy's feet.
"One, two, three," Dean counted and let go of Bear's hands, knowing Sam would catch him. Sure enough Sam caught the boy safely and carried him over to his mother.
"Bear!" Hope sobbed, hugging her child. "His brothers?" Big eyes looked at Sam.
"On it," Sam promised and dashed back towards the house.
"Ready, Tiger?" Dean asked the bigger boy. Before he could reply, Sam called out.
"How many more, Dean?"
"Just the one," Dean replied.
"No, she asked about brothers."
"Tiger, who's Lynx?"
"Our baby," Tiger replied. "He sleeps next door."
"Damnit," Dean cursed. "Sammy? Catch Tiger. I gotta go back in." He lifted the older boy over the railing and dropped him into his brother's arms as well. Sam caught Tiger and put him down, allowing the boy to run towards his family.
"Dean, no! The house is completely ablaze, get out of there," he shouted just as the faint wailing of sirens was heard in the distance.
"It's a baby, Sam," Dean said as way of apology. Then he turned and disappeared into the flames.
"Damnit, Dean!" Sam shouted, feeling angry and scared the same time. Why did his brother always have to disregard his own safety? It's a baby, Sam, Dean's words reverberated in Sam's head. Baby. House fire. Get your brother out of here as fast as you can. "Fuck!"
Dean stopped in the center of the room, eyeing the door. It was charred and sooty with flames licking around the edged and up to the ceiling. The bed he'd found the brothers on was on fire now and for a split second he was wondering if Sam was right. And then he heard the baby cry.
Determined, he kicked the charred door open. A gust of hot air came at him and he ducked and turned his back a bit, coughing at the smoke he inhaled repeatedly. The baby cried again and Dean squinted to locate a door at the far end that miraculously seemed to only just have caught fire. Dean walked towards it carefully, taking off his plaid shirt to wrap it around his hand. He opened the door by turning the knob and froze.
Unlike the door, most of the room was on fire, including the frame of the cot. On the mattress framed by flames was a screaming infant. Not wasting a moment, Dean spread his shirt on the rail and bent over to pick up the screaming boy.
"It's okay now, champ. You're safe. Now let's get out of here, right?" Clutching the child close to his chest, wrapped in its blanket, he immediately turned to backtrack his steps through the flames to the balcony.
The sirens were close now, the red lights flashing nearby and Dean bent over the balustrade of the burning balcony to hand over little Lynx to his brother. Sam had been pacing below the balcony and breathed a sigh of relief when Dean and the baby appeared. Immediately he got ready to receive the small bundle and all he needed was to lock eyes with Dean to orchestrate the catch.
With the baby safely in Sam's arms, the younger Winchester stepped back to give his brother room to get himself to safety. Sam walked towards Hope to hand over the child when Dean swung his leg over the railing to get off the burning attachment of the house. The next moment the wooden structure surrendered to the damage caused by the flames and with a loud rumbling noise the balcony as well as the side of the house collapsed to the ground.
"Dean!"
Sam raced the last steps to hand the baby over and turned on his heel to rush back to where his brother had gone down with the house. Single beams and other smoldering parts of the building were strewn everywhere and Sam frantically scanned the area. Behind him he could hear the fire engines come to a stop, and one of the men bellowing orders to get the fire under control. Not like there was anything to salvage as far as Sam was concerned.
"Dean," he called when he detected his brother's form under a charred beyond recognition piece of rubble and he rushed to him. Dean grunted in pain, left leg kicking the gravel to get purchase in an attempt to get away from the source of his discomfort.
Quickly, Sam grabbed the rubble and lifted it off his brother regardless of the burns the smoking debris decorated his hands with. As soon as Dean was clear, Sam gripped him by his t-shirt and one arm and pulled him away from the sizzling air close to the house.
"Dean? Talk to me, dude. You okay?"
Sam dropped his brother to the ground and started checking all over. There was a cut on the side of his head that was bleeding, crimson running like little rivers across soot covered skin. His forearms were just as sooty, a few burns littering the skin and reeking of smoke. Dean's jeans showed burn marks but none that went through to the skin and there were no obviously broken bones.
Patting his way up his brother's body, Sam began to relax. He could deal with a few cuts and burns, as well as bruises no doubt. Maybe a mild concussion and smoke inhalation. He was probably suffering from that himself. One last pat to Dean's shoulder caused his brother to growl in pain. His eyes shot open and he glared at Sam.
"Do not touch my shoulder," were the raspy, almost hostile words Dean squeezed through gritted teeth. Sam frowned and held his hands up in surrender.
"Dislocated?"
"No. Yes. I don't know. Not the shoulder. Son of a bitch!"
"Let me see," Sam offered, letting his hand hover above Dean's left shoulder, an unspoken question for consent. But Dean just grunted and attempted to sit up.
"Son of a BITCH!"
Dean let himself back down, breathing heavily. He was used to functioning through pain but this was unlike anything he'd yet experienced.
"Dean?"
Sam knew better than to manhandle his brother in these circumstances without his consent. So he waited, glancing over at the firemen who were battling the flames and the EMT's busy getting Luke ready to be put into an ambulance and taking care of Hope and her three sons.
One of the EMT's had been talking with Hope and then looked over to the Winchesters, nodding at something she said. Two of them got up and made their way over to the brothers and Sam got the funny feeling this could get very interesting. He had barely enough time to tell Dean in a hushed voice to behave before the two medics were on them. Dean had donned his best glare and Sam wondered for a moment if it was for him or the medics. Probably both.
"Hey," the older of the EMTs greeted. "The lady said to check up on you because you were in the house as well?" While he was speaking both of them sized Sam and Dean up, taking in the soot and Dean's blood streaked face.
"Gee, what gave it away?" Dean rasped. "Is it my rouge or the new Eau de Smoke?"
Sam sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes. "I said play nice, Dean."
"Well, Dean," EMT number two replied, "actually it's your oh so smoky voice and and the wide eye you're giving us, but kudos for the guesses."
Dean fixed his gaze on the man the best he could. "Oh, you're a real comedian," he sneered. "Guess what, we're fine. Go make sure the kids are alright."
The medics glanced at each other. "The kids are fine. Some smoke inhalation and minor burns. Tom back there has them on oxygen. You, however, look far from fine."
"C'mon, Dean," Sam tried to mediate. "Let them check you over and..."
"I don't need some touchy feely paws all over my body again, Sasquatch. You already did over enough of that," Dean interrupted indignantly.
"Your friend is right, Dean. We just want to make sure there are no fractures, and that cut on your scalp needs cleaning and stitches."
"I can tell you just fine that there are no fractures and all I need is a bottle of Johnny and Sam's sewing lessons and I'm good to go," Dean snarled. "You put your paws on me and I'll punch you the fuck out."
Sam had given up on trying to contain his brother. He recognized a concussed and combative Dean and knew he'd need some more than they had at the ready - said bottle of Johnny - to fix his brother in the safety of the Impala or another nondescript motel room. Taking his chance, he sneaked away. Dean could handle the medics.
His target was the ambulance closest to them. All EMTs were busy treating their patients while the fire fighters were still battling the flames. He was sure he could find something useful there.
"You're not gonna punch anyone, hot shot," the first medic replied with a brief grin. "I can see even taking a deep breath hurts you. What's happened to your arm?"
"The ground happened, Mr. Obvious. Come any closer and I'll happily demonstrate my right arm is perfectly fine." Dean's patience was practically non-existent, but he wasn't exactly dealing with rookies.
"You know, I bet if you let us administer a painkiller you wouldn't feel prickly enough to brush on riot." The older EMT sounded slightly annoyed by now. Sam took this moment to return to the group, his loot - pain meds, the good stuff - tucked safely in his back pockets.
"I have to apologize for my brother," Sam cut in. "He can be a real ass when he's in pain."
Dean directed his glare at his brother. "You know you are a real pain in the ass."
"Ah well, I can see that," the medic declared. "And that's why we have to make sure he gets seen to, treated. Although I'm not sure that will do anything for his attitude."
With that the man stretched out his hands to begin examining Dean, but Dean's right hand grabbed onto his wrist like a vice.
"Hands off!"
The medic opened his mouth to reply, but a loud boom, closely followed by screams, disrupted the morning. Sam looked at the ruins and the fireball that hovered above it for a moment and then dissolved. Apparently the heat had reached some gas bottles which exploded. The EMTs that were so keen on getting handsy with Dean grabbed their gear and headed towards a small group of obviously hurt fire men.
"That's our chance, Dean. Let's go." Sam reached out to latch onto Dean's hand and pull him up. Dean grunted but played along. He'd do anything to get away from this place.
The Impala was standing next to one of the ambulances. Hope and her kids were huddled at its open back door, but the only medic remaining with them was taking care of her husband. As the Winchesters walked past them, Hope caught Sam's gaze, smiled and nodded her thanks while Tiger and Bear lifted their hands to wave shyly at Dean.
Back at the Impala, Sam held out his hand toward his brother.
"What?" Dean asked, look blank.
"Keys?" Sam raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not gonna let you drive my Baby," Dean sounded offended as well as exasperated.
"Dean, you can hardly move your arm because the pain is killing you. Admit it. You're not fit to drive." Sam's voice was a mixture of disbelief and defiance with a hint of pleading. Dean huffed and opened the driver's side door. "Really, how are you gonna drive?"
"With this arm," Dean waved his right and took the seat gingerly as to not jostle his hurt limb.
"Stubborn mule," Sam grumbled, shaking his head and taking the shotgun seat. The Impala rumbled to life getting the Winchesters on their way. Dean shot a side glance at Sam.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."