Okay, here's part two. Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews! I appreciate each one so, so much. Thank you!

And to ym no-reply reviewers:

Spuffyshipper: Thanks! I'm glad you're happy with a new story. Sam doesn't hate the other hunters, actually he respects them very much. They were just arguing a lot. :0)

Brokenwind: I do not take long to update! I update every other day! Hmph. :0P Well, anyway, I'm glad you liked the first chapter, hopefully you'll like the second too.

Nessie: You want more? Here you go! Thanks so much for the review!

For a moment Dean only stood, watching the flames as they slowly ate their way across the ceiling and the walls. Then, his brain seemed to process the implications of their travel. Turning on his heel, Dean ran full speed to his brother's cage. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Desert already assisting Willet with his own entrapment.

Sam, for his part seemed to have processed the fire's meaning despite his injury and was already examining his cell for a weakness. Upon approaching his destination, Dean threw his body into the cage door full speed and watched his brother wince in sympathy as his body bounced off the door and onto the floor.

Sam shook his head from his own seat on the floor, "That wasn't bright, Dean."

Dean flipped up his middle finger and then shakily stood back up. A series of gunshots sounded and Dean turned to his right to watch Desert empty his clip into the lock of Willet's cell. After his pistol had been emptied, the older man also attacked the lock with the remaining shots in his shotgun. Pulling out his own pistol, Dean mimicked the older hunter's actions.

"Dean wait!"

The rest of Sam's sentence was drowned out by the sound of rapid fire coming from Dean's handgun. After the clip was gone, Dean squinted at the now dented metal and brought up his shotgun.

"Dean, will you wait a second!"

Ignoring his brother, he had no time for Sam's cautions and hesitations- the fire was coming, Dean fired two shots into the metal. Behind the door, Dean watched Sam roll his eyes in exasperation.

Throwing down the shotgun, Dean aimed a full-powered kick at the mutilated lock…and once again found himself on his ass. The door hadn't moved. Through squinted eyes, Dean sent the lock a deadly glare.

"Dean."

Sam's voice was weaker than it had been seconds ago and turning to his brother, Dean was reminded that Sam was injured. Even with the in-coming fire casting a red hue over everything, Sam looked extremely pale. His head was leaning against his knees. Dean stared through the bars at his brother.

"Dean. You should've waited. It didn't work when Desert tried it. You didn't need to waste the bullets."

Dean looked over at the other hunters who were taking turns attacking the cage door with their bodies. Then he looked back up at the lock. It was significantly dented, but apparently, that hadn't been enough to bust it open.

Behind him, an explosion rocketed through the warehouse sending it's vibrations through the floor and up into Dean's body. Seconds later, a blast of heat, smoke, and debris covered him. Wiping the grime from his eyes, Dean turned around and felt the adrenaline begin a renewed course through his veins- several pipes and part of the ceiling had collapsed on the other side of the warehouse. Looking up, he saw the flames continue to flow, greedily feeding on the asbestos that lined the upper limit of the room.

Dean jumped as he felt a hand touch his own. It was Sam, reaching out through the bars. "Dean."

Dean looked down at his brother's hand and allowed his eyes to follow Sam's arm, back up to his shoulder and then his face. "Dean, this whole place is gonna come down."

Dean's brows drew together in anger, "You think I don't know that, Sam?"

Sam showed no reaction to his brother's anger, instead only staring at Dean with a face full of compassion…Dean growled- he hated that look.

"Dean, the asbestos is like pure fuel for the fire. It's spreading fast…and hot."

Dean shook his brother's hand off and watched as the action threw off his brother's balance and sent him falling into the bars. "Damnit Sam! I know!"

Dean stood and Sam looked up at him from his position on the ground. "You have to get out of here."

Rage roughly coursed its way through Dean's veins. Barely controlling it, he pointed down at his sibling. "I'm gonna say this once. Don't ever say that again. The only way I go is if you're with me." Dean continued to stare Sam down, his eyes burning the message into Sam's brain. It wasn't a sacrifice- it was a fact. One of those 'if…then' statements he learned in high school math class. If Sam was with him, then Dean would leave. If Sam was not with him, then Dean would not leave. An off-topic thought passed through Dean's head as he made a note to find Ms. Jalce and apologize to her; turns out he had used that in real life.

Dean's death stare seemed to drive his point home and Sam slumped down to the floor upon losing the battle. Sam's collapse seemed to vacuum the anger out of Dean and cause his protector mode to kick in. Quickly, he bent down to reassure his brother.

Reaching between the bars, Dean grabbed his Sam's shoulder, "Hey Sammy. I've got no plans to die today, okay? But I meant what I said: I only leave with you…" Dean stood up and began pushing against the cage door. "…So, looks like you'll just have get your ass out of here. Of course, that's only if you want me to live…"

Sam smiled, "Well, maybe I'll just stay here then. I think I could probably get a good tan in here anyway."

Dean rolled his eyes and checked to see how the other hunters were faring, hoping that they would've found a way out that he could replicate for Sam. Unfortunately, it seemed that the other pair was doing no better than he and Sam.

Another explosion blasted through the warehouse and Dean found himself pushing against the bars as far as he could manage. A giant pipe had fallen from the ceiling not three feet (1 m) behind him. He winced as he felt several flaming shards hit his already bloodied back.

"Dean!"

Dean shut his eyes in pain, waiting for the pipe to inevitably continue its roll into his body. Fortunately, the pipe seemed to remain where it landed and pieces of hot shrapnel didn't catch on his back. Slowly, Dean opened his eyes, only to find himself face to face with a pale, sweaty, yet standing, Sam.

Sam's arms were through the bars, his hands clutching fiercely into Dean's arms. Dean nodded at his brother's frightened eyes, "I'm okay."

Sam swallowed as tears entered his eyes, "You know how close that came to killing you?"

Dean tried to shake Sam's hands off, but their grip was too tight. Taking a breath, Dean tried to assure his brother, "Sam. I'm fine. But you need to let go of me, man. This place ain't gonna hold much longer. We need to get you out."

Sam loosened his grip, but didn't let go. "Don't make me watch you die, Dean. I'd rather die alone than watch you die in front of me."

This time Dean succeeded in removing his brother's hands, "Yeah, well, you've got your hang ups, I got mine. Luckily for me, you're the one in the cage right now, so I get to make the decisions."

Dean bent down and picked up his shotgun as Sam shook his head and wearily sunk down to the ground. "I hate you."

Dean laughed, "I know- back at ya."

Sam looked up and used his eyes to change the entire meaning of that exchange into its literal opposite. Dean stared back. Then, with a determined look, he ran to the other side of the downed pipe and, using the shotgun, pushed the pipe toward the cage wall. For his part, Sam watched Dean's actions, leaning his head against the bars.

It wasn't easy to move the pipe, especially considering its size, however, after about a minute of work, Dean managed to get the pipe to the bars. Wiping his brow, Dean looked down at his brother. "The metal on this pipe's as thick as those bars. If we can get them hot enough, we might be able to separate them enough for you to squeeze through."

Sam gave no response and Dean moved around the cage get a better look at his brother. Sure enough, Sam's eyes were closed. Dean slammed on the cage. "Sam!"

But Sam remained still.

Another boom ripped through the area, followed by another blast of heat, and several yells from the other cage. Apparently, another pipe had fallen, this one a near miss for Desert. Dean looked up and noted with serious dread that the ceiling covering his half of the warehouse was completely engulfed and hanging half-way down. Dean shook his head and coughed at the smoke. There was no way the bars would heat up fast enough…

More yelling came from the other hunters as Willet screamed at Desert through the bars of his cage. "You can't leave me here! I can't get out!"

Desert pointed up at the ceiling. "You want us both to die? I don't know how to get you out. I tried everything I could think of. There comes a time when a man's got to think of himself. Don't act like I didn't try. You think leavin' you is easy for me?"

Willet shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. Dean watched as the betrayal turned to acceptance in the hunter's eyes. Willet turned back to his friend. "No hard feelings. It was a good time- the past twenty years…"

Desert nodded solemnly. "You still got some time. Work on a way out."

Will nodded back and Desert turned to Dean. "Dean! Let's go!"

Dean shook his head. "I'm not going."

Desert pointed to the creaking ceiling. "Dean, there's no time! Even if you could get him out, it'd take too long. You'll both just die."

Angered that the man would even debate this with him, Dean yelled back. "Then we both die!"

Throwing up his hands at the younger man's stubbornness, Desert ran out the door.

Sam was now lying on his side on the floor, the last explosion having knocked him over. Avoiding the burning metal pipe, Dean cautiously worked his way over to as close to his brother as he could get. The air was now thick with smoke and heat, and Dean pulled his t-shirt up over his mouth and nose, wincing as it pulled at the dried blood on his back.

Now close enough to Sam to touch him, Dean reached through the bars and pulled on his brother until Sam flopped, his head lolling as he fell onto his back. Then he tapped on Sam's face. There was no response.

The ceiling gave a whining sound as it sagged even more. Dean brushed the sweat off his face as he struggled to breathe through his shirt and the smoke. Willet's voice sounded over the roaring fire. "Dean!"

Dean turned, wincing as a blast of heat hit his eyes. Willet yelled through the bars of his cage. "The door's right there." He pointed to the open door that lay only a few feet away. "There's no time anymore."

Dean shook his head and Willet continued. "He won't even know, Dean. He's completely out."

Dean stood up and began walking around the cage, studying its structure. He wasn't wasting any more time on that conversation. The top of the cage met the ceiling, which was probably the only reason it hadn't collapsed yet- the cages gave it extra support. Dean checked the area by the heated pipe. Although the bars seemed to have a red tint to them, he doubted that they were hot enough to bend. Just to test it though, Dean picked up the discarded shotgun and positioned it between two of the bars. Then, using the shotgun as a lever, he pushed towards the cage. Not surprisingly, nothing happened. Frustrated, Dean threw the shotgun to the floor and leaned his head against the cage.

Tears were flowing from his eyes, although it was honestly more from the smoke and the burning heat than the situation. But the hopelessness didn't help. The flames completely surrounded them now: above, and on all sides. He should've known he'd end up dying in a fire. It just sucked that Sam was on the other side of a set of bars.

Fully accepting now that they were going to die, Dean carefully made his way back through the inferno, to his brother's side. The door to their safety, not five feet away, stared at him. He could see the blue skies, green hill, and cement path that was safe from the fire. He only had to stand up and walk the five feet…and he'd live.

Putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, Dean turned to the other cage. Willet was staring at him, shaking his head. "You're stupid. You dying isn't going to help Sam. You think he wants this? Or are you just killing yourself because you don't want to live through the pain of his death? Because the door's five feet away and you know there's no way out for Sam. So just admit what you're doing…you're committing suicide."

The words struck a chord in Dean and he found himself in a dilemma. Willet was right. To sit there and just wait for death wouldn't help Sam. Then he'd just be killing himself. But he couldn't leave without Sam either.

Dean laughed to himself, "Let's see…if Sam can't get out, then I can't leave. If I live, then I must leave. I can't not live. Therefore…Sam must get out." Dean nodded his head, happy with his conclusion. He seriously was going to need to send Ms. Jalce that apology along with a thank you note.

Suddenly, Sam groaned and moved his head. Dean leaned into the bars, "Sammy?"

Sam turned his body away from his brother and began coughing. Apparently the smoke had seeped into his unconsciousness. Not wanting to waste any time, Dean moved to get up, and yet again try attacking the cage. Without warning Sam's hand grabbed his arm. Dean looked back down as Sam rolled over still choking. He pointed to an area behind the boiler. "There's…a…metal…plate….instead of bars." Sam turned back on his side as he continued to cough.

Moving over to the side of the cage near the door, directly across from where Sam had pointed, Dean spied the three foot (1 m) by two foot (.6 m) metal plate at the bottom of the cage wall, behind the boiler. If he could get that plate off, Sam would be able to fit through that space.

The ceiling creaked, whined and sagged again and Dean ducked in preparation of his death. But, somehow the ceiling held and Dean quickly ran to his brother. Not even bothering to talk to Sam, he reached through the bars, lifted Sam's shirt, and pulled his gun out of the back of his pants. Then grabbed his brother's shotgun and took both guns to the other side of the cage.

He emptied the pistol first, firing the bullets at the screws that held the plate in place. Then he took the shotgun and fired two holes through the middle of the metal. The handgun hadn't done much, but the shotgun had. The metal was warped, and sharp, and pointing inwards, but if Sam didn't mind getting cut up a little, he'd definitely fit through the hole. With his foot, Dean molded as much of the pointy metal down as he could. The bigger the hole, the better.

There was a decent shot now that they'd live, and Dean was determined that it would happen. They couldn't die now. Not now that they had a possibility to escape.

"Sam!" Dean called over to his brother, and saw a red, teary eye peek over at him.

"Sam, get your ass over here. We've got seconds!"

Sam's body responded to the command and Dean watched with little patience as Sam slowly commando crawled across the dusty, smoky floor. Across the way, in the other cage, Dean saw and heard Willet fire his own shotgun into the metal plate in his cage. Considering that both metal plates were obstructed from view due to their placement, it wasn't surprising that no one had noticed the plate when first inspecting the cage. It was only Sam's odd, semi conscious position that gave him the right angle to see the plate.

Sam was now close enough to touch and Dean wasted no time thrusting his hands through the bars and dragging his brother up to the hole. It'd be a tight fit, but it would have to work.

Without waiting for Sam, Dean reached into the hole, grabbed his brother's shoulders, and began pulling. The metal at the hole's edge cut into Sam's back, chest, and arms, but Dean kept heaving. There was no time to reposition. They'd deal with the cuts later.

For his part, Sam didn't struggle, only wincing now and then as the metal cut particularly deep. By the time his upper body was out, Dean had his arms through Sam's armpits and over his chest. So when the plate snagged the waist of Sam's jeans, there was barely even a pause before they ripped under Dean's pull. It took about thirty seconds, but soon Sam was free of the cage and draped over his brother's shoulders.

Somewhere he heard Sam mumble something about being able to walk, which he probably could have, but it would have been a slow and unsteady walk, and there was no time for that.

As he ran towards the door, Dean checked on Willet. Although he had been able to blast a fairly large hole in the plate, he didn't have enough force or leverage to pull himself past the sharp metal. Currently, the man was stuck, one arm, shoulder, and head out of the cage, the rest of his body still in. Dean pulled his shirt down off his nose and called over to the older man. "Will!"

Will turned his head as best he could and Dean nodded to the door. "As soon as I get Sam out, I'll come back and help."

Will made no response, but his eyes didn't hold much hope. Dean turned and ran out of the warehouse, not stopping until he had carried his brother half way up the hill. Placing Sam on the ground, Dean turned and began the run back to the warehouse. He made it about five feet before the building collapsed.

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He slid a little bit. The grass was wet and the ground shook, so he slid. A large cloud of dust and smoke billowed straight up into the air where it hovered before being pushed along by the wind. The wind was behind them, and that was a good thing, otherwise the smoke would've blown right in their faces.

Dean jumped as a bloody hand touched his arm. Sam's face was black with soot and now that he was in the sunlight, he could see the two-inch, bruised bump by his brother's temple. Sam's eyes looked scared…and sad. Dean turned his attention back to the smoking, collapsed warehouse. Willet was dead.

Not ten minutes ago the man had saved his life. Not one minute ago, Dean had promised to return the favor. But it was too late- he had been too late. Sam squeezed his arm. No, he took it back, he had just made it- just not for Will.

A movement at the side of the warehouse caught his eye, and Dean looked down the hill. Desert was standing at the bottom, by the warehouse. The older man held a somber look and even from his distance 300 yards (275 m) away, he could feel the pain of loss rolling off the man in waves.

Desert's eyes shifted from the warehouse to the hill and the man's expression changed from grief to shock and despair. At first Dean thought the hunter was looking at him, but then he realized that his eyes stared at the figure next to him. He was looking at Sam. Dean closed his own eyes, unable to watch the man's guilt and desolation. Sam was a living representation that Desert had made the wrong decision.

Only hindsight made it wrong. At the time, it clearly had been the right thing to do. There was no way out of the cages. If Desert had stayed, it would've been suicide. From a survival point of view, he should have left. But Sam was sitting on the hill- alive. Desert had done the right thing, even Willet agreed. Hell, even he and Sam agreed. But sometimes, the right thing isn't always the right thing.

There was a moment in that warehouse, when Sam was unconscious and Dean stared at the open door that held his freedom, that Dean very briefly considered leaving. It was only, as Willet pointed out, his fear of the pain of Sam's loss that kept him in there. That- and the fact that he could never live with himself or the guilt if he had left his brother.

When he and Desert had first started trying to free Sam and Willet, they both stayed in the inferno because they believed they could save their partners. Dean realized, he and Desert lost that faith at the same time, which was when Desert left. Dean hadn't stayed because he believed that he could save Sam, he stayed because he was tied to Sam. Their lives were tied together. They were a family, and losing Sam scared Dean more than staying in the collapsing building.

Dean opened his eyes in time to watch Desert turn and walk out of view, behind the burning building. Sam's hand still gripped his arm, and Dean brought his own hand up to lay over his brother's for a moment, before bringing it back down.

He thought back to the earlier incident in the warehouse with the taser. If Sam had used the taser, or not screwed Desert's shot, they would have figured out earlier that the volts in the tasers weren't enough to take down the kryepar. Would it have made a difference in the end? Dean had no idea, but either way, looking back, it seemed that Sam hadn't done the right thing. Although he did what he thought was best at the time- just as Desert had.

The difference between Sam's and Dean's decisions versus Des' and Will's decisions really came down to one thing: love. There were risks that Sam and Dean were either willing or unwilling to take, despite what the job or common sense might dictate, because they cared about each other and were unwilling to lose each other. Did it make them better hunters? Or worse? Dean really didn't know.

"Your back looks really bad, Dean. There's two pieces of metal sticking out of it. I don't think they're in deep, but they look rusted."

Great, a tetnus shot. Dean turned toward Sam and brushed back his brother's hair to get a look at the bump. The skin was shiny, having been stretched over the swollen lump in the area. Already the bruise had formed and turned a dark shade of purple. Sam winced and jerked his head back as Dean probed the area.

Finally, Dean ceased his prodding and moved his hand to hold Sam's face steady as he checked his eyes. The right pupil, accompanying the side of his head with the bump, was fully dialated. The left pupil clearly was not. Dean released his brother's head and sat back. "You got a bad concussion and I don't like where that bump is."

Sam leaned his head into his knees, shielding his eyes from the sunlight. "I didn't have a choice about it."

Dean nodded and winced. Now that the adrenaline was leaving his bloodstream, his back was killing him.

"Dean?"

Dean looked over to find Sam still doubled over, but now squinting up at him. He waited a few moments for Sam to continue, but Sam just seemed to stare instead. Dean tried to prompt him. "What Sam?"

Sam appeared confused. "I forgot."

Dean laughed. "Okay, we both need a hospital."

Sam shook his head, his expression turning frightened. "Dean I'm losing…"

Sam's look made more sense than his words and Dean put both hands on his brother's arms before meeting Sam's eyes and speaking calmly. "Losing what, dude?"

Sam breathed out, relieved, and shook his head. "I'm…I couldn't remember anything for a sec. Nothing. It's back."

Dean nodded and pulled Sam up. "Hospital. Now."

Once they were standing, Dean gave his brother a moment to adjust to the change in altitude. Sam wobbled unsteadily and leaned into his sibling and Dean maintained a tight grip. Sam was probably dizzy to begin with and considering that they were on a hill, Dean didn't need his brother rolling down it into the fire.

When Sam was ready, he picked his head up. "Newuqueow?"

Dean shook his head, amused and concerned at Sam's slurred speech. "Do I know a cow? What?"

Sam apparently maintained enough awareness to know that his question made no sense as his expression became frustrated. "How…did…you…know…you could…get me…out?"

"Oh." I didn't; I just figured it was better to die with you. Shaking away those thoughts, Dean threw on his reassuring bravado. "What are you kidding? I told you Sammy. I ain't dyin' today. There was no other option. I had to get you out. It's all logic, man." He gave his brother a light tap. "You need to have more faith in me."

Sam smiled and turned toward the burning building, keeping a tight grip on his brother for balance. "I really though I was going to die in there."

Dean slowly walked his brother diagonally down the hill, toward the parked cars. "Like I said, dude. You need more faith."

Sam scoffed and then grabbed his brother's shirt as he almost slipped down the hill. Dean bent over and tightened his own grip, pulling Sam back onto his feet. Sam was breathing hard. "I got you."

Sam nodded, keeping his head down, his bangs flopping in his face. "Thanks."

Dean nodded.

Slowly the brothers continued down the wet grassy hill. Dean couldn't help but be thankful that it had been raining the past three weeks. Because it had, the ground was wet enough to stop the fire from spreading.

"Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Hopefully Sam would remember what he wanted to say this time.

"You think…I mean, there's no chance…"

Dean interrupted, he knew what Sam was asking. "Sam, the ceiling fell on him. Chances are the weight killed him instantly…not to mention the fire. He's gone, man."

Sam nodded sadly. "He saved our lives- multiple times. They both did."

Dean silently agreed as he continued their unsteady walk. Finally, after several close calls, the brothers made it back to the Impala- without having lost their footing. Dean leaned his brother against the car and groaned as he bent to open the passenger door. Sitting was going to be a nightmare on his back. Not to mention, with the metal in there, he wouldn't be able to sit back.

When he straightened, Sam was looking at the other car in the area. "He's still here."

Dean shook his head. "Of course he's still here. He's gotta wait so he can get Willet's bo…uh, Willet, back from the fire inspector. And the only way he's gonna know where Will ends up is if he's here when they take him."

As if on cue, sirens sounded in the distance. Dean pushed his brother into the passenger seat and then ran around to the driver's side. Hopping in, he ignored the screaming pain in his back, turned the key, and began driving- away from the sirens. It would be a longer way to the hospital, but they couldn't be seen leaving the blazing inferno.

After several minutes, Dean felt himself relax marginally as the sirens, fire, and smoke melted into the background.

Sam's voice intruded on the momentary peace. "Hey."

Dean briefly turned to look over at his brother before turning back to the road and Sam continued, "If Des had been thrown in the cage instead of me, you think we would've stayed until we got them out?"

He really didn't want to go there…the decisions they all made today had already spent too much time under the microscope- no need to add hypothetical decisions. Although, Sam brought up a good point. Would he have stayed if it wasn't Sam? If he was alone, he would like to think, definitely, he would've stayed. Hell, he always said that he wanted to be a firefighter- and he was fully prepared to run back in for Will (of course, Will had a definite way out by then).

But if Sam was also in the warehouse with him…that changed things. Another case where his decision about 'the right thing to do' would change based on his concern for Sam. He had no problem staying, but if Sam was there, and the ceiling was collapsing and it looked like there was no way out? And an uninjured Sam wouldn't have waited outside while Dean stayed back to help those who were trapped…

Dean shook his head- he so was not going down that road. No hypothetical decisions. Without answering his brother, Dean turned on the radio, cranking up the hard rock. Beside him, he watched Sam sit back with a resigned expression. Obviously he realized Dean wasn't willing to talk.

A blue sign for the hospital appeared, and Dean turned right accordingly. Sam had pulled a first aid kit out from under his seat and was cleaning out the gashes in his stomach, made when Dean pulled him out of the hole in the metal plate.

Whether choosing to stay in the warehouse had been right or wrong, Dean didn't care. Today, under those circumstances, he had done the right thing. And as long as Sam was sitting next to him- the judgmental, analytical, critical people of the world could kiss his ass.

This fic is dedicated to all the firefighters out there that continuously ignore their survival instincts and run toward the danger when someone they don't know needs help. To all you men and women (especially Danny, Jay, and Anthony)- thanks.