Candle In The Window

Chapter 7: Inch By Inch

Disclaimer: They are mine in my fantasies, other than that I get pleasure from them, but no money. Hell, forget the money, I'll take them.

Welcome to the world thru my eyes.

A/N: These are gonna be LONG A/N's so brace yourselves. First and most importantly, ta so much for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, ya'll are, as always to kind. I never want my stuff to be boring or repetitious, which it frequently seems to me it's both, but I am, as is often pointed out to me, my own worst critic.

I write this stuff for two reasons: one, to fulfill a desire to roll in the pleasure of letting my imagination do as it wills without fear of being judged for my strange proclivities, and two, to hopefully entertain and give like pleasure to those of you who are nice enough (or of similar proclivities) to spend a bit of time with me and my dalliances. If I succeed in this, on whatever level, then I can't ask for more than that, even if I never hear about it. That so many of you took the time to not only comment on the chapter, but offer me encouragement as well is a precious gift and I thank you for it. If I missed replying to anyone's reviews you have my abject and heartfelt apologies and my undying gratitude for your comments.

I was gonna try to update a little sooner but with Christmas and work I just couldn't do it (and I started a two-part one shot that I can't get out of my head which I will post after Candle finishes), so ta for your patience as well. I hope everyone had a safe and wonderful whatever you may celebrate at this time of the year.

AN2: I was supposed to put a note in the last chapter that the flashbacks in the last part referring to Sam leaving were from Chipping Away. I forgot, but most of you figured it out. There was something else I was gonna add to my notes but I forgot that too, so make up something interesting for me.

AN3: And just for the record, I LIKE this chapter. A lot. Hope you do to.

Take a deep breath, dear hearts, the water (or something anyway) is getting deeper…


Sam yanked his foot back out of the water with a gasped, "Oh, my God!" staring at the water rippling gently over the floor as it came in under the door. Odd items that had been lying on the floor were now half submerged or floating lazily on the surface.

"What is it?" Emma called from the kitchen. Sam heard a chair slide back.

"Water's coming in the house!" He called back over his shoulder.

Dean caught the doorframe with his hands and hung there. "Get the guns…"

Sam splashed across the floor and grabbed the rucksack of weapons he had stashed behind the couch and tossed it on the cushions. It dripped but was fairly waterproof up to a point. The water was freezing cold as it crept up his pant legs.

He yanked the bag open and pulled out a large flashlight. He shoved the curtains aside, knocking the candle on the sill to the floor where it extinguished with a hiss, and opened the window. Sticking his head out, he flashed the light around and was horrified to see the porch and yard had vanished under the encroaching water; only the tops of bushes and trees sticking out. A quick look down send adrenaline shooting into his system as he saw the water level outside was only a few inches below the window sills. He slammed the window down.

The water had risen at least fifteen feet in a little over an hour and it was still raining. Sam guessed the river had more than hit flood stage. He turned, grabbing the bag and sloshed back to the kitchen where Emma stood behind Dean, who looked on the verge of collapse.

"We have to get upstairs!" Sam snapped. "The water's coming in fast. The whole bottom floor's gonna be under soon!" He seized Dean's arm to keep him from sliding down the door frame and into the rising pool covering the floor. Dean groaned and clawed for a hand hold.

Emma shook her head. "No, it's alright; it never gets any higher than this, not in the last ten years…"

The sound of the front door bursting open as it gave in to the pressure of the water against it turned them all. Water rushed in through the opening in a wave that sent them all stumbling back into the kitchen. The roar of rain filled the house.

Dean went down as Sam lost his grip and Emma fell backwards into the table with a shrill cry. Sam staggered back into the stove but managed to keep his feet. He abandoned the gun bag and lunged for Dean, who was face down in the water, struggling to raise himself. The water was at least a foot deep and getting deeper with each passing second.

Sam hauled Dean to his knees as he choked on the filthy water, coughing and gasping for air..

"C'mon!" Sam yelled desperately. "We have to get higher!"

Dean climbed Sam's body. "Help her!" he yelled hoarsely, jerking his head toward Emma. She lay slumped on her side, near the table, lying half across a chair. "I'm okay. Help her!" Dean fell against the table, using the somewhat sturdy structure as a brace and pulled himself on top of it, rolling on his side and coughing.

Sam went to his knees and pulled Emma up out of the water. Blood ran from a small gash where she had hit the table.

He glanced up at Dean who lay on the table, shaking. Sam gathered Emma's small body in his own shaking arms and stood with an effort. "I'll be right back, Dean!" he said, waiting until Dean opened his eyes and acknowledged him.

"Get her up-s-stairs!" Dean gasped. "I'm n-not going an-anywhere!"

Sam nodded and as quickly as possible made his way through the now knee-deep water to the stairs.

Emma began to stir as he climbed. "It's okay," Sam said as her eyes fluttered.

"What…what happened?"

"I'm just taking you upstairs, out of the water." Sam replied, gaining the upper floor finally. He carried her into the first room he came to and helped her sit on the side of the bed. She lifted a trembling hand to her head.

"Will you be okay for a minute? I have to get Dean—" Sam was already halfway to the door.

She stared up at him in obvious confusion, but finally nodded.

Sam pounded down the stairs, almost losing his footing as he splashed into the water, alarmingly now over his knees. Struggling to hurry, he waded back into the kitchen.

In the sputtering light from the candles, Sam's searching eyes found his brother. Sprawled on the table, his back pressed against the now-soaked wood, chest heaving, Dean looked eerily like he was laid out for sacrifice.

Sam leaned over him, slapping his face lightly. "Dean, come on, open your eyes! We gotta go upstairs." Dean's head rolled loosely, his body shivering, but he didn't respond. Sam's heartbeat sped up with each passing second that Dean failed to open his eyes.

Sam pulled Dean upright, "Dean!!!" he yelled and slapped Dean as hard as he could, twice, one side and then the other, the sound like a rifle shot to Sam. Dean's head snapped back after the second strike. He threw up an arm to block a third hit and swayed in Sam's grip, blinking in bleary astonishment.

"Dude… d-did you… hit me…?"

Sam laughed in relief. "I sure as hell did and I'm gonna do worse than that if you close your eyes again! C'mon, we gotta get outta here!" He helped Dean down from the table into the freezing water, pulling one of his arms across his shoulder, hooking the other around his waist to begin the three-mile slog upstairs. Sam paused to shove the flashlight in his pocket.

"It's cold!" Dean gasped, trembling.

"I know," Sam agreed, his own legs starting to go numb from effort as much as cold.

"Did Bobby come?" Dean asked breathlessly. "H-hope so…I'm not feelin' so hot…"

Sam braced himself to take as much of Dean's weight as he could. "No, Dean, Bobby's isn't here yet," he with bitter patience, moving them slowly across the shallow lake of the front room to the staircase. Each step was an agony of effort, Dean clutching the railing and pulling himself up one step at a time even with Sam's assistance.

"You can make it, Dean, just a few more steps…"

Dean gave his body an irritated shake. "I know…I can make it…" he growled, wheezing for breath, gritting his teeth against the sharp ache in his muscles every movement brought him. He swayed against Sam, his knees almost buckling, fingers digging into the worn wooden railing to catch himself. "I'm just so…goddamned tired…"

Despite Sam's efforts Dean slumped into the railing, sliding down to the steps with a low groan. The back of his head felt like it was burning, sending red hot blasts of fire down his spine. He curled his arms over the back of his neck and rolled his upper body forward, moaning as he did so.

"Dean, no…please, we have to get higher, the water's coming in!" Sam's voice took on a frantic edge as he pulled at Dean trying to get him up.

Dean's muscles writhed like snakes under Sam's hands, contracting and twisting themselves into knots. Dean arched back in agony as they pulled, his hands closing on the stair balusters in a death grip. He cried out as his body began to shudder through another seizure, so much worse than before it made the last one seem gentle by comparison.

"Dean! God, Dean…hang on…" Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's lurching body, struggling to keep his brother from crashing into the steps or the railing. Dean's head slammed back into Sam's shoulder so hard Sam thought for a second it had dislocated.

Gripping Dean as tightly as he could, trying not to hear the sounds coming from Dean as he raged against his own body, Sam grit his teeth and closed his eyes, praying for this to end.

"It'll be over soon," Sam whispered brokenly, not sure if Dean could hear him. "You'll be okay…"

There was a loud crack as Dean's spasming hand, wrapped tightly around the baluster jerked wildly, pulling it from its mooring and inadvertently thrusting it back toward Sam's face. Sam grabbed Dean's wrist and held it against their bodies to protect himself as well as Dean, the broken post still gripped in Dean's fist.

After what felt like decades, the water slowly gaining step after step, Dean's struggles began to slow, falling to spastic jerks and twitches, his cries and grunts of pain becoming slow, deep gasps and groans as he came back to himself, his face worn and tear-streaked from the effort of his struggles.

"J-Jesus…" Dean choked, his face pressed against Sam's chest as he hung limply in Sam's arms. He made an attempt to swipe his eyes, but couldn't lift his arm enough. "I thought you said…I'd just go…to sleep…Dude…this is not…sleeping…" Dean let his head fall and just breathed for a moment.

Sam gently shifted Dean into a more comfortable position, watching the water creep over the step below them. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know what to do…to make it better…" Sam was tired, stressed, and emotionally worn out from listening and watching Dean suffer while he stood by helplessly, unable to offer anything more than small physical comfort and swiftly-waning hope.

""C'mon," Sam prompted, reluctantly, after allowing Dean a few moments recovery. "We have to keep moving. The bottom floor is almost flooded; we have to get higher."

He pushed slowly to his feet and did his best to help Dean back to his. Dean tried, but his screaming, exhausted muscles wouldn't cooperate. The fire was building up in his head again and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was locked in yet another seizure. The thought should have sent his heart racing but instead it seemed to be pounding in slow, heavy thumps he could feel behind his eyes.

Dean sank back to the steps, groaning as his knees buckled. "I don't think…I can…walk…" he ground out. "My legs…"

Hating himself, Sam heaved Dean back up, his own muscles straining with the effort. "You want a choice?" he snarled in Dean's face, using his own weight to hold Dean against the wall. "Okay, here they are. There is no fucking way I'm gonna drown inside a house and I'm not leaving you on the stairs. You don't go up, I don't go up, so what's it gonna be?"

Dean looked up at Sam with anguish in his eyes. "Sam…"

"Walk or be dragged, Dean, doesn't matter to me."

Dean blinked dazedly, his eyes were getting bloodshot. "I thought… it was my choice…"

Sam tossed his head to get the wet hair out of his eyes. "I lied," he responded curtly. "So get your ass moving!"

Dean's head fell forward, hiting Sam's chest, his fingers closing on the cloth of Sam's shirt, "You're an asshole," Dean said in a breathy gasp, jerking the fabric.

But to Sam's surprise and relief, he felt Dean pushing against him, trying to move. Once he was trying, Sam helped as much as he could, murmuring noises of encouragement when Dean faltered as they fought their way up the steps.

Every movement brought a sound of pain from Dean, a low groan, a gasp as he lifted a foot and tried to raise it to the next step, a growl as he struggled to pull himself forward, Sam bracing him as well as he could.

After an eternity they made the upper floor landing and they both paused to rest, leaning into each other.

"I don't know…about you…." Dean wheezed, eyes closed, still clutching Sam's shirt. "But I'm not…having fun…anymore…"

Sam laughed despite himself. He straightened with an effort, putting an arm around Dean's waist and half dragging him over to the bedroom where he had left Emma.

"It'll get better," he replied. "You're gonna get in bed with a woman."

"Yeah?..." Dean questioned casually, "Sounds good…I like older women…but no threesomes, dude…I work…alone…"


End Notes: Was it worth the wait? Holds breath.