Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their respective owners; Eric Kripke, the CW/WB.
A/N: The fire's raging and Sam and Dean are trapped. How the hell will they get out of it? Well, that's this chapter. Time for the great escape!
Last Chapter:
Dean was barely keeping himself together. They needed to get out and now. But their only path out was destroyed. Going back frightened him even more, his nerves tingling in fear. There was no way out of that room either. They were stuck up here. Him and Sam. Sam was going to burn with him. Sam was going to die. Dean stumbled, his legs trembling too much and beginning to give way. Sam cried out when he felt his back bending, going down with Dean.
Sammy, I Can't See!
Chapter 7
Sam's cry set Dean back in motion. They couldn't give up. Dean would never give up on Sam. If he died in here to save Sam, then fine. So be it. Even if it was fire, and Dean could barely breathe at the thought of what was surrounding him - though thankfully he couldn't see it - he could pretend it wasn't there. Long enough to get under control again anyway.
Sam felt Dean straighten, grateful that Dean was managing so well under the circumstances. Doing a quick whirl-around, Sam got them shuffling back to the bedroom. They barely got back before the frame was so thick with flames, it was a wall with no exit even if they wanted to. Trapped thoroughly, Sam stopped. Parts of the floor were caving and fire licked through, creating even more heat, an oven. Sweat poured off Sam and Dean in torrents. The heat and smoke ravaged their lungs, their eyes. Both brothers were wounded, weakened, fearful. They were exhausted, utterly bone-tired. And there was still no sign of escape.
"The hole!" Sam shouted. Dean started fiercely, hyperventilation being put off for the moment to hear his brother. "Dean, the hole! The one in the floor! Come on!" Not even sure if Dean heard him, Sam half stumbled, half dragged his brother toward the huge hole in the floor which was only getting bigger. He looked down it as best as he could. He thought he could see the front door. It too was ablaze, but Sam remembered there being windows down there. Maybe those weren't currently blocked with flame. If they could just get down there. "We'll have to jump!"
"Sam, are you crazy!" Dean croaked.
"Dean, it's the only way. We're trapped up here. Sitting ducks bound for the oven. We can jump and get out."
Dean growled. He was frustrated. That was a long way down. A whole floor down to be precise. And there was no doubt fire down there that Sam wasn't telling him about. And yet...
Dean loosened his grip on Sam, lifting Sam's arm off his shoulders just long enough to shrug out of his leather jacket. Finally, he draped it over Sam's shoulder, wincing as he knew he brushed it over Sam's back.
"Dean, wha-"
"You got nothing to cover you. If we're going to jump, you need some protection." Sam was about to protest when Dean remarked, "Don't you dare argue Sam. Let's go."
Sam was surprised enough that Dean caved so easily when surely his brother was beyond freaked right now, but he didn't dwell as Dean stepped closer to the hole. Sam took control again, already dreading the jump down, but brought them as close to the hole as was safe.
"Dean, do you trust me?"
Dean hesitated only a second, just long enough to wet his mouth and say, "Yes."
Sam readjusted his arm so it was wrapped under Dean's arms, took a single step back before thrusting hard against the ground and leaping into the air just as the ground beneath him and Dean finally crashed down.
They felt the flames along the floor-turned-ceiling reach out to them, trying to embrace them. The boys shot passed them however. Sam barely saw the floor approaching through the smoke. But they both felt it. They crashed to the flame-covered floor, Sam's right leg twisting awkwardly beneath him before he and Dean both landed on the appendage. There was no doubt it was now broken too. Sam had no time to ponder however as Dean started to panic, feeling the flames under them and all around them. Sam looked over his shoulder and saw they missed the burning bed by mere inches. He pulled them away from it and, with Dean's help, they got themselves off the ground, the leather jacket nearly falling off, but Sam wasn't letting that burn here as he snatched it up and slipped it over both his and Dean's shoulders.
However, they were still trapped. They were surrounded by walls of flames, the whole blockade near the door was alight, the already burnt rooms were re-burning. The window was further away then Sam remembered, and there was no way they could get to it. They were now trapped in an even worse position, the ceiling, the floor, the walls, the blockade, the door, all burning away, leaving them in the centre of it all. And Dean was full-on hyperventilating, tears cascading down his face. Even through the haze, Sam could see Dean's anguish.
Sam had to lean even more weight on his brother than before. Oddly though, the added weight seemed to centre Dean again, allowing him to remember who he was currently clinging to. "Sam!" The name felt good on his dry tongue.
"Hold on, Dean. Just hold on," Sam managed to say through ragged pained breaths. They had to hurry. Death from smoke inhalation was the most common in a fire. The brothers were well on their way.
Sam whipped his head around, looking for any sort of reprieve from their burning cage. Suddenly a huge crack sounded through the air, louder than the raging mass of heat around them. Sam's body shot toward the sound and Dean almost fell face-first into the flame. Sam kept them dancing on the floor, already feeling their pant legs catching. But the sound elicited new hope in Sam.
It had been the door. The hinges, strong but old, holding up the door, alerting their enemy last night when they had tried to run, was now their saving grace as Sam saw the door teetering on an edge, ready to fall over. "Trust me," Sam said to Dean, not managing more than a whisper with his abused lungs. But Dean tensed. And Sam, with as much agility as possibly, leapt into the air, leaning his entire body mass on Dean while bringing his uninjured leg up, shooting it out, effectively knocking the door off its balance and out to the great outdoors, to freedom.
Dean had suddenly felt Sam's entire body mass on him. He leaned forward to keep them upright and when Sam's feet made contact with something, it was all Dean could do to keep them upright and not hurtling backward into the blazing blockade.
Sam came back down, crying out in pain when his foot met the floor and his back bent to relieve the leg pain. But they now had an exit, and that's all that matter.
The sudden burst of air from outdoors had raised the fire to a new potential and it towered around them, an angry army of heat and power. And Sam ran, Dean following silently behind.
Even the front porch was on fire, the railings had already taken all they could take and had collapsed on the grass. The old wooden bench was only on two legs. The stairs weren't there, buried in flame. It didn't matter. Sam gripped Dean's form tighter and sent them flying forward with another leap. Again, he landed on his ankle when they landed on the other side of the flames from the stairs. He winced, but the sudden rush of cool air had cleared Dean's head and he took control from there. He grabbed onto Sam's shaking form, also grabbing onto the leather jacket once again slipping and bent down to beat the flames off their ankles. Sam and Dean were both forced to abandon their melting boots. Dean felt around, making sure the flames were entirely out, while Sam kept a solid grip on Dean's bent form. While feeling, Dean felt Sam's ankle at an awkward angle and knew it was both broken and burned.
But they were safe. They were out of the house. As Dean stood back up, he hacked as the clean air officially invaded his lungs. It was dizzying. Sam wasn't fairing much better as he felt like he was coughing up his lungs while clutching his chest, hoping to pull the broken rib out. His back ached, his lungs ached, his leg throbbed, his head hurt, his eyes watered, but still, looking up at the house with flames shooting out windows and broken walls, Sam breathed a sign of relief.
"Would you look at that," he managed to whisper.
There was silence, until Dean sobbed, "I can't. I still can't see Sammy."
Sam turned to look at Dean under his arm. There were tears in his eyes. His face was red and covered in smoke ash, except where tears were sweeping the soot away. But there was still an unmistakeable blankness on Dean's face. Sam glanced back up at the burning house, fear retaking his heart. The witch was dead. This should all be over. They had killed the source. And yet...
As Sam glanced back at Dean as he came to a grim realization that it may not be reversible, that it may indeed be permanent. That his brother may actually be stuck with this curse, this darkness that he can't escape. He'd have to quit hunting. He couldn't take care of himself. He couldn't take care of Sam. He's be miserable, stuck in an unseeing world. Having people stare at him, some mock him. All the while, not even being able to see enough to run away. His brother was handicap in the worst way, in an evil world still crawling with things that wanted revenge on the Winchesters. His brother was blind. Completely and utterly-
"Wait, Sam!" Sam's watering eyes travelled to Dean's green orbs. "I think... I..."
"Dean?" Sam whispered throatily.
"I see shades." Sam stopped breathing. A crack issued forth from the house, louder than the front door, and Sam witnessed the roof cave into the witch's bedroom / alter room. Dean flinched. But even as the crack thundered out, Dean's vision flashed brilliant white with it. He felt power encasing his head suddenly. Like a magical bubble wrapped tightly around him was slowly wavering with each crash of the house, each piece of wood burned to dust. The more the house burned, the more Dean could see. No colours yet. Shades. Blacks and whites and greys. The images were slow; they blurred. But there was an undeniable white blur right in front of him reaching into the darker sky.
The area of the dining / living room collapsed with the strain of holding up too much with fire weakening it's support. Dean's vision flashed again. He saw red radiate from the base of the huge white blur. The bubble's power wavered even more. Everything was shades of red them. Lights and darks. Pinks and maroons. Everything coming into sharper focus.
"Dean," Sam whispered, terrified of what Dean may be seeing.
But Dean smiled. His first true smile since last night. As yellow flashed into his vision creating hues of orange as well, Dean turned to Sam away from the blaze of red, orange, and yellow ahead of him.
Sam's face was mostly a white, mixed lightly with red. Not quite the colour it should be. His eyes were a shiny yellow rather than their hazel. But it was Sam, absolutely no doubt.
Finally blue added to Dean's colour palette as the hallway, kitchen, and empty room in the house could no longer take the assault and collapsed into a heap, smoke billowing toward the sky.
And Sam's eyes returned to normal as the blue created shades of purple and green, and them all combining to create the hazel of Sam's eyes, and the brown of soot covering Sam's cheeks, and the nose almost going black from the soot. His normally soft locks were matted and dirty. Blood was hidden under the soot that originated around his brother's nostrils. His lips were severely chapped, But it was Sam, alive, in front of him.
"Sammy."
Dean would later say that it was the smoke that got to him as more tears ran down his face and he reached his uninjured hand to Sam's shaking face and cupped his cheeks lightly.
Sam tilted his head into Dean's hand, almost too exhausted to hold it up himself. And his relief at seeing Dean's eyes flitting over Sam's features was almost too much to bear.
"Dean."
"You're beautiful." Yep, Dean said it. Really, it only slipped out. He wouldn't normally sound so sappy and un-Dean-like. But really, he was honestly starting to doubt whether he'd ever see his brother's face again. And it truly was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. Not that he'd ever admit that much to Sam.
Sam's eyes widened fractionally when those words slipped out of Dean's mouth. Maybe Dean had a concussion from earlier. But he was too tired, and, frankly, too overjoyed to care. Sam never realized how much he missed his big brother just looking him, even with eyes filled with tears. At least Dean was looking at him, not through him. And Sam dearly missed the love he could feel coming from Dean's eyes then. He knew Dean always loved him, but this? This was Dean. This was normal. This was right.
It was with Sam's own vision blacking, his head getting dizzy from pain and not a spell, that found Sam's head falling forward to land against Dean's forehead. Dean didn't pull away at first, just stared deeply into Sam's dark orbs, rejoicing in the range of colours reflecting in Sam's eyes.
However, it was Sam's wheezing that snapped Dean back to the here and now. Sam's weakened body was slumping forward and Dean grabbed a hold of him, supporting the entirety of his weight while Sam barely managed to keep a loose grip of Dean's bicep. Sam's forehead slid off Dean's and onto his brother's shoulder.
"I've got you kid. We're getting out of here."
Sam slipped a hand into his brother's jean pocket, retrieving the car keys and made their way toward the car, which, as Dean would complain later, was dangerously close to the collapsing house.
Dean manoeuvred Sam into the passenger seat, whispering encouragement and sorrys repeatedly until Sam was fully inside. Sam kept himself as still as possible and as straight as possible. He found it difficult to touch the seat of the car let alone lean back into without his back throwing a fit and his rib bit into his lung if he leaned forward. Various parts of him were pulsing with pain, not least of all, his nose the witch had broken.
Dean drove like a maniac, even while his vision settled back into place. He often found the car drifting onto the shoulder and the road blurred and trees shimmered. But he trusted his car, and his instincts, to tell him when he was getting to far over. Dean was also tempted to drive straight to the motel. The boys had the materials necessary to deal with broken bones and even burned from fires. But Sam's breathing had Dean worried. Sam looked like he had a broken rib and his face told him just how much the smoke was killing Sam. No, he needed professionals to deal with that one. So, Dean headed to the hospital, which, as was habit, Dean made a point of memorizing where it was when they first got to town.
It was 20 minutes later, Dean's continued encouragement for Sam to keep breathing and keep his eyes open, and two screaming fire engines going the opposite direction followed by 4 police cars, that Dean finally rolled into the hospital parking lot, brakes protesting loudly at the force necessary to keep the big girl from careening into the side of the building.
"Help! Please, my brother can't breathe!"
In the quiet environment, away from the rage of the flame, Dean realized fully how weak his own voice was, how frantic his own breathing was. But the nurse's station was suddenly alive with activity.
"Doctor!" One nurse shouted.
"Get a gurney!" Another followed.
"A crash cart just in case. He doesn't look like he's breathing!" The doctor rushed over, checking Sam's pulse while he was placed onto an awaiting gurney. Dean wanted to puke when he saw one nurse in pink holding two paddles connecting to a defibrillator. He suddenly felt empty when his brother's warmth left his grasp. Then he was assaulted by a horde of nurses himself.
"Sir? Are you hurt? Are injured sir? Can you tell us what happened? Get him an oxygen mask. He's hyperventilating!"
Dean collapsed onto the other gurney they brought over. He was just too exhausted to stand anymore. He lay his head down as the oxygen mask was pulled over his head. And, as he gasped desperately for air, Dean asked, "How's my brother? How's Sam?" before he passed into darkness.
To be continued...
A/N: Neither brother is in good shape, are they? How damaged should I really make them? Let me know!
BTW, I have a rather important poll about this story. Let me know whether Sam should find out about Dean and Harvey, or not. Let me know in a review or in the poll on my profile!
