"You're mean!"

Sam blinked, slowly turning to glare at the boy hiding behind his mother and peeking around her hip to stick his tongue out at Kevin, who went ballistic.

"Why, you little brat…" Kevin lunged forward, socked feet slipping on the floor – Edith had made him leave his muddy boots in the cellar – but both dad and Sam blocked any advancement. "I'm gonna…."

"Kev…you're gonna let it go." Sam said wearily. "Please? Enough, just…enough," he pushed Kevin back with one hand. "I've had enough."

"You weren't in that cellar." Kevin mumbled. He retreated but if looks indeed killed, Edith's floor would be littered with dead bodies. "I don't like them Sam, none of them. I….."

"What do you expect?" Sam waved a hand towards the parents. "You've had the pleasure of spending time with….aah….them!"

"Separate corners, young men." Edith clapped her hands. "Mrs. Pequinot, I believe it's time you took your children upstairs to their room."

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Pequinot drew up in indignation. "You're asking us to leave?"

"The boys are surely shaken from experiencing a tornado." Edith's voice sharpened. "They need time to settle down."

"Yes, indeed they are upset. What with violent men exhibiting improper behavior and using foul language." she sniffed haughtily. "They require hot cocoa and toast…."

"They require parental guidance." Edith snapped. "And I'm not asking you, I'm telling you; take those children upstairs to your room." she pointed to the doorway that led to the front of the house and the foyer with the staircase. "Now!"

"Yeah." Kevin ha-ha'd. "What she said!"

"KEVIN!" Sam shook his head. "Really? What are you, seven?" engaged in a silent stare down with Mr. Pequinot, he didn't pay Kevin much attention. "You coming out to help?" he waited but dad mutely stared him down. "Yeah, it's what I thought."

"I wanna go!"

"Yeah, me too!"

The boys continued to clamor for permission to accompany the men outside and neither parent saw fit to stop them. It was Edith who finally put her foot down and with steely resolve, again ordered their mother to remove them from her kitchen.

"Dean ok?" Kevin asked finally. Mom had at last – and without the suggested hot cocoa and toast, really, he couldn't believe she'd had the nerve to ask for it, what with all Edith had to do – taken the boys upstairs and he was able to let his anger go. "Sam, hey!" he snapped his fingers to gain Sam's attention. "HEY! Dean ok?" the smack of palms slapping together finally pulled Sam's attention to him. "IS DEAN OK?" Kevin yelled, frustrated. "I'm guessing he is or you wouldn't be down here."

"What? Huh….Dean? Oh. Yeah, he's fine." Sam took a seat at the table. How many days had it been since he'd gotten a decent night's sleep in the comfort of a bed? It was only going on 8 o'clock yet exhaustion made his muscles heavy and his head throb. All he wanted was a hot bath and bed but Pete and Earl had donned rain slickers and boots and were gathering flashlights. Right, chickens and a horse and a couple cows; damage needed to be accessed, the river checked, debris and destruction calculated and assigned order of importance and any immediate needed repairs completed.

"Keep an eye on him?" Sam asked Edith, standing and accepting his previously loaned rain slicker from Pete. "He should sleep, but he never does what you expect him to."

"Wait for me!" Kevin sighed, already bemoaning the loss of his clothes. Oh well, he could always borrow some clothes from Earl or Pete if his got wet and muddy – again. "Where'd I leave my boots?"

"His meds flip him out, so…." Sam shrugged into the slicker and pulled the hood over his head before accepting a large flashlight. "If you need me…." he pulled a gun from the back of his jeans and set it on the table. "Shoot this off from the yard." he raised a finger to ward off any comment from the flapping mouth of dad. "It's just a flare gun." he paused, then with a sigh, accepted his immediate fate. "I'm ready, let's go."

Dad remained behind because Sam was simply too tired and weary to deal with him. Besides, he wouldn't have to, he smirked. Dean wouldn't sleep long. Once reality of what just happened smacked dear-ole-sleepy-head upside his head, there'd be no escaping the elder Winchester on the war path.

***000***

Dean awoke slowly and reluctantly, once again confused and clueless. He was really beginning to hate waking up. He tried to fight it, tried to sink back into the depths of comfort but nope, wasn't gonna happen. He didn't move, didn't alter his breathing, didn't blink. He remained silent and still and let his senses return. When he felt he could rely on them, he opened one eye. The room was dimly lit by an oil lamp and the fireplace, but oh yeah, he remembered this place. All was quiet, the only sound the cackling fire. He waited, but nothing and no one moved; he was alone.

"Aw…..fuck." he flopped over to his back and kicked the blankets to the bottom of the bed. The fire burned merrily but it alone didn't account for how hot and sticky he was. A shower. Yeah, that's what he needed. A nice, long, hot shower.

Yawning, he sat up, stretched, held his head until the slight dizziness assaulting him receded then climbed out of bed. He remembered the unusual height of the bed, he remembered the bathroom was down the hallway, he remembered the power was out; it wasn't until he was facing the toilet, pail of water at his feet that he recalled everything.

"Shit." he stared longingly at the useless shower then cast a look of disgust down at the pail of water. Well, hot water was somewhere, right? Sam was around, so was Kevin…..they would get him some hot water. He paused, one hand against the wall for support while he waited for his head to clear. Eh? Sam was there? He'd had come to….to what? Be with Dean? Take Dean home? Despite attitudes and aloofness, having his brother around was a comfort he would never admit to. Okay, so what to do, what to do? Oh, right, find Sam and make him wait on his big brother, cater to his every need and find him some hot water – maybe enough to fill the tub. Yeah, sure, that was it; the more he thought about, the better it sounded. Can't take a shower, take a bath.

Armed with a plan, he returned to his room, donned the bathrobe he didn't recall discarding, grabbed the flashlight from the nightstand and made his way to the stairs. Wow, what a mess. What a crappy housekeeper. Huh – why hadn't he noticed any of the crap strewn in his way on his trip to the bathroom? He began to step carefully, mindful of his bare feet, picking his way through floors littered with broken glass, fallen picture frames, broken shelves, books and magazines, knick-knacks, spilled oil from lamps, dripped wax from candles, lamps and dishes and vases and figurines, some whole, others smashed or broken and that was just the hallway. Wow, this was more than lackadaisical housekeeping. What the fuck…he stopped, toe stubbed and throbbing, head whirling…..tornado!

"SAM!" he bolted for the stairs, ignoring the crunching beneath his feet. The house was quiet and he encountered no one until he skidded into the kitchen. "SAM! KEVIN!"

"Hello." Edith greeted, wielding a broom as she swept broken glass and spilled beans and rice and pasta into a dust plan. She straightened up, hand to the small of her back. "You didn't sleep long. Can I get you something?" she'd been picking up and putting or throwing away for a while but the floor remained littered with spilt sugar and flour and coffee, the containers which had contained the contents cleared away.

"Where is everyone?" Dean demanded, hot water and desire to take a bath forgotten. "Everyone ok?"

"Everyone is fine." Edith assured him. "They went outside to survey the damage, round-up the chickens and board up the broken windows."

"So, it was a tornado?" he shook his head. "Damage? I mean, the house looks more like an earthquake…."

"Yes." she frowned. "Oh no. Don't you even think about it. You are not going outside. Absolutely not." she said firmly. "You take yourself right back to bed. You need your rest to get back on your feet." she paused. "You look a bit peaked. Does your head still pain you?"

"Huh? What?" he was busy surveying the damage and destruction of the kitchen, recalled what he'd seen on his way downstairs and wondered why no one was helping her. "The fuck…my head? It's fine. Is that dick outside helping the others?"

"Language dear." she scolded mildly. She ignored the question and walked over to the trashcan to empty the dust pan.

"So, he's not?" Dean scowled. "Seriously?" he placed one hand on top of the table to support his weight while he lifted a foot to look for damage. "Why aren't they helping you?" he asked, repeating the motion with the opposite foot. "Is anyone?"

"The boys are…." she paused. "They were upset and Mr. Pequinot is not feeling very well. Mrs. Pequinot….."

"Bullshit." Dean snorted. "I thought I made myself clear." he turned and retraced his steps, ascending to the third floor in less time than it'd taken him to descend from the second. He banged on the door across the hall from the one directly above his. "OPEN UP!" he pounded with his fist. "You either COME OUT or I'll come in and DRAG your ASS out!"

Despite her advanced age, her arthritic knees, aching joints and weary bones from bending and scooping and lifting and reaching, Edith was on Dean's heels as he charged up the stairs. Was at his back when he kicked the door opened after finding it locked when he turned the knob; was there to see the murderous look cross his face when the only occupant of the room haughtily informed them, Mr. Pequinot had taken the boys outside so they could see the after effects of a tornado; was there to prevent Dean from tying Mrs. Pequinot up with dresser scarfs, gagging her with roped curtain tiebacks and stuffing her in a closet; was left to mutter, 'oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,' when Dean returned to his room, got dressed, barreled his way to the kitchen, demanded a larger flashlight, and ordered her to tell him the direction Sam and Kevin had gone. She didn't think to refuse. Armed with a shot-gun, a machete, a knife, and a hand-gun tucked into the waist of his jeans, he slammed out the back door.

***000***

Pete hefted his hammer and began to pound a nail through the wood. He eyed the younger man holding the panel of plywood over a busted window on the porch, flashlight balanced between his teeth, wondering what strength and stamina the man was functioning on. Far as he knew the young fellow had spent the few hours of sleep he'd gotten the previous night on the floor; had spent the day of his arrival and all this day carrying wood and pails of water, clearing debris and chopping and cutting up a tree and tending his brother and beating up smaller, defenseless men.

Pete paused, nearly smashing his thumb. No, that wasn't fair. Mr. Pequinot had been disrespectful by failing to oversee his children's activities and failing to extend consideration to the other occupants of the house. Especially since one of those in residence was ill and – courtesy of the furniture – now hurt. And…he cast another eye as Sam hefted yet another board, he was quite sure – no, definitely sure – that the size of the man responsible for the suffering of this one's brother wouldn't matter. A beat down would be administered and Sam was capable of administering it to anyone, if anyone, in any way, endangered Dean.

Huh.

Shaking his head to clear it of its current path of thought, he cast his eyes heavenward. In all his years and he'd seen seven decades, he'd never seen weather like this. Even now, after a tornado, the wind was strong, the sky roiling with dark clouds, prominently displayed by frequent flashes of forked lightning. The rain had so far held off, but it was going to come – again. He had his doubts the trio of men would make it across that bridge this night.

Kevin was off with Earl and Sam and Pete finished boarding up the last broken window that could be reached from the ground. A walk around the house, beaming a flashlight upwards to survey the upstairs windows didn't show any blown out or broken but that could and would be verified from inside. Pete confirmed there was a walk-in attic so they could also check the roofs integrity from inside as well. Sam sent out a silent prayer, thankful that he wouldn't have to climb a ladder and hammer boards over a second or third story window. He was too tired to keep his balance in the buffeting wind.

"We good?" Earl came up with Kevin, both wet and muddy and…..Sam reached out to pluck a feather from Kevin's hair.

"So, rounded up the chickens then?" Sam teased. "Barn good?"

"Yeah, believe it or not, minimal damage." Earl said. "Lost a door and some shingles…..easily repaired. Animals are ok and accounted for. You?"

"From down here, all upper windows look good. We'll double-check from the inside." Pete replied. "Go up into the attic and check the roof."

"First, I want to go down to the river." Sam said. "Make sure the road's still clear. See how high the water is."

"Sure, sure." Pete nodded. He wasn't about to question or deny the younger man's motives or desires. Not with all the help he'd given them over the last two days. "Let me drive you down in the truck."

"Thanks, but I can take our car. You go see to the house and…"

"The truck." Pete said firmly, moving towards it. "That way, we see anything in the road, we'll have chains to drag it outta the way or if we see any of Ma's garden gnomes or porch chairs or some other bric-a-brac of hers, we can toss it into the bed. Won't be but thirty minutes. Earl and young Kevin here can check the upstairs windows while we're gone."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, ok…sure, thanks." he followed Pete, let himself in from the passenger side and cranked down the window. "Kev….."

"Yeah, yeah….check on Dean." Kevin muttered, waving him on his way. "Got it. My motto."

Sam grinned and rolled up the window as Pete pulled out and the rain let loose.

"Got to admit, never in all my years, have I seen a storm like this." Pete said as the wipers tapped furiously. The skies had just opened up without warning and rain fell fast, hard and heavy, splattering against the glass with loud splats.

"Mmm." Sam laid his head back, eyes burning with fatigue. "Sorry…I dunno, maybe not…..but I'm guessing….you know, Kevin?" he cracked his neck. "Haven't figured it out yet, but...I will."

"Kevin? Have they named the storm then?" Pete chuckled. "I know they do that with hurricanes, but tornadoes? Funny ain't it? Same name as your friend. Guess you found that out from your fancy phone, eh? Got a signal, then? Kinda weird….ain't normal to get one….HOLY MOLY!"

Sam's reflexes were instinctual. One hand braced against the dashboard, the other grabbed for the door and his feet reactively hit the floor as the truck skidded, ass coming around the right and sliding sideways as Pete fought for control. For a second, Sam thought the truck was going over, but Pete managed to keep it on all four wheels and it finally came to a stop.

"You okay?" Pete asked shakily. "Whew! Lotsa water on the road."

"What the hell?" Sam righted himself in the seat. "Fine, yeah, I'm fine…..you?" he didn't get an answer, for the figure Pete has swerved to miss was pounding on the driver's side door with both fists, yelling over the wind and rain. "I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna find that dumb ass and wring his worthless neck." he launched from the truck, slammed the door closed and rounded the back of the truck. He grabbed the hollering kid by the back of his coat and hauled him off the truck door. Peter clambered out, calling to Sam to be mindful that he was just a boy and not to hurt him.

"WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Sam bellowed, shaking him. "ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED, YOU LITTLE SHIT?"

"Help, I need help! Help me!"

"Why are you out here?" Pete asked. "Why aren't you in the house with your family?"

"My brother! Please, you've got to help us. Help my Dad save my brother!" he begged, crying.

"Don't even say he's out here somewhere." Sam seethed, anger and tension radiating from him in such waves, the terrified boy felt and reacted to it. "Did he sneak out? Did you? YOU DID!"

"NO! I…I…he…we….Dad said...he brought..." the kid stammered, twisting to free himself. "It wasn't raining when we left and…"

"Your dad brought you out here?" Sam bellowed incredulously. "Are you fucking with me?"

"Where are they son?" Pete asked grimly. "Put him down…..hey, come on." he extracted the kicking kid from Sam's one-handed hold and set him on his feet. "Not good with kids are you?" he said to Sam, hand on the kid's shoulder. "Your dad and your brother, take us to them."

Don't say the river, don't say it, don't say it, don't say it, Sam silently chanted.

"The river!"

He fucking said it.

Sam kicked the tire of the truck but Pete was opening the driver's door and tossing the kid up onto the seat. Sam hesitated a second too long and Pete pulled away. Cursing – again – Sam grabbed the bed rail, swung around and hoisted himself onto the tailgate. Once Pete was as sure as he could be, peering through the fogged, rain splattered rear-windshield, that Sam was on board and secure, the truck picked up speed.

The boy directed Pete to the bridge. What fallen branches and debris they encountered, Pete was able to navigate around. Sam leapt off the bed of the truck before it had come to a complete stop and ran to the bridge. The railings and pavement were visible and Sam's first thought was; now we can leave. The kid raced past him, screaming for his dad as he ran. Sam pushed all thoughts from his mind and scooped the kid up in one arm before he could fling himself at or over the railing.

Pete came huffing and puffing, letting go of the railing to bend over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. "Little bugger can run." he panted, wheezing. "Ain't so young no more."

"HELLO?!" Sam yelled, kid tucked under his arm like a sack of potatoes. When the waves crested, water sloshed over the railings and swirled across the two-lane bridge, half-way up to Sam's knees, the current strong before subsiding. He didn't trust the kid to fight its unrelenting pull, so kept him captive despite his kicking and wiggling and hollering like he was being spit and roasted. "HEY! HELLO? " he hiked the kid up to his armpit. "You bite me and I'll give you something to scream about." he muttered. It was a bald face lie, but the kid didn't know that and the threat produced the desired effect; the boy fell silent and still.

"DOWN HERE!"

Yup, sure enough. There, perched on the ledge of a cement pillar support, just under the railing where the water first passed the bridge, huddled dumb ass and stupid kid. Sam growled, convinced the kid had fallen over the railing and Dad had gone over after him in an attempt to save his undisciplined hide. He didn't know nor care, nor did he intend to ask what had happened. Once he got dad back on solid ground, he was going to break his knees. 'Cause really, what kind of parent took their kid outside in weather like this to a bridge under water?

"ANYONE HURT?!" Sam yelled.

"NO!"

"THEN MOVE! PUT THE PILLAR BETWEEN YOU AND THE WATER!"

"What we got?" Pete, hunched against the wind and a wave of water, huddled next to Sam. "We need rope? I got some in the truck." one had to lean completely over the railing to see the pillar that was partially beneath the bridge and he didn't have the breath to do that so he depended on Sam to judge the situation.

Sam took a moment to seize up the situation. He might be able to hang over the bridge and grab the kid, but to do that, he had to depend on dad to hand the kid up to him. Yeah, no, not a chance he was willing to take.

"I got it." Sam would make it to the truck and back before Pete so he handed the kid into Pete's secure hold and ran off. Pete yelling after him it was behind the driver's seat. He was back within a minute and tied the rope to the railing.

"You….." Pete began but Sam was yelling at dad to tie the rope securely around the boy. "Sam..."

"I CAN'T!" dad yelled back. "HE'S SCARED!"

"Water's too cold, they both gotta be numb." Pete stood shoulder to shoulder with Sam. "One big wave and…"

"Yeah, yeah." Sam tied knots in the rope, soon had some crazy-ass looking harness he secured around his legs and waist and stepped over the railing. "Pull the kid up, and go back for Earl and Kevin." Sam ordered. "And take both kids back to the house. I don't want to see them again."

"I can't leave you and Mr. Pequinot sitting under the bridge, on a support with that water getting faster and the waves higher and the current stronger. Even with the pillar between you and the water to act as a buffer, sooner or later, a wave is going to sweep you off. It's too cold and it'll sap your strength and…"

"And we're wasting time…" Sam snapped. He might be able to climb the rope back to the dubious safety of the bridge, it all depended on how cold the water was and how strong the current proved to be but even if he could get himself off the support ledge, what about dumb ass? Pete wasn't strong enough to pull either of them up. No, they needed help. "Once you get the kid up, go for help." and he jumped.