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SHARDS, SHREDS, SCRAPS
Blaze

by Sade Lyrate

He stumbles out, half-blind from the smoke and the shock, memories mad as he drags them further away, his legs stumbling, his hold slipping. Grass under him. Just like back then. His brother's nearly in his arms, helpless, gasping for air as much as he is. As if enchanted, he turns to look at the burning house. But this time, no one rushes out to grab him, hug him, try and tell him through tears that it'll be alright. Not now. Not ever. Not again.

Shouts around them, his eyes clearing, derailed thoughts finding and following a train that consisted of only one imperative. Watch out for Sammy.

He scrambles, pushing fears and terrors and aches away for later, his fingers trailing across the skin on the younger man's soot-spattered face. There's a pulse, strong and easy, but Sam's out, his breath fast and steady. The fire roars behind them, sounding almost sentient. Dean drops his head, relieved, freaked worse than he'd ever admit.

Suddenly, there are sirens, approaching, the reds and blues frantically competing for attention with the flames. His head snaps back up, the strobe lights supporting his headache with full force as instincts try to kick in and get them both out of there before the official personnel can catch them. But his body seems rooted to the spot, unwilling to cooperate, caught in the headlights.

Police, his mind numbly supplies, quietly listing symptoms off a chart. No way out.