Pulling the Impala up to the curb in front of Sam's building just as the sun started to heave itself above the horizon, Dean threw the car into park and killed the engine, slumping in his seat as Sam opened the door and unfolded himself from the passenger seat.
"You want the front seat, Midget?" Leaning in the open door, Sam avoided meeting Dean's eyes and smiled at the snippy girl in the backseat, who'd spent the entire three hour drive back sulking and giving Dean dirty looks when she thought he wasn't looking. Or maybe when she knew he was.
"I'm good, thanks."
The heat infusing her words made it quite clear why she was happy to stay right where she was, thank you very much, and Dean couldn't help a pang of guilt when he caught sight of the white bandage covering the cut on the back of her arm that he'd forced her to make.
"It was nice meetin' you, Sam." The anger faded from her eyes as she looked at his brother, a genuine smile gracing too-perfect lips. "Tell Jess we're sorry for keepin' you so long."
"I will, and thanks." Shutting the door, Sam braced himself against it for a minute, head lowering to the open window. "Give me a call sometime and I'll get you that reading list."
"Wait, you guys were serious about that?"
Smiling, Dean met her eyes in the rearview, getting a snarky look back that made him wonder how long she was going to hold a grudge. "What, you thought I was kidding?" Shifting his attention back to Sam, Dean's smile faded and he swallowed a regretful sigh. "I'll have to get her a phone, but I'll give her your number."
"Thanks."
With a last look, Sam smacked a hand against the car door and turned away, only getting a step or two before Dean cleared his throat and caught his attention. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there."
"Yeah, we did." Shaking his hair out of his hazel eyes, Sam grinned, though it wasn't as cheerful as maybe Sam would like to think. Maybe Dean wasn't the only one regretting the last four wasted years. "Call me, we'll hang out sometime."
"I'd like that."
"You can even bring the little woman."
Chuckling at the simultaneous responses from both the front and back seats, Sam turned away to a chorus of 'Fuck you, Sammy' and 'Eat me, Slim Jim', his smile just a little brighter and more genuine as he left to go resume his apple pie life.
Watching Sam disappear, Dean tried to brush off the urge to run after him, to beg him to come back and be a family again. Well, there was one surefire way to distract himself, and he could feel her glaring at him even now.
Shifting around to look at her without needing to use the mirror, Dean draped an arm over the back of the seat. "You still ticked off at me, Tinkerbell?"
Crossing her arms, Skye leaned against the back passenger door, a few stray strands of hair falling into those beautiful dark eyes as she glowered at him. "Would you stop callin' me Tinkerbell?"
"Probably not, no." Nope. Never going to happen. There wasn't a doubt in Dean's mind that this was one nickname that was going to stick forever because it was just so damn perfect. Hell, half the time he didn't even think about her as Skyler anymore, it was just 'Tink'. His gaze drifting down to the gauze on her arm, Dean's smirk faded as he dragged his eyes back up to hers. "You do get why I had to make sure, right?"
"No, because I'm a total fucking moron."
Turning to stare out the window for a long moment, she was quiet for long enough that Dean started to turn back around, thinking she wasn't going to speak to him anymore for awhile. Unfortunately for him, he was starting to dislike her silence even more than he disliked her disdain.
Turning slowly back to look at him, the muscle in her jaw eased as her expression softened. "You get that I'm not upset about you making sure I'm not a monster, right?"
"...no?"
Stepping into the apartment building, Sam let the iron door fall closed behind him, the clank of metal on metal echoing up behind him as he took the stairs two at a time. With a little luck, he'd get to see Jess before he had to get showered and dressed for his interview, and if he was really lucky he'd get to do a little more than see her.
Digging his keys out of his pocket, he jammed the key in the lock, impatient to get inside. To get back to his 'apple pie' life. To get back to Jess. Wrenching the door open, he didn't bother to flip on the lights, tossing his keys onto the coffee and his bag down by the door. "Jess? You up?"
The water running in the bathroom answered for her, announcing that she was indeed up, but likely hadn't heard him over the noise of the shower. Grinning, he loped through the living room and down the hall, bursting into their bedroom and flinging himself down on the bed. God, it's good to be home.
"Hey Jess, I'm back." Closing his eyes and falling back onto the bed, Sam listened to the pleasant sounds coming from the other room, effortlessly summoning a mental image of his girlfriend wet and naked. Maybe it's about time to make her more than a girlfriend. It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed his mind, but this time it felt different, it felt real. "Hey, I was thinking, after my interview, we should go out to lunch. Maybe that place you like with the little finger sandwiches.
Waiting for Jess to get out of the shower, Sam half-dozed, thinking nothing of the fact that she had yet to respond. At least, not until the first drop of blood splashed against his forehead. Frowning, he threw a hand over his eyes, disinclined to come fully awake until the second drop hit his cheek and slid down to stain the bedspread beneath him.
Grudgingly opening his eyes, what he saw would haunt his darkest nightmares for the rest of his life.
Did he really not get why she was upset? How dense could a guy be? He spends half an hour yelling at her, then they start to get back to normal— whatever that meant— and then he springs a bottle of holy water and a silver knife on her out of nowhere and doesn't even ask her— no of course not— just tells her to do it or he'll 'do it for her'. It wasn't that he'd checked her humanity, it was how he'd gone about it. I mean, come on, seriously? "Man, Winchester, you really gotta work on your bedside manner because it seriously sucks ass. Next time, just fuckin' ask, don't threaten."
"I'll keep that in mind." Turning back around in his seat, Dean glanced at his watch as he reached for the keys sticking out of the ignition. Going still, he looked up, turning more serious than the conversation seemed to call for. "Skyler, what time is it?"
"Don't know, why?"
"Because my watch stopped." With a growing sense of urgency that she utterly failed to see the reason for, Dean grabbed his phone off the seat next to him and tossed it in her direction as he threw open the door, jumping out of the car and calling back through the open window before he sprinted toward the apartment building. "Call 911!"
"What? Why?" Too late, he was gone. Man, he could move when he wanted to. Maybe he took track on high school. Grabbing his phone up off the seat, Skye flipped it open, craning around to see the building he'd disappeared into. ...and the single line of smoke starting to trail up from Sam's window. How the fuck…
Punching in the numbers for the second time in as many days, she climbed out of the car as she waited impatiently for the dispatch operator to answer. While it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, it felt like forever as Skye watched the wisp smoke thicken before dissipating into the morning sky.
"911, where is your emergency?"
Taking the stairs three at a time, Dean couldn't quell the cold panic that infused his chest, busting out to try and overwhelm him as he skidded to a stop in front of Sam's door. He couldn't explain the feeling that had come over him when he'd look at the motionless hands on his watch, that creeping dread that told him something was horribly, terribly wrong.
There were times when he really hated being right and this definitely topped the list. Not bothering to stop to take the time to pick the lock, or even try the doorknob, Dean busted the door in with one well-placed kick and barreled into the too-quiet apartment. Smoke already thickening the air, he coughed, throwing an arm over his nose and mouth as he screamed for his brother. "Sam!"
It took several long, agonizing seconds for him to clear the living room and kitchen, shouting as loud as he could to be heard over the faint crackle of flames coming from down the hall. Shifting into high gear, Dean slid to a stop at the bedroom door, busting it open to be met with a wall of smoke and flame.
His attention focused on the lanky figure sprawled on the bed, animal noises of pain ripping from Sam's throat as he screamed in denial, Dean almost didn't look up to see what Sam was staring at. Almost. And gods how he wished he didn't.
Mom, burning on the ceiling of Sam's nursery, wreathed in blue flame and writhing in agony as blood dripped from the spreading red stain on her stomach. Mouth stretched open, her silent screams echoed and ricocheted in his brain, threatening to drive him mad.
Only it wasn't their mother this time, it was Jess, wreathed in the same flames that Mary Winchester had been so many years ago. And the fire was spreading.
Yanking on the iron entry door, the acrid smell of smoke met Skye's nose as soon as she stepped inside the dim interior. Uttering a silent prayer, she resisted the overwhelming urge to run up the stairs after the boys, instead turning her efforts to rousing everyone that might still be sleeping before the rest of the building could go up.
It didn't take long for her to find the bright red fire switch. Without hesitation, she threw it, setting off alarms that were loud enough to wake the dead. Oh, Christ, I hope not. Not totally trusting in people not to ignore the warning, Skye started banging on doors, kicking up as much of a fuss as she possibly could. "Fire! Everybody out! Fire!"
Within seconds, heads started popping out of doors up and down the hall, the rude muttering of sleep-deprived college kids turning to panic as they realized she wasn't just some coed pulling a prank.
Pretty soon her voice was joined by others and she was confident enough to leave the rapidly emptying first floor to head up to the second, stomping hard on the cold lump of fear that was tunneling up from her stomach to choke her more effectively than any amount of smoke ever could.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she met the boys coming down— Oh, thank God— though Sam seemed to be fighting Dean every step of the way. Coughing, she covered her mouth, eyes locking with Dean's as she silently asked the question she didn't dare voice aloud. She didn't have to, the shake of his head and the horror in his eyes were answer enough.
Ushering the boys out the door, Skye staggered out behind them into the blessedly clean air as the siren song of approaching emergency services split what had so recently promised to be a beautiful morning.
Time moved oddly after that, twisting and stretching around them like taffy, the sounds of sirens and the murmur of a gawking crowd melting together into one monotonous tone that sounded achingly similar to a heart breaking.
Afterward, not a one of them would be able to give any specific details about anything that happened in the hours that followed, every minute blurring into the next until nothing made sense anymore. And maybe never really would again.
The sun blazing high overhead, Skye found herself standing alone by the Impala with Sam, half a block from where the crowd was starting to disperse. What could she possibly say to him? There were no words that would make this okay, nothing she could possibly do to fix that lost look in his eyes. Reaching out in the only way she could, she wrapped her arms around his waist, wordlessly offering all the support she had to give.
With a choked sob, the dazed look left Sam's face. Her touch seemed to bring reality crashing in and he blinked, tears springing into his eyes and streaming down his cheeks as he buried his face in her hair and cried till she started to fear he'd never stop.
Leaning against the side of the car, she quietly watched Sam and Dean go through the small arsenal in the trunk, keeping one eye on the dozen or so police and firefighters still at the scene half a block away. Probably not the best time to be taking inventory, but far be it for her to say anything. Contrary to popular belief, she did know how to keep her mouth shut when it mattered.
Stepping over to stand with the boys, Skye took comfort in Dean's stolid presence as Sam reached up to slam the trunk, his voice harsh with the thousand tears he'd cried and the thousand more he had yet to shed, "We got work to do."
