Chapter 9: Escape

Author's Note: Wow, thanks for the reviews. I'm delighted that everyone seems to like the story. Don't worry, this isn't the last chapter, and things aren't always what they seem! (insert evil laugh here)

0000000000000

Dean wiped at the moisture that had formed at the corners of his eyes. "Okay, stop feeling sorry for yourself and think of a way to save Sam," he told himself.

He had his cell phone in his coat pocket. He could call for help. He didn't like that idea though. He had never done that before. Not to mention the police couldn't stop the ghost. However, they could come and get him the hell out of the closet. He could just imagine the conversation now.

"Hi, my name is Dean. I'm locked in Mary Rains' basement with my unconscious brother, and oh yeah, a ghost is coming to kill him in a couple of hours!"

Okay, he would have to try something else, but if he didn't think of a better plan soon he would call the cops. He didn't even care if he ended up in prison, as long as he could save Sammy.

He felt in his pocket and was glad that he still had his pocket knife. Luckily for him it hadn't fallen out when he fell. A knife wasn't going to help him bust through the door though. Suddenly he had an idea. He felt around the edges of the door and smiled.

Finally! Something was going right. The hinges were on the inside of the room with him. All he needed to do was pull out the pegs. He pried the knife open.

"Hang on little brother. I'm going to get you out of here yet!"

He wished Sam would wake up. The longer he was unconscious the more nervous Dean became. What if she had hit him hard enough to cause real damage?

He wiggled the edge of his blade between the hinge and the peg and began to lift up.

"Damn it," he cursed when he realized they were rusted tight. Still, he couldn't give up. Over and over he pounded the hilt of the knife with the palm of his hand trying desperately to pull out the hinge. It didn't take long for the palm of his hand to start hurting but he kept working.

After about five minutes he finally felt the thing give. "Yes!" It wasn't out yet but he had broken the seal made from years of damp and rust. It took only about two more minutes before the peg was completely out of the hinge.

"One down."

The middle hinge came out relatively easy. Only one more to go. He got on his knees and began working on the bottom one. Like the first one this one was rusted through and through. He hit at it and hit at it but it wasn't moving.

"D…Dean."

Dean stood up immediately. "Sam! Thank god. Are you okay?" He saw Sam still lying on the floor. He was struggling to roll over but he was disoriented and confused and had yet to even open his eyes.

"Dean…can't move."

"She tied you up. Sammy, try and get free. We have to hurry. The ghost will be here in a little over an hour."

Sam opened his eyes and tried to sit up. No sooner had he lifted his head off the floor it fell back down. The room was spinning wildly and he thought he was going to throw up.

"Dean, help."

"I can't. She locked me in the closet. Sam, look at me." Dean knew Sam had a concussion. His brother moved like a person who had drank way too much and his eyes were glazed. "Sammy! I need you to focus! Follow my voice! Look at me!"

Sam stopped flopping around and directed his gaze at Dean. With some effort he could see his brother's face through the small window.

"Okay, good. I need you to just get out of your ropes. Move your hands and feet and get the ropes off."

"Okay," Sam replied and did as told.

Dean dropped back down to his knees and continued to work on the last hinge. He felt the peg slide up a fraction of an inch when the unthinkable happened. The blade of his knife broke off from the handle.

"Shit!"

"Dean?" Sam was alarmed by Dean's sudden expletive.

"Yeah, it's okay. Just keep working on getting loose." Dean continued to try to use the broken knife but only succeeded in cutting the palm of his hand. He cursed under his breath so as to not upset Sam and then stood up. This door was not going to beat him. He took the stainless steal blade and wedged it into the crack of the door. With two of the pegs out the door pried away from the door jab a little. Maybe if he pulled the door in far enough the bottom hinge would break.

He pulled back on the blade, trying to make a space big enough to wedge his fingers into. He had almost done it when the fucking blade broke again and let the door slip back into place.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cried. He looked out the window to see if Sam had made any progress and he groaned when he saw Sam was still tied up. That was it. Dean was out of options. It was time to pull out his phone and call for help.

He dug in his pocket and flipped the phone open. He dialed 911 and hit send…and nothing happened! He tried again but all he heard was his phone drop the call. He looked at the bars and saw that he wasn't getting a signal. 'This can't be happening,' he thought. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Sam. It was all up to Sam now. His brother had to get loose and let him out of the closet.

"Sam! How are you doing little brother?"

"I'm trying," Sam replied.

Dean noticed his speech was clearer, his words not as slurred. That was a good sign. Dean watched as Sam struggled and he felt so helpless. He spared a look out the window. The sky wasn't as bright as it had been just a little while ago. They were running out of time.

Sam couldn't believe how much his head hurt. Every time he lifted it even the slightest bit it felt like explosions were happening in there. One side of his face felt all wet and when he looked at the dirt floor he saw it was covered in blood…his blood.

"What the hell did I get hit with," Sam griped.

"She took a shovel to your head. You're lucky you're even alive. Thank god you've got such a hard head."

"It feels like oatmeal right now," Sam complained. Finally the ropes on his hands began to give. He used his teeth to help tug at the knot. "I'm loose," Sam called.

"You're feet!" Dean warned.

Sam struggled to sit up and once again the nausea hit him like a bullet but he stayed up. That was an improvement. He pulled his legs up and began to pry on the knot there. His whole body felt numb. He saw his hands working but he didn't feel them working. It was a strange sensation.

"That's it. You're almost done," Dean encouraged.

The ropes gave way and fell to the floor.

"Okay, now get over here and open the door," Dean ordered.

Sam tried to stand up but he couldn't. He finally settled on crawling over to the door that trapped Dean. Dean was bouncing up and down as Sam got closer and closer to the door. Sam grabbed the door knob and used it to pull himself up.

Dean reached through the window to grab Sam's face. "Man, she did a number on you," Dean said as he examined the gash on Sam's forehead.

Sam grabbed the padlock. "Where's the key?"

"I think Mary kept it with her," Dean said. "You're going to have to break the lock."

"Won't she hear?" Sam asked, his words still slurring a bit.

"We'll have to take the risk. Go over to the altar and see if there is something big or heavy enough to bust the lock with."

Crossing the cellar seemed to require so much effort. He looked at the altar and the only thing there that might work was the goblet. He picked it up and went back to the door.

"Okay, hit the lock," Dean ordered.

Sam lifted the goblet and hit the lock but there was little force behind the blow.

"Harder," Dean yelled. Sam grimaced and flinched from his elevated voice. Dean instantly felt bad. He knew Sam was in a lot of pain and he wasn't helping, but time was running out he repeated to himself.

Sam struck at the padlock four more times before finally the thing broke open. He pulled the lock out of the swing catch and Dean ripped the door open.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked Sam as he grabbed his baby brother by his shoulders.

"I've been better," Sam admitted. "Can we get out of here?"

"I have to destroy the heads and the altar," Dean told him. He grabbed Sam around his waist and pulled one arm over his shoulders. He led Sam to a place next to the stairs so he would be ready to go when the time came.

Then Dean went back to the altar. He found the box of matches that Mary had used to burn the paper with Sam's name. He looked around for something flammable. Under the stairs were several cans of paint. He also found cleaning products and a bottle of turpentine. He grabbed the turpentine and poured it liberally over the decayed heads, the table and the altar. Finally he poured a small stream of it across the floor towards the stairs to use as a fuse. He knew once he struck the match the place would become an inferno.

"Time to go," Dean said, grabbing Sam once more. He helped Sam up the stairs, stopping when they were halfway. He opened the match box, struck one against the side, and dropped it to the floor. As expected the flames raced across the floor and ignited into a small inferno that was growing quickly.

"Dean!" Sam gasped as he watched the fire spread. Visions of Jessica filled his mind and for a moment he could actually see her in the flames.

Dean dragged Sam up the remainder of the steps and stopped at the door at the top. Smoke was already collecting and making the air toxic. Dean tried to open it but it was locked with a chain slide latch. He kicked the door open easily enough and they hurried into the kitchen, each coughing and choking.

"NNNOOOOOO!" Mary screamed and came flying at them with a long kitchen knife. Dean actually threw Sam half way across the kitchen to get him out of danger. Dean grabbed Mary's wrist in mid-air as she was about to plunge the blade into his chest.

"YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM! HE'LL GET YOU! HE'LL GET BOTH OF YOU!" The woman was deranged and surprisingly strong.

Dean struggled with her to get the knife. He knocked her wrist into the wall and the knife fell to the floor. She then attacked with her finger nails and managed to rake her claws across Dean's cheek, drawing bright red blood.

Sam had almost lost consciousness once more when Dean threw him to the floor but he was fighting to keep the blackness away. He pulled himself to his knees. The room was filling with smoke and it was hard to breath. The fire was coming.

Dean threw Mary off of him but she ran at him for another attack. Dean drew his fist back and punched her square in the face. The blow sent her falling backwards down the basement stairs. Dean ran to the stairs to see what happened to her but suddenly a burst of flames leapt from the doorway knocking him back. The kitchen walls were now on fire. The heat in the room was suffocating and smoke was blocking his vision.

"SAM!"

"Here! I'm here!" he choked out, gasping for breath.

Once more Dean grabbed his little brother and hauled his ass off the floor. The back door was too engulfed in flames to use so he hurried to the front of the house. The front door was also on fire. He saw a window and decided to go for it.

He ran, pulling Sam along for the ride and jumped though the window. They both hit the porch in a shower of glass. Without pausing even for a minute Dean got up and helped Sam. They had to get to the corn field. Any minute police and fire trucks would be arriving and they couldn't be here when that happened.

"Dean, I need to stop," Sam gasped and actually cried out in pain.

"We're almost there, Sammy. We'll stop soon. Just hold on for a little bit longer."

Finally they made it to the cover of the corn stalks. Dean led Sam a little ways in before finally stopping and setting Sam down to rest. He wanted to make sure no one would see them moving about when emergency services arrived.

Dean sat on his knees and let Sam lean back into his chest so he could rest for a moment. Both of them were still coughing from inhaling too much smoke, not to mention their faces were covered in soot.

Finally they heard the familiar sound of sirens approaching the property.

"Are we safe here?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, but we shouldn't stay here too long. We need to get to the car and back to the motel. I need to clean the wound on your head."

"Dean."

"Yeah."

"Your dream…it didn't come true."

Dean actually chuckled. "Maybe not, but you have to admit, we cut that one a little close for comfort."

"I had faith in you," Sam said with a tired sigh.

Dean was touched by Sam's words but the truth was, if it had been left to just him, they would be dead. Sam was the one who opened the door, even with his injuries.

"Come on, little brother. Let's get you cleaned up and tucked into bed."