Title: Now I Know My ABC's
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.
Author's Note: This one's loosely set somewhere early in season 1. Just one of my favorite places to write. Lol
Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.
**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~
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E is for Elevator -
Dean's back thumped against the wall and he slid down it, letting the exhaustion take him for just a moment until he was sitting. "Son of a bitch," he gasped and tried to catch his breath.
"Is it always... like this?" Randy was trying to catch his own breath and went to his knees beside Dean. He shrugged his heavy fireman's coat apart to try and cool down and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I mean this ghost crap. This is what you guys do?"
Dean nodded and swallowed before working to push himself back to his feet. He narrowed his eyes at the closed elevator doors in front of them. "They don't normally piss me off this much. Come on."
"Dean, what are we gonna do?" Randy got back to his feet and matched the elder Winchester's fast pace. "You said yourself you don't know what that... that thing is tied to anymore."
"Oh, yeah, I do," Dean said firmly. He found the door for the stairs and slapped it open. "I figured it out just now." He started down at a fast walk and wasn't surprised that Randy was keeping up with him. "I know how to get rid of the asshole." He looked up at Randy as they rounded a landing for the next flight down. "Gonna kinda conflict with your job description, though."
"Huh?" Randy looked after him in confusion. He considered everything he had learned in the last hour, everything Dean had told him, and slowly realization dawned. His eyes widened. "I should probably tell you we can't do that," he said as he picked up the pace to catch up to Dean and his voice lowered. "Not going to. You just tell me where to light the damn match. I'm in."
Dean smiled grimly and nodded, moving even faster. "Alright. First, we need to get Sam the hell out of there. I've got an idea." His voice was a low promise as he moved, and he couldn't help but wonder just when he'd let this simple salt-and-burn get so out of control.
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~ One Hour Earlier ~
"You know, I kinda feel bad for this guy," Dean said and leaned back to take a break while watching his brother continue to shovel clods of dirt up and out of the grave. "I mean, there he is just doin' his damn job and trying to fix the elevator for all those asshole tenants, and then they go and ignore the out-of-order sign, use it anyway, and crush the poor sucker under it. That is one sucktastic way to go, dude."
Sam snorted and straightened. He arched his back to stretch the aching muscles and flicked some dirt off the end of his shovel at his brother's chest.
"Knock it off."
"You just gonna stand there?" Sam asked and smirked when Dean snarled and picked his shovel back up. "I feel sorry for him, but it's still not a good reason to kill four people."
Dean tossed up a few more shovels of dirt and grinned when it clanged into the coffin at his feet. "Bet they're wishing they hadn't decided to renovate the damn building now, huh?"
"The building's been empty for twenty years." Sam shrugged and tossed his shovel up out of the grave. He gave a jump and climbed out beside it, pulling his rock salt loaded shotgun over to him as this was usually the part where the spirit showed up to protest being sent on. He stood and pulled the EMF meter out of his pocket, making sure it was on before slipping it back. "It had to be reopened sooner or later."
"Yeah, yeah." Dean cleared off one side of the coffin and used the end of his shovel to pry the lid open. He kicked it up with a creak of rotting wood and wrinkled his nose. "Dude is musty."
"Here." Sam knelt and handed the canister of salt down to his brother.
Dean grabbed it and quickly showered the bones and decaying dress suit with salt. Satisfied, he tossed the canister back up and then heaved himself out of the grave. He snagged the lighter fluid out of the bag and stood. He popped the top and squirted it liberally down into the open casket. Dean flicked a glance over to his brother as he closed the lighter fluid and tossed it down to the bag. "Seriously? He's not gonna show up for his own funeral?"
"You're complaining?" Sam smiled and stepped back from the grave as his brother lit a book of matches and held them until they were burning merrily.
"Nope. Rest in peace, Walter." Dean let the matches fall and the grave burst into fiery light. He waited for any sign or sound and shrugged when there was nothing as the flames slowly began to die away. "Huh. Well, that was anticlimactic." He sounded almost disappointed.
Sam lowered the shotgun and took the EMF meter out of his pocket to look at it. It was on and though the needle twitched slightly, it did nothing else. He clicked it off and put it away. "I really thought he'd have put up more of a fight."
"Well, let's pack up and go. I'm beat and I need a shower." Dean knelt and quickly bagged up their gear, taking the shotgun Sam handed him and adding that to the duffel. He pulled the straps and put it over one shoulder. He leaned over to his brother and sniffed dramatically. "You stink, dude."
"Do not." Sam gave his brother a shove and looked at the open grave. "Maybe we should fill it in before we leave."
"Nah. Let it burn out on its own." Dean looked around the cemetery and waved Sam forward. "Just another grave desecration for the locals to talk about for an hour. Let's boogie."
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Dean balanced two cups of coffee in one hand while holding the bag of danishes in his teeth as he fumbled with the keycard and finally got the motel room door open. He gave it a kick with his foot and pulled the bag out of his mouth. "Rise and shine, Sammy! I got breakfast!" He stared a little in surprise to find his little brother already awake and up and sitting at the table with his laptop. He'd been sound asleep when Dean left. His smile slowly became a frown as he took in the unhappy look on Sam's face. "What?"
Sam sat back and waved a hand at the laptop's screen and the news article there. "Construction crew showed up this morning and..." he sighed sadly. "... another man was killed in the elevator shaft. We didn't get him. Walter's still haunting the building."
"Son of a bitch!" Dean snarled. He set the coffees and danishes down and dropped heavily into the chair across from his brother. Guilt curled into his stomach though he knew they had no way of knowing. "Bastard must be tied to something in the building itself. That's why he wasn't worried about us trashing his grave last night."
Sam nodded and closed the laptop. "He was crushed in the bottom of the elevator shaft. Maybe they didn't, you know, get all of him out before they closed the building down." He pulled over one of the coffees and took a sip. "According to the news report, the place is closed down again for a day or two. That's the official story. Unofficially, the reporter figures the crew's refused to go back in and they'll have to hire a new one, so that may give us a couple more days to figure it out and lay him to rest for real this time."
"Awesome." Dean shook his head and grabbed his own coffee. "At least we know where to start looking." He scowled. "But I don't like the idea of being in the bottom of that elevator shaft with a pissed off ghost just waiting to drop the thing on us."
"Yeah. We'll have to figure out some way to make it safe while we look." Sam stood and stretched. "I figure we should head over there as soon as possible since the building's empty right now. I'm gonna shower."
"Dammit." Dean scowled down at his coffee and rubbed a hand over his face. "Knew that asshole went down too easy last night."
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Dean pulled up a block down from the formerly abandoned apartment building and stared at the firetruck and several pickup trucks parked in front of it inside the line of police tape. "Dude, I thought you said the place was going to be empty." He waved a hand out the window and looked at his brother. "That is not empty!"
"I don't know!" Sam looked around the rest of the uninhabited street and the empty parking lot and shrugged. "They're the only ones here. Maybe the trucks are just left here from this morning?"
"Damn." Dean pulled the Impala around the corner and parked next to a boarded-up drugstore. He leaned over and pulled the box of fake ID's out of the glove box and rifled through it, coming up with the two he wanted. He tossed one in Sam's lap. "Ok, Safety Inspector Cobb," he said to his brother with a smile and put the box back. "Anyone catches us, we'll just tell them we're checking the structural integrity of the building or some shit."
"Yeah, sure, Inspector..." Sam grabbed his brother's hand and snorted. "... Inspector Reynolds? Really, Dean? You are not cool enough to be Mal."
Dean scoffed. "Dude. Mal's not cool enough to be me. Let's boogie."
Sam laughed and followed Dean, taking the bag they had already prepared from the trunk and putting it over his shoulder while his brother tugged it open and shoved their sawed-off shotguns into it. In truth, Sam thought Dean was right and no one was cooler than him. He'd thought that since he was about three, watching his big brother with adoration bordering on hero worship, and had never completely outgrown it. He smirked, not that he would EVER be telling Dean that. "We good?"
"Yep." Dean put the lanyard of his inspector's badge over his head, letting it rest on his chest and closed the trunk. "Come on. Maybe we'll get lucky and we won't even run into anyone before we can toast Walter."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Because we ever get that lucky." He took long strides across the dirty street and ducked under the police tape Dean pulled up for them. He took in the ten-story building and nodded to the side. "Side door over there and it's propped open."
Dean took the lead and kept his eyes on the front entrance of the building. It was partially obscured with scaffolding and long plastic tarps that swayed and flapped in the wind, but he couldn't see anyone under it. Several of the floors above were open to the air and protected only by more of the plastic tarps while scaffolds and iron beams stuck out here and there like the building's broken ribs. The more he looked at the building, the more he didn't like it. "Why would anyone wanna live in a place like this?"
"Some people like having a home to come back to," Sam said and looked up at the building as they neared.
"Dude. I meant this place in particular." Dean didn't have to turn around to know there was a sad look on Sam's face and he resisted the urge to bristle at the comment... much. "And you have a home. She just has four wheels and a bitchin' engine."
Sam had to smile at that and nodded. "Yeah." It was true, but he still missed his home with Jess... missed her. Some days it was an ache in the center of his chest that made it hard to breathe, and he wondered if it would ever leave him, that feeling of having had his heart ripped out and burned along with her on that ceiling.
Dean reached the door and eased it open. It had been propped open with a brick, and he nudged it out of the way as he stuck his head inside and listened for a minute. "All quiet." He moved inside and further into the narrow, short hall. He glanced up and nodded. "We're in a stairwell. Cool."
"Head down then." Sam pulled the outer door closed behind him and followed his brother onto the stairs. Like everything else, they were coated in a fine layer of dust from the renovations. "There's an access panel for the bottom of the elevator shaft near the old boilers on the north side of the basement level." He smirked when Dean looked up at him and quirked a brow. "Yes, I looked at the blueprints."
"Of course you did." Dean snorted a laugh, amused at his genius brother and, really, he hadn't expected anything less from him. They moved quickly down the stairs and found a padlocked door at the bottom. "Damn. Gimme a minute."
Sam nodded and moved so he could watch up the stairwell in case anyone appeared. He put his hand into his jacket pocket and flicked the EMF meter on. It whined softly but otherwise proved they had nothing ghostly to worry about yet.
Dean slid his picks into the padlock and scowled. "Freakin' Master locks. Hate these damn things." He gently twisted one of the picks, trying to catch a tumbler and closed his eyes. "Pieces of crap that don't even... come on... open with the damn key half the time. There we go." He smiled and gave the lock a tug, grinning as it popped open. He unhooked it from the door and dropped it off to the side before pulling the door open and then coughed as he tossed his elbow over his face. "Jesus. It's hot as hell down here. And what is that smell?"
Sam chuckled and followed Dean through the door. "Probably some dead rats. Wow, it's a sauna down here. I didn't realize they'd turned the boilers back on yet."
Dean jerked his head to his brother's left pocket when the EMF began to whine more insistently. "Maybe they didn't. Let's move fast."
"I hope whoever's in the building right now isn't using the elevator," Sam said softly as they moved down a dimly lit hall. The stifling, damp heat broke him out in an instant sweat, and he wished he could take his jacket off right then.
"I hope the damn thing's not right at the bottom, or keeping us from getting squashed is gonna be a problem." Dean turned a corner with Sam's tap on his shoulder and smiled. "Yahtzee." Ahead of them was a door labeled 'elevator maintenance area'.
"The blueprints said there's an auxiliary control down here in case of emergencies. I should be able to control it and send it up a couple floors if it is down here." Sam reached out and pulled the heavy, metal door open and turned his face away as a stronger wave of hot air rolled out at them. "So, the boilers are in here too, I guess."
"This just gets better and better." Dean stepped through and squinted to see in the low lighting. He reached over to the wall beside the door and gave the light switch there a click. A fluorescent light above them flickered to life, illuminated the room brightly for about five seconds, and then popped once loudly before guttering out into darkness. "Well, that's just fantastic."
"It's ok." Sam went over to where he'd seen the access panel for the elevator shaft and set the bag on the floor. He stripped off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his flannel to mitigate some of the heat. "And these..." he turned and looked at a dust-covered control panel to his left and ran a finger through the dust, leaving a trail. "... are the controls." He leaned over and looked at the dials. "It looks like the elevator's up on the third floor right now."
"Ok, good. You stay here." Dean bent and pulled one of the salt guns out of the bag and tucked it under his jacket. "I'm gonna go up and see about making sure Walter doesn't drop it on us."
"I could help." Sam offered but Dean shook his head.
"You stay down here with that in case he goes all 'Christine' with the elevator on me while I'm working." Dean grinned and pulled the door to the hall open again. "And there's water in the bag. No passing out from heat exhaustion down here, sasquatch. I ain't carryin' you."
Sam chuckled as Dean left and found the bottle of water in the bag. "Yeah, you would," he said fondly and looked down at the access hatch. "Waiting doesn't mean I can't get this thing open while he's gone."
Dean reluctantly left Sam behind and moved quickly back to the stairwell. He heaved a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the heat and let the door close behind him. "Holy crap." He wiped the sweat from his face and started up the stairs, keeping an ear out for anyone who might be wandering around. He reached the first floor and cracked the door open into the building itself. The air was cooler out of the stairwell as he moved into the hall and headed around the corner for the elevator. If Sam was right, the car should still be one floor up. Most of the wall along the right side of the hall was already torn out. The rooms beyond were open, some covered with plastic, with the support beams, wiring, ductwork, and pipes visible.
"Now we're talkin'," Dean said with a smile and ducked through one of the open walls into what would eventually be a nice-sized apartment. He went to a collection of steel beams and set his shotgun down on the floor. He grabbed a beam, about as thick around as his thigh, and lifted. He grunted with the effort and set it back down.
"Damn." Dean looked over his shoulder and saw the doors for the elevator and sighed. "At least I don't have to go far." He picked up the end of the beam again and slowly dragged it across the bare wood floor toward the elevator. The noise it made as the metal scraped over the wood was painfully loud as it broke the silence, and he hoped it didn't bring someone running to ask difficult questions.
"Holy crap," Dean panted once he reached the hall and set the beam down. He ducked back into the apartment and quickly pulled up the end of a second beam and dragged it out to lay it by the first with a clang. He stretched, arching his back and then turned to the elevator. "Ok." Rather than press the button, which would bring the elevator down to him and ruin his plan, Dean pulled out a small knife and slid it between the doors. He turned the blade with a grunt of effort and pried the doors apart enough to get his fingers in. "Come... on." Dean wedged them open with the toe of one boot and then shoved one door back, relieved when the door on the other side followed suit. He knelt quickly and wedged his knife into the base of one door and cautiously stood back. He grinned when they stayed where they were.
"Nice." Dean dusted off his hands and turned, picking up the first of the two heavy beams. He slid it along the left side of the open doors and into the shaft, across the empty space. "Crap. Crap." Dean fought to keep the far end of the beam from sinking and falling down the shaft and finally managed to get it across and propped on a girder. He stood up, wiping more sweat from his face and stomped experimentally on the beam. It stayed solid and he grinned.
"Perfect." Dean leaned into the shaft and looked up. He could see the bottom of the elevator car on the floor above and turned back around to grab the second beam. With luck, the beams would be sturdy enough to stop the elevator if Walter the Angry Ghost decided to drop it on them. He slid the second beam into the shaft and angled for the same girder on the other side.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"
Dean jumped with the loud voice and nearly dropped the beam. "Crap!" he gasped. The beam began to tip down into the empty air and Dean hastily sat on it to bring it back up. He looked over his shoulder and saw a man dressed as a fireman coming down the hall. "Great," he groaned. "Just great."
"What do you think you're doing? You can't block the elevator like that! Someone might get hurt!"
"That's what I'm trying to avoid." Dean turned back to the beam and quickly slid it across the last few inches until it was secure like the first, then he stood. He raised his hands and tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Reynolds. Safety inspector," Dean introduced himself and tapped the badge hanging on his chest until the fireman looked down at it. "This elevator's a safety hazard. Thing could drop at any moment. I'm just making sure it doesn't crash into the basement until it can be properly fixed."
"Safety inspector." The fireman looked Dean up and down and quirked a blonde eyebrow at him. "With no hard hat?"
"It's my day off." Dean shrugged. "But when duty calls..."
"Right. I call bullshit." The fireman shook his head. "Let's go."
"No, look. This is important!" Dean backed up a step and scowled. "The elevator really is dangerous. Or did you miss the part where people have died here... Randy," Dean said, looking at the name tag on the man's chest. He smirked. "Randy the fireman? Really?"
"What?" Randy demanded and rolled his eyes. "So you just come in here alone and decide to toss a couple I-beams into the elevator shaft?"
"My partner's downstairs making sure the elevator's offline." Dean smiled and really hoped Randy would lose interest and get the hell out before things went south. "How many other people are in the building right now? Because it's supposed to be cleared out right now."
Randy's eyes narrowed. His gut was telling him this so-called inspector was full of crap, but the guy wasn't wrong. "Three. The foreman and two of his guys. I'm trying to find them and kick them out until the building gets the all-clear again after this morning."
"Well, you should go do that." Dean smiled again, trying for friendly and hoping it didn't look like the grimace of frustration it felt like. "We're just gonna finish locking up the elevator, slap up some signs and leave it for the repair guys."
"Right." Randy still wasn't sure he believed the guy. "Why don't you give me your boss' name and number. I need to check you out before..." He stopped and jerked his head around as the sound of screams came from somewhere above them. "What the hell is that?"
"Shit," Dean said with feeling. He looked around, realizing his salt gun was still across the hall. He started for it and then froze as the sound of the elevator moving screeched to life from inside the shaft. "Oh, no, no, no." He saw Randy moving to put his head in and look for it and Dean grabbed him. "Are you stupid?" he yelled and dragged the fireman back by his shoulder just as the elevator car dropped and slammed into the steel beams Dean had put in place. Before either man could move, the elevator shot up and out of sight, still with the sound of people screaming inside it.
"Oh, my God!" Randy gasped. "We have to help them!"
"Dammit! Stay away from the shaft!" Dean ran back into the open apartment and grabbed his salt gun from the floor. He was relieved his idea had worked, but he had to wonder just how long the beams would hold out if the ghost was going to start slamming the car into them. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed Sam, and ran back out to the hall.
"What the hell is that?" Randy demanded and his eyes widened in surprise at the shortened shotgun in the inspector's hands.
"Tool of the trade. Come on. It was going up. Sam! Walter's pissed!" Dean called and started for the stairs at a jog.
"I noticed!" Sam's ears were still ringing from the impact of the elevator car a floor above him. "What did you do?"
"Why's it gotta be me?" Dean smirked and yanked open the door for the stairs. "I'm going up a floor. Gonna see if I can box the car in and maybe get those people out. I've, uh..." Dean glanced behind him where Randy was keeping pace and rolled his eyes. "I've got a fireman tagging along, so you should take care of that thing before someone really gets hurt."
"A fireman?" Sam asked in surprise. "Uh, yeah. Ok. I'm going in to look for the remains now."
"And watch your ass, man." Dean flipped his phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket.
"Who the hell is Walter?" Randy huffed for air, jogging up the stairs in his heavy coat but kept pace with the taller man. "I thought it was just a malfunction with the elevator."
"Yeah, about that." Dean didn't elaborate. He tugged open the door to the second floor and ran out and around the corner toward the elevator. As he reached it, he heard the sound of the car plummeting back down to the bottom and grimaced at the resounding bang before it started screeching into motion and up again. The voices inside had gone eerily silent and he didn't have a good feeling about it.
"They've stopped screaming," Randy said, catching his breath. He saw Dean trying to pry the doors apart and nodded. "Here." He took out one of the screwdriver's he kept on his tool belt and handed it over. "This'll work better."
"Thanks." Dean grabbed it and shoved it between the doors. He put his weight behind it and soon had the doors cracked. He shifted a little to his side to make room for Randy and together, they shoved the doors apart and wedged them there with the screwdriver. "Don't try to stick your head in there again."
"Your idea isn't going to work," Randy said firmly and listened to the elevator rattling up toward the top of the building. "Soon as it shot back up, it'd just knock the beams away and keep going, maybe even tear it up some. You said you've got a partner in here somewhere?"
"Yeah. Down in the basement at the elevator controls." Dean nodded and pulled out his phone. "I don't know if it'll work, but he can try." He dialed his brother again and moved away from the shaft as Sam answered. "Sammy. See if you can use the controls to stop the elevator on two so we can get those people out."
"Won't work," Sam said sadly. "I already tried. The controls are fried. Probably Walter's doing."
"Dammit." Dean groaned and shook his head at Randy. "Then get the bones or whatever the hell is holding him here."
"I'm in the shaft now but I can't find anything." Sam grimaced, shoving through a pile of debris in the corner of the shaft and sneezed. "Lot of crap down here but nothing human."
"Well, there has to be something!" Dean stomped back to the elevator shaft and watched it shoot past them again, listening as it slammed into the beams on the first floor. He heard Sam's loud curse through the phone. "You ok?"
"Yeah. Going deaf, but yeah."
Dean wanted him out of there. He couldn't help envisioning the moment when the beams gave way and the elevator turned his little brother into a pancake. "Sammy..."
"It has to be here. Whatever's holding Walter in this building, it has to be here. I'll find it."
"I want you to get out of there. If you haven't found it by now..." Dean heard his brother gasp as the elevator climbed back up the shaft and held the phone tighter to his ear. "Sam? What's going on?" A moment later, Sam shouted in surprise, and Dean heard a loud thump from the bottom of the shaft and then a groan from his brother. "Sam! Answer me, dammit!"
"Dean."
Sam's voice was too soft, too hoarse. Dean clenched his hand around the phone and started back to the stairs at a run. "Sam, what happened? You ok?"
"Hey! Where are you going?" Randy called. He looked between Dean's retreating back and the elevator and groaned. He took off after Dean. "Hey! There's still people in there!"
"Nothing we can do for them right now but my broth... partner... something's happened." Dean slammed into the stairs and started down them at a run. "Sam! Talk to me!" He waited but there was no reply and he forced himself to put his phone away and move faster. "You and I both know the people in that car are probably dead by now."
Randy bristled at the grim, accepting tone of Dean's voice, but there was little room to argue. "Goddammit." He followed at a run and nearly ran into the man at the bottom.
"Friggin' door's jammed. Casper, you asshole!" Dean shouted up at the ceiling and planted a foot on the wall as he pulled at the door to the basement.
"Casper?" Randy gave Dean room to work and wasn't surprised when his sheer brute strength succeeded in wrenching the heavy fire door open at last. "You're not a safety inspector, so you better start telling me what the hell is going on here!"
"You wanna know?" Dean threw himself into the hall and started running again. "A ghost's been killing people in this building. We torched the bastard's bones last night, but it didn't take, which means there's something here holding him to this damn place, and if we can find it, we can stop him." Dean's nerves were screaming with fear for his brother as he turned the last corner and saw the door where he'd left Sam at last. "Walter Perkins. Died twenty years ago. Crushed at the bottom of that damn shaft, and he's a little pissed."
Randy staggered to a stop and stared wide-eyed as Dean moved away from him. "Ghost?" He frowned. "Wait, Walter Perkins?" He started after Dean again. "I know that name. But, a ghost?"
"Welcome to my world. Sammy!" Dean slammed into the door and snarled when, like the stairwell door, it didn't budge. "Supernatural friggin' lockdown. Come on! Help me!"
"Brother. You were gonna say "brother" upstairs weren't you? Not partner?" Randy asked and threw his shoulder into the door at the same time Dean did.
"Yeah." Dean grunted with the impact, backed up and hit it again. "He's my little brother and I left him down here, and if we don't get him out of that damn shaft, Walter's gonna flatten him with the car eventually."
"Shit." Randy put more force behind his hits until his shoulder and arm were singing in pain, and, at last, the door gave an inch and then another, and between the two of them, they rammed it open.
Dean staggered into the room and squinted in the low light. "Sammy?" He crossed the room and spotted an open panel near the floor.
"Access panel to the shaft," Randy said and pulled out his flashlight. He flicked it on and handed it to Dean. "Let me look."
"I'll look."
"I'm the fireman here, man."
"Yeah, and he's my brother." Dean took the flashlight and ducked down. "No offense, but he needs to see me, not a stranger. Just watch my back." He considered giving Randy his salt gun and thought better of it if Walter's ghost decided to make an actual appearance inside the shaft. "Sam! I'm comin' in!" He crawled forward and wondered how his sasquatch of a brother had squeezed into the tight space.
Dean inched through the tight space, his shoulders pressed into the warm metal and felt sweat pouring down his face from the boilers that were still running overtime. "Sam?" He reached the end of the short shaft and cautiously pulled himself out. He played the light around and easily found his brother. "Shit, Sam." Sam was trapped on the floor of the shaft. It looked as though some giant hand had torn several of the support struts from the walls and wrapped them down and over his brother's body and chest.
"Sammy." Dean looked up, shining the light above him and could just make out the I-beams. The sound of the elevator screeched to a sudden halt somewhere above, and Dean swallowed. "Great." He put his attention back on his brother and crawled over to him. "Sam. Hey, you with me?" Dean eased over one beam and knelt next to his head. He cupped a hand around the side of Sam's face and turned his head up so he could see him. "Sam, wake up. Come on. I need to know how bad you're hurt."
"Dean? You find him?" Randy's voice echoed in the shaft.
"Yeah, but he's out. Stay out there!" Dean patted the side of Sam's face gently and smiled when his brother stirred. "That's it, buddy. Come on. Wake up."
"Mmf. Dean?" Sam's voice slurred the familiar name as he struggled awake and cracked his eyes to find his brother kneeling over him. He took a breath and coughed, slamming his eyes closed as pain and pressure slammed through his chest. "Can't... breathe." He couldn't move his arms either, and that added a whole new level to his panic.
"Easy. Take it easy." Dean soothed and turned his light on the impromptu prison. He set the shotgun down and the flashlight next to it and grabbed one of the beams. No matter how hard he pulled or pushed, it didn't budge even a little, and he knew the ghost was keeping them in place. "Son of a bitch!" Above them, the elevator began moving again and banged into the I-beams across the shaft above. A shower of dust and rust sprayed down on them, and he leaned over Sam's head to protect him.
"Dean! You alright in there?"
"For now!" Dean leaned back and brushed some of the dirt from his brother's face. "Sammy? You hurt anywhere? Other than being stuck? I can't move this crap without getting rid of that asshole first."
Sam nodded. He was taking small, shallow breaths in an effort not to hyperventilate. He swallowed and managed a small smile. "M'ok." He took another breath. "Have to... find it. What's... holding him." He breathed again and shook his head. "Not down here... looked."
"Ok. Ok. You just... hang on, alright?" Dean smiled and patted Sam's shoulder. "I'm gonna figure this out and have you outta here in no time." He made himself move away from Sam and back toward the shaft. "I'm gonna go put a couple more beams across that shaft to keep you safe while I do that. So, you gotta hold on, ok?"
Sam nodded again and tried not to panic as Dean moved away and out of his line of sight. "Dean?" he called and swallowed hard around the lump of fear at being left alone. "Be... be careful."
"Ain't I always?"
"N-no." Sam would have laughed if he could get enough breath for it and settled for closing his eyes instead to concentrate on breathing.
"I'll be back, Sammy. I'm coming back." Dean turned away with difficulty and crawled back into the shaft. Randy was waiting for him and helped pull him out and back to his feet.
"How is he?" Randy could see grim determination and a little fear on Dean's face and knew it couldn't be good.
"He's trapped. Walter wedged him to the floor with a couple struts from the walls." Dean ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. "I can't get him out. Come on. We need to make sure that elevator's not gonna break through the beams I put up there."
Randy followed along with a last look over his shoulder at the access panel and couldn't imagine being trapped down there with an elevator car trying to break through and kill you. He shook his head as they jogged back up the hall. "I don't believe it, you know. That it's a ghost. You tell me a living, breathing guy is screwing with the elevator, and I get that. But a ghost? A freaking spirit? Come on, man. There's no way."
"Sometimes people get stuck." Dean tightened his hand around his shotgun and turned the next corner to the stairs. "Maybe they didn't finish something, or, in Walter's case, they just plain died pissed." He squeezed through the door to the stairs and took a couple breaths before jogging up them again. "Usually, we salt and burn their bones and that sends them on to wherever they go. and no, I got no idea where that is, so don't ask."
"But that didn't work this time." Randy was huffing for breath by the time they reached the first floor again. "So you what? Dug up some poor dead guy's grave last night?"
"And lit his happy ass on fire," Dean said with no remorse. "I just wish it had worked. Walter's holding on to something here in the building, and we've gotta find it and torch it to get rid of him now."
"That doesn't make any damn sense!" Randy protested and yet he followed the man, unwilling to let him out of his sight. "Ghosts aren't real! They're just stories, dude!"
Dean spun to yell and reared back in surprise as the EMF meter in his pocket screamed to life at the same moment the glowing and pissed off spirit of Walter Perkins erupted from the wall beside them with a howl of fury. "Shit!" Dean brought up his shotgun and fired as Randy fell backwards in surprise. The salt tore through the ghost and shredded it, momentarily sending him away and buying them some time. Dean cracked the barrels, pulled two more shells from his other pocket, reloaded and looked down at Randy's wide eyes. "Stories, huh?" He turned on his heel and headed for the elevator shaft.
"Shit. Shit. Shit!" Randy's eyes scanned the air where the spirit had been as if expecting it to come back at any moment. Shock made him dizzy. "That... that was a... fuck, that was a ghost."
"Hey!" Dean bellowed and waved an arm from down the hall. "If you're done havin' your little freak-out, how about you gimme a hand!" He ducked into the open apartment and grudgingly set the salt gun aside to grab the end of another of the steel I-beams. He didn't expect Randy to do anything - in fact, he expected the guy to take off screaming like most normal people would - and so he looked up in surprise when the man appeared at his elbow.
"So, ghosts." Randy bent and picked up the end of a second beam. "How do we kill it?"
Dean stared at him for a moment and then grinned. "First we keep him from killing my brother. Then we figure out what's keeping him here and torch it. Let's move."
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Sam panted for breath and strained against the hard metal pressing in on his chest. "Shit," he gasped. The light from the flashlight Dean had left on the floor near his head gave him enough to light to see the support struts holding him down. He gave up trying to free his body and focused on getting an arm free instead, twisting and tugging his right arm. Sam groaned softly, coughing with the need to take a decent, deep breath, and finally his right arm slid loose from the metal.
"Thank, God," Sam breathed. He jerked and raised his tingling arm over his face as the elevator slammed into the beams on the floor above him and more dust and debris rained down on him. "Crap. Hurry... up, Dean."
Sam lowered his arm and wiped his face off. He opened his eyes and watched his breath puff out in a cloud as the air temperature plummeted. "Oh... shit."
The ghost of Walter Perkins appeared in the air over Sam. His glowing face was a snarl of rage as he lowered until his opaque feet sank into the metal holding Sam captive and lower.
Sam's breath caught in his chest at the frigid sensation of the apparition entering his chest. "S... stop. Please." He coughed and struggled as best he could. "Walter... stop. Stop!"
"Left me," Walter's voice groaned into the air and his furious eyes met Sam's. "Crushed me."
Sam threw his head back in distress as the metal binding him became heavier and pressed down upon him. He felt one or more of his ribs compress and then crack with a white-hot, blinding pain. "Ah, G... God. Don't!"
"Alone," Walter smiled and rose back into the air. "Die."
Sam blinked his eyes open and watched the spirit stare up into the elevator shaft for a moment before he vanished. "Dea..." his voice was a bare whisper, his chest having almost no room left to expand. Black spots began to crawl across his vision. "Dean."
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Dean and Randy slid the first beam into place as the elevator rattled its way back up the elevator shaft again. Dean stepped back and watched the car lift out of sight. "I'm sorry about them, the guys in there," he told Randy seriously. He didn't say it, but there was little hope the men trapped in that car were anything but dead after so many trips slamming up and down the shaft. They probably wouldn't even be recognizable, and Dean wasn't looking forward to seeing the bloody aftermath.
Randy nodded and bent to pick up the second beam with him. "I told them they weren't supposed to be in here today. I told them to leave." He shook his head angrily at himself. "They just wanted twenty minutes. Have a look around they said, and... and I let them. I let them."
"Hey. This is not your fault," Dean informed him and groaned with the effort of holding the beam steady as they slid it across. The first two beams Dean had left had actually started to bend under the repeated assault of the elevator car, and he was glad he'd decided to come back up and reinforce them. "You had no way of knowing what was really going on in here, man. This ain't on you."
"Sure feels like it." Randy held the beam steady while Dean angled it to brace it on the opposite wall. He looked up into the shaft and heard the elevator change direction suddenly, not waiting until it reached the top. "Uh, Dean... I think the... I think Walter's onto us. Hurry it up!"
"Yeah, yeah. I got it... almost." Dean heard the car hurtling back down. He felt debris slap into the back of his head as he leaned out into the shaft to get the beam in place. As soon as he had it, he felt Randy's hands on the back of his jacket and he was yanked out of the shaft just as the elevator crashed into the beams again with a thundering sound.
"That was too close," Randy gasped and pulled Dean further back while a cloud of dust rolled out into the hall.
Dean staggered back and thumped against the wall. He slid down it, letting the exhaustion take him for just a moment until he was sitting. "Son of a bitch," he gasped and tried to catch his breath.
"Is it always... like this?" Randy was trying to catch his own breath and went to his knees beside Dean. He shrugged his heavy fireman's coat apart to try and cool down and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I mean this ghost crap. This is what you guys do?"
Dean nodded and swallowed before working to push himself back to his feet. He narrowed his eyes at the closed elevator doors in front of them. His eyes were caught and held by something at the base of the elevator as it rattled up a few inches; it was small, brown, and familiar. It was a piece of bone. "They don't normally piss me off this much. Come on."
"Dean, what are we gonna do?" Randy got back to his feet and matched the elder Winchester's fast pace. "You said yourself you don't know what that... that thing is tied to anymore."
"Oh, yeah I do," Dean said firmly. He found the door for the stairs and slapped it open. "I figured it out just now." He started down at a fast walk and wasn't surprised that Randy was keeping up with him. "I know how to get rid of the asshole." He looked up at Randy as they rounded a landing for the next flight down. "Gonna kinda conflict with your job description though."
"Huh?" Randy looked after him in confusion. He considered everything he had learned in the last hour, everything Dean had told him, and slowly realization dawned. His eyes widened. "I should probably tell you we can't do that," he said as he picked up the pace to catch up to Dean and his voice lowered. "Not going to. You just tell me where to light the damn match. I'm in."
Dean smiled grimly and nodded, moving even faster. "Alright. First, we need to get Sam the hell out of there. I've got an idea." His voice was a low promise as he moved.
"I thought you said you couldn't get your brother out until the ghost was gone?"
"Walter's spending a lot of juice playing whack-a-mole with the elevator." Dean reached the bottom and kicked the basement door the rest of the way open before moving through it. "Should be weakening him by now, at least enough that we can get Sam out."
Dean sprinted back to the control room, heedless of his own exhaustion. Sam didn't have time for him to take a damn breather. Sooner or later, Walter was bound to realize he could just move the beams blocking the car. Dean was sure it was only frustration that had kept the spirit from thinking of that so far. But they were Winchesters; eventually their luck was going to run out.
"Sam?" Dean yelled and dove for the access panel. "Come on, Randy. You can put those muscles to use if you don't mind potentially being flattened."
Randy didn't even hesitate to crawl in behind Dean. "Dude. Fireman. Risking my life to save people is my job."
Dean chuckled as he crawled. "Ours too." He snorted. "Except we don't get parades and medals or calenders."
Randy thought about how he'd first seen Dean and his impressions of him, how he'd instantly assumed the guy was up to no good and realized that must be an occupational hazard for them. The more he thought about it, the more it dawned on him that here were two guys working behind the scenes to try and protect people, risking their own lives for it, just like he and his fellow firefighters, and how often they got nothing but grief and disbelief for it. It frightened him a little to consider doing his job without any support system in place- no backup or police, hospitals, and the like. "Damn," he whispered sympathetically.
"What?" Dean asked, hearing the soft epithet from behind him.
"Nothing. It's... keep moving, man."
Dean took him at his word and crawled out into the bottom of the elevator shaft again. "Sammy. I'm back." He went quickly to his brother and frowned, seeing Sam's pale face in the beam from his flashlight. The frown turned to outright fear as he took in the blue tint to Sam's lips. "Shit! Sam?" Dean dropped to his knees and palmed his brother's face.
"Move. Dean, move!" Randy gave the man a shove and took his place beside his brother. "My job, remember? I've got EMT training." He pulled off his gloves and tossed them aside, then put his fingers to the side of the brother's neck. "Sam?" he asked, but wasn't surprised when he didn't get a response. "Pulse is weak. He leaned down near the young man's face and closed his eyes, feeling the too-soft puffs of air against his cheek. "And his respiration sucks. We've got to get him out of this. He's suffocating."
Dean knelt and took hold of one of the support struts. He planted his feet, bent his knees and strained, pulling up with a roar of effort until at last it shifted. It didn't move more than a couple inches but it was a start. "Get the other one."
"Yeah." Randy left Sam's head reluctantly and followed Dean's example. "We just get this one up... a little more..." he groaned with the effort of lifting the thing, and it felt like something was actively holding it down, pushing as he pulled. "Come... on!"
Dean straddled Sam's chest and grabbed hold of the strut with Randy. Together they inched it upward. He refused to give in and kept pulling until it felt like a pressure valve had been released. The strut suddenly rose, far lighter than it had seemed a moment before and Dean stumbled back, landing on his backside. "'Bout damn time." He scrambled back to his brother, leaving room for Randy and pushed Sam's bangs off his face.
"Hey. Sammy, come on." Dean put a hand on his brother's chest lightly.
Randy took Sam's jaw and tilted his head back just slightly to help him breathe easier and reached back to grab the flashlight. He angled it to see Sam's face better and smiled as the blue tint to his lips began to fade. "He's breathing better." He frowned. "Though not as good as he should be." He looked at the support struts now angled up into the air and back down to Sam's chest. "They might have broken something if they were pressing hard enough on him."
"Shit." Dean shifted the hand on Sam's chest and began carefully pressing along each of his brother's ribs.
Randy watched Dean check his brother and Dean's movements were precise and professional; clearly something he had done many times before and knew what he was doing. "Just how often do you guys have to triage each other like this?"
"Too damn often," Dean grumbled. "At least two broken on the right side and..." he pressed a little more firmly along the ribs on Sam's left side and sighed. "And another on the left. Damn. Hey. Hey." He quickly leaned back over his brother as Sam moaned softly and shifted his head in Dean's grip. "Sammy. I'm here." He watched Sam's eyes flutter open and smiled. "Hey, little brother. Welcome back."
"Dean," Sam whispered and then slammed his eyes closed when he tried to take a deep breath. His chest was on fire.
"Take it easy. Casper broke some of your ribs, but we're getting you out," Dean said and then threw himself over Sam's head when the elevator car crashed into the beams across the shaft above them again. This time, it was accompanied by a screech of metal and all Dean's plans of carefully carrying Sam out of there evaporated. "We gotta move him. Now."
"Dean, with those ribs..." Randy started and then shook his head. "You're right. Yeah."
"I'm gonna take his head and shoulders and pull him through the access panel. You get his legs. Sammy?" Dean palmed his brother's face again. "Need you to keep breathing, buddy, ok? This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but we're running out of time here."
Sam nodded silently. He took in as big a breath as he could and still cried out in agony when Dean shifted and lifted his upper body from the floor. The feeling of his broken ribs grinding inside his chest came close to making him pass out again.
Dean gritted his teeth and kept moving as the car slammed again above them. He backed into the access tunnel, pulling Sam with him and jumped when the first steel I-beam fell from above and into the bottom of the shaft.
"Shit!" Randy leaped back and away from Sam's legs as one of the beams they'd placed on the floor above crashed down beside him. "I think he figured it out! Move!"
Dean pulled harder, wincing in sympathy with every pained, gasping cry Sam gave as they moved. "Randy, hurry the hell up and get in here!"
Randy pushed Sam's legs ahead of him and all but dove into the shaft beside them as another beam banged and rattled down the shaft to the bottom. He felt the passing of air against his feet as it barely missed him and blew out a relieved breath. "Holy shit. I'm gonna die."
"You are if you don't move your ass. Come on. Little further, Sammy." Dean spoke calmly to his brother and backed out of the tunnel. He sat on the other side and pushed with his feet against the wall while he tugged on Sam's upper body and soon had a lap full of gasping, red-faced little brother. Dean wrapped his arms carefully over his brother's chest and held on to him. "Ok, easy. That's it. You're out. Just breathe, Sammy. Breathe. You got this."
Randy climbed out, nudging Sam's legs into a slightly less uncomfortable position on the floor and dropped to sit with a thump beside the men. "So. That was exciting."
Dean chuckled in relief and nodded. "Gonna get more exciting in a minute." He bent down to his brother and waited for Sam's eyes to open at last. "How you doin'? Think you can move if we help you?" There was little choice. He needed Sam to be able to get his on feet just long enough to get out of the building. As he expected, Sam swallowed hard once and gave him a nod. "That's my boy."
"Just... just... help me up." Sam wanted nothing more than to curl up and never move again, but he knew they didn't have that luxury and it wasn't like this was his first time playing injured with broken ribs. "Can help."
"Nope. You just need to be walkin'. That's all. Help me get him up." Dean slid out from under his brother's torso and locked his arms over his chest, careful to not put pressure on the broken ribs.
Randy shook his head in admiration as Sam didn't even argue; just gritted his teeth and prepared to move through the pain. "You two are something else."
Sam's brow furrowed a bit and he glanced quizzically at Dean as Randy moved beside him and took a position to help him up. No matter how bad things got, they usually made sure to not involve others in a hunt, especially one that had rapidly gone from simple to deadly in short order.
"Later," Dean cut off the question. He shot Randy a grateful nod, while at the same time indicating they were ready to move.
"I know what he's attached too." Dean told his brother as they lifted him and Sam's whimpers of agony filled the dimly lit room. "It's the damn elevator car. There's a piece of bone lodged in the bottom of the thing. Saw it upstairs the last time he tried to smash us with it."
"How..." Sam's voice cut out as a particularly painful twinge from his ribs rippled through him.
"I'm gonna torch the whole damn thing." Dean told his brother, knowing what it was he was asking. "Fireman Randy here's gonna help me, aren't ya?"
"Oh, yeah." Randy smiled at the surprised look on Sam's face as they got him standing and leaned him against the wall by the door. "I, uh... saw him upstairs. Once the shock wore off..." he chuckled but sobered quickly. "There are people in that elevator car." He swallowed and shook his head. "There were."
"Oh, God." Sam hung his head in sorrow. "How... how many?"
"Three." Randy put a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. "Not your fault." He looked up and met Dean's understanding gaze. "Or mine. And we're gonna make sure Walter doesn't kill anyone else ever again, right?"
"Damn right. Sammy, you stay here. Just stay standing. This won't take long." Dean squeezed the back of Sam's neck once and went back to the access panel and their bag of supplies still sitting next to it. "Just so happens, we came prepared."
Randy left Sam there and went to kneel beside Dean. "So, what's the plan?" He slammed his hands over his ears as the third of the four beams was toppled from above with a loud clangor, echoing out into the room.
Dean pulled out a small bundle wrapped in one of his old t-shirts and held it up with a smirk. "We're gonna molotov the thing, and I just know this old building's gonna go up like a roman candle."
"Holy shit." Randy watched Dean unwrap the shirt to reveal an old bourbon bottle filled with something incredibly flammable, knowing Dean as he now did.
Dean unscrewed the cap from the bottle and tossed it aside. He took a corner of the old shirt and began working it down into the neck of the bottle as a makeshift fuse. "There's another one in there. Grab it and do what I'm doing."
Randy nodded and dug in the bag, easily finding the second bottle. "With all the walls torn out in this place and the exposed insulation all over..." He started threading a corner of the shirt into the bottle with a frown of concentration. "... this whole building is going to go up fast. We aren't going to have a lot of time to get out."
"We carry him if we have to," Dean said with a glance toward his brother by the door. He gave Randy a pointed look. "Whatever happens, Sam gets out."
Randy nodded,understanding, and held up his bottle. "That good?"
"Yep." Dean shouldered the bag quickly and pulled out his Zippo as the last of the I-beams banged into the shaft beyond them. "You ready?"
"Yeah." Randy held the bottle out. "Light me up."
Dean flicked the wheel on the Zippo and held the flame out. They lit the fuses on their bottles and Dean leaned down to wing his through the access shaft. He saw it clatter and roll and fall out of sight into the shaft and moved aside. "Your turn. Get it in there." He went to his brother and slid one of Sam's arms over his shoulders while he watched Randy easily toss the bottle out of sight. There was a soft tinkle of broken glass from the shaft and then a concussive burst of flame. "Time to go."
Randy ran across the room as the elevator car slammed into the base of the shaft. A ball of fire shot out of the access hatch and across the room, nearly taking him in the back. "I think he's a little angry!"
"Won't be much longer." Dean moved Sam through the door and allowed Randy to take some of his brother's weight so they could move more quickly. They were halfway to the stairs when fire alarms began to wail, creating a deafening shrill in the hall.
"Sprinklers are disconnected!" Randy shouted above the noise. "There's nothing to stop the fire!"
"Good!" Dean urged Randy and his brother faster when he heard the distinctive roar of flames behind them. They would travel up the elevator shaft, he knew, and the building would quickly be engulfed. They reached the stairs as the fire began to creep down the hall behind them. Sam was panting for breath in his ear, pale-faced and eyes closed. "Little further, Sam. One flight of stairs. Almost there."
Sam nodded, beyond speech. He didn't have the air to spare for it. The first few steps weren't so bad, but by the fourth and then the fifth, his ability to breathe while his ribs shifted where they shouldn't ended. He felt the blackness coming for him and could do nothing to stop it.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled when his brother went limp between him and Randy. "Shit!"
"Keep moving!" Randy took more of Sam's weight and ducked lower. "Dean, grab my arm and get under him!"
"Right!" Dean ducked as well and between the two of them, they got Sam up in a fireman's carry, lifting until his legs were clear of the stairs. They moved as fast they could, rounding the landing and up to the first floor. Flames licked out into the stairwell below them from the basement and it urged Dean on. He could hear the steady roar of the fire all around them and realized it was already in the walls. Smoke began to fill the stairwell as they reached the first floor, making him cough. "There!" Dean turned them toward the door he and Sam had first entered through.
As they reached it, a roar of sound went through the building behind them. It was a howl of rage that Dean felt in his bones, and then it was gone. He grinned over at the look of fear on Randy's face. "That was Walter signing off for good. Come on."
They emerged outside the building into the hot, afternoon sunlight, and rather than take a moment, Dean kept them moving until they were on the other side of the empty parking lot. "Ok. Ok. Here. Set him here."
Randy lowered Sam gently to the ground, settling the impressively tall man's body while his brother steadied his head in the brown grass. "Should I call an ambulance? He needs a hospital."
Dean sighed. "Yeah. This time he does." He looked over at Randy. "But I'm gonna drive him. I don't want anyone knowing we were here. Cops tend to get a little pissed about things like arson, and I can't exactly tell 'em a ghost made us do it."
Randy snorted a laugh and leaned back. "Yeah. No. I get that. Where's your car?"
Dean looked down at his brother and then at Randy. The man had impressed him in a short amount of time and he decided to trust him. "You stay with Sam and I'll go bring it around. I don't wanna carry his heavy ass a block away."
"Right. I got him." Randy settled beside Sam's head and nodded. He knew that what Dean was really saying was that he didn't want to risk hurting his brother more by carrying him that far. And that Dean would trust him, a relative stranger, with such a precious burden, given the glimpse of their lives he'd just had, was humbling. "He'll be safe."
Dean nodded. He patted Sam's shoulder and stood, looking back at the building. "Wow." The former apartment building was ablaze. Flames shot from every window, every missing wall. They curled around the roof high above and billowed from a spot atop the structure that Dean just knew had to be the elevator shaft.
"Go on, Dean. Sooner you get back, sooner we can get your brother some help." Randy tore his eyes from the burning structure and watched Sam instead. He took the young man's wrist and wrapped his hand around it so his fingers rested against his pulse to monitor him. "I got him."
"Yeah, ok." Dean turned and jogged for the Impala on the next block. He was so tired his legs felt like lead, but he could take time to rest later.
Randy glanced periodically around them as he sat there, sometimes looking at the building as it went up, others down at Sam and he shook his head. His world had drastically changed just in the space of an hour, and he wasn't sure what to make of it anymore. "You guys live one strange life, Sam," he said softly. Randy sat up straighter and leaned over to block the sun from shining directly into Sam's face as the man stirred.
"Sam?" Randy called and put his free hand on Sam's shoulder to keep him from moving too much. "Can you hear me?"
The unfamiliar voice did the job of pulling Sam up from unconsciousness. He cracked his eyes open and looked up at the blonde-haired man above him. "Dean? Where's..." he broke off on a gasp when he tried to sit up and fell back with the man's hands gently holding him down.
"Don't try to move too much, Sam," Randy warned him. "Dean's getting your car. He'll be back any second. Just sit tight. You're safe. We're out."
Sam craned his head when he heard the sound of something big burning, and his eyes widened at the sight of the apartment building engulfed. He couldn't help the smirk as he wearily closed his eyes. "Dean... always over... overcompensating."
Randy laughed and patted the man's shoulder. "Can't say I blame him." He turned his head when he heard the sound of an engine rumble to life and watched as a shiny black classic muscle car eased out onto the street and came toward them. "Damn. That a '67 Impala?"
Sam smiled, hearing the awe in the man's voice. "S'our home."
Randy looked down in surprise and then back up, watching while Dean parked right beside them. "Sweet ride, Dean," he said as Dean climbed out from behind the wheel and left the car idling.
"Yeah, she is. How is he?" Dean knelt beside his brother again and grinned when Sam's eyes opened to look at him.
"M'good," Sam assured him.
"You're full of shit," Dean retorted fondly and took Sam's left arm. "Let's get you up. Have you at the hospital and flyin' on the good stuff in no time."
"Ok, slowly," Randy cautioned as they lifted Sam up. "Try not to bend his torso too much."
Dean nodded, not needing the instruction. They were beyond familiar with how to deal with broken ribs. It didn't take long at all to have Sam stretched out in the backseat and propped on a duffel of dirty clothes. "You good, Sammy?"
Sam gave his brother a thumbs-up and let his head drop back to the window. He cradled one hand over his aching chest and took shallow breaths so as not to aggravate it and smiled. "Promised me... painkillers. Now... now would be good."
Dean chuckled and closed the door. He turned to Randy and reached out. "Thanks, man. You're ok for a civilian." His voice was sincere.
Randy was surprised into a laugh and shook Dean's hand warmly. "You know, it's usually me thinking that. Thank you," he said seriously. "You saved my life in there. I know it."
"You helped me save Sam's. That earns you anything you want from me." Dean pulled a card out of his back pocket and handed it over. "This is our number. You ever run across something hinkey like this again and need some backup, you call me. We'll be there."
Randy looked at the number scrawled on the back of the car and tucked it carefully away in his own pocket. "You boys be careful. And, hey," He looked in at Sam in the backseat and then to Dean again. "You're heroes, you know? Even if no one knows it."
Dean gave a small grimace and looked at the steadily burning building as sirens blared to life somewhere in the distance. "Naw, we're not. Real heroes would have saved those poor suckers in the elevator."
"Dean, there was no way." Randy shook his head in denial. "There was nothing either of us could have done."
"Yeah." Dean nodded and smiled again, though it was small. "Thanks for that." He gave a wave and climbed behind the wheel, pulling the door closed. "You ready to blow this pop stand, Sammy?"
"More... more than." Sam raised his own hand in farewell as they pulled away from Randy. "What do you... think he'll say... happened?"
"I don't know. I'm just glad he was there." Dean looked at Sam's face in the rear view and smiled and felt it this time. If not for Randy, he'd have never gotten Sam out of the elevator shaft before Walter started dropping steel beams on them. He leaned back more comfortably in the seat and headed for the nearest hospital. "Sure hope they've got hot nurses."
Sam snorted softly, careful not to move his ribs too much and reached out, landing a light slap on the back of his brother's head in the front seat. "Have them... kick you out... out of my room."
"As if." Dean turned and followed the blue signs. "Who else is gonna bribe the hot nurses for the good pudding for you?" The smile that graced his face that time was genuine, with his little brother safely laughing, albeit a little breathlessly, in the back seat. "How you doin'?"
"I'm good," Sam assured him and closed his eyes again. "We're good."
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The End.
Next Chapter: F is for Frozen
