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: I know. I know. I couldn't choose one so I chose a few. And there was a list of about 20. LOL Back to season 1 for this one!
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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H is for Hobbits, Hiccups, and Hurricanes -
Sam drove south along the Florida coast, going faster than he normally would and he wasn't concerned about a speeding ticket. All the traffic was flowing in the other direction in a slow, steady traffic jam away from the hurricane steaming toward the coast. He looked out to sea and then reached over to slap Dean's shoulder. "Dean. Wake up."
"Donut holes," Dean muttered and then blinked, sluggishly waking. He scrubbed a hand over his face and looked over at his chuckling brother. "What?"
Sam shook his head and pointed out the windshield. "Check it out. Looks like hurricane Aileen is going to make early landfall."
"Wow." Dean leaned forward for a better look. A wall of clouds was moving across the ocean toward land. The waves were rolls of white foam beneath the behemoth storm, and he felt the first buffet of storm-driven wind rock the Impala slightly. "I do not want my baby in that mess."
"We'll park her in one of the parking garages near the top. That should keep the storm surge from flooding it and any debris from hitting the car." Sam looked at the cyclone and blew out a breath. "Maybe we should have waited until this is over."
Dean shook his head. "Those things'll chew through whoever's left in the city, and I don't want that crap on my head. Do you?"
"No." Sam leaned back and pressed on the gas. "Don't suppose Dad will actually be here. I mean, backup wouldn't be a bad idea on this one."
"Dude, I am your backup," Dean snorted. "Or you're mine. Those little hobbit bastards won't know what hit 'em."
Sam chuckled. "Hrugnir, Dean. They're called dwarf hrugnir, not hobbits." Dean had been calling the little trolls that ever since he'd seen the artist's rendering Sam had shown him.
"Hobbits. You see their feet?" Dean grinned and straightened in his seat. "I'm just glad we don't need anything special to kill 'em. And no. I don't think Dad's gonna be here." He sighed. "He wouldn't have just sent us coordinates if he were planning on helping. You know that. Dad gets in on a hunt, he likes to pull the whole mission briefing thing."
Sam smirked. "Yeah. I remember." He looked up as they passed a sign declaring them welcome to Clearwater, and the sky began to darken as the leading edge of clouds, driven by the hurricane, began to take over the sky. "It's probably the storm surge that's driven them up out of the sewers. From what I read, they've lived underground here since the early 1900's and peacefully."
"Not anymore," Dean said grimly. He planted a hand on the dash as the wind rocked the car again, and he thanked Chevy for giving his baby such a low ground clearance; it would make her more stable in the high winds. "Pissed off, wet hobbits chomping on tourists is not good for business."
Sam didn't bother correcting Dean again and resigned himself to hunting 'hobbits'. He drove into the outskirts of Clearwater and it looked like a ghost town. "Shouldn't be too many people left here now; not with the projected flooding still to come."
"Just find somewhere high and dry to park my baby." Dean watched the taller buildings drawing closer as they drove and pointed across his brother's face suddenly. "Right there! That looks like a good one."
"Hey!" Sam batted his brother's hand away and rolled his eyes. "That's the parking garage I was going for, jackass. How about you not make me crash your pride and joy?"
Dean chuckled and then slid a sideways glance at his brother as Sam turned toward the garage. "You say that like you knew the parking garage was there already." He scowled. "Like you were planning on it before we even got here."
Sam cleared his throat at the suspicious tone in his brother's voice and slowed as he found the entrance to the ten-story garage. "Uh... well..."
"What didn't you tell me?" Dean demanded.
Sam looked at the bars covering the windows on the first four stories of the garage and then pulled inside. He headed up the first ramp and flicked a glance at Dean. "The last five attacks. They were, well... they were here. In this garage."
Dean rubbed a hand down his face and turned in his seat to glare at Sam as they continued higher into the structure. "You're gonna park my car in homicidal hobbit central? THIS is your plan?" He snarled when Sam shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "One scratch, Sammy. Those little bastards put even one scratch in her paint job, and I am draggin' you from the damn bumper when we leave here. We clear?"
Sam swallowed back the urge to laugh and nodded. "Clear."
Dean looked around the darkened interior of the garage with a fresh appreciation and began to notice things; things like strange, long scratches and gouges at knee height; like how the few cars still in the garage had the same damage along their bodies. "You're gonna be asphalt surfing outta this city. I just know it."
Sam did laugh then, but it was a nervous chuckle. He'd noticed the same damage on the cars and was rethinking how smart it was to park the Impala anywhere near this place. It had seemed a practical solution at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. As he rounded the ramp up to the eighth level, he looked out and had a perfect view toward the ocean. It was black. "Oh, man."
"Level eight is good." Dean tapped Sam's shoulder and pointed as they hit the top of the ramp. "Park her on the other side of the elevators. That'll keep the worst of the wind off of her."
Sam nodded and pulled across the empty parking spaces. He carefully maneuvered the Impala close to the bank of elevators on the side facing away from the ocean and parked.
Dean reached down and flipped the radio on, tuning it to the emergency channel. "See how much longer we've got."
"... and hurricane Aileen is beating all the storm projections, estimated to make landfall in the next several hours rather than overnight. Storm surge is reaching dangerous levels. If you are still inside one of the evacuation zones, seek high ground immediately. Do not shelter in your basements or garages. The surge is predicted to reach ten feet or higher. The national guard is warning..."
Dean clicked it off and shook his head. "This is gonna get bad fast."
"Well, we're in probably the safest structure we can be under the circumstances." Sam shrugged. "The wind is going to be an issue, but the flooding should actually drive the hrugnir up to us."
"Fish in a barrel. I like that. Come on." Dean opened his door and yelped when a gust of wind blew it closed on him with a slam. "Ok."
Sam pushed his open and had to hold on to it as he unfolded himself from the driver's seat. He closed it as gently as he could and swayed in another strong gust. "Ok!" he yelled. "Wind is REALLY going to be an issue!" The open structure of the parking garage was creating a wind tunnel effect.
"Shit!" Dean went to the trunk and popped it open. He looked at the shotguns he had planned on them using and shook his head. "Plan B!" He pulled out two machetes and handed one to his brother. "Use your gun for close encounters! You loaded?"
Sam took his gun from the small of his back and checked it, then slipped it away again. "Yeah!" he unbuckled his belt and quickly threaded the machete onto it.
Dean strode across to the edge of the garage and leaned out over the cement wall to look down. He jerked his head back as a National Guard hum-vee drove quickly down the street. "Guard's pulling out now too!"
Sam nodded and closed the trunk. They'd wait out the storm somewhere safe nearby and come back in once it passed to look for people in need of rescue. It was standard operating procedure, and he was thankful their dad had drilled those procedures into them as kids. It made working in conditions like a hurricane a little easier. They didn't have to worry s much about being picked up and arrested. "Ready to head down?"
Dean jogged back and nodded. He looked around and spotted the nearest stairwell. "You head over to the other side! Let's jam the doors as we go! Keep 'em from sneaking up on us that way!"
"Got it!"
Dean watched Sam take off at an unsteady jog for the other side of the garage and shook his head at the niggle of worry that they'd be separated. He still wasn't over their experience with the Benders, and letting Sam out of his sight for even a minute was going to be hard for a while. "Suck it up and do the damn job, Winchester," Dean berated himself. He rubbed a hand over the healed burn on his shoulder and headed for his own stairs.
Dean yanked the door open against the rush of wind, stepped into the stairs and his ears rang for a few moments once he closed the door and he was out of the wind. "Holy crap." He leaned against the door for a moment and then turned to consider it. He wanted to keep the hobbit trolls from using them but didn't want to cut them off as a means of escape for him and Sam if he could help it.
"Damn," Dean groaned, studying the door. It was a simple door with no latch and no lock. "So much for that idea." He snorted when his phone rang and dug it out of his pocket. He flipped it open and answered. "Yeah, I know. No way to block these damn doors."
Sam's voice echoed out into the stairwell. "I'm not seeing any evidence of the hrugnir in here. Hopefully, they won't bother with the stairs at all."
Dean smirked. "Yeah, when has our luck ever gone that way? Meet you at the bottom." He tucked his phone away and started down the stairs, listening intently for any sign other than the now raging wind outside the stairwell. He stopped at every floor and looked out the window in each door, checking the garage levels for signs of the creatures, but found nothing. When Dean reached the bottom, he pushed on the door to open it and grunted with the strain. The wind was making a good show of holding it closed. "Son... of a bitch!" He forced the door open and stepped out into the false twilight of the storm. Even the fluorescent lights of the garage seemed to have trouble breaking through. Dean squinted and coughed as a particularly harsh gust of wind tore his breath away for a moment. He yelled for his brother and the wind ripped the sound away.
Dean moved down the short ramp and startled when his boots splashed into water. "The hell?" He looked out across the first floor of the garage and saw a steady flow of water being driven inside from the ocean. "So much for trusting the weather guy!" Dean jerked his head up, hearing a voice raised above the noise and saw Sam splashing quickly toward him with his machete out. He went out to meet him and stared in surprise as he realized Sam was being chased. Seven of the hobbit trolls trundled awkwardly after Sam through the water, and Dean grinned as adrenaline flooded through him.
"You alright?" Dean yelled when Sam was a few feet away. He got a quick nod, and Dean drew his own machete as Sam turned at his side to face them.
"They were waiting for me when I came out of the stairs!" Sam gasped and watched the small creatures, no taller than his hips, come toward them. "Got three of them before I came for you! I think I pissed them off!"
Dean ducked to the side when one of the hrugnir threw a short spear at his head and grinned. "You take left!" He strode toward the creatures and swung his machete, easily lopping the head from the first to come near him. A cry went up from the little trolls that echoed even above the roar of the wind.
Sam blinked furiously to clear his vision as water blew into his face in a fine spray, and he felt the water rise up past his feet to his ankles. "Dean! We need to go up!" He kicked one of the hrugnir back before it could stab him in the thigh and cleanly severed the head of another. He started backing toward the ramp up to the next level while Dean dispatched two more of the hrugnir. "Dean!"
"Coming!" Dean danced away from the thrust of another tiny spear. He backed toward his brother and saw more of the hrugnir appear from around a parked van. "Found the sewer entrance! Come on! Come get some!" he shouted at the creatures and turned to run up the ramp to the next level. As he hoped, the creatures roared and followed.
Sam smirked at his brother's obvious glee in the hunt. He scanned the second level of the garage but didn't see any hrugnir; not yet anyway. He turned and faced down the ramp as Dean drew even with him. "You're enjoying this a little too much!"
Dean laughed and then yelped as a gust of wind blew him off balance. Sam's quick reflexes, snatching hold of the shoulder of his jacket, kept him from landing on his ass. He looked out to see and his eyes widened. "That does not look good!"
Sam followed his gaze, taking his eyes off the creatures for just a moment, and felt a thrill of fear. The hurricane was on them, the leading edge of it anyway. The world outside the garage had gone dark as night. Rain whipped sideways in through windows between the bars and pelted his face, feeling like ice crystals. Sam shivered. He couldn't see the ocean anymore. He looked away, back toward his brother and saw one of the hrugnir climbing up at the top of the ramp behind them. "Dean!"
Dean walked forward with the wind pushing at his back to meet the creature before it could find its footing. He grinned and swept his machete down and watched its head roll across the floor of the garage and out of sight under a car. He staggered back a step when four more of the little trolls climbed into view. "Damn! Don't you little bastards have a ring to throw in a volcano somewhere?"
Sam couldn't help but laugh at that. It quickly died as a wave of the dwarf hrugnir ran up the ramp toward them. "Dean! Stop screwin' around!"
"Little... pains... in my... ass!" Dean punctuated each word with a swing of his machete. He caught one of the trolls under his foot, pinning it down while he slammed the point of the machete into its heart. He kicked the body away and turned back to find his brother being surrounded. "Shit!" The seven or eight hurgnir he had expected had turned into somewhere around thirty, and they swarmed up the ramp from the level below inches ahead of the flood waters. "Not good. Not good! Sam! Retreat, dammit!"
"Trying!" Sam shouted above the gale winds screaming into the garage. He was coughing, facing toward the ocean, while water was driven into his eyes and mouth, but he couldn't turn away or the creatures would have his back. He hadn't expected there to be so many. Sam gasped when one of the hrugnir's spears sliced across his right hand. The machete dropped from his fingers to the floor and was blown behind him by the wind. "Shit!" He pulled his gun quickly and fired at the nearest. They were close enough that the bullet did its work, blowing out the back of the hrugnir's head in a puff of red mist, and Sam ducked his head, turning away when the wind blew it at him. It was a mistake. He heard his brother shout for him again, and something hard slammed into his legs from behind.
Sam went forward, expecting to hit hard concrete, but the storm surge was nearly on them and he tumbled into cold water. He managed not to gasp in reaction and choke himself and fought to get his head above the water while a strong current pulled and rolled him away from the ramp.
"Sam!" Dean cut the head from another hrugnir, kicked one away into a support pillar and ran to dive after his brother. Above the swirling wind, Dean heard a strange crackling sound. He raised his eyes from Sam and saw a hobbit staring at him from the water. It's hairy hands were raised and a ball of light glittered between them. Dean opened his mouth in surprise and a second later, the ball of light flew through the air and slammed into his chest.
Dean went to the ground on his knees. He coughed, forced himself back to his feet, and went after Sam again. He didn't have time to worry about what the creature had done to him, not until Sam was safe. He jumped into the water and his head went beneath the surface. He shivered at the cold, and then he hiccuped. Dean startled as the dark water rushed into his mouth and down his throat, and he hiccuped again and started to choke.
Sam caught the edge of the floor with his left arm and pulled his head up out of the water. He gasped in a breath and brought up his right arm, somehow still holding on to his gun. He coughed to clear his throat and looked around for his brother. "Dean?" Sam called and then saw his brother's arms splash out of the water a few feet away from him. Panic blew through him. It was clear Dean was struggling with something. The hrugnir were waiting at the edge of the ramp in the now-shallow water there. Sam scowled. He'd worry about them in a minute. He held on to the floor with his right arm and slapped his left out into the water. The current was bringing Dean toward him. Sam caught a fistful of his brother's jacket before it could drag him under the water, beneath the ceiling of the level below, and pulled him up.
"Dean!" Sam growled aloud with the effort of pulling Dean to the edge and was relieved to hear him begin to cough. Whatever else may be wrong with him, at least he was breathing. Sam heard him hiccup in between coughs and shoved Dean bodily up onto the floor of the second level, pushing his own head back under in the process. He hastily dragged himself back up and rolled through the water onto the floor next to his brother.
Dean was stuck between coughing to clear the water from his lungs and hiccuping to breathe it all back in again. He'd have thanked Sam for saving his ass if he could have caught his breath. He settled for giving him a thumbs-up and then waving toward the creatures that were moving toward them again.
Sam nodded and slapped Dean's back a couple times. "I know!" He turned and took aim at the hrugnir. This time, the roaring wind was at his back and he had no fear of his shots going wild. Sam pulled the trigger again and again and killed nine of the creatures as they rushed him with a chorus of roars. He quickly put up his now empty gun and jerked the back of his brother's jacket up. Sam pulled Dean's gun out and turned back in time to be tackled by two of the creatures. He slid along the water-covered cement until his head banged into the wall. Sam used the gun to punch one of them in the face and shot the second.
"Crap," he groaned. He regained his knees and looked up to watch one of the hrugnir holding a strange, glowing ball of light. His eyes widened fearfully, and Sam quickly shot the creature before it could throw it at him. The light exploded in the dead hrugnir's hands, and instantly the remaining five hrugnir around it burst into a flurry of hiccups. Sam looked over at his still hiccuping brother with new understanding. Sam got to his feet with the help of the low wall at his back. He fired at a hrugnir coming for Dean, but a sudden burst of wind whipping sideways through the garage tore the round off course and it went into the water instead.
"Shit," Sam cursed. He splashed back to his brother, grabbed the creature by the back of the neck with his left hand and shot it in the head. He let the body fall, and then there were four. Sam ducked low against the wind, going to his knees in the water and fought for his balance. One of the four remaining hrugnir launched a spear at him that was ripped away harmlessly. The hurricane roared in a deafening crescendo of noise around them and his head was starting to ring with it.
Sam fired, killing another. He took careful aim and waiting for the wind to shift to his back before he fired again, twice in quick succession, and then he and Dean were alone with a nest of dead hrugnir floating and bleeding in the water.
"Dean!" Sam yelled as he turned to his brother, but the wind stole the sound. He bent instead and got a hand under Dean's shoulder. He pulled his brother to his feet and started for the stairwell nearest to them. The water was rising too quickly for them to go the long way up the garage via the ramps. He only hoped the closed doors on the stairwell would keep them from flooding long enough for them to make it up another couple levels to safety. Sam grunted as wind-driven debris, a piece of roof tile from the looks of it, slapped into his back and decided that relative safety was a better description.
Dean stumbled and held on tightly to Sam under his left arm as they waded to the stairs. He couldn't stop the damn hiccups, and it was making him dizzy... or maybe that was the wind and the damn howling that was beginning to make him deaf. He stumbled and went to his knees on the stairs in reaction to the door closing and all that cacophony being muted suddenly. "Shit... hic... holy... hic... shit."
Sam leaned on the wall over Dean for a moment and caught his breath. As the ringing in his ears slowly began to subside, he heard the sloshing of water. The water that had poured in with them when he'd opened the door was pouring in a fall over the stairs. He leaned over the rail and saw the flood waters barely a few feet down from them and quickly rising. "Damn. Dean, we have to move. Come on!" He pulled his brother to his feet again and couldn't stop the smirk as Dean continued to cuss in between hiccups.
The rising waters followed them up the stairs to the third level, nipping at their heels, and then the fourth where they finally seemed to outpace it. Sam slowed their pace and looked over at Dean. "I think they're slowing," he said, noting the slightly longer pauses between his brother's hiccups.
Dean scowled at him. "Wipe... hic... that smirk... hic... dammit!"
Sam laughed and didn't argue when Dean pulled his arm free and walked on his own. "Yeah, you're breathing better." They reached the eighth floor and Sam looked out the window. The roaring of the hurricane was still deafeningly loud in the garage. Rain was blowing sideways, sometimes swirling, and flashes of objects shone as they were hurled past. "Hope the Impala's ok where we left her."
Dean nodded and sat down on the stairs. "Safer... hic... in here than out there."
"Yeah. And quieter." Sam blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall while he shivered. Like Dean, he was dripping from his swim, but there would be no drying off until the storm passed. He hunched over a little and hissed out a breath, bringing a hand up to his side. "Ow."
"Wha... hic... what?"
Sam shook his head and looked down at himself. There was a hole in his flannel, and he pulled his shirts up to look just as the lights in the stairwell flickered and died. "Dammit."
"Hang on." Dean dug in his pocket, relieved when he found his mag-light still there. He twisted it on and went to Sam, kneeling in front of him. "Let me... hic... look. Up."
Sam pulled his shirts up again and held them out of the way while Dean aimed the flashlight at him. "What is it? Bruise?"
Dean swallowed and shook his head. "Uh... no." One of the hrugnir's little spears had struck home at some point during the fight and had likely broken off when Sam had gone into the water. He could just see the end of the wooden shaft and groaned. "Can't believe you can't... hic... feel this."
"Well, I feel something." Sam reached down and put his fingers to where the pain was. He felt blood, and as he hunched further to try and see in Dean's light, his fingers brushed something hard that sent a shock of pain through him. "What..."
"Whoa. Easy." Dean jerked to his feet and caught his brother's shoulder when Sam swayed. "You need to... hic... sit down. Here." He guided Sam to the stairs and helped him lower carefully down, trying not to jar the spear. Still, Sam winced and grimaced in pain as he settled back against the treads.
"You need a hos... hic... hospital. FUCK these damn hiccups!" Dean yelled in frustration. He rubbed a hand over his face and calmed down for Sam's sake. "How you feelin'?"
Sam's hand hovered over the wound and he swallowed. "Uh, kinda wanna throw up right now." He smirked. "Not bad, considering. Not yet anyway."
Dean turned to the door and looked out the window. The hurricane was still raging. "We need the first aid kit."
"No way." Sam shook his head. "You'd never make it to the car in that. It's ok."
"It's really not." Dean had a better view of the injury than Sam did and knew it was too damn close to some vital areas. He went over and pushed his brother's hand away when Sam tried to touch it again. "Don't, Sammy. Leave it alone. That ain't comin' out until... hic... until you're in a damn ER."
Sam raised his brows and looked at Dean's serious face. "That bad, huh?"
"Well, it's not good." Dean sat on the steps beside him. He propped his flashlight between his knees so that it shone on Sam's side. He wanted to keep an eye on the bleeding. He hiccuped again, which set off a cough and ended with Dean hunched over on the stairs and tossing the Doritos he'd eaten for lunch into the rainwater seeping under the door. "Yech."
Sam watched him worriedly. "That doesn't sound good."
"Dude! I inhaled half the damn... hic... Gulf." Dean coughed and spat to clear his mouth. "At least the damn hiccups are finally leaving."
Sam smiled and chuckled softly. "Far as curses go, gotta say I kind of like that one."
"Shuddup, bitch."
"Jerk." Sam groaned at a sharper stab of pain and curled forward a little, trying to ease it.
"Careful, Sammy. Don't move too much." Dean picked the flashlight back up and took a look. More blood was seeping out around the wound, probably because Sam's body was warming up in the stairwell now that they were out of the rain and wind. "Crap."
Sam clenched his teeth to hold in the wounded sound he knew wanted to escape while he moved. "S'ok," he said, a little breathlessly. "The, uh... the eye should be here soon."
Dean nodded. "Yeah. And won't that be fun." The flooding from the storm surge meant they weren't driving out of there. He'd have to hope there was a rescue helicopter close enough to reach them before the eye passed and the fury of the hurricane was on them again. "I'm gonna call now, ok?" Sam gave him a nod and Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket. It struck him then as he held it up and water dribbled out of the case just how screwed they might really be. "Shit! Sam, where's your phone?"
"Oh, no." Sam pulled his jacket around and fished out his own phone but it was no better than Dean's after their little swim. "Dead."
"Son of a bitch!" Dean threw his phone into the stairwell. It struck the wall and shattered, some of the pieces tumbling down below with a splash. He rushed to the railing and aimed his light down. "Water's higher."
"It's, uh... pressure from the storm. Won't get this high." Sam took shallow breaths, trying to minimize how much his chest was moving. "Probably."
"I have to get the radio." Dean went back to the door and checked the window again. He wasn't sure, but he thought it looked a bit brighter out there than it had before. The rain was still blowing sideways. Dean pushed on the door and it opened slightly, letting a howling sound into the stairwell, but it wasn't as loud as before. "Sam, stay here."
"Dean, not yet," Sam protested but Dean just gave him that fearless grin of his and shoved out the door. "Dammit, Dean."
Dean let the wind slam the door closed behind him, and he yelped as it took his feet out from under him. His boots hydroplaned on the wet concrete and he fell, sliding several feet before he found some traction again. He ducked his head and aimed for the other side of the garage and the Impala. He took shelter behind the support pillars each time he reached one just to catch his breath, cough, and hiccup. He was perhaps twenty feet from the car when a sudden shaft of daylight appeared on the seaward side of the garage. The howling winds slowed dramatically and Dean straightened and stepped out.
"Whoa. That's dramatic." He broke into a run and had his keys out before he reached the car. Dean threw the trunk open. He dragged the small pack containing their first aid kit out and put it over his shoulder and then found the old radio they kept for emergencies just like this. He turned it on and tuned it to the emergency frequency.
"Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. We are civilians trapped in Clearwater." Dean had to stop and cough and clear his throat. "Two civilians, one wounded in need of immediate medical attention." He relayed what he hoped was the address of the parking garage and waited anxiously. Dean closed the trunk and started back across the garage to the stairs before there was a crackle of static and a man's voice responded.
"Message received. A rescue helicopter can be at your location in approximately seven minutes. The eye wall will reach your location in approximately eight and a half. Can you reach the roof for pick up? Over."
"Yeah. I'll get him up there. Just be there. Over." Dean shoved the radio into his back pocket and ran back to the stairwell. He found Sam where he left him, leaning back against the stairs and far paler than he had been when Dean left. "Ok, buddy. We're going up to the roof and they're gonna pick us up. Come on."
Sam looked up in the darkness and handed his brother the flashlight. "You? On a helicopter?" He chuckled and let Dean help him to his feet. "Must... be... be worse than I... crap."
"Take it easy, Sammy." Dean supported his little brother against the railing until Sam got his gasping breaths under control and took more of his weight. "Good news is, only two flights to the top."
"What's... the bad?" Sam panted as they moved up the steps as quickly as possible, though each movement drove a shaft of pain into his side.
"The storm's gonna be on us again a minute and a half after the chopper gets here."
"Awesome," Sam groaned. He braced a hand beside the wound and took a deep breath. "Move... faster."
"Yeah." Dean coughed, muffling the sound in his shoulder and urged Sam even faster up the cement stairs. He figured it had taken them five to climb to the top and Dean leaned Sam against the wall so he could open the door. He put a shoulder to it, gave it a shove and it creaked an inch before stopping. "Aw, what the hell?" He looked through the window, pushing his forehead against the glass to try and look down. "Something's blocking it."
Sam nodded and focused on breathing while his brother reared back and kicked the door. It moved another inch and Sam smirked at Dean's colorful cursing as he gave the door three more kicks before it was finally open enough. Sam picked his head up and listened. "Think... think I hear it."
"Yeah. Let's move." Dean took Sam's shoulder and helped him turn sideways to squeeze through the door. It looked like part of a roof was leaned against it, and Dean kicked it out of the way. He let Sam lean back against the wall and looked out to the ocean. He could see the wall of the hurricane swirling and churning out to sea, but it was coming uncomfortably closer as he watched. Their time was running out.
"Dean." Sam tugged on his brother's sleeve and pointed inland.
Dean looked up and smiled, seeing the old grey military helicopter zooming toward them. He looked up further and stared a little in awe at the clear blue sky above them, ringed by the dark storm walls. "No more hurricanes, dude."
Sam nodded. "Deal."
The helicopter turned in a tight circle around the roof and came in to land with a series of bumps. Dean was already pulling Sam toward it when the side door slid open and a man in a red and white jumpsuit climbed down and ran to them.
"Hey! How bad is he?"
Dean nodded to his brother's left side. "He's got something wood stuck into his chest, just below his heart, I think."
Sam looked over in surprise at that at his brother. "Dean?"
"Don't worry about it, Sam. They're gonna take care of it now." Dean reassured him and glared at the paramedic who quickly got with the program.
"That's right, Sam. We'll have you fixed up in no time. My name's Steve!" Steve yelled as they stepped under the still-spinning rotors. "Now, Sam! I want you to just sit back here and we're gonna pull you up and in, ok? Don't want you moving too much!"
Dean turned Sam and eased his back to the open helicopter door. "You got this, Sammy!" He looked into his brother's now frightened eyes and smiled. "You're gonna be fine!" He was so focused on helping Steve pull his brother into the helicopter and strap him down, so focused on getting in himself and making sure Sam stayed calm, he didn't even have time to really be afraid of flying in the damn thing until they were thirty feet above the parking garage, and the first curse came loud and clear from the cockpit. "What?"
Steve picked up a helmet and handed it to Dean, miming that he needed to put it on.
Dean slid it over his head, pulling the big black headphones down over his ears and blew out a breath in relief as they cancelled some of the noise from the helicopter. "What's he saying?" Dean asked, swinging the little microphone up toward his mouth.
"The eye wall's almost on us." Steve stayed on Sam's left side, leaving Dean to handle his brother on the right. "It's gonna get dicey here in a minute, but don't worry, ok? Frank's a kick-ass pilot. We're gonna be fine!"
"How's the kid?" Frank's voice shouted over the intercom.
Steve turned to look up at his partner. "Losing blood, internal bleeding; probably nicked a lung and maybe something else. He's gonna tank fast if we don't get him in!"
Dean's blood went cold and he grabbed his brother's hand to hold on to him. Sam's eyes were closed and his face pasty and grey in the artificial light inside the helicopter. And thankfully, he couldn't really hear anything being said without a helmet. Dean met Sam's worried gaze when Sam cracked his eyes long enough to look up at him and smiled, trying to tell Sam without words that he was going to be alright. He was going to be alright because Dean wouldn't allow him to be any other damn way.
"Hang on!" Steve shouted and lunged over top of Sam to brace his upper body.
Dean gasped as the helicopter suddenly lurched up and then dropped down. He braced himself between the seat next to him and the stretcher Sam was on, since it was clamped to the cabin floor. "Shit!" The shout set Dean coughing again as winds began to howl behind them, like the storm was trying to catch a lost prize.
The helicopter was suddenly on the ground as Dean blinked his eyes open and realized that there was an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and Steve was bent over him with concern on his face. "What?" Dean ask gruffly and coughed again.
"Hey. Just breathe easy, ok?" Steve leaned back and steadied himself against the helicopter's movements as it taxied inside the hangar. "Frank, tell them we need another stretcher for this guy. His O2 sats suck."
"My what?" Dean scowled and pushed himself up only to be gently pushed back. It struck him then that the howling of the storm sounded muffled. "Where are we?"
"Mercy General." Steve patted Dean's shoulder and leaned back to look down at Sam. "Hurricanes do a lot of damage around here every year, so Mercy had this hangar built about ten years ago." He smirked. "Half the city screamed about the expense just to house a helicopter, and then the first hurricane rolled in and they stopped complaining."
Dean chuckled and frowned at the wet sound he heard in his lungs. "No complaining from me. How's Sammy?"
"He's out." Steve looked over and reached to the door. "Passed out right before you did. He's still holding his own." He rolled the door open and pulled his helmet off and then Dean's."Just stay calm and let us do the work, man. Come on, guys!"
Dean's eyes caught on Sam's face. The harsh lights in the hangar made him look bloodless. Steve had cut Sam's shirts open at some point, and his brother's chest was bare and bloodied with just the end of the broken haft of the spear protruding from under his ribs on the left side. He moved himself to the door, following Sam as they slid his brother out, and then he was grabbed and man-handled onto a gurney of his own. His attempts to argue about the gurney and pull off the mask were ignored, and he was held down and rolled away behind Sam. Dean angrily lunged up, trying to sit and get off the damn thing and another coughing fit overcame him. The last thing he saw was Steve shaking his head with a smile, and he thought he heard the words 'stubborn idiot' before the darkness took him.
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A rhythmic beeping slowly drew Sam out of sleep and into wakefulness. He struggled to open heavy eyes and groaned softly when he felt a painful tug on his left side.
"Sammy?"
Sam blinked his eyes open at last and found his brother sitting beside him, leaning over him. "Dean, what? Where?"
Dean smiled and patted Sam's shoulder. "Mercy Hospital in Clearwater. They yanked that pygmy spear out of your chest and fixed you up."
Sam looked down and saw a mound under the thin sheet covering his chest that he knew would be bandages and then frowned, looking at Dean, really looking at him. Dean was pale with dark circles under his eyes, sweating with two spots of color riding his cheeks, and there was an IV line hanging from his right arm and attached to a standing pole behind him. "What happened to you?"
"Dude, I'm fine." Dean grinned.
Sam snorted. "Right. Then why do you sound like Death's pack-a-day smoking grandma?" He braced a hand over his wounded chest as the laughter made it hurt more. "Oh, and would you mind explaining the whole IV thing while you're at it?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. I am. It's just a little pneumonia."
"A little?" Sam's eyes shot open and he stared at his brother. "How did you get pneumonia?"
"Your brother swallowed quite a bit of sea water during your escapade."
Sam rolled his head over as a man in scrubs and a white jacket entered their room. "Is he alright?"
"He'll be fine." The doctor smiled and came to stand beside the bed.
"Hey! Sitting right here!" Dean threw his arms up at being talked over and about and resisted the urge to slap his the amused smirk off his little brother's face. "It's not even real pneumonia, dude. I'ts walking pneumonia."
"Which, as I've explained several times now, Dean, is no joke." The doctor raised a brow at the man. "Provided you follow the course of antibiotics, do the deep breathing exercises I have repeatedly told you to do, and stop getting out of your own bed."
"He will." Sam turned a weak glare at his brother and sighed when Dean only smirked at him. "Has the hurricane passed yet?"
Dean cleared his throat, looked over the doctor and then back to Sam. "Dude, we've been here for three days."
Sam's eyes went wide with shock. "How did I miss three days?"
"Sam." The doctor put a hand on his shoulder and smiled down at him. "Your wound was fairly serious. It nicked a major artery and very nearly got your heart. You had significant blood loss before we removed the piece of debris that had struck you. And after..."
"They lost you on the table once," Dean said softly and hoped he would someday forget the feeling of his world crashing down around him when he had heard that.
"Only for a minute." The doctor assured Sam. "Your blood pressure dropped too low, but we were able to get you back and stabilize you. As I said, you're going to be fine. Your wound is healing nicely, and your blood pressure is finally where I'd like to see it. It's why we allowed you to wake up."
"They've been keeping you knocked out until now so you wouldn't risk tearing something." Dean pushed the remembered fear away and grinned. "It's been quiet. I kinda liked it."
"Shut up." Sam slapped weakly at his brother's arm. "Jerk."
"Bitch."
The doctor chuckled. "I'll let you two catch each other up, and I'll be back to check on you both later."
Sam watched him leave and then looked at his brother. "Dean, seriously. Am I ok? I mean, I didn't even think it was that bad."
"Not gonna lie, Sammy. It was a little scary there for a while." Dean put a hand out and shoved Sam's ridiculous hair off his forehead with a snort. "You gotta find less stressful ways to get a few days off."
Sam smiled and heard what Dean wasn't saying, that Sam had scared him and Dean had been waiting for him to wake up to finally settle his nerves that Sam wasn't about to die on him. "I'm ok now. You should go to bed. You have a bed right?"
Dean chuckled and hooked a thumb to his left. "Got the next bunk over from yours." He stood and walked slowly back to his own bed. "You snore."
"Do not," Sam argued. He tried to keep his eyes open but they were fighting against him and slowly sagged shut watching Dean turn and sit back on the other bed. "Your face snores."
Dean laughed at the sleepily delivered insult. "Get some sleep, little brother." It comforted him knowing that this time, Sam would only be sleeping, rather than drugged into an artificial coma. He watched Sam's body relax into the bed and Dean turned, easing his own sore and tired body into his bed. He plucked his spare phone up from the little table, flipped it open and dialed their father. He listened to it ring, listened to dad's message to call Dean if there was a problem and left a message.
"No more damn hurricanes, dad. I don't care if Elvis' ghost is knocking over little old ladies on the Miami boardwalk. If there's a hurricane, don't bother sending us coordinates." Dean ended the call, tossed his phone aside and laid back with a sigh. He closed his eyes and chuckled softly. "Friggin' hobbit assholes."
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The End.
Next Chapter: I is for Inebriation
