-SEVEN-

Sam's law school interview went surprisingly well. Well, surprisingly to him. Everyone else knew he'd ace it, which of course, he did. Jess not only aced her test, but she made the highest grade in her class. Put both of those together, and the only natural thing to do was celebrate. And celebrate they did, so much so that Melinda missed her classes on Tuesday. Since all four were more than a little hungover, no one bothered to pay attention to the date.

But they should have.

On November 2, exactly twenty-two years to the day that their mother died, Dean woke with a start. Melinda was cuddled up next to him, her face in his chest, and she let out a quiet moan when she felt him move.

"Did you hear that?"
"Hmm?"

Dean heard it again. He wasn't sure, but it sounded an awful lot like Sam. He was calling out for Dean, but he sounded so far away. What was drowning him out? It sounded like a roar, something Dean recognized, but… He just couldn't place it. He pushed the covers off of him and Melinda rolled, allowing him to stand. He walked to the door, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He went to open Melinda's door.

"Son of a bitch!"

Melinda sat up, wearing Dean's t-shirt, which was about 4 sizes too big for her. Dean was shaking his hand out, putting his other flat against the door. Melinda's eyes grew wide.

"Do you smell that?"

He sniffed, and Melinda climbed out of the bed. She walked over, laying a hand on the wall beside the door, pulling back when she felt the heat.

"Dean, I think the apartment's on fire."

He was breathing hard, and he did the only thing he could think of right then. He yelled for his brother. Melinda screamed Jess' name, but the only thing they could hear was the roar of the fire outside the door. Dean reached for the doorknob again, but Melinda grabbed his hand.

"Dean, we—we've got to get out of here!"

He looked around behind them, turning to pull the blanket off the bed and shoving it at the bottom of the door. It was a little late for that, since the room was quickly filling up with smoke. Melinda was coughing, and her eyes were burning, tears sliding down her cheeks. Dean was coughing just as badly, and his hand was burned, from the melting doorknob he'd grabbed. He went to the window as Melinda laid her hands on the door, backing up when she felt the heat that seemed to pour through the wood. Dean wrapped Melinda's jacket around his arm and hit the window as hard as he could, breaking the glass. He stuck his head out, taking in a deep breath, coughing until he gagged, doing his best to breathe the fresh air. He looked down. They were on the second floor, about ten feet from the ground, but they had no other choice.

"Mel, come here."

She coughed as she walked over to him, and he pushed her head out the window. She sucked in a breath, gagging like Dean had, but breathing clearly for a moment.

"We've got to jump, Mel."
"What?"
"We don't have a choice. The fire's right out the door. This is our only chance."

She shook her head, looking down.

"Dean, I—I can't."
"Yes, you can. You have to."

She looked behind her, able to see the orange flames eating through the wall. Dean hoisted himself up, sliding his legs out through the window.

"I'm going to go, and you jump to me, okay? I'll catch you, Mel. I promise."

Dean jumped, and Melinda heard him groan and call something a "son of a bitch" as he landed on the ground. She noticed sirens screaming around them, and she started breathing hard. The door splintered then, flying open as the fire engulfed it. Melinda swallowed, turning to hoist herself onto the window, letting out a gasp of pain. She closed her eyes, holding onto the windowsill.

"Come on! Mel, jump, baby!"

She looked down, seeing Dean below her, with his arms up. She screamed when the window above her shattered, as fire licked at her and glass came raining down, and she pushed off from the sill. She felt a snap as she landed, before she and Dean fell to the ground, with him holding her to his chest.

"Are you okay? Mel. Mel, look at me. Are you okay?"

Melinda brought her eyes to Dean's, and he sighed.

"You okay? Are you hurt?"

She looked over, feeling like she was moving in slow motion.

"Oh, son of a bitch. Mel."

Her right arm was covered in blood, and a piece of glass was sticking out, just above her elbow. Dean tried to pull her closer, but she gasped. He touched her again as she sucked in a breath, then pushed the too-big shirt up, seeing the angry red of the skin of her back, where the fire had gotten too close.

"Goddamn it."
"I think … I think my ankle is broken."

Dean looked down, barely having heard her quiet voice, letting out a sigh before looking back to her face.

"No. No, no, Melinda. Hey. Don't you dare pass out on me. We've got to find Sam and Jess. Come on, kid."

Melinda was pale, her pupils dilated so that only a thin ring of blue was visible. Her arm was pouring blood, and Dean knew that he'd have to wait on finding Sam. Melinda needed help, and she needed it right then. He gathered her in his arms and stood up, moving as quickly as he could away from the building as more windows blew, as glass rained down, shards sticking in Dean's bare back.

"Hang on, babe. Just hold on for me."

Melinda had her arm around his neck, while the one with the glass in it hung down by her side. Her head was next to his, lolling backwards until she would catch it, trying her best to hold on to consciousness. Dean rounded the corner of the building, stopping when he saw the crowd that had gathered, along with three fire trucks and as many ambulances. He scoped out the nearest one and walked over to it.

"Hey, my … She needs help."

He laid Melinda on a stretcher, and she moaned as her back touched the bed. She tried to move to her right side, but that was where the glass was embedded in her arm. The burns were on her left side, where her broken ankle also was. The paramedic glanced over to his partner.

"She needs to go."

The other medic nodded, before walking over and laying a hand on Dean's bare shoulder.

"You should come with us, too. Those cuts look nasty, and your hand needs some attention."

Dean glanced down, just then realizing how badly his hand actually hurt. He tried to make a fist and let out a shaky breath as he shook his head.

"No, I—I need to find my brother. He was on the second floor with us."

Dean coughed, so badly that he doubled over, but he allowed the medic to lead him over to sit on the back of the ambulance. An oxygen mask was slipped over his nose and mouth, and he looked over to see an identical one on Melinda's face. She was staring at him, wide eyes scared and so very close to losing consciousness. She reached her left hand for him, and he took it. She said something, but it was muffled from the oxygen mask. Dean moved his from his face, keeping hold of her hand.

"What? Mel, what did you say?"

He walked over, into the ambulance, reaching to move her mask from her mouth. Melinda coughed, looking up to him.

"Please don't leave me."

Dean's heart broke, both for Melinda and his brother. He didn't know if Sam was okay, and he knew he wouldn't be okay until he knew for sure. Sam was his responsibility; he was supposed to look out for him and take care of him. But right then, Dean just couldn't leave Melinda alone. He didn't want her to ever be left alone again. He knelt down, moving the mask back on her face and running his hand through her hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mel. I'm right here."

She nodded, and Dean coughed, moving the mask back on his face. He glanced to the paramedic, who was waiting with an expectant look on his face. Dean nodded, and the back doors were shut. The ambulance started up and Dean looked over, noticing how blood had seeped through the bandage they had wrapped around Melinda's arm.

"Hold on, Mel. Hang on for me."

She tried, but as the ambulance pulled away from the building, her hand went limp in Dean's. He shot a look to the medic, who made him lay on the stretcher, on his stomach so as not to push the shards of glass further into his back. Dean felt a prick in his arm as the medic slid an IV in. He felt foggy all of a sudden, and he took in a deep breath of the clean oxygen in his mask, and that was all he knew.

"Dean? Can you hear me?"

Dean let out a groan. Damn, but his back hurt. He'd wrenched it or something, not to mention the pain in his knee and the absolute ache of ... what was that, his hand?

"Come on, you asshole. Open your eyes."

Now that was a wake-up he was used to. He opened his eyes slowly, coming to consciousness to realize that he was on his stomach, gripping a pillow under his head.

"There we go. Hey there, Sleeping Beauty."

Dean looked over, seeing Sam let out a breath. He was dirty, his face smeared with what Dean could only guess was soot. He looked tired, but he smiled at his brother.

"You look like hell."

Sam laughed, trailing off into a cough. Dean's voice sounded as though he had swallowed sandpaper. When Sam could breathe again, he brought tear-filled eyes back to Dean, exhaling slowly.

"You scared me, man."
"I'm right here, Sammy."

Sam nodded, sniffing, ignoring the single tear that rolled down his face. Dean ignored it too, shifting in the bed, letting out a groan.

"What the hell happened? My back is fucking killing me."

Sam sighed.

"There was a fire."

Dean stopped, letting that sink in for a moment before he nodded.

"I remember. I thought I heard you calling me."
"I was. Jess was dragging me out the door, and I was screaming for you."

Dean tried to sit up, sagging back down with a groan.

"Mel. Sammy, what happened to Mel? Is she okay?"

Sam let out a long breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. Dean started to get up again, but Sam gently pushed him down.

"Dean, take it easy. Don't make me go get the nurse."

Dean lay down, looking over to Sam.

"Mel's in surgery right now. The glass in her arm cut an artery, which is why she was bleeding so badly. They're trying to save it now, and set her ankle, and she has to have a debridement or something on her back."
"But she's … She's okay?"

Sam nodded.

"They think she'll be fine."

Dean nodded, letting out a long breath.

"And Jess?"
"She's fine. Calling her mom and dad, letting them know about everything."

Sam coughed again, enough to grip the side of Dean's bed.

"Sammy, you should get that checked out."
"I'm fine, Dean."
"Oh, yeah. You sound just fine, coughing up a lung like that."

Sam sighed.

"It's just a little smoke inhalation."
"Oh, Dr. Winchester. When did you get your medical degree?"
"I'm getting the nurse, see if she can give you some more of whatever it was that knocked your ass out."

Dean rolled his eyes, gripping his pillow again. A nap didn't really sound all that bad, to tell the truth. He let his eyes drift close, knowing that Sam was right there, that he wouldn't be going anywhere. And sure enough, the last thing Dean heard before he drifted off was Sam's deep voice.

"I'm right here, Dean. I'll be here when you wake up."

The next day, Dean was going a bit stir-crazy. The doctors were almost ready to let him start putting pressure on his back, which was good, because Dean could only stare at the wall for so long before he wanted to put his fist through it. Melinda hadn't woken up from surgery yet, which they said was nothing out of the ordinary. Her body had been through a lot, and mixed in with the anesthesia, she could be out for still a while longer. The Moores arrived that afternoon, saying hello to Sam, meeting Dean, and whisking Jessica off to sit with Melinda. Dean hadn't been to see her yet, wouldn't be able to go at all until maybe tomorrow, and that wasn't sitting well with him one bit. Right before visiting hours ended that night, when Dean was just beginning to lay on his back for the first time, he heard a familiar, gruff voice.

"Can't let you out of my sight for a damn minute before you're getting caught up in something like this."

Dean smiled as he looked over to the door.

"Bobby."

Bobby Singer, surrogate uncle and father figure, walked into Dean's room. He went to the bed, taking the hand Dean lifted for him and squeezing it.

"How the hell are you, Bobby?"
"I think I'm supposed to be asking you that, son."

Dean smiled and Bobby took a seat, moving the chair closer to Dean's bed.

"Where's your brother?"
"With his girl."

Bobby nodded, leaning back in his chair.

"How are you feeling, Dean?"

Dean smiled.

"My back is aching. It stings, like a million little bees buzzing over it. My knee is throbbing like a son of a bitch. And my hand … I think I melted off my fingerprints."

He held up his hand, wrapped in gauze and looking, to quote Jess, like a polar bear paw, and Bobby shook his head.

"Thank God you got out of there."

Dean nodded, and Bobby cleared his throat.

"You call your dad?"

Dean smiled as he looked over to the chair.

"Now, Bobby. Why in the hell would I do something like that?"
"Dean…"
"No. John's busy. I'll call him when I get out of here."
"Son, this is all over the news. I called Sam right when I saw, after you didn't answer your damn phone."

They let out matching sighs, until Dean spoke softly.

"If it's all over the news, I bet he already knows. And look around."

Bobby hung his head.

"You're here. He can't even pick up the goddamned phone."
"Maybe he's just—"
"Yeah, I know. Busy. He's been busy for the past twenty-two years."

Bobby sighed again, and Dean shifted in the bed, wincing.

"Damn it. Now I've gotten used to lying on my stomach. This feels weird."
"Maybe because you had a window's worth of glass embedded in your flesh?"

Dean sighed and Bobby smiled as Sam stepped into the room. Bobby stood up, walking to stand in front of Sam.

"Damn it, boy. You got tall."

Sam smiled, leaning over to wrap Bobby in a hug.

"Good to see you, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby smiled, slapping Sam on the back. Dean snorted from the bed.

"Well, aren't you ladies sweet?"
"Shut up, Dean."

Dean laughed at the twin voices speaking at once, groaning when the movement brought forth that ache in his chest. He still had oxygen in his nose, because Dean's smoke inhalation, as little as it had been, had turned out to be a bad case. Almost as bad as Sam's, who was still short of breath, but refused to be put in a bed. He had agreed to regular breathing treatments to clean out his lungs, in between bouts of coughing that seemed to rise up from his toes. He spent every night in Dean's room, with an oxygen mask on his face. He waited until he thought Dean was asleep before he'd let the nurse put the mask on him, and Dean just let him, not saying a word. Dean glanced over, seeing Sam and Bobby talking low by the door.

"Hey, how's Melinda?"

Sam stopped whatever he was saying to Bobby, looking over to the bed. He took in a breath before he stepped closer to Dean, sliding his hands in his pockets.

"She's not doing so hot, Dean."
"What?"

Dean felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"Sam, what are you talking about?"

Sam walked over to the bed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. That was a Winchester "I've got bad news I don't know how to tell you about" move if he'd ever seen one. Dean swallowed, and Bobby inched closer to the boys. Sam sighed.

"She had some kind of reaction to either the medicine they gave her or the anesthesia from the surgery. Her, uh … Her heart stopped earlier. But she's—she's okay. They brought her back. She still hasn't woken up, and they won't know if she's got any brain damage or how bad it is until she wakes up."

Dean closed his eyes, laying his head back on the pillow. What the hell had happened? More importantly, why was it, three days after he met the girl, Dean felt like his entire world was falling apart since she wasn't all right? He kept his eyes closed until he was sure he wouldn't cry, something else he didn't understand, then looked up to Sam.

"She's going to be okay."

It wasn't a question, but Sam wasn't sure if Dean had meant it to be, or if he'd said it to reassure himself. Sam sighed, going on.

"Dean, she … By the time they figured out what was going on… By the time her heart had stopped, she'd stopped breathing. They're not sure how long, but she went without oxygen for at least three minutes."
"Oh, damn it."

Dean looked over to Bobby, who ran a hand over his face. Bobby knew a little bit about a whole lot of things, and he'd imparted a great deal of his wisdom to both Sam and Dean. Dean knew a little more, after the time he had spent with Bobby when Sam went off to school. He often liked to tell people, "I know a little bit about a lot of things, just enough to make me dangerous." Girls ate that up. Sam sighed and went on.

"She's on a ventilator right now, up in ICU."

Okay, now that was bad. Dean knew how bad that could turn out to be, and he felt his heart speed up. He was breathing hard, trying and failing to fill his lungs with oxygen. Goddamn it, how could this happen again? He squeezed his eyes shut. Not Mel. Not her. Not now, when he'd just found her. He didn't even know her. He needed time with her; they needed more time together.

"Dean, hey. I know it's hard, but try and calm down."

Dean noticed then how the heavy beating of his heart had increased the beeping on that damn monitor and he tried to let out a breath. After a few seconds, Dean looked up, green eyes determined.

"She'll be fine."

Sam sighed, but he nodded. Dean repeated himself, though whether to drive his point home to Sam or to convince himself, he wasn't sure.

"She'll be fine."

Fires and these Winchester boys... Hell of a coincidence, right? Well, if you're anything like me, you don't believe in coincidences, and in this case, you'd be right. What do I mean, you ask? Stay tuned to find out. ;)