Author: Mirrordance
Title: Open, Shut
Summary: A street prophet foresees a deadly goes to the only people who would believe him:the Winchesters and Bobby 's an open and shut case except the only solution is-how do you empty a town of four thousand people? Post-Family Remains.
Hey guys!
Thank you so much for the generous reviews (more expansive commentary on your commentary later; I thought you might appreciate the quick post more at this point, haha), and thanks as well to those who took the time to read/alert/favorite Open, Shut. Here's another chapter for all you guys, and I hope I keep you engaged all the way until we reach the end of this 7-part story. As always, c&c's are very much welcome, I hope you get excited enough to join me until the next post, and without further ado, Chapter 4: Countdown!
" " "
Open, Shut
" " "
4: Countdown
" " "
A scant few minutes after a photo of Dean Winchester, taken alongside that day's newspaper, was faxed to the feds, they promised the Mayor of Finn's Canyon an investigative team and a bomb squad within the next half hour. FEMA had also been called in as well as the National Guard on standby for evacuation, pending what the FBI found out.
Dean gleefully listened in on the phone conversations of Mayor Keys from his hard-backed seat in the office. He was untied but being stalwartly guarded by the aging secretary and her pepper-spray, by the ancient vice-Mayor and his cane, and the two skinny female college-age assistants of the politicians. They were relieved by the arrival of the town's chief of police - a gruff man by the name of Rosetti - and two other cops, Garcia and his younger partner, Jennings.
"Do not ask him questions, just make sure he doesn't do anything," Keys commanded the uniformed officers, "The feds want first crack at him, don't want the interrogation all-muddled by too many damn cooks in the pot."
"All right by me," Rosetti said, though he looked mildly annoyed by having federal agents going over his head on a local case, "But wouldn't they want us to make sure he's not just some whackjob talking crap?"
"He gave us very specific information on the operations of our plant," the Mayor said tersely, "Our emergency practices, how large a disaster could be. He gave us hospital patients' names, names of students, names of our children. Mr. Winchester is at the very least a credible threat in terms of the information that he has and is therefore capable of using against us. That is aside from the fact that even if he did nothing in this town but stayed still and breathed, he was wanted for unimaginable crimes until he was presumed dead. Frankly speaking, I hope to god he's insane and spurting lies, and that there is no truth to this bomb destroying our town. Pray he's lying, Rosetti."
" " "
The Impala sped out of town, trailed by a ridiculous matte pink monstrosity and a shameless dark gray Viper, just as the sound of a helicopter whirred over their heads and headed inward, the first of many to come. Within hours, the town would be overrun by even more new entrants; trucks, humvees, buses, people in long, disciplined lines.
Dean had promised them the pro's, after all.
" " "
"I'm going to tear him apart," were the first words from Sam's mouth when he woke on the passenger seat of the rumbling Impala.
"Easy," Bobby said, laying a calming hand over the other hunter's chest, "You know where you are?"
"I'd know the feel of this car in my dreams," Sam grunted as he winced and straightened.
"You know why you're here?"
"Bastard Wei got conned into something by my stupid brother," Sam said darkly, "That's all I can guess."
"How'd you figure that?" Bobby asked.
"Dean never would have left the car," Sam replied, "Unless he's up to something big."
Bobby set his jaws and nodded.
"Turn this thing around and start talking," Sam commanded.
"I can't do that, Sam," Bobby said, "Dean figured that the five of us weren't gonna be able to do this evac job on our own. Idjit walked into the Mayor's office, claimed he rigged a bomb to go off. The big boys are headed to town now to empty her out."
Sam growled and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Heard on the radio that they're holding him in a cell downtown," Bobby said, "Feds are on their way to grill him, bomb squads are on their way to search the city, the National Guard and FEMA's on board to empty the place, and we got cops looking for us as accomplices. We can't go back."
"So, what?" Sam snapped, "We're just supposed to leave him there? Problem solved, town emptied, too bad about Dean?"
"You know we won't do that," Bobby snapped back, "You know I won't, all right?"
"You were willing to salt and burn him once before," Sam said, under his breath, "Write him off for dead and gone."
Bobby's eyes narrowed in simmering anger that he kept in check. There were scars here, and he knew better than to bite. He let the silence run, and it was Sam himself who closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I didn't mean that," Sam said quietly, "You've always had our back, Bobby and I'm s-"
"This caught me unawares too," Bobby told him calmly, glossing over the unprovoked attack, "We won't be far. We just need a spot, Sam, somewhere we can figure out what to do next. We're no good to anyone in this town – or to Dean – behind bars alongside him."
"We'll figure this out," Sam said with a gulp, "We have the whole of today and 'til sundown tomorrow before this town is wiped off the map. We'll figure this out."
" " "
Paul Reade drove Bobby Singer's car and led them to an old property, an abandoned hunting cabin standing on top of a small mountain just off a dirt road near the town's boundaries. It was in deplorable, near-decaying condition, long-emptied. But it overlooked Finn's Canyon, the view making it the perfect spot for the hunters to deliberate their options.
"Used to go up here on the weekend," Reade said as he opened the door, kicking up a cloud of dust. Sam was surprised the scarred wood didn't come off in his hand, "Wife number two said the view made her feel like a queen. She had grand ideas, that one. Too bad about the attempted-murder thing."
Sam went straight for the cracked, floor-to-ceiling glass windows that lined an entire side of the living room. They could see the town from here perfectly, could see the church spires and the few low buildings, the large pesticide plant dwarfing everything around it.
The roads were filled with cars and buses, people just moving out of Finn's Canyon in a steady, organized stream.
"Local news says the Mayor advised people of the situation in case they wanted to leave," Wei said, cautiously standing next to Sam. "Obviously a lot of people are headed out, but a good number are staying until the Mayor makes the evacuation mandatory. She won't do anything that decisive until the bomb squad declares something official. The feds should be sitting with your brother soon."
"They're holding him in a cell downtown, you said?" Sam asked.
"What are you thinking, Sam?" Bobby asked.
"The way I see it," Sam replied, "We're done here. The people in this town are going to get out. I just have to focus on getting my brother back."
" " "
They kept him in the deepest recesses of the police station; a small, gray cell in the basement, ill-used and drab as hell. It had a small window near the ceiling, about as wide as a buttcrack, but at least it let in some of the late afternoon sunlight. A federal agent was looking in on him, and if Sam were here, it would've been like that demon-town ambush not too long ago...
That was a shitty time, Dean reflected, knowing that somehow, this current situation was much better. At least he wasn't dealing with demons. At least the people of this town were safe. At least Sam wasn't here...
He remembered all too easily, that feeling of deep and profound helplessness. Hopelessness... Sam next to him, the two of them about to go to jail and him still slated to go to hell not too long after that. And then hours later, the two of them like sitting ducks waiting for a demonic ambush. He made jokes because that was all he had left of his arsenal to protect his younger brother.
"I knew Victor," the FBI agent told him. He had been introduced to Dean earlier as Van Gerbaud or some such thing.
So did I, Dean thought, with one more damn pang of guilt in his already-plagued heart. The late FBI man had been a goddamn thorn in his side almost all the way up to the moment he died, but Henriksen was a good cop and turned out to be a pretty decent guy. He was focused, dedicated and incorruptible. They both fought evil to the death, except from different ends that could not help but collide. But he was a good ally in the end.
"He died making your arrest," Van Gerbaud said, "He was a good man, and he was like a mentor to me."
Dean's brow just quirked as his mind debated on whether or not he should bait the bastard. It would've been like second nature to him, but Henriksen was as sore a topic as it could possibly get, and he wasn't in the mood to talk more about the dead agent whose death was on his conscience.
"Up to now," Van Gerbaud went on with a glint in his eye, "No one knows what to make of that gas explosion. Accidents happen, whatever. But I'm looking at you and you're looking damn-fucking good for a twice-dead man. What did you do, huh? Killed everyone there, blew the place up to cover your tracks?"
"You would think that," Dean said, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, "But you don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you're a murderer," Van Gerbaud declared, "I know my friend is dead. I know you must have had something to do with it."
"Shouldn't we be talking about something else?" Dean asked tersely, "Like where I put the bomb that's gonna floor this town, for one."
"I should be asking you the same thing," Van Gerbaud pointed out, "For a man threatening to blow this place to kingdom come, you aren't making any demands, aren't complaining about your treatment, aren't... doing much of anything, really."
"You want me to ask for things?" Dean sneered.
"I want to understand you," Van Gerbaud answered, "I want you to fall into a comprehensible pattern, to be moved by incentives. No one ever could get you boys, back at the bureau. Why the hell would you do that, why the hell would you go there, why the hell do we get calls from earnest, normal people left and right saying we're wrong and that you're a nice guy?"
Dean's brows rose, "You get calls like that? So I'm kinda like Dillinger? Or Robin Hood?"
"Or Manson?" Van Gerbaud countered, "And how the hell can you escape from everything that's supposed to have killed you? They had a damned body with your face on it, that first time."
Dean just shrugged, "Sometimes I ask myself the same thing."
"What do you want, Winchester?" Van Gerbaud asked, "What the hell do you want, and where the hell is that goddamn bomb?"
"You have a dirty mouth," Dean pointed out before asking, "You emptying out this town?"
"You know we are."
"Good," Dean said, "No need for anyone to get hurt. 'Cos the shit is coming down."
"What are you planning?" Van Gerbaud asked.
"This place blows tomorrow night," Dean said, "Make sure you get your men out too."
"We'll find that bomb," Van Gerbaud guaranteed him, "Or I'll beat you to half your life and find out myself."
"You can try," Dean laughed, humorlessly. It was amazing how far an empty threat could go. Those bomb squad boys could go on looking forever, "You won't find it, and I can't tell you where it is. Just make sure you and your boys get out."
"Who are you working with?" Van Gerbaud asked, "Is that what you're saying? That you don't know where it is? That someone else does because you've split the work--"
"Anyone ever tell you that feds overthink things?" Dean asked, "Like I'm in some well-organized terrorist splinter cell or something. Ever thought that maybe I'm just off my rocker and wanna break things?"
"I don't know what to think about you," Van Gerbaud admitted.
"Well lemme make one thing clear," Dean said, "You want to know what I want. I want this town empty – including you and your men."
"Which includes getting you out too, right?" Van Gerbaud said as he turned to walk away, "Tell you what, tough guy. Why don't you sweat it out here a little bit. Think about that bomb going off while you're still here. Maybe that'll inspire you to tell me where it is. Because I can promise you right now – the only time I'll get you out of here is when you start talking. If not, then that bomb can blow, and you along with it."
" " "
The Impala's radio was blasting out local news from where they parked her outside the dilapidated cabin. It was one of the hunters' few sources of information, apart from looking over the view with high-powered telescopes, and a rigged truck radio that picked up the frequency of local law enforcement.
"They're keeping him at the police station," Wei said after listening in, "They think he'll be more pressured to tell them where the bomb is if they keep him in the place where he himself is in danger."
"He's guarded by cops and feds," Reade blanched, "How are you planning on going through all that?"
"Assuming we can even get back into town," Bobby said, "They're not allowing non-official vehicles inside. We can fake the credentials, but there's a checkpoint and they're probably on the look-out for us."
Sam stared out the glass windows. The moon hung in the clear skies, almost full. The sun had set almost an hour before, and they officially had 24 hours before the plant explosion that would floor the town to nothingness. Finn's Canyon was almost empty since most people had left on their own, but there still remained a few stubborn residents, the Mayor's office, the cops, the feds, and the emergency workers.
"Why couldn't he have just called in the threat?" Sam muttered to himself in frustration.
"A phone threat wouldn't have given the situation the same magnitude," Bobby told him quietly. "One of the reasons why these guys are acting the way they are, is because your brother is... who they think he is."
"Dean Winchester," Sam seethed at the injustice, "The damned felon."
"Sam--"
"I know," the younger hunter sighed, "Not the time, not the place. Things are just... so unfair sometimes, that it just..." his words died down. All hunters had their own story to tell, but sometimes he felt that the Winchesters were carrying more than their fair share of heartbreak. He thought about the mother he never knew, the father he didn't understand, the brother he couldn't protect.
I have to be here, Dean had said.
There's gotta be something that wipes the slate clean, Dean had gone on, Otherwise... otherwise it's just on me...
3,650... Sam thought spitefully, 3-fucking-6-goddamn-50...
So now that they'd saved most of the 4,000 idiots from Finn's Canyon, did that mean everything's settled? That they're fine? That things would go back to the way they were? He should have killed this delusion right off the bat, except he wanted so badly to believe that something could fix Dean too.
I'll give you a number, Sam thought to his brother angrily, One. I only got one brother. We both know what I became when you were gone. One. One. That's all that counts. I would have let this town burn if I could save you. All I need to save is you, and everything else I can fix or live with from there.
One.
"Trek in," Sam murmured thoughtfully, "At daylight, down the side of the mountain, and then sneak in on foot."
Reade's eyes widened, "Down the side of the fricking mountain where my house sits overlooking the city? That's a pretty damn high and long trek."
Sam shrugged, "I'm not unfamiliar with navigating in the outdoors."
"I am!" Reade said, "When I told you this was my hunting cabin, it's just a fancy term for a house on a mountain. I don't... hunt. Or trek. Or anything else that involves strenuous physical activity."
"I don't care," Sam snapped, "I'm going, and besides... you probably shouldn't anyway. I can't..." he hesitated, "I'm going back there on the very real threat of being arrested and jailed for life, not to mention I could die. I can't ask that from anybody else. It's my fight 'cos it's my idiot brother on the line."
"You know I'm already going, right?" Bobby asked, "You know nothing you say can change my mind, right?"
"I'm going too," Wei said.
"No one's--" Sam argued.
"No," Wei cut him off, "No, you won't do this alone. I have a feeling Winchesters will find this hard to figure out, but it's a bitter pill you have to swallow. Hunters help people. That's what we do. But sometimes, we're victims too."
"Victims," Sam said skeptically.
"Everyday we put our lives on the line for people we don't know," Wei said, "Some of them worth the sacrifice, many... not so much. On the other hand, my life for another hunter's... it doesn't get anymore worth it than that."
"Well...you don't get to go," Sam said to Reade tightly, not quite sure if he should say 'thank you' to Wei.
"Now that everyone's going," Reade actually pouted, "I want to."
"You're a civilian!" Sam pointed out, not liking the feeling of the situation spiraling out of his control, of how everyone was disregarding the things he was saying.
"As a matter of fact if anyone should stay back," Reade countered, "It should be you!"
"Reade..." Sam threatened.
"You know how Sam dies?" Reade looked to Bobby, "In my vision, he gets buried alive. Rocks and wood and soil and dirt raining down. You know what you find trekking down a mountain? Rocks and wood and soil and dirt. As sure as I am that Finn's Canyon is gonna burn, I am sure that if you go down the side of that mountain you'd have walked into your grave."
"Sam, he's right," Bobby said, "Maybe you should sit this one out."
"I'm not afraid of dying."
"Well you'd better be," Bobby snapped, "You Winchesters are a bunch of drama queens. The one thing you boys are afraid of is living alone; dying is nothing. But that's not courageous, Sam, it's your one selfishness. Well suck it up, kid, 'cos someone has to draw the line somewhere. You wanna save your brother? Then buck up your courage, stay here and live."
"I can't just--"
"You can," Bobby insisted, "You can, all right? Do you trust me?"
"I can't—"
"Sam!" Bobby barked, "We'll get him back, I promise."
"And what am I supposed to do?" Sam whispered, eyes searching.
"In your vision," Bobby asked Reade, "How does Dean die?"
"I just see his throat cut open," Reade replied shakily, "And black stuff coming from his mouth. That's all I know."
"Could be shrapnel from the blast finding his jugular," Bobby shook his head, "People did say you boys were cursed. Could also be poisoning from the toxins in the air... it could be a lot of things. Either way Sam, we need to get ready to take him in. Get whatever medical kits we have together, we're gonna need it. Reade, you stay with Sam and keep him clear of anything that remotely looks like what you saw in your dream." He turned to Wei, "As soon as we have any sort of daylight, we're headed out."
" " "
"Would it kill you to bring me a snack?" Dean said in the quiet emptiness of his basement prison cell. He smirked to himself, appreciating the private joke because... that was all he could do, really. He was on his back on the cot, counting cracks on the wall, which was the most exciting activity there until Van Gerbaud decided to come back again to grill him, or the plant exploded and knocked him out of his misery.
He drifted to sleep sometime during the eternal night, something he both dreaded and did not expect. He was so unprepared for it that he only knew he had fallen asleep when he jerked awake breathlessly, on the tail-end of a nightmare he did not want to remember.
"I was going to wake you," Van Gerbaud's voice broke the silence, from where he stood inside the prison cell just by the door, watching Dean, "But you seemed appropriately tortured in there."
Dean grimaced as he sat up, embarrassed.
"Henriksen had a theory about your childhood abuse and molestation," Van Gerbaud said, "Crying in your sleep, shouting 'no,' whimpering like a little girl... that sounds about right."
Dean stared at him for a long moment. They had bigger problems, but the slander of his father was always something that could rile him up.
"Well if you're whining like a bitch," Dean said with an acidic grin, "I guess this means you still haven't found my bomb. Maybe you should get the telescope out of your ass and look harder."
"You know I keep forgetting if the United States is a signatory in the CAT," Van Gerbaud stated.
Dean snorted, "When has that ever stopped anybody."
"So you may consider this a warning," Van Gerbaud said darkly, "There are very, very few places I won't go in order to do my job, Winchester. By the time I'm done with you, you won't just be telling me where you hid the damn thing, you'll be singing it to me."
"Maybe there's no bomb," Dean dared him, "And I'm here just because I get off on inconvenience."
"You haven't been inconvenienced yet," Van Gerbaud promised.
"Is starving me part of it?" Dean asked, "'Cos I haven't even eaten lunch yet."
" " "
He was a quivering mass of anxious energy, standing there and practically bouncing from a profound inability to stay still and calm down.
The cabin was gently lit, what with the sun not yet completely rearing her mighty head over the horizon. The poor lighting gave Sam a hallowed look, all shadows and fears.
"GetimbackBobby," he said, breath between words eliminated by anxiety. He sounded so much like a kid that Bobby almost could have slipped the 'uncle' in there that he hasn't heard in awhile.
Bobby was going to say a properly qualified 'I'll do my best,' but those things never worked with Winchesters. If he didn't make that promise, Sam would go after Dean himself.
"I'll get him back," Bobby said in a maybe-lie. He hoped it wasn't. He would move heaven and earth to make it true. He looked to wide-eyed Reade, "Keep him here. Knock him out if you have to."
"People keep saying that," Wei commented, remembering that Dean had said the same thing of his apparently bullheaded brother.
"You ready?" Bobby asked him.
"Right behind you, Singer."
" " "
They didn't talk much, going down the side of the mountain. It was steep, and though they had the foliage and gear to use as handholds, the activity required concentration. The two hunters expected a few hours on the trail before reaching the edge of town. They estimated they would reach the police station by early afternoon, which would give them enough time to bust Dean out and get the hell out of Finn's Canyon by stealing a car.
"It's a good thing, what you're doing," Bobby grunted as he moved around a tree, "Risking yourself for these boys. Job's done, you coulda just walked away."
"I hate this damn hunt," Wei swatted a thin branch away from his face spitefully, "It confuses things. This town supposedly dies a natural death, right? If anything, what we're doing is jarring the proper order of things by saving them."
"You learn something from every hunt," Bobby shrugged, "What we do is seldom in black and white, and we're lucky if we stumble into a job that's straightforward. This time around... well I'm sure you've figured that not everything supernatural is evil."
"I don't mind that," Wei said, "I just hate this feeling that we're all alone. We're trying to help people, right, and now here we are: busting someone like Dean Winchester out of jail."
"The brothers impressed you?" Bobby asked.
"I don't understand them, I guess," Wei said, "'Impressed' is too strong a word."
"Fair enough," Bobby chuckled, "I'd have used 'overwhelmed', 'confused', 'baffled', and the like. Sometimes I wonder how I keep getting into messes with this family."
"Technically," Wei pointed out, "You got them into this mess."
"Hm," Bobby winced, "You know what I mean."
"I heard all sorts of shit about their family here and there," Wei said, "Devil deals and angels, ridiculous things. Someone's dead and then they just turn up again. Some job no one would touch, they'd get into. Some job no one could do, they'd finish. Dancing with the feds, making friends with vampires... crazy shit. I bet you know what the real deal is."
Bobby just shrugged, "You wouldn't believe any of the real things, it's crazier than fiction. And I ain't telling anyway."
"I wasn't looking to be told," Wei clarified, "But that's neither here nor there. Like I said – hunters are victims sometimes too. Who'll guard the guardians, right?"
" " "
"How are we doing, Bobby?" Sam asked over the phone, hours later when the sun was high up in the sky, past high noon.
"As scheduled, Sam," replied the other hunter, "We're still in the wood, but that's not unexpected. We'll get to the station in a couple of hours. Heard anything on the news?"
"They're still grilling him there," Sam answered grimly, "And they're still chasing their tails looking for that bomb. The Mayor also just declared evacuation mandatory for the civilians in case they don't find it by the time it's set to explode tonight."
"Good," Bobby said, "Less and less to worry ab--"
It started with a sound, a low, humming grumble that came from the very belly of the earth. Or maybe it was God's rumbling laughter, because the situation was so ironic that maybe He had a sense of humor after all. The sound was followed by a tremble, and the tinkle of glass windows as they shook in response to a world that quaked.
"Aw, shit!" Reade exclaimed from beside Sam as the dilapidated cabin started to almost-rock around them. Left to right, the battered wooden structure swayed, dust raining over their heads.
"This place isn't going to hold," Sam said tightly, the back of his mind turning unhealthily toward the question of how many deaths could he possibly escape? He'd survived a fire, a car wreck, a stab wound, this damned everyday life, and maybe 'death by living burial' could come not only from rocks and soil and dust after all...
He gripped Reade by the shoulders and pushed him toward the door.
They ran as the house collapsed around them, dodged and jumped over fallen wood beams.
Sam watched Reade's back as he broke into the bright noon, bursting out the door.
It was so damn near that he almost tasted escape, felt the cool breeze of the outside world on his face. Breath rushed out of his body and it was the only part of him that escaped the wreckage when the first beam hit his back and sent him falling face-first to the floor.
"Sam!" Reade exclaimed, whipping around and eyes widening in profound horror as the house started to collapse all around the fallen hunter.
Sam couldn't help it; he knew it was useless, but he reached out for help.
The only thing I could see after that was your hand, Reade had said of his vision of Sam's death, It was bloodied and grimy, and it jerks like, twice, thrice, something like that.
Then it just stops.
" " "
"Earthquake!" Wei bellowed, grabbing a branch to keep his footing as the world swayed.
"Ya think?" Bobby snapped, slipping his mobile back into his pocket. He had lost the signal with Sam, but he and Wei had bigger problems. The ground shook beneath them, making them scramble for a tighter foothold. The looser soil was crumbling beneath their feet, and as surely as their footing was insecure, it was certain that the land higher up the mountain, the area that they had passed through, was just as shaky.
Bobby looked down at his boots, sinking in the shaking soil, getting buried by the dirt as it slid down to where they were.
"What do we do?" Wei questioned, eyes wide.
"Well, we don't get to die," Bobby yelled out, gruffly, "There must be decent shelter here somewhere."
"What do we do, what do we do?" Wei repeated, alarmed, eyes roving around.
"We gotta do better than just standing here," Bobby replied, grabbing the other hunter's arm, "Come on!"
In their best running form, the two hunters went down the mountain, dodging trees, stumbling over loose soil and getting back up, jumping over rocks, ducking... it was like one of those old-school Japanese game shows that Dean and Sam liked watching when they were kids.
"Bobby!" Wei yelled, pulling the older hunter to a halt, "I think I see something!"
"What?" Singer asked, breathlessly.
Wei didn't bother answering, he just changed their trajectory and ran toward a jutting, rocky part of the mountain. He jumped off the cliff-like rock and landed in a squat about five feet down. He waved Bobby over, and the older hunter doing the same thing. Wei lifted Bobby to his feet and pulled him into the shade that the jutting rock provided.
They sheltered themselves in the cave-like structure as more rocks and soil rained down from above. It was hard to tell when the earthquake ended and when the landslide started; both shook the earth, the rumble from her heart drowning out any other sound and robbing the hunters of their thoughts. They watched as the world turned dark around them, soil and rock and wood blocking their only entrance.
" " "
"God himself," Dean echoed Paul Reade's words in a pensive murmur, as he looked up at the dimming ray of afternoon light seeping through his cell's pathetic excuse for a window. The world was shaking, and though his captors and guards have gone underneath desks and tables, in fact any shelter they could find, he just sat on his cot and wondered how he was going to get out of this one alive.
So, freaky earthquake jars something loose in the plant, Dean surmised. There's probably gonna be some sort of gas leak – that's why the air smelled funny and the animals were getting out of the place even before the plant blew up in Reade's vision.
That meant he must still have a few hours before the explosion. That meant he still had a shot at saving himself and the feds who were still in town... Which was a grossly optimistic estimation of his situation, really, given that he was presently behind bars.
"Hey, Van Gerbaud!" Dean called out to the FBI agent who was cowering beneath a desk with another FBI officer, "How's the cuddling down there?"
"Shut up and get under something, Winchester!" Van Gerbaud snapped.
"Personally I like being on top," Dean snickered, "But I respect your choices."
"Shut up and--"
"Hey, listen," Dean said more earnestly, rising from his seat and holding at the cell bars, "Man, we gotta--"
"After the fucking earthquake you psycho!" yelled another FBI officer.
"Fair enough," Dean muttered, sighing. If they only knew this was the least of their problems...
When everything finally stilled, the agents were still beneath the desks, expecting some form of aftershock.
"Hey," Dean called to Van Gerbaud in the silence, "I gotta talk to you."
Van Gerbaud warily stepped out from under the desk and moved to stand in front of Dean.
"What are the odds of a terrorist bomber," Dean began, "And a shit-ass nasty earthquake, vying for attention in the middle-of-nowhere on the same day? Slim to none, right? Or this is one cursed fucking town?"
Van Gerbaud frowned, "What are you getting at?"
Dean smirked at him, "Did Henriksen ever tell you about my new age, occult, supernatural preoccupations?"
"What about them?"
"Would you believe me," Dean asked, "If I told you there's no bomb in Finn's Canyon? A street prophet told me this town's pesticide plant is about to blow and that the explosion would kill everyone in it if I didn't get them out."
Van Gerbaud snorted, "No, I wouldn't believe you."
"The thing about making believers out of people in my line of work," Dean said thoughtfully, "Is that sometimes you have to make them see things for themselves, and at that point it could be too late to do anything about it. When this plant blows with us both here, you won't even have the luxury of thinking you were wrong. And worse... I won't get the luxury of saying 'I told you so.'"
"Even if that happens," Van Gerbaud pointed out, "Maybe that's only because that's where you put the bomb."
"True," Dean conceded, "But you've checked that place, right? In and out?"
"It was the most viable target in town," Van Gerbaud shrugged, "Yes."
"And came up empty," Dean said.
"Maybe you hid it too well."
"For the feds?" Dean scoffed, "Little old me?"
Van Gerbaud stared at him for a long moment with narrowed eyes.
"There's something wrong with that plant," Dean guaranteed him, "We have to get out of here."
"You're staying here until you tell me--"
"Leave me the fuck behind if you have to," Dean snapped, "But for god's sake, get out. Or get your men out. Just... just get the hell out. By sunset, you have to be out of here."
"'Cos you're saving my life, right?" Van Gerbaud said dryly.
"This is going to be like, the second-biggest-I-told-you-so-ever," Dean muttered to himself before answering, "Yes. God knows why, but yeah, you can say that. The thing with visions is that they aren't very specific. The most that I know is that the explosion happens at night, so you want to clear out of here before sunset."
"Of course," Van Gerbaud said, mock-gravely.
"The earthquake probably jarred something at the plant," Dean ignored the commentary, "So I'm thinking the air should smell funky soon, probably some sort of leak. And then she'll blow shortly after. And the animals! Watch it when the animals start acting weird, like they wanna get out, like they know something is--"
"You really are out of your damn mind," Van Gerbaud marveled, "There's really no need for the act, Winchester. Your insanity-defense is pretty solid by now."
"You're gonna kill anyone who's left here," Dean snapped, "I know it sounds crazy, all right? I'm not a fucking idiot. But what would it hurt, huh? Leave me here, take me with you, whatever, just as long as you get your people out. What would it hurt?"
"So you're not an idiot," Van Gerbaud said flatly, "Then think about this one – I leave you here and you might get away."
"From behind bars?" Dean barked out a surprised, disarmed laugh, "You flatter me."
Van Gerbaud just shrugged, "We had a positively identified ID of your body years ago, Winchester. Someone gets away from death and you gotta pay closer attention. In short, I am not leaving you here."
"Then take me with you," Dean said simply.
"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Van Gerbaud said, "Take you away from the danger? Come now. I'm going to keep you here until you tell me where that bomb is, or we can all explode along with it."
To be continued...