Disclaimer: I don't have time to think of a cool way to say no.
A/N: Wow, do I cut things down to the very last possible minute. My internet is going to be cut off in about half an hour. Haha... and finally I got this thing ready to post. I was going to post it last night, but had to practice for my theatre performance today, and was just really tired. But anyways-- I do have it done, and-- sadness --this is going to be my last one shot for a while. I'll try and earn some money up to buy another month of internet, but until then you'll have to live with my 60-someodd stories on here. I'm going to continue writing though, so when I do have it back, ya all will have something new to read. See ya, I'll miss you all, and continue to read, review and enjoy!!
Title: How To Save a Life
Genre: in the end, it's just an excuse for some angst and fluff
Summary: Left alone to scout a place out, Sam becomes the victim of a deadly routine. All Dean has to do is save him.
How To Save a Life
Dean pressed down harder on the accelerator as he saw smoke pillowing up in the distance. He cursed himself once more for leaving the scouting job for Sam, and gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned a contrasting white. Mentally the hunter went over everything from the past few hours.
"Heads you scout, tails I do," Dean grab a coin from his pocket and threw it up.
Sam grabbed it from midair, "I'm already the heads."
Dean smirked, "Which is why I would have said that it was heads either ways. You know what you're looking for?"
Sam took a deep breath as he shuffled briefly through the papers in his hands, "Well the house has supposedly burnt down to the ground eight times, but it always comes back… so I'm guessing a fire demon?"
"Probably," Dean agreed taking a sip of his coffee, "It's killed half a dozen people, so don't go inside."
"I know," Sam frowned, "But I just don't get it. Fire demons; they're nasty things that don't care who they kill. There's had to be dozens of people that have gone in and out of this house. Why only kill six?"
"It's picky?" Dean shrugged, "I don't know, and I don't care. The only thing that matters is that we get rid of the house somehow; fire demons are usually attached to specific objects, so if we get rid of the house, we get rid of the demon."
Sam was still weary on the theory, but figured he could get more information when he got there, "And what are you going to do while I'm checking the place out?"
"Check out the records of the people it killed," Dean placed a twenty dollar bill on the table, "Now come on, I want to try and get this over with before dark."
The drive to the house took almost an hour and a half at Dean's generous speed, and the brother's quickly found the place to be inconspicuous and out of the way. A long winding dirt road lead through a thicket to the house that was two stories tall. It was an old building made of mostly wood and a large brick fire place running up the left side. A porch which was half collapsed in beckoned daring, stupid teens, and Dean was willing to make a bet that the people which had been killed in the place were just that.
"So this place has supposedly burnt to ground how many times?" Dean got out of the car and stared at the sturdy looking place.
"Eight times," Sam glanced down at the paper and then up at the house, "Each time the fire is called in by someone who sees the smoke, or who gets close enough to actually see the fire. But by the time authorities get here, it looks like this," he looked back down at the paper in his hand, "And six of the times they've found a dead body inside burnt to a crisp."
"No place like home," Dean muttered, opening the trunk, "Alright, so take the EMF and a couple of other things. Scout around here and see what you can find but like I said, don't go inside until we figure out what the hell we're dealing with."
"Yeah," Sam grabbed a book bag and a shotgun, "I'll call you if I find anything."
"Same here," Dean got back into the Impala and called out a quick 'be careful' before speeding out.
The next two hours went by uneventfully. Dean found a town a half hour away and set to work on looking up the victims which had been killed in the fire; not surprisingly they were all between the ages of fifteen and twenty-three. Dean was just about to phone Sam up when his phone rang in his hand.
"Sam, what do you got?" Dean asked right away.
"Dean!" the background noise was loud, but Sam's voice still rung through, "Dean, the place is on fire!"
"What?!" Dean jumped up from his seat in a library, causing numerous people to look over, "What do you mean?"
"I mean flames Dean," Sam barked back, "Huge hot flames coming out of the damn house."
"Get away Sam!" Dean ordered as he bee-lined for his car, "Start going down the road leading away from the place!"
A loud scream could be heard in the background and Dean felt his blood run cold. He paused outside his car listening for any other sounds.
"Sammy, say something," Dean ordered out.
"Dean there's someone in there," Sam's voice sounded scared, "I gotta help him!"
"Sam no!" Dean's body moved in fast forward then as he got inside the Impala and started it up, "Don't go in Sam!"
"Someone is in there!" Sam emphasized, "Dean, I have to save them! I can't let them die!"
"God…" Dean muttered slamming his foot on the gas peddle, "Sammy, no, don't--!"
Another loud scream echoed even louder followed by a click and a disconnection tone. Dean tried at least a dozen times to get a hold of Sam after that, though each time was immediately sent to voice mail. That didn't stop the Winchester from speeding the whole way there.
"Please Sam," Dean now pulled the car into the long driveway.
He wasn't sure what he was hoping for. Sam to be standing outside the house staring dumbly at it? Maybe the house really wasn't on fire? Maybe Sam had got the person safely outside of the house and they were now waiting for an ambulance? Either case, Dean just wanted his brother to be safe.
"Oh no," Dean slammed on the breaks as he saw the house completely engulfed in flames and no sign of Sam anywhere.
As if in a trance, Dean got out of the car, and could instantly feel the heat coming from the burning building. The quickly setting sun was offset miraculously by the bright orange flames licking into the sky.
"Sammy!" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs over the roar of the fire, "Sam, answer me!"
No answer came, and Dean stared wide-eyed at the burning place. Going on nothing more than brother instinct, and the need to keep Sam safe, Dean immediately grabbed a blanket and shotgun from the trunk of the car, and bolted into the house. The fire, thankfully, was contained to the second floor, and Dean prayed that wasn't where Sam was.
"Sam!" Dean shouted again, "Sammy!"
"…Dean…" the distant voice caused Dean's blood to run cold.
Squinting through the smoke, Dean turned to his left where the voice had come from, and rushed through a door. There, barely conscious, Sam half laid on the ground.
The image of a man standing overtop him.
Immediately Dean dropped the blanket and pointed the gun at the spirit, "Let him go."
Sam coughed loudly from the smoke, and Dean could see fire licking down from the burning second floor. The spirit studied Dean for a moment before speaking.
"What do you want?"
Dean was momentarily stunned by this question, "What do you mean what do I want?! I want you to let my brother go!"
"You're saving him?" the spirit seemed confused and Dean had to lower his gun to cover his face from the thickening smoke.
"Yes, please," Dean begged, a cough wracking through his body.
Without warning the image of the man disappeared, and Sam's body slumped to the ground.
"Sammy!" Dean cried out once again grabbing the blanket and rushing to his brother.
Without wasting time he threw the blanket it over Sam and helped pull him to his feet. Sam remained limp and speechless as Dean carried most of his weight through the room and to the front of the house. The fire shot down on the brothers, and Dean attempted to further cover Sam up with the blanket as he burst through the front door and into the cool evening air.
"Sammy," Dean gasped as he slowly lowered his brother to the ground, "Sam…"
A small amount of relief swept through Dean as Sam didn't go flat to the ground, but instead stuck his arms out to stop the fall. Dean kneeled down in front of him and waited for a moment as his brother's wheezing breath became more clear.
"Sammy," Dean lifted Sam's head to look at him, "Are you alright?"
A loud cough came from Sam as he nodded his head.
"Can you talk?" Dean questioned seriously.
"I'm ok," Sam whispered out staring up at Dean, "You?"
Again Dean let out another breath he never even realized he was holding, "I'll be ok as long as you are."
Sam went more comfortably on the ground, letting the cool air wash through his lungs, "It was all a trick Dean."
Dean followed his brother's movements to the ground, and placed a sturdy hand on Sam's arm, "What do you mean?"
"It was never a demon," Sam spoke carefully as he looked at the still burning building, "It was a spirit. It lured me into the burning house, and I'm willing to bet that's what he did with the other six people."
"Why would it do that though?" Dean questioned.
Sam shook his head, "I don't know."
"Wait a second," Dean looked down at Sam, "Are you alright for a minute Sammy?"
Wordlessly Sam nodded, and Dean got up and ran to the car. His hands still shaking from the adrenaline, Dean yanked open the back door and grabbed the pile of papers that he had on each of the victims. Shifting through them, he met back with Sam on the cool evening grass.
"Ah ha," Dean triumphantly pulled out one of the papers and handed it to Sam, "This one here."
Sam took hold of the paper and glanced down at it, "Charlie Lark?"
"The first victim," Dean spoke what he'd memorized, "I was going to look more into it because it was a little weird; he died six years before the other victims who all died within a three year span. He was also the only victim that had a thorough history of the accident."
A smiled came to Sam's face, "So you're thinking he was the original person to die here. He's the spirit?"
"Bingo," Dean glanced once again up at the burning building, "But why the hell did he just let you go?"
"I think I know why," Sam looked up from the paper, "It says here that he was with three other people. They weren't sure how the fire started, but Charlie was trapped inside, shouting to his friends to save him. No one did."
"They just left the guy to burn?" Dean's eyes widened slightly.
"'We were just too scared to run into the house,' one teen said, 'Charlie was screaming for help, but we were all too scared.'," Sam quoted the article, "So I guess… he just kept recreating his death, and when you saved me… you did what no one else would."
Dean smiled, "I wasn't just going to let you die Sammy."
"Thanks," Sam whispered.
"Yeah," Dean pulled back a sniffle, "Well we know who's doing this, so we'll figure out where the guy was buried and take care of it in the morning."
Sam nodded, noting that the man had died from smoke inhalation, and not directly from the fire, so there'd still be a body to burn. Dean got to his feet then, lowering his hand to help Sam to his feet.
"You sure you're alright?" Dean questioned looking at his brother's red eyes and soot covered face.
"I'm ok," Sam insisted.
"Good," Dean gruffly responded as he worked his way back to the car.
Sam's hand grabbed Dean's arm before he could get to far, "And thanks Dean… really."
Dean just nodded in return, not trusting his voice as he made his was again back to the Impala. What Sam didn't seem to understand was that there wasn't nothing he wouldn't do to save Sam's life.
The End.