Title: The Bathroom
Author: Black Wingedbird
Language, basic spoilers, standard dis
The prompt- "Well how am I supposed to go to the bathroom?"
The players- Carikube and myself.
The rules- between 1000 and 1500 words
Jessica Simpson had just taken off her shirt when the bed began to shake. Dean grumbled and buried his cheek into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. "Sammy… to old to sleep with me."
He almost returned to the dream when the shaking started again. Jessica and her big breasts vanished and all that was left was the blackness behind his eyelids. "Dammit, Sam," he growled, kicking out with his leg. "Get off!"
From somewhere behind him, Sam yelled, "Dean!"
Instantly, Dean was up. The motel room was dark, and it was trembling. "What the fuck?"
"It's an earthquake," Sam said as he stumbled to his feet. "Come on, we have to stand in a doorway or something!"
Dean realized his bed was jumping across the room. The courtesy phone fell off the desk and hit the carpet with a clang. The lamp fell next, the lightbulb popping and shattering on the thin carpet.
Reflexes pulled him from the mattress. He tried to follow Sam's shadow, stumbling over the shaky floor. He crashed into Sam's bed, which was now in the center of the room, then pushed off it and made his way to where Sam was standing in the bathroom doorway. Plaster dripped from the ceiling, dusting his head and shoulders.
"What do we do now?" Dean asked, pressing his spine against the doorframe. He and Sam were facing each other, standing toe to toe in the narrow space.
Sam looked scared. "I don't know," he said, wincing as the bathroom mirror fell onto the counter, breaking into large, jagged shards.
The fire alarm went off then, its deafening wail pounding against Dean's ear drums. A red emergency light illuminated the front door, flashing. Through the paper-thin walls, he could hear the neighbors screaming.
"You know," Dean shouted, watching as Sam cringed at their crumbling surroundings, "I know 5 different ways to take out ghosts, I can kill a vamp with one hand tied behind my back, and I can dig 7 graves in one night. But this?" One end of the curtain rod fell, piercing the air conditioning unit below it. White sparks splashed to the floor. Dean looked at Sam. "I gotta admit, I'm a little freaked out right now."
Sam stared at him, his eyes twin black spots. "Yeah. Me too."
Suddenly a horrible groan came from the bathroom. The toilet lid was jumping up and down against the seat, the handle jiggling against the tank. The groaning continued, low and metallic, like the sound of something bad about to happen.
Everything went still. The fire alarm wailed.
Sam looked at him. "Is it over?"
Water exploded up from the toilet seat. A continuous stream beat against the ceiling, splashing against the opaque shower curtain, the shards of broken mirror, the grey tile floor. The musical sound of rain underlay the two-tone fire alarm.
They stared at the impressive geyser.
Dean shifted against the doorjamb. "Well how am I supposed to go to the bathroom?"
Sam stared at him incredulously. "We just survived a major earthquake and all you care about is taking a leak?"
"Did I say I had to take a leak?"
Sam turned away, his voice barely audible over the alarm. "You are so disgusting."
Dean frowned as water crept toward his shoe. A massive puddle covered the bathroom floor, spreading quickly. "Can we get out of here now?"
"Yeah." Sam led the way, picking a path through the broken glass and misplaced beds and overturned dresser. The air conditioning spit sparks every few seconds. The air smelt of smoke. As they neared the door, the wailing grew louder, forcing the brothers to cover their ears. With one hand, Sam reached out and grabbed the doorknob. He turned and pulled, but the door stayed closed. He pulled again, harder, with both hands, to no avail.
Dean stepped forward. "Problem?" he yelled, wincing as he glanced up at the fire alarm.
"It won't open!" Sam yelled back. His eyebrows lowered in concern and he yanked on the door again.
"Get out of the way," Dean muttered, shoving Sam aside. He tested the door himself and found it really and truly stuck. "This bitch is coming down," he said as he backed up.
Dean launched a well-placed kick but yelped when he was met with solid resistance. Sam caught him before he toppled over, steadying him with both hands. Dean brushed him away and stood on his other foot, one hand on the door for balance.
"It won't open," he yelled half-heartedly. Fuck that hurt. Was his ankle broken?
The air conditioning unit lit up from within as another shower of sparks spilled over the drapes and carpet. A small flame took hold on a fold of the curtain, flickering and stretching along the dark green material.
"We gotta get outta here," Dean yelled, plucking at Sam's t-shirt as he moved toward an overturned chair.
Dean grabbed the chair and turned toward the room's only window, which was situated above the air conditioning unit. The fire was growing, snaking its way up the fallen curtains as it fed off the oxygen in the air. Sparks continued to spill to the floor, and behind them, the water was creeping through the bathroom doorway. Once the water hit the electricity, they would be toast.
Dean heaved the chair at the window. It spider-webbed and shattered upon impact, raining down upon the curtain, the air conditioner, and the carpet. The shards of glass sparkled with reflections of the fire as a gust of cool air rushed inside.
The fire roared greedily.
"Sam, come on!" Dean yelled as he threw up a hand to block the wave of heat. He started towards the fire.
One glance behind him showed that Sam had not moved.
"What are you doing? This is our only way out!" The fire alarm seemed to grow louder in reaction to the growing danger. The water slowly spread toward Sam's bed. "Come on!"
But Sam remained frozen, staring at the fire as a deer stares into a car's blinding headlights.
Dean looked back to the fire and found himself in a dorm room, then in a gentle house in Lawrence. Fire filled his vision. At the center was Mom, Jess. Death. He knew why Sam wouldn't- couldn't move. It was fear, and it gripped so tightly that it crushed the breath from his lungs.
A burst of sparks cascaded to the carpet and bounced across the carpet. A gentle breeze rushed in to feed the growing fire. Fuck fear; fear was intangible, something that existed only in your head. They had been scared before. They would be scared again.
Dean grabbed Sam's shirt and yanked him forward. "Go, Sam! Now!"
Sam threw his arms out to the sides and planted his feet. "I can't," he said, the words just barely audible over the wailing Dean would never forget. "Dean, I can't."
"You have to. I'm not leaving you in here."
"No, Dean. No. Please… I can't. Please don't make me…"
Dean paused and stared at the fire, his gaze joining Sam's. It raged in vivid orange flames, wavering and dancing hypnotically, dancing in the window frame between the brothers and freedom. Taunting. Daring.
"You'll be fine, Sam," Dean said, leaning in to talk in Sam's ear. His hand rested on Sam's shoulder. "Trust me, okay? This isn't the same fire. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Nobody's dying here tonight."
The water was half way under the bed now, inching forward as more sparks spilled.
And the fire alarm wailed.
"It's okay, you'll be okay." Dean nudged Sam forward, one hand on his shoulder and one on his elbow. Guiding. Pushing through the paralysis that gripped his brother, the deep-rooted fear that iced his heart. Dean hated asking this of Sam, hated having to force him like this, face to face with that which scared Sam the most. But their lives depended on it. "You can do this. Come on."
Sam moved. They were as close at they could be to the air conditioner and Dean could feel the searing heat, smell the musty, thick smoke. "When I say, I want you to run, got it? Jump through the window as fast as you can and don't look back. Ready?"
Sam looked at him, naked fear shining slick and black in his eyes. His face trembled.
And Sam nodded.
"Now, Sam, go!" Dean shoved Sam forward and Sam went, his large frame bending and liquid as he leapt onto the air conditioner and hurled himself straight through the wall of flames, disappearing into the darkness on the other side.
Without a second thought, Dean charged forward, his foot slamming down on the thin metal panel, separating the flames. He heaved himself up and through the window, feeling the fire's sharp bite as he passed through it, then the cold, black night engulfed him.
And the fire alarm wailed.