Missing scene to Devil's Trap. Also has stuff from the Pilot.
Warning: it's really short.
Thanks to Twilightrayne for helping me.
Only proof read by me.
The sky above Jefferson City, Missouri was clear: a blue expanse enveloping the neighbor hood around them; the air, saturated in what seemed to be serenity, held the echoes of laughter as children played. The atmosphere inside the Sunrise apartment complex, however, stood in stark contrast to the mood of the surrounding area: demons dwelled inside, keeping their father prisoner. It was a trap.
Dean watched his brother make his way up the building's steps. Once Sam disappeared behind the apartment's glass doors, Dean sent his eyes over the quaint building, scanning each window with the knowledge that anyone of the rooms inside could be concealing their father against his will.
"You boys really screwed up this time." Having heard Meg's voice on his father's cell had made his skin crawl and his stomach drop to his feet.
"Where is he?" he had bit out, worry and rage coloring his voice.
"You're never gonna see your father again," she had chimed at him.
Dean let out a frustrated breath. Remembering the call sent anger bubbling in his intestines. "You sons-a-bitches gonna wish you never screwed with my family." A piercing shrill cut through the air, silencing his internal seething; sweeping his eyes back to the apartment's glass doors, he watched as his brother moved into the building's entrance hall; locking eyes with each other, Sam nodded at him.
The fire alarm had been pulled.
"We'll pull the fire alarm; get out all of the civilians."
"Okay, but then the city responds in, what? Seven minutes?"
"Seven minutes exactly."
The wail of sirens sounding in the distance muffled out the worried murmurs of the apartment's renters as they hurriedly made their way out of their home, forming crowds near the back of the building. With the screeching of breaks, the fire trucks filled the street in front of the apartments, and once the firefighters began to spill onto the scene, Sam looked at his brother.
"We have to get in there without being noticed."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Dean thought as he rolled his eyes. "Go get my ninja suit," he dead panned.
Sam leveled a glare at his older brother, "I got something better. Distract them."
Legs moving in long strides, Dean made his way through the yellow swarm of firefighters and headed toward the lone firefighter standing in front of one of the fire engines.
"Hey," he called after the firefighter. "What's happening?" he asked, channeling his inner-actor, feigning concern, "Is it a fire?"
"We're figuring that out right now, sir; just stay back."
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean made out the tall form of his little brother lingering around the side of another fire engine; he could make out the glint of lock picks in his brother's hand. Focusing back to the firefighter he continued, "Well, I got a Yorkie upstairs and he pees when he's nervous--."
"Sir," the firefighter cut him off as he pushed his body into Dean's personal space, forcing the hunter to move back toward the crowd of on-lookers, "You have to stay back."
"Sure thing, chuckles," he thought as he watched the firefighter turn to make his way into the complex. "Come on, dude. You got no idea how hard it is to get piss outta carpet," Dean called after the firefighter as he stopped at the edge of the crowd. "The smell lingers," he mumbled as he skirted into the collection of people; looping around the throng of worried families and roommates, he ducked into the mass of fire engines, eyes searching for his little brother.
He didn't have to search long.
The hunched form of his brother at the back of one of the fire engines caught his attention; looking around to make sure they were still covered, he quickly strode over. "Dude," he started as he watched his brother work the lock of the fire engine's compartment with the lock picks, "Hurry up, Sammy; we don't have much time."
A soft, metallic clink sounded as the lock gave way, and the creak of the compartment opening reached Dean's ear just as his brother shoved a helmet and fire jacket into his chest.
"Let's go, Dean."
Rounding a hallway inside the apartment complex, Dean held his EMF out towards each door, searching for a hit to guide them to their father. "Come on, dad. Where the hell are you?" Dean thought after waving the meter against a door and receiving a reading of nothing from the EMF. Worry began to worm in his belly, itching at the base of his stomach; in order to mask the uneasiness threatening to eat away at his insides, he remarked absently, "I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up."
"You never told me that," Sam remarked, somewhat surprised, as he moved in beside Dean as his older brother went to check another door.
At his brother's response, Dean sent a glance toward Sam; looking at his baby brother stuck to his side, his mind traveled back twenty two years.
He was only four at the time, but the memory will forever be etched into his brain, like a wound that will never heal.
A scar that will never fade.
It had been like any other night when he was a child: his mother had tucked him against her warm side and carried him in to see Sam.
Silence had permeated throughout the house until he heard his mother scream; it was one of the worst sounds he had ever heard and he hoped to everything holy that he'd never have to hear a similar sound again.
He hadn't made it all the way to his brother's room, but from the hall he could see the orange glow radiating from the open doorway eating away at the darkness shrouding their house in Lawrence. He could still feel the heat from the fire stinging his eyes and licking at his skin --a burn that will never cool.
Time had moved at double the speed when his father came thundering out of his little brother's room, terrified, and shoved a baby Sammy into his arms.
Locking eyes with him, his father had commanded, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can; don't look back. Now, Dean; go!"
And he hadn't looked back.
The stairs beneath his feet blurred in his vision as he sped to the lower floor and burst out of the front door. His mind had been racing on one track and one track only: Get Sammy out; but as his little feet hit the cool grass in the yard, he'd realized that his father and mother weren't trailing behind him. Turning, he'd looked up to the second floor and settled his gaze on Sam's window and watched the fire whirl and dance inside the room.
"It's okay, Sammy."
He had barely gotten the words out before his father flew off the steps and swept him and his brother into his strong arms, carrying them both off to safety.
The lights of the fire trucks bounced off his and his father's faces as they sat on the hood of the Impala. He could hear the shuffled footsteps of concerned neighbors gathering in front of their house, but he hadn't paid attention to them. Instead, he had glued his eyes to the firefighters scrambling in front of his house; he gazed at the firefighter's shadows cascading across their yard, and he watched as they sent a powerful arch of water crashing into the second story window, defeating the fire that stole his mother from him.
The fire that had tried to steal his baby brother from him.
As his eyes swept from the firefighters to the squirming bundle wrapped in his father's arms, one thing became clear to him: He needed to protect Sammy from the fire.
Blinking, Dean's mind crashed into the present; moving his gaze from his brother's face, he said to himself, "Yeah, and I'll die before I ever tell you why."
The purr of the EMF sent the thought flying from his mind. Locking eyes with his brother, he felt the muscles in his back stiffen as they pulled at his spine, straightening his stance.
"We gotcha, Dad."
Notes: I was planning on posting a story, but this isn't the story I expected to write. For some reason, this idea popped into my head when I was reading a chapter from my Organizational Behavior text book.
Also, sorry if it sucked. I was planning on using the whole week to write a fic, but everything around me kept breaking, including my laptop and glasses (which I need in order to write). Excuses, excuses, right? Oh well. I tried.
I never wrote a story in a day before. It probably shows.
Constructive reviews are welcome.