Title: Into the Flames
Summary: After an argument, Dean goes to a bar alone to grab a drink... Or a number in which he can't remember exactly but is large. He doesn't worry when he sees smoke in the distance or hears the fore sirens drive by. They're not heading for the motel... Right?
Disclaimer: all belongs to Eric Kripke :(( I dont own!
The smoke in the distance kept billowing up into the darkening sky. Dean Winchester downed the last of his beer, paid no attention, and considered getting drunk.
Sirens were starting to go off now. People around the bar were noticing, glancing out the window or at each other, confusion showing on their faces.
Dean ignored it. Just some house on fire in the countryside, he thought as he ordered another Jack Daniels.
Remains of the conversation between him and his brother lingered in his head. It seemed that he could only remember the worst of it...
"Dean, look, I'm sorry..." Sam had pleaded.
"Don't," Dean whispered, angrily chucking his jacket onto the bed. "I'm going out for a drink."
"Enough Sam," Dean snapped, shoving Sam hard enough to knock him on his ass.
"I'll bring them in when I get back."
The conversation hadn't gone as according to plan, but Dean had been pissed. Sam had dozed off during a hunt (what the HELL?) and the ghost had shown up and busted the crap out of both of them.
Dean swallowed half the bottle and groaned, hoping to get drunk so that he could forget the conversation. Without the leather jacket, he felt bare, and instinctively reached around the chair to grab it.
He was met with nothing. Right, he had left it with Sam, at the motel.
"Do you know where the fire is?" Someone asked.
Dean swiveled around in his chair to see two short men talking, perched about two seats away. "Yeah," the other said, "some motel around here."
Dean's breath caught in his throat. Not THEIR motel. Sam was safe, the motel was fine... Right?
He quickly paid the bartender and darted out to his Impala. He grabbed the keys and shakily plugged them into the ignition.
He knew it was a bad idea driving with alcohol in your system, but he needed to get to the motel. Despite the argument with Sam, he was afraid now for his brother.
But the motel was fine. It had to be.
He concentrated on keeping the earth still and the road in a straight line.
Dean could see the flames a block away. He picked up the pace frantically, driving right to the edge of the bright yellow "do not enter" tape.
He hopped out and was hit full-force by a cloud of smoke. Coughing, he pushed himself forward and tried to get a view above the small crowd of people that had gathered around.
The sky was black by now, making the flames that leaped off the motel stand out. Dean searched and spotted their motel room door... Or what was left of it.
The flames had already taken care of the ugly green door. Smoke was billowing out of the two and only windows that the room had offered. There was no sign of any other escape route.
Dean's stomach dropped. No... "Sam!" he shouted as loud as he could, trying to call over the talking firemen. "Sammy!"
Suddenly the door to their used-to-be motel room flew open and a firefighter came out with a tall man draped over his shoulder. Dean stared, mouth open, tears welling up. No!
"He's not breathing!" The fireman called. "Someone give him CPR; there are still people inside!"
Two firemen came over and loomed over the tall body. One gave CPR, the other electrocuted his chest.
Dean pushed past the crowd and ran over. "No!" he cried. "Sammy!"
A police caught him and pulled him back. Dean was too shocked to fight, so he just let himself be held back, wide eyed, as the firefighters tried to bring Sam back to life.
The last fireman ran out with a crying child, who was met by her screaming mother. Dean peered at the firefighters with raw hope. "Bring Sammy back!" he shouted at them.
There was a loud boom, and everyone watched as the flames finally engulfed the whole building, shooting into the sky and lighting up the dark.
The two firemen looming over Sam stopped abruptly. "Calling it," one said, "time of death, 9:54 P.M."
The world froze. Dean's heart leaped into his throat, a feeling of dread washing over his body. Not again, not again, not again...
As the firemen stepped away from the body, Dean wrenched himself free and ignored the police calling out to him, reaching for him, the body...
The body that didn't belong to Sam.
Dean froze. The man lying on the ground, slowly being covered... Wasn't Sam.
Dean looked at the angry police. "Please!" He pleaded. My brother was in that building! Are there any more survivors?"
"If there are," the police sighed, losing some of his previous anger, "they're in the fire trucks. Try not to get in the way."
Dean ran along, hope pushing him forward. Sam had to be in one of these. He would be okay. He had to be okay, because Dean needed to apologize and...
He reached the last truck. Sam wasn't in any of them. "No," he whispered, a couple tears slowly making their way down his face.
He turned to a passing fireman, and asked, "Was there anyone else in that building?"
The fireman looked up, startled. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "There could have been people hiding somewhere, trapped, unconscious, sleeping people that we didn't reach." He shrugged apologetically.
Dean paled and slowly made his way back. The officer, upon seeing him, looked down and sighed. "Sorry, kid."
Dean didn't respond. Sam, his Sammy, gone... To a stupid motel fire.
The crowd grew silent as people ran out to find their families and friends in the ambulances. Dean looked back as a woman scooped up a two year old covered in smoke, sobbing and telling him it was okay...
Dean swallowed and slowly began his journey back to the Impala when a soft noise stopped him. He sat for a couple of seconds, straining to hear it again.
There. There it was again. Sobbing, coming from the trees. Someone was back there crying. Weeping, even.
Dean slowly made his way over. It was most likely some kid, afraid of what had happened. Dean planned on taking the kid to the fire fighters, not wanting anyone else to have to feel the loss that he felt.
He froze when he saw a tall figure curled around something, about 10 feet away, sobbing like his heart was being torn to bits. What looked like a jacket was being squeezed in large hands, clutched to the guy's chest like it was the best thing he'd ever had.
Only Dean could see the jacket. It was his leather jacket.
That could only mean one thing, right?
"Sam?" he called out, softly at first, then more positive, "Sammy?"
Sam sniffled and looked up, wide eyes shining in the pale light. "Dean?" he stood up quickly, almost dropping the jacket. "Um look, I'm sorry, I..."
He was cut off short when Dean rushed forward and threw his arms around him. Without realizing it, Dean began sobbing, hugging his little brother close, burying his face into his little brother's shoulder.
It smelled strongly of smoke, but there was a faint smell there, the smell of the cologne Sam always wore for whatever reason. Dean sniffled and sobbed again, crying as the relief washed over him; his brother was alive, not dead in the fire.
Shocked, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and began crying softly too, hugging Dean close and squeezing the leather jacket tightly in his fist.
Once they had maintained some control over their tears, they looked at each other. "Why were you crying?" Dean demanded.
"I, uh, I was thinking about our argument and I thought you weren't coming back," Sam shrugged. "Some guy knocked on my door and told me to get out because of the fire. I remembered seeing you walk into the building, but never walking out, and they wouldn't let me go in..." Sam trailed off, slowly sitting down on the rock he had been previously on.
Dean slowly crouched next to him. "I said I was going out for a drink," he whispered.
"I know," Sam said, rubbing his forehead. "But I saw you walk in and not back out, and no one came out with you and I just... I thought.." he choked and looked away.
Dean looked down. "I thought you were gone too," he admitted sadly. "I showed up around the time that the last survivors were being brought out. One guy looked like you, and they brought him out of our motel room. They called his time of death." Dean closed his eyes and let out another shaky breath, close to breaking again.
Sam swallowed and stood up. "Let's get out of here," he whispered and helped his brother to his feet.
Dean couldn't agree more.
The motel they stopped at next was a couple towns over. The room was just like the last, only the design was different and it wasn't a pile of ash at the moment.
Dean refrained from turning the TV on for a few minutes in fear that the victims of the fire would be listed on the news.
"Here," Sam held out the leather jacket before climbing into his own bed. "It's yours, and... Yeah."
Dean peered at the jacket. The image of Sam, sitting on the rock, clutching the jacket to his chest and sobbing swam in his head. "Keep it for tonight," he said.
And as Sam made his way back to the other bed, he called, "And sleep over here tonight."
Sam looked at him with wide eyes, but didn't argue and slipped into bed next to Dean, shutting out the light as he did so.
For a few minutes, they lay near each other in silence. Then, Dean dared to speak out. "I'm sorry for yelling at you."
Sam swallowed. "Sorry for scaring you," he whispered back. "And for zoning out on the hunt."
Dean decided not to push Sam into telling him why he had zoned out. Instead, he stroked a hand through Sam's hair. "Next time, stay near the police and firemen," he whispered.
Sam scooted over so he was pressed againsed Dean's side, crying softly, wrapping
an arm around his older brother, the other clutching the jacket to his chest.
Dean didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Sam again, holding him. "I'm okay Sammy," he whispered. "It's gonna be okay."
Both of them fell asleep that night, feeling a little bit more reassured.
Hope it's not too sappy… I was just bored this morning and decided I wanted to see a brotherly moment LOL
Thanks for reading! :)