Nightshift 42: Ames Street
[from here; fast-forwarding past that thread with permission]
[ Inside Residence #3 ]
The problem with busting down a door instead of picking the lock was that the door wouldn't close properly after. When you were trying to barricade yourself inside from a horde of the living dead, not having a door that could close was a bit of an issue.
As were the very breakable windows. Sam didn't even know if the things outside were smart enough to deliberately smash the windows, but with enough pounding, glass was gonna break whether you meant for it to happen or not. He needed something with no windows and a single entrance with a locking door (preferably with a bolt, but he'd take what he could get). Which meant basement. If there was one. House like this, there had to be one.
No telling if the house wasn't occupied by zombies of its own, either. He didn't really have time to go around checking. Still, he'd rather take his chances in here than out there. Unlike Peter, apparently, the goddamn idiot, and he couldn't help wishing Dean had picked a better time to get his ass sedated. There was no way in hell he'd ever abandon his brother, but it didn't mean he liked having to turn his back on a town full of people or the guy who'd basically saved them both.
Too late to dwell, though. There wasn't anything he could do about it now.
Still holding onto Dean, he hustled him through the house. He was sure it'd been a nice home once, but it looked a bit broken down now, the walls cracked and yellowed, tiles in the dining room peeling. Sam didn't stop for anything. Taking a detour to look for a weapon was a bad idea when he had an armful of barely-conscious Dean and it wasn't as if he had his hands free, anyway. Keeping a grip on Dean was hard enough as it was. Dean wasn't exactly being helpful; he was damn near carrying his brother by the end, almost stumbling his way along. At this rate, his knee was never gonna heal.
He kept expecting one of those freaks to pop out of a closet any second, but either they were really lucky or something much, much worse was in store later. He found the door to the basement near the back of the house. Damn it, if it was locked-
But it wasn't. The knob spun beneath his hand, door swinging inward slowly, revealing pitch black darkness and a set of stairs he could hardly see the steps of.
Stairs. Oh God, stairs.
Stairs were good, technically speaking. They were narrow and let only one person through, two at most with some squeezing. It meant they could avoid getting dog-piled by a bunch of undead corpses. When you were supporting someone's dead weight on a bum knee, though, stairs pretty much just sucked. Looking down them now, Sam thought he might as well have been told to go down a mountain.
So he fumbled for the light switch along the wall, scanning the room to make sure there wasn't anything ready to jump them behind those boxes, then bolted the door and simply eased Dean down at the top of the stairs. They couldn't stay up here too long, but it would do for now. It didn't seem like anything was coming right after them. He figured they were...well, not exactly safe, but they weren't seconds away from getting killed. Which, frankly, was as safe as it ever got for them.
A few minutes, that was all he needed. Then he could go down first, check the area out. The last thing he needed was to drag Dean down only to have to drag him back up 'cause there was a damn zombie lying in wait. It'd be just their luck, too.
Sam let his head fall back against the door with a dull thump before he glanced over at Dean. Dean, who was starting to tip to the side dangerously. Jesus Christ.
It took some rearranging of limbs and a little bit of pushing, but he eventually got Dean to sprawl against his shoulder instead of just tumbling right over his lap. Though that would've made a picture worthy of blackmail and the thought almost made him smile. Almost.
Sam nudged him. "Hey. How're you doing?"
He didn't really expect to get a proper answer, but he was hoping to at least elicit a grunt. Maybe a mumble. Just something to let him know Dean could at least hear him.
[ Inside Residence #3 ]
The problem with busting down a door instead of picking the lock was that the door wouldn't close properly after. When you were trying to barricade yourself inside from a horde of the living dead, not having a door that could close was a bit of an issue.
As were the very breakable windows. Sam didn't even know if the things outside were smart enough to deliberately smash the windows, but with enough pounding, glass was gonna break whether you meant for it to happen or not. He needed something with no windows and a single entrance with a locking door (preferably with a bolt, but he'd take what he could get). Which meant basement. If there was one. House like this, there had to be one.
No telling if the house wasn't occupied by zombies of its own, either. He didn't really have time to go around checking. Still, he'd rather take his chances in here than out there. Unlike Peter, apparently, the goddamn idiot, and he couldn't help wishing Dean had picked a better time to get his ass sedated. There was no way in hell he'd ever abandon his brother, but it didn't mean he liked having to turn his back on a town full of people or the guy who'd basically saved them both.
Too late to dwell, though. There wasn't anything he could do about it now.
Still holding onto Dean, he hustled him through the house. He was sure it'd been a nice home once, but it looked a bit broken down now, the walls cracked and yellowed, tiles in the dining room peeling. Sam didn't stop for anything. Taking a detour to look for a weapon was a bad idea when he had an armful of barely-conscious Dean and it wasn't as if he had his hands free, anyway. Keeping a grip on Dean was hard enough as it was. Dean wasn't exactly being helpful; he was damn near carrying his brother by the end, almost stumbling his way along. At this rate, his knee was never gonna heal.
He kept expecting one of those freaks to pop out of a closet any second, but either they were really lucky or something much, much worse was in store later. He found the door to the basement near the back of the house. Damn it, if it was locked-
But it wasn't. The knob spun beneath his hand, door swinging inward slowly, revealing pitch black darkness and a set of stairs he could hardly see the steps of.
Stairs. Oh God, stairs.
Stairs were good, technically speaking. They were narrow and let only one person through, two at most with some squeezing. It meant they could avoid getting dog-piled by a bunch of undead corpses. When you were supporting someone's dead weight on a bum knee, though, stairs pretty much just sucked. Looking down them now, Sam thought he might as well have been told to go down a mountain.
So he fumbled for the light switch along the wall, scanning the room to make sure there wasn't anything ready to jump them behind those boxes, then bolted the door and simply eased Dean down at the top of the stairs. They couldn't stay up here too long, but it would do for now. It didn't seem like anything was coming right after them. He figured they were...well, not exactly safe, but they weren't seconds away from getting killed. Which, frankly, was as safe as it ever got for them.
A few minutes, that was all he needed. Then he could go down first, check the area out. The last thing he needed was to drag Dean down only to have to drag him back up 'cause there was a damn zombie lying in wait. It'd be just their luck, too.
Sam let his head fall back against the door with a dull thump before he glanced over at Dean. Dean, who was starting to tip to the side dangerously. Jesus Christ.
It took some rearranging of limbs and a little bit of pushing, but he eventually got Dean to sprawl against his shoulder instead of just tumbling right over his lap. Though that would've made a picture worthy of blackmail and the thought almost made him smile. Almost.
Sam nudged him. "Hey. How're you doing?"
He didn't really expect to get a proper answer, but he was hoping to at least elicit a grunt. Maybe a mumble. Just something to let him know Dean could at least hear him.