The Homewrecker Chapter 2
Title: The Homewrecker Chapter 2
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: R
Warnings: Wincest, AU, BabyFic (Non-MPreg)
Word Count: ~ 2400
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: What happens when the monsters are not the supernatural kind? Puppies and strangers and nightmares, oh my!
Author Notes: Joey Verse, set on Joey's 1 year birthday. Chronologically follows 'He Knows When You've Been Naughty'. Un-betaed.
“I think he has more on him than in him,” Dean chuckled, looking down at his white and blue frosted son.
“Just go with it, Dean,” Jenni laughed from behind her camera, flash momentarily blinding the birthday boy and his Dads. “All kids are supposed to be messy on their first birthday.” She snapped another picture then turned her lens to the guests. Joey giggled, grabbing a handful of cake and squeezing it in his fist.
Sam leaned over the baby’s head and whispered close to Dean’s ear. “I seem to recall you covered in icing on your birthday. You’re 23 so what was your excuse?”
A bright grin broke across Dean’s face at the reminder of his last birthday and he felt warmth flood his cheeks. “I seem to recall you were the one frosting me,” he muttered under his breath.
Glancing around to make sure no one was listening, Sam nodded toward the half eaten cake. “Looks like there will be leftovers, maybe save a piece for after Bobby leaves…” Sam trailed off, eyebrow waggling suggestively.
“God, I love the way you think,” Dean breathed, stamping down on the urge to kiss his lover.
Stretching back, Sam dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He held it up between his index and middle fingers. “Unbiased division of labor? Heads you clean up Joey, tails you clean up this.” He waved his hand over the cake smattered table and chairs.
“Sounds fair.”
Sam flipped the coin and groaned as it landed tails side up. Somehow their ‘unbiased division of labor’ always seemed to end up with Sam doing the dirty work.
“Come on, Joey. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“There’s my little boy.” Sam removed the last bit of cake from Joey’s chubby cheeks. The child’s face scrunched in annoyed disgust at the injustice of having to submit to the wipe down.
“Sam? Sam, you in there?” When Sam had come in earlier, he'd just nudged the door in the direction of the jamb with his elbow, not really latching it shut. The light tap pushed it open enough that Sam could see a sliver of Dennis’ face through the gap.
“Yeah, man. Joey just liked your aunt’s cake a little too much.” Meeting the teenagers eyes in the mirror, Sam chuckled and rinsed the washcloth he used to clean Joey.
Dennis was a good kid. A couple years younger than Sam, he’d been orphaned as a child and Jenni had taken him in. The guy was good looking, but shy and Dean had considered it his personal mission to fix him up with one of the local beauties. No matter how hard Dean tried, Dennis resisted seemingly content with his life spent working at Jenni's cafe or hanging with Sam and Joey when Dean worked. Right now, Dean was pushing Kelly, his Lieutenant’s daughter, on the poor kid.
“Aunt Jenni sent me to find you. There’s a girl at the door asking for you.” Dennis focused unreadable eyes on Sam who was using the washcloth to play peek-a-boo with Joey.
“A girl?” Sam opened his eyes and mouth in a mock surprise face when Joey ripped the washcloth from Sam’s loose grip. He lifted his laughing son from the bathroom counter. “Can you take Joey out to Dean for me?”
“Sure, not a problem.” Sam handed Joey to Dennis and moved out of the bathroom onto the landing, nearly running over Brandon. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Bathroom’s all yours.”
Moving down the stairs, Sam had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. Turning around he saw Brandon ducking into the bathroom and Dennis looking at a photograph of Dean, Sam and Joey that hung on the wall.
Huh.
Shaking his head, Sam headed to the front door and stopped in his tracks. The girl stood on the front stoop, looking out at the quiet neighborhood. Even from behind, the familiarity hit him like a physical blow - dark hair cascaded over confidently set shoulders and her self-assured stance hinted at the lithe body’s abilities. Drawn, Sam stumbled forward only to come up short a few steps away. On closer inspection, the hair was a few shades too dark and the stance was a pale imitation of the one he remembered.
“Can I help you,” Sam asked casually, suspicions held close to the chest. From this distance he could see the faint outline of a gun snugged at the middle of her back.
“Sam?” She turned, eyes landing on his chest and raising to meet his eyes. A little ball of black fur was nestled in her arms asleep, a bright red collar around its neck with a silver medallion hanging from the leash loop. A small, but genuine smile curled the girl’s lips and she took a moment to glance over him appraisingly.
“Wow. Exactly as advertised.”
“Who are you?” Sam bit out, body tensing on the defensive though he couldn’t pinpoint a reason why.
“Relax, Sam. My name is Hannah. I’m a friend of…”
“Hey, Sam. Mike’s about to head out. He traded with Todd so he’s got shift tonight.” Dean stepped up beside Sam, Joey on his hip. Noticing the young girl and her load, his smile grew, but a question was apparent in his eyes. “Everything okay here?”
“Dean, right? I’m Hannah.” She juggled the furball to free one of her arms. “I’m a friend of Casey’s.”
“Uh, yeah.” Dean shot Sam a look and, angling Joey away, shook the outstretched hand. While they talked, Sam muttered ‘Christo’ and two exorcisms under his breath. Getting no reaction, he relaxed. The puppy in her arms whined at the position change and sleepily blinked chocolate brown eyes.
“Doggie,” Joey squealed, stretching away from Dean to get closer to the animal.
“Oh, yeah. That’s why I’m here. Casey asked me to drop off her birthday present. She said to tell you that, and I quote, all children should have a pet.” She tipped the now alert dog into Sam’s arms. Sam juggled the puppy, a Labrador, to get a better handle on squirming pet. “He’s housebroken and trained.”
The dog sniffed Sam tentatively then extended its neck to give Dean and Joey the same once over. Nosing the baby’s arm, the dog licked the exposed skin. Joey’s eyes brightened in joy and Sam laughed, fingers scratching under the furry chin. “Love at first lick.”
“Hey, bitches. I’m outta here,” Mike called from behind the men, flushing when he saw Hannah. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.”
“No worries,” Hannah smiled at the new arrival. “I’m actually leaving myself. I’ll leave the bowls and food in the garage. It was very nice meeting you both.” She stepped off the front stoop and headed to a yellow car in the driveway.
“I’ll give you a hand,” Mike followed, nearly knocking Dean, Sam and their cargo over in the process. Exchanging a look, Dean and Sam moved into the doorway to watch Mike relieve Hannah of a large bag of puppy food.
Dean whistled, “She’s a beauty.” At Sam’s raised eyebrow, he motioned to the shiny machine behind the flirting couple. “That’s the new Cobra. I haven’t seen one yet.” Rolling his eyes, Sam turned around and carried the puppy into its new home.
Several hours later, the party had disbursed for the most part - Jenni, Dennis and Brandon offering to stick around and help with clean-up. Dean shooed Sam away, reasoning that since Sam had risen at the crack of dawn to prepare the food, Dean could handle the after celebration duty.
Brandon, Dennis and Bobby took the last of the garbage bags to the garage while Dean helped Jenni finish the dishes. With all of them working together, the backyard and kitchen were pristine in a little less than an hour.
Wiping his dishwater dripping hands on his pants, Dean walked into the living room to find Sam asleep on the couch with Joey sprawled across his chest. Doggie - god they need to think of a name for that dog stat - lay beside them, head resting on its alarmingly large paws. In moments like this, it always hit Dean hard that he really might have gotten everything he ever wanted in life.
Quietly, Dean walked over to the sideboard in the dining room and picked up the digital camera. The beep of his picture was followed seconds later by a click from next to him. Looking down, he saw Jenni lower her own camera with an adoring smile. The pup’s head lifted at the sound, ears perked, then settled back down to watch them with sleepy eyes.
“Okay,” Brandon started, as the three men joined them, only to be shushed by Jenni. “The garbage is out,” he continued whispering and peeked around the two photographers to see the subject of their art.
“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate you staying after.” Dean leaned his shoulder against the wall, eyes still drinking in the sight of his family.
“Anytime, Dean. You know that.” The older woman cupped his cheek. “Dennis and I are going to go. You look exhausted.”
“Me, too,” Brandon added, checking his watch. “I’ve got to get to the firehouse for tonight’s shift.”
Dennis and Brandon moved to the end table by Sam’s head. The party-goers had placed their keys in that spot so they wouldn’t have to keep track of them or look for them when they decided to leave. As the men neared, the dog’s head snapped up and tracked their movements carefully. Dennis leaned over, hand extended above the sleeping forms. His hand jerked like it’d been forced away from its true destination and petted over the Joey’s silky locks. A low growl vibrated the air and only after Brandon and Dennis were out of arm’s reach of the sleeping figures did the small ball of fur relax. Brows furrowed, Dean watched the dog and gave his departing friends a distracted good-bye. Bobby finally roused him from his contemplation of the canine addition to their family, pressing a cold bottle of beer to his arm.
“Get used to it.” The older man pointed to the dog on the floor with the neck of his bottle. Dropping into the arm chair, he shrugged. “Rumsfeld is still overprotective of Sam.”
Sam rolled over, hand blindly seeking Dean in the darkness and encountering only cool sheets. Shit! Still groggy, he realized that Dean must have had shift tonight. Even after almost a year, it was still disconcerting for Sam to wake up alone. During the first few months, he would wake up and not be able to fall back asleep, but it had been a while since that happened. Now, he rarely woke up during the night and if he did, he would slip back under immediately. Tonight though, something seemed off, something eluding Sam’s sleep addled mind. He could make out the ceiling fan buffeting the air, the click of the air conditioner and the white noise of the baby monitor. All the normal nighttime sounds of their home, but something was missing. Lying still, eyes closed, he waited and willed his mind into sharper focus. The familiar background noises continued and Sam started to shrug the feeling off, knowing that Joey would have him up in a few hours, when it dawned on him. Joey. In the time he’d been listening, he hadn’t heard his son once. Joey had inherited his father’s nocturnal habit of constant motion and normally at any given time during the night, you could hear the rustling of sheets or flailing of body parts through the speaker on the nightstand.
Eyes flying open as the feeling of wrongness solidified, Sam jumped up and rushed to his son’s room. Stepping into the nightlight illuminated space, Sam heard Joey coo in his sleep and calmed. He crossed to his son’s crib, needing the visual confirmation of his safety, but stopped when movement caught his eye. In the corner stood a figure, shadowed in darkness, cradling a slumbering Joey to his chest.
“Howdy Sammy,” the voice floated on the baby powder scented air of the nursery.
“No.” Sam gasped and lunged, momentum stuttering to a halt as silver flashed in the amber glow of the small football shaped light. The figure, a man Sam’s mind helpfully supplied, held a knife just above Joey’s back, the point hovering over where spine and ribs protectively caged the little boy's fluttering heart. Sam froze, ‘please’ stuck in his throat behind paralyzed vocal chords.
“Good boy, Sam.” The man side-stepped around the perimeter of the room to the open door. The knife never wavered from its threatening position and bile rose in Sam’s throat. He watched, not daring to blink, afraid to take his eyes off his son. When the man reached the entry, he sheathed the blade and Sam took a shaky breath.
“Please,” Sam croaked, relief innervating his voice box, “please don’t hurt him.”
“Oh, Sam. I’m not going to hurt him. He’s mine now. My son. I would never hurt my family.”
Sam moved toward them, now that the immediate danger had been secured. The kidnapper backed out of the room and fire erupted across the threshold, barring Sam’s way.
“No, don’t,” Sam screamed over the crackle and pop of the flames engulfing the wooden casing. Joey stirred in the stranger’s arms, mind and body alert at the sound of his father’s distressed voice.
Smoke clawed at Sam’s throat as orange death slithered over the carpet, climbing walls and melting nylon fibers in its path. Through the heat distorted air, Sam saw terrified hazel eyes above the shoulder of the man. A tiny pout opened, mouth forming the word ‘Dada’ only to have the sound masked by the roar of the blaze. Pudgy fingers reached for him and Sam instinctively stretched out to take the proffered hand. Pain flared up his arm as tongues of light and heat licked his skin.
Pulling his arm back on a hiss, he could just make out the man carrying his hysterical son down the stairs as the inferno followed like an obedient pet. Sam spun to the window, intent on jumping, to discover the fire had spread and now surrounded him. Searing pain shot up his leg and he looked down to find the flames crawling across the flooring had reached him. Sam was on fire. There was no escape, he was going to die. As death approached, Sam threw up hasty apologies to Joey and Dean for failing them before the world went black.
Chapter Three
Author: JCRGIRL
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: R
Warnings: Wincest, AU, BabyFic (Non-MPreg)
Word Count: ~ 2400
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: What happens when the monsters are not the supernatural kind? Puppies and strangers and nightmares, oh my!
Author Notes: Joey Verse, set on Joey's 1 year birthday. Chronologically follows 'He Knows When You've Been Naughty'. Un-betaed.
“I think he has more on him than in him,” Dean chuckled, looking down at his white and blue frosted son.
“Just go with it, Dean,” Jenni laughed from behind her camera, flash momentarily blinding the birthday boy and his Dads. “All kids are supposed to be messy on their first birthday.” She snapped another picture then turned her lens to the guests. Joey giggled, grabbing a handful of cake and squeezing it in his fist.
Sam leaned over the baby’s head and whispered close to Dean’s ear. “I seem to recall you covered in icing on your birthday. You’re 23 so what was your excuse?”
A bright grin broke across Dean’s face at the reminder of his last birthday and he felt warmth flood his cheeks. “I seem to recall you were the one frosting me,” he muttered under his breath.
Glancing around to make sure no one was listening, Sam nodded toward the half eaten cake. “Looks like there will be leftovers, maybe save a piece for after Bobby leaves…” Sam trailed off, eyebrow waggling suggestively.
“God, I love the way you think,” Dean breathed, stamping down on the urge to kiss his lover.
Stretching back, Sam dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He held it up between his index and middle fingers. “Unbiased division of labor? Heads you clean up Joey, tails you clean up this.” He waved his hand over the cake smattered table and chairs.
“Sounds fair.”
Sam flipped the coin and groaned as it landed tails side up. Somehow their ‘unbiased division of labor’ always seemed to end up with Sam doing the dirty work.
“Come on, Joey. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“There’s my little boy.” Sam removed the last bit of cake from Joey’s chubby cheeks. The child’s face scrunched in annoyed disgust at the injustice of having to submit to the wipe down.
“Sam? Sam, you in there?” When Sam had come in earlier, he'd just nudged the door in the direction of the jamb with his elbow, not really latching it shut. The light tap pushed it open enough that Sam could see a sliver of Dennis’ face through the gap.
“Yeah, man. Joey just liked your aunt’s cake a little too much.” Meeting the teenagers eyes in the mirror, Sam chuckled and rinsed the washcloth he used to clean Joey.
Dennis was a good kid. A couple years younger than Sam, he’d been orphaned as a child and Jenni had taken him in. The guy was good looking, but shy and Dean had considered it his personal mission to fix him up with one of the local beauties. No matter how hard Dean tried, Dennis resisted seemingly content with his life spent working at Jenni's cafe or hanging with Sam and Joey when Dean worked. Right now, Dean was pushing Kelly, his Lieutenant’s daughter, on the poor kid.
“Aunt Jenni sent me to find you. There’s a girl at the door asking for you.” Dennis focused unreadable eyes on Sam who was using the washcloth to play peek-a-boo with Joey.
“A girl?” Sam opened his eyes and mouth in a mock surprise face when Joey ripped the washcloth from Sam’s loose grip. He lifted his laughing son from the bathroom counter. “Can you take Joey out to Dean for me?”
“Sure, not a problem.” Sam handed Joey to Dennis and moved out of the bathroom onto the landing, nearly running over Brandon. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Bathroom’s all yours.”
Moving down the stairs, Sam had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. Turning around he saw Brandon ducking into the bathroom and Dennis looking at a photograph of Dean, Sam and Joey that hung on the wall.
Huh.
Shaking his head, Sam headed to the front door and stopped in his tracks. The girl stood on the front stoop, looking out at the quiet neighborhood. Even from behind, the familiarity hit him like a physical blow - dark hair cascaded over confidently set shoulders and her self-assured stance hinted at the lithe body’s abilities. Drawn, Sam stumbled forward only to come up short a few steps away. On closer inspection, the hair was a few shades too dark and the stance was a pale imitation of the one he remembered.
“Can I help you,” Sam asked casually, suspicions held close to the chest. From this distance he could see the faint outline of a gun snugged at the middle of her back.
“Sam?” She turned, eyes landing on his chest and raising to meet his eyes. A little ball of black fur was nestled in her arms asleep, a bright red collar around its neck with a silver medallion hanging from the leash loop. A small, but genuine smile curled the girl’s lips and she took a moment to glance over him appraisingly.
“Wow. Exactly as advertised.”
“Who are you?” Sam bit out, body tensing on the defensive though he couldn’t pinpoint a reason why.
“Relax, Sam. My name is Hannah. I’m a friend of…”
“Hey, Sam. Mike’s about to head out. He traded with Todd so he’s got shift tonight.” Dean stepped up beside Sam, Joey on his hip. Noticing the young girl and her load, his smile grew, but a question was apparent in his eyes. “Everything okay here?”
“Dean, right? I’m Hannah.” She juggled the furball to free one of her arms. “I’m a friend of Casey’s.”
“Uh, yeah.” Dean shot Sam a look and, angling Joey away, shook the outstretched hand. While they talked, Sam muttered ‘Christo’ and two exorcisms under his breath. Getting no reaction, he relaxed. The puppy in her arms whined at the position change and sleepily blinked chocolate brown eyes.
“Doggie,” Joey squealed, stretching away from Dean to get closer to the animal.
“Oh, yeah. That’s why I’m here. Casey asked me to drop off her birthday present. She said to tell you that, and I quote, all children should have a pet.” She tipped the now alert dog into Sam’s arms. Sam juggled the puppy, a Labrador, to get a better handle on squirming pet. “He’s housebroken and trained.”
The dog sniffed Sam tentatively then extended its neck to give Dean and Joey the same once over. Nosing the baby’s arm, the dog licked the exposed skin. Joey’s eyes brightened in joy and Sam laughed, fingers scratching under the furry chin. “Love at first lick.”
“Hey, bitches. I’m outta here,” Mike called from behind the men, flushing when he saw Hannah. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.”
“No worries,” Hannah smiled at the new arrival. “I’m actually leaving myself. I’ll leave the bowls and food in the garage. It was very nice meeting you both.” She stepped off the front stoop and headed to a yellow car in the driveway.
“I’ll give you a hand,” Mike followed, nearly knocking Dean, Sam and their cargo over in the process. Exchanging a look, Dean and Sam moved into the doorway to watch Mike relieve Hannah of a large bag of puppy food.
Dean whistled, “She’s a beauty.” At Sam’s raised eyebrow, he motioned to the shiny machine behind the flirting couple. “That’s the new Cobra. I haven’t seen one yet.” Rolling his eyes, Sam turned around and carried the puppy into its new home.
Several hours later, the party had disbursed for the most part - Jenni, Dennis and Brandon offering to stick around and help with clean-up. Dean shooed Sam away, reasoning that since Sam had risen at the crack of dawn to prepare the food, Dean could handle the after celebration duty.
Brandon, Dennis and Bobby took the last of the garbage bags to the garage while Dean helped Jenni finish the dishes. With all of them working together, the backyard and kitchen were pristine in a little less than an hour.
Wiping his dishwater dripping hands on his pants, Dean walked into the living room to find Sam asleep on the couch with Joey sprawled across his chest. Doggie - god they need to think of a name for that dog stat - lay beside them, head resting on its alarmingly large paws. In moments like this, it always hit Dean hard that he really might have gotten everything he ever wanted in life.
Quietly, Dean walked over to the sideboard in the dining room and picked up the digital camera. The beep of his picture was followed seconds later by a click from next to him. Looking down, he saw Jenni lower her own camera with an adoring smile. The pup’s head lifted at the sound, ears perked, then settled back down to watch them with sleepy eyes.
“Okay,” Brandon started, as the three men joined them, only to be shushed by Jenni. “The garbage is out,” he continued whispering and peeked around the two photographers to see the subject of their art.
“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate you staying after.” Dean leaned his shoulder against the wall, eyes still drinking in the sight of his family.
“Anytime, Dean. You know that.” The older woman cupped his cheek. “Dennis and I are going to go. You look exhausted.”
“Me, too,” Brandon added, checking his watch. “I’ve got to get to the firehouse for tonight’s shift.”
Dennis and Brandon moved to the end table by Sam’s head. The party-goers had placed their keys in that spot so they wouldn’t have to keep track of them or look for them when they decided to leave. As the men neared, the dog’s head snapped up and tracked their movements carefully. Dennis leaned over, hand extended above the sleeping forms. His hand jerked like it’d been forced away from its true destination and petted over the Joey’s silky locks. A low growl vibrated the air and only after Brandon and Dennis were out of arm’s reach of the sleeping figures did the small ball of fur relax. Brows furrowed, Dean watched the dog and gave his departing friends a distracted good-bye. Bobby finally roused him from his contemplation of the canine addition to their family, pressing a cold bottle of beer to his arm.
“Get used to it.” The older man pointed to the dog on the floor with the neck of his bottle. Dropping into the arm chair, he shrugged. “Rumsfeld is still overprotective of Sam.”
Sam rolled over, hand blindly seeking Dean in the darkness and encountering only cool sheets. Shit! Still groggy, he realized that Dean must have had shift tonight. Even after almost a year, it was still disconcerting for Sam to wake up alone. During the first few months, he would wake up and not be able to fall back asleep, but it had been a while since that happened. Now, he rarely woke up during the night and if he did, he would slip back under immediately. Tonight though, something seemed off, something eluding Sam’s sleep addled mind. He could make out the ceiling fan buffeting the air, the click of the air conditioner and the white noise of the baby monitor. All the normal nighttime sounds of their home, but something was missing. Lying still, eyes closed, he waited and willed his mind into sharper focus. The familiar background noises continued and Sam started to shrug the feeling off, knowing that Joey would have him up in a few hours, when it dawned on him. Joey. In the time he’d been listening, he hadn’t heard his son once. Joey had inherited his father’s nocturnal habit of constant motion and normally at any given time during the night, you could hear the rustling of sheets or flailing of body parts through the speaker on the nightstand.
Eyes flying open as the feeling of wrongness solidified, Sam jumped up and rushed to his son’s room. Stepping into the nightlight illuminated space, Sam heard Joey coo in his sleep and calmed. He crossed to his son’s crib, needing the visual confirmation of his safety, but stopped when movement caught his eye. In the corner stood a figure, shadowed in darkness, cradling a slumbering Joey to his chest.
“Howdy Sammy,” the voice floated on the baby powder scented air of the nursery.
“No.” Sam gasped and lunged, momentum stuttering to a halt as silver flashed in the amber glow of the small football shaped light. The figure, a man Sam’s mind helpfully supplied, held a knife just above Joey’s back, the point hovering over where spine and ribs protectively caged the little boy's fluttering heart. Sam froze, ‘please’ stuck in his throat behind paralyzed vocal chords.
“Good boy, Sam.” The man side-stepped around the perimeter of the room to the open door. The knife never wavered from its threatening position and bile rose in Sam’s throat. He watched, not daring to blink, afraid to take his eyes off his son. When the man reached the entry, he sheathed the blade and Sam took a shaky breath.
“Please,” Sam croaked, relief innervating his voice box, “please don’t hurt him.”
“Oh, Sam. I’m not going to hurt him. He’s mine now. My son. I would never hurt my family.”
Sam moved toward them, now that the immediate danger had been secured. The kidnapper backed out of the room and fire erupted across the threshold, barring Sam’s way.
“No, don’t,” Sam screamed over the crackle and pop of the flames engulfing the wooden casing. Joey stirred in the stranger’s arms, mind and body alert at the sound of his father’s distressed voice.
Smoke clawed at Sam’s throat as orange death slithered over the carpet, climbing walls and melting nylon fibers in its path. Through the heat distorted air, Sam saw terrified hazel eyes above the shoulder of the man. A tiny pout opened, mouth forming the word ‘Dada’ only to have the sound masked by the roar of the blaze. Pudgy fingers reached for him and Sam instinctively stretched out to take the proffered hand. Pain flared up his arm as tongues of light and heat licked his skin.
Pulling his arm back on a hiss, he could just make out the man carrying his hysterical son down the stairs as the inferno followed like an obedient pet. Sam spun to the window, intent on jumping, to discover the fire had spread and now surrounded him. Searing pain shot up his leg and he looked down to find the flames crawling across the flooring had reached him. Sam was on fire. There was no escape, he was going to die. As death approached, Sam threw up hasty apologies to Joey and Dean for failing them before the world went black.
Chapter Three