Mommy Winchester

Part 13

Deans arm is killing him.

At this point he doesn't think it's broken, but he wouldn't be surprised if the bone was cracked, fractured - he doubts it had ever hurt him so badly. Sam was carrying you, your head against his shoulder and completely unconscious.

Dean was really worried about you.

Through all the years you'd fought together, you'd never been so out of it you couldn't hold your own. Not when you'd fought Eve, not when you'd fought hybrid werewolves and nests of vampires, hellhounds - none of them had ever gotten the best of you.

But your neighbor.

You'd trusted her, and look what had happened.

You'd trusted your son in her care, and...

"How's Mommy?" Cail gasps, his hand clamped tightly in Dean, running as fast as he could to keep up with the men's; they were walking quick, both too injured to run, and they were already in town. Cails legs were burning at this point, and he was panting, but he wasn't going to complain.

"She's just taking a nap," Sam huffs, looking pasty; Dean had reset his shoulder, it had been the only way he could carry you, and he had to clench his jaw to deal with the leftover pain.

Ugh.

"Are you sure?" Cail presses, and Sam nods, his eyes lighting on the coroner's office.

"Back doors," Dean grunts, and they circle the building, quickly heading to the back doors where they'd first seen Cail.

Except.

"It's locked," Sam gasps, staring at the door in horror as Dean pulls on it. "The key -?"

"It doesn't take a key," Cail responds, frowning up at the hunters. "It takes a pass code. Everyone knows that."

Clearly not.

Dean grimaces, glancing at the keypad, a red light blinking on it.

"Do you know the code?"

"Yeah." Cail steps to the pad, and quickly types in the code.

Sam blinks.

His birthday?

The door locks release as the blinking light turns green, and Dean grabs the doors, jerking them open and ushering everyone inside hastily.

"To her office," Dean orders, almost sprinting, Cail hot on his heels. The lights flicker above them, the motion sensors telling them it was time to come on. Dean staggers to a stop, and then thoughtlessly rams his shoulder into the door, splintering it immediately, and one more time before it gives in, the lock breaking.

"Inside," Dean snaps, and then shoves the door closed the best he can, rushing towards the desk. He grabs a nail file out of your cup of odds and ends, and immediately begins working on the locked drawer in your desk.

Sam hesitates, then carefully lowers you into one of the chairs, needing a break from holding your weight. Cail is at your side instantly, curling your hand through his, looking at your wounds worriedly.

"What's that?" Sam suddenly whispers, and Dean freezes. They listen, and faint footsteps can be heard, cautiously walking towards the office.

Sam turns, grabbing the pistol tucked into the back or his jeans, his sweaty palms tightening around the trigger as he aims for the door, swallowing.

They were fucked.

So.

Very.

Fucked.