#in all seriousness i don't blame john Entirely for what he did he's still learning and just didn't want arthur to be upset at him

[filthytheodeckerkinnie]

rip john doe. hes not dead, hes just going to get his ass kicked by arthur for another betrayal

[blade-that-was-broken]

Maybe a spoiler question but where are all of the brothers/ what are they doing in Wrath and Ruin

Alright *cracks knuckles* this might be a little vit vague/not in depth cause I don't have everything entirely blocked out yet.

Wrath and Ruin

SPRUCE CLAY FLOYD HISTORY

SPRUCE

Spruce found Vacay Island, almost drowned, and began working for the inhabitants at a restaurant. He liked the fast movement, the relaxed personalities and learning to surf. He learned to cook new foods and was rather happy there. He stayed there for many years, probably at least 8 years up to ten. However, when the war sparked up again (several years after the destruction of the Troll tree that Spruce does not know about), the resort owner feared retaliation on his paradise for harboring a pop troll. Vacay Island was rather close to the Troll Kingdoms so they once in a while got some news. Thrash made bounties on any found Pop trolls (he’s looking for the string). And although the resort owner didn’t want to turn him in, he ended up kicking Spruce out. Spruce was heartbroken and forced back into the Troll Kingdoms. 

He didn’t go through Pop borders but rather whatever the closest one to Vacay Island was (excluding what used to be known as Techno) and was caught by a convoy of Rock Trolls. When they asked him what kind of troll he was, thinking perhaps pop, he couldn’t answer because he didn’t even know there were other trolls and he didn’t really understand he’s a pop troll. But some people in the town that he was found in backed him up, claiming as one of their own, which led to giving him a subgenre that he learned. 

He ends up living there for quite a while and has to learn a new type of music. This is where he learns about not only the other genres, but what happened to the Pop trolls and what is going on with the invasion and war. He is devastated and confused and overwhelmed with grief - as he thinks everyone, he loves is dead. 

CLAY

After the breakup, Clay goes back and forth between the Tree and not in the Tree. He has taken a few trips into the city - mostly to learn things - and therefore has gotten some more education but he keeps coming back to it, although he avoids his home and stays with friends on the outskirts of the Tree. (Tentative) 

Clay actually ends up with the Pop trolls and does not escape with Viva and gets to the Golf Course. Due to Thrash’s invasion (which to the Pop trolls, they do not understand and it mostly just causes chaos) the escape ended up being a little different and it did give the Pop trolls some better movement and time to escape. 

He does try to go back to his home when the escape occurs but he is cut off. He gets close and he may have spotted John Dory within the fray (Tentative) before getting cut off. One of his friends is zombified and Clay has no idea why his friend is going after him. Clay does escape him, although his friend is taken by a Bergen. He is dragged out by others and can only watch when the Troll Tree explodes. 

Later, when the pop trolls regroup, he discovers his Grandmother is not among them and receives reports from people that they had seen her taken by Bergens. When he cannot find his baby brother, he assumes the worst. He is devastated and blames himself - since he was in the Tree. His colors dull because of this but due to his desperation to prove himself, to be taken seriously, he does not go entirely hopeless/gray. 

So he puts himself to work. Or at least he tries to. After the village is constructed, he tries to build up defensive capabilities (possibly even electricity, not certain) and there is a learning curve - as he is still very young. Due to his desperation to be taken seriously, other trolls sometimes find him rather annoying and rarely do. This is mostly because of how he acts, as it can be kind of obnoxious. Part of the reason they don’t take him seriously as well, is less because of the old fun boy persona and more because he is so young. Coupling that with his actions/new personality, it’s not a great combination. 

Trying to appease everyone, King Peppy gives Clay a task of creating a library. It is away from people and Clay pours everything he has into it. He takes it all very seriously - to the point that people don’t really want to affiliate much - and although over the years, Clay believes the people are taking him seriously, they mostly aren’t, thinking him childish. 

Due to his personality, aversion and such - and because that is who she is - Poppy makes a point to befriend him. She becomes a bit of a bookworm because of him and learns new ways to scrapbook. Clay wasn’t exactly friends with Viva at the Tree but he knew about her. He never really got the memo that she doesn’t exist anymore so if the topic may come up (it might not), he would be the one to tell her. 

FLOYD

Floyd left and found some bandmates on the outskirts of the Troll Kingdoms before Thrash’s attack. They thought they could make it big in the city, since the kingdoms were pretty isolated. Some bandmates might not be trolls but live near the borders. Uncertain. Either way, everyone was kind out of out of the way small town types so they never got the news of Thrash’s invasion before they left. 

There was some struggle but they found a niche and got semi famous. They had no idea what was happening in the Troll Kingdoms - the rest of the world didn’t know. Although they shared some good fortune, Floyd’s band broke up after about 7 years, after their second album. Some decided to go home, others decided to go solo. 

Floyd blamed himself for the failure (it wasn’t) and didn’t think he could return home with that failure. He fell onto some hard times and turned to gambling (which runs in the family) and became a bit addicted to it. It got to the point that he has spent time in prison. Between the music slump, the gambling and the prison time, Floyd accrued quite the debt with loan sharks. 

And then he heard the news. He got a letter from an old bandmate. It was explained that it took a while to find Floyd’s address and condolences were sent. The letter mentioned the war, what happened to the pop trolls and told Floyd not to come back. 

He doesn’t listen.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Interested in your perception of Julia Baird’s portrait or Mimi vs more common narrative that Mimi rescued John from his mother Julia’s irresponsible parenting. I go back and forth between vilifying Mimi and considering that it might have been a challenging situation if Julia Baird’s dad was alcoholic and didn’t want John around. Although I lean towards holding Mimi accountable for getting social services involved to take away Julia’s custody rights….

First off: obligatory "It was a different time", except I do want to emphasize it, because it's not only to contextualize some of Mimi's behaviour that a lot of people might classify as emotional abuse nowadays, but because it affects literally all of this. Social mores dictated the actions not just of Mimi but of all the Stanley sisters, who in my view all enabled the situation to get as far as it did. And, most pertinently, I don't think people at the time really understood how damaging it is to all parties to separate a child from their parents (and tbh, especially their mother). My main takeaway from the whole situation, as well as what I've learned about "difficult homes" since, is that taking John away from Julia should have been an absolute last resort, unless there was extremely concrete evidence that Julia was being highly abusive towards him.

(and I do mean highly abusive. It, for instance, would not have done Paul and Mike any good to be separated from their father, even if Jim put them through hell at times [though of course, the extent of the abuse they suffered is debatable]. These situations are terrible all-around, but from what I can tell – and what I think John's story shows – breaking apart families is very rarely the best course of action.)

"But Julia was making little John share a bed with her and Bobby Dykins!" – okay, I see how this is potentially a problem, though it's from what I can tell entirely (implied? I don't know that she went so far as to say it out loud) conjecture on Mimi's part that John was made to witness adults having sex. In my opinion, the first course of action here should have been to help Julia out by acquiring a separate bed for John.

I recognize that Julia was probably often irresponsible and, from what I've read about her, I suspect she at times struggled with parenting in way similar to how John would later on – not due to a lack of love, per se, more due to a helplessness in the face of the true burden of taking care of someone and a difficulty comprehending the seriousness and scope of child-rearing. That being said, it's hard to fully blame her when she had her toddler taken away – because of her own sister, as you mention – and had to give up her second baby for adoption. That's twice-over the worst trauma a mother could endure* so it seems natural to me that she would have attachment issues with John later on. Again, helping Julia with her parenting instead of denying her the role of mother seems to me the best course of action here. (Oh look, it's my nuclear family take rearing its head again.)

*some people happily give up babies – I don't have much reason to believe Julia was one of them.

I also think Mimi thought she was doing the right thing and her decision to take John in admittedly made more sense when Uncle George was still alive. This is where the "It was a different time" comes back in, because it would be unfair of me to expect her to understand all the complexity I've been describing. I don't know that I believe Julia Baird's claim that Mimi instigated the entire situation so she could have John for herself – but there is perhaps a middle ground here, where Mimi loved her nephew a lot, felt no one was taking care of him the way she believed he needed, and let that blind her to the damage she was going to inflict by interfering the way she did.

It's difficult to fully assess Mimi's impact on John, because it seems the abandonment issues his early childhood instilled in him made him particularly loyal to her. Mimi was, if nothing else and above all, steadfast. (You can draw a parallel here to Yoko, though that's another discussion.) You aren't gonna find a ton of statements from him condemning her, and I definitely don't want to discount the genuine love they both had for each other. I appreciate that she didn't have an easy task, bringing him up, especially after being widowed, and I appreciate that she came through for him in significant ways.

The thing that motivated my (somewhat callous) post last night, was this:

"You wonder why John didn't have the strength to just say 'Look Mimi, I'm moving in with Mum.'" JULIA BAIRD: "Hm. Well, I remember the– a particular row in the kitchen, where he was going back [to Mendips] after the school holidays and he was crying. And my father [Bobby Dykins] said 'That's it. That's it. I've had enough. You stay here. I'll go and see Mimi. I will sort this out once and for all.' And John said 'Nononono, nonono. I've got to go. Don't tell Mimi.' That was another refrain [?]. 'My dream's out.' and 'Don't tell Mimi. Don't tell Mimi, don't tell Mimi.' She was fearsome, I can tell you. Fearsome." SOURCE: I am the Eggpod, Episode 100, 00:49:49

What I hate about the above quote the most is how often John, even as a teen, is conceptualized as this free-spirited rebel*; but looking at this, it hits extra hard that he was a child who had virtually no power in this situation the adults around him put him in.

*and writers like Mark Lewisohn are definitely not off the hook here; one of the things I find the most questionable about him as a biographer is that, despite his painfully obvious bias towards John, he still fails to contextualize huge chunks of John's childhood, preferring to defend Mimi at all cost.

Now, it does seem like there's some he-said/she-said going on regarding how much Bobby Dykins and John got along. I don't think John spoke super highly of him, but I also don't recall him expressing any larger issues with his pseudo step-father. Yes, Julia Baird is probably biased towards her own parents, but here's the thing: don't most of our pro-Mimi accounts come from her? Is John an unbiased source on the aunt who raised him?

So why should Julia Baird – whom I consider to be one of the most empathetic characters involved in Beatles history; rarely have I seen someone so interested in truly understanding their own family history, considering the cultural context, tying in her experience as a teacher in special needs and talking to multiple people to gain a fuller picture, even when a lot of it must've been incredibly painful for her – be seen as a less trustworthy source than Mimi – who we know has a history of editing stories to suit her:

I [Hunter Davies, the Beatles' official biographer] sent [the manuscript of the biography] to Mimi and she had hysterics. The chapter about his childhood came back with almost every paragraph heavily crossed out or amended. In the margins she had written beside John's own quotes such things as 'Rubbish', 'Never!' She denied so many of John's own memories of his childhood, especially if they contradicted her memories of the same people or events. She was against his use of bad language, as she maintained John had never sworn when he was little, and didn't want stories about him stealing. SOURCE: The Beatles by Hunter Davies, 2009 Introduction

The only thing Mimi has "going for her" as a source is that she was an adult and not a child when these events transpired. I think that's fair enough, and I do believe there are details to this story Julia Baird and we the public will never know, which made Mimi's decisions seem more justified to her and to her family. But that doesn't stop me from largely condemning most of the decisions made, even though I suspect Julia did at least on the surface agree with them.

[zepskies]

Lmfaoo I don't blame you for not computing after this chapter! It was a lot to process, but I'm so ready to dive into your thoughts on this one. 💕

I hate-hate-hate that she had to go back into the office, but it was inevitable, I guess. I loved how Dean kept checking up on her, just to be sure she was alright.

Yeah, sorry, gotta create that drama. 😭

Alllll of this had me internally screaming, "NO, YOU KNOW TOO MUCH! PLUG YOUR EARS AND GO AWAY!" lol. Ughhh. On the edge of my seat with this one.

It's like a train wreck, right? 😂😂

I was actually super surprised she decided to call John, but I understood her reasoning behind it (I think it also paired well with the story, because [in my opinion] I feel like Dean would have gone straight to her in that moment, and she maybe didn't feel like that was necessary?) Also, Dean does handle pressure well, but I feel like he wouldn't handle it as well when it comes to her. John is kind of an unbiased third party in this situation, so makes sense.

Yeah that's essentially where I was going with this. She called John because A) Nick was talking about "a cop," and she knows John is the one that's been after Azazel. And B) she thought John should know about this first before she calls Dean.

Ughhhh. I was hoping she had snuck away fast enough. I had to have expected there to be a fire at some point, but I wasn't expecting it yet! SO GOOD. But terrifying!

Oooh I'm so glad this was appropriately intense! I did my best on that front with this chapter in particular.

I really, really, really loved this exchange with Bobby. I feel like Bobby has kind of been a hard-ass a little bit? Which I get, with the role he plays in the fire house (good ole Bobby Singer ❤). But I loved how here he could see the desperation in Dean. It shows how much he cares about Dean and his wellbeing, too.

Aw I'm so glad you did! Bobby kind of has to be a hard-ass, considering his position, but he does give Dean a lot of slack that he wouldn't give anyone else considering the role he's played in Dean's life.

(I also loved how Benny, Jack and Gordon all followed Dean up the stairwell even though they weren't supposed to.)

Hahaa yep they weren't about to leave their boi hanging!

I'm so glad Andréa was able to get out, but seriously - edge of my seat this entire chapter. And then Dean found her (so glad he got to her rather quickly, all things considered) but then the FALL. WHYYY!

Aww yes I loved being able to write her and the reader connecting in that moment. And yeah, I probably could've drawn out Dean finding her a bit more, but this whole chapter was so massive I feared making it any longer lmao. But then...the fall. 😭 Gotta have some consequences of this massive event here.

Something that I really loved though was the fact that she woke up to Eileen and Sam. I feel like a big part for the reader has been that she is still struggling to understand who she belongs with. After her grandfather passed, it felt like she felt alone. But now, Sam and Eileen are there to help her and take care of her as she recovers. I'm glad she has them.

You're absolutely on point with all of this here! That "family don't end in blood" is a recurring theme in this story, and she's learning how to find a new family in Dean and his family.

Hate that Nick survived (although is it weird that I feel strangely bad for him, like his father is such a dick, it's no wonder he turned out how he did? And the fact that nothing he does seems to be good enough? Idk - still hate him. But feel a teeensy bit bad for the dude).

Echh yeah, that's the conundrum I tried to create here. Like, obviously Nick is a sick bastard just like his father. It's like how Fidel Castro used to play baseball. What if he'd just stuck to that instead of becoming an evil dictator? Same premise here, but with Nick it's definitely a mix of "not feeling good enough" while continuously seeking his approval.

SO GOOD! Sorry for the novel. And sorry for blowing up your notifications, lol. Gotta get caught up!!

Thank you so much!! 😭 And girl please don't apologize! Blow up my notifications as much as you want. 😂💕

Smoke Eater - Part 16

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Run to You” by the Pentatonix

Word Count: 6,200 Tags/Warnings: Physical altercation, perilous situations, fire hazards, injuries, angst, Nick and Azazel being evil psychos. 

Part 16: “Break Down the Gates”

The holiday couldn’t last forever. Eventually, you had to go back to work.

Dean didn’t like it, and neither did you. Hell, even Sam had tried to find an opening in the district attorney’s office for you. Unfortunately, all of the positions you were remotely qualified for were filled.

And as your bills had to get paid, it meant you had to take Betsy all the way up to the 22nd floor of the Savage & Co. building on a Monday morning.

Dean was already calling you.

You couldn’t answer until you got off the elevator and away from its shitty reception, but you let out a sigh before you called him back.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey, sweetheart. How you doin’?” Dean asked.

“I’m good. I just got to my office,” you replied. I was also fine 20 minutes ago on the road.

You had to be patient though. You knew he was worried about you, now for more than one good reason.

“Good. Got your taser all charged up?”

“Yep, it’s in my purse,” you said. You closed the door to your office and locked it. “Which is going in my desk. You’re at the station?”

“Yeah, having my coffee right now.”

“Okay, tell the guys I said hi.”

“Will do,” said Dean. “You need anything, just call me. If you can’t get ahold of me, call Cas, or Sam, or even my dad.”

“I promise I will,” you replied. “I have to get to work here, but I hope you have a good day. And be safe.”

“That I will,” he promised in turn. “You too, baby.”

You smiled.

Once you hung up with Dean and got settled at your desk, you started by powering through your work emails. All too soon, however, there was a knock at your door. You fought against the tremor of unease that ran up your spine.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“It’s Marv,” replied your coworker, through the door. “Since when do you lock yourself in your office?”

You let out a breath and smiled. You got up and went to let him in. “I’ve found that people are less likely to interrupt me when they can’t get in.”

When the door opened, Marv gave you a look of begrudging acceptance.

“I hear ya,” he said. The man was a hermit himself, so if anyone was going to understand your self-barricading, it was Marv.

He handed you a hard-copy manilla envelope containing his monthly report, because he also had a disdain for email. 

“Why don’t you give this to Nick yourself?” you asked with a frown.

Marv held up placating hands. “Because he’s an ass, and I can only deal with so much idiocy in my life.”

“Then give it to Josh! He’s the new Senior Manager,” you pointed out.

“Josh kisses Nick’s ass. Therefore, he’s become an even bigger idiot,” Marv replied. “I’m telling you, my constitution just can’t bear it.”

You rolled your eyes and took the folder from him. “All right, get outta here. I’ll deal with this.”

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head. He soon left to return to his hole of an office. You’d only been in there once. It had been stacked to high heaven with books and loose papers. You didn’t know how the man functioned, but you assumed it was equal parts caffeine and Prozac.

So you took the report, and you went up to the 30th floor for the first time in months.

You went down the hall to Josh’s office first, but you could hear from the other side of the closed door that he was locked in a meeting with one of the more difficult clients.

You could come back later, or just drop the folder off with Nick’s assistant.

You went back down the hall and found that Nick’s office door was cracked open, but you weren’t about to go in, even just to deliver a simple report. You didn’t want to speak to him, let alone enter his office.

His assistant was out on a break, it seemed, so you couldn’t just give it to her. You contemplated leaving it on her desk with a note. But that’s when you heard the voices coming from within the office.

“As you know, my father’s back in town,” you heard Nick say. You inched closer to the door and cautiously peeked through the three inches of space in the doorway. There was another man inside, slightly taller than Nick, but leaner. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a plaid shirt. His long arms were crossed as he listened.

You could tell by the way he stood, however, that this wasn’t an associate from one of their accounts. He didn’t look like a businessman or a lawyer. The way he stood was sharper, more calculated even in his laxness.

Your brain caught up with the conversation as Nick continued to speak.

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your gaze widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

You blinked in shock. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

Your heart pounded while you searched for a way out of the hallway, out of plain sight. You found the nearest bathroom and went into the women’s. It seemed empty, at least.

There you rushed into one of the stalls and locked it. You realized that you had your phone in your pocket, and you took it out with trembling hands. Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name as panicked breaths escaped you.

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

“He’s Nick’s father,” you hissed. Trying to contain yourself and speak quietly was not easy. “I met him once at a company networking event, like a month after I got hired. Daniel Savage. He built Savage & Co. from the ground up. But he handed off the reigns to Nick years ago.”

It seemed to take John a moment to compute on that one, but he eventually replied.

“You’re at the office now?” John asked.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied testily. “I’m hiding out in a bathroom stall.”

“Okay, take it slow, all right?” he said. “You’re gonna go back to your office, calm. Like you didn’t just hear what you heard. You’re gonna take an early lunch, and you’re gonna come straight to the precinct for me. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay. I need to call Dean,” you said.

“I’ll fill him in. Just focus on getting out of there,” John said.

You agreed, but you still felt shaky when you ended the call. No one had entered the bathroom, and it had been a few minutes already, so you chanced stepping out of the stall and into the hallway. That too was empty.

You sucked in another steadying breath. This time you went down the stairs to get back to your office. It felt unusually warm in the stairwell. Hot enough that you actually started to sweat on the way down to the 22nd floor.

Damn, did the AC break or something?

You made it back to your office, though when you opened the door, you were unable to be relieved. Nick sat in your chair at your desk. He gave you a smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to be in here. Get out,” you snapped. You had no patience for another tête-à-tête with him today; especially after what you just saw.

And it hit you then. You were a witness.

You eyed Nick more warily. He had one of his gold golf clubs in his hand, and he leaned on it as he stood. He set up a putter’s stance next to your desk and hit a golf ball with a gentle swing. The ball rolled into your flat shoe.

“I want to go over that report you brought upstairs,” he said.

You shook your head and went cautiously over to your desk. Your purse was inside (you were kicking yourself for not taking it with you upstairs). Nick was too close to your desk for comfort, until he moved to retrieve his golf ball. It allowed you to move farther into the room.

“Anything you want to discuss can be done via email. Right now, I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” you lied. Your gaze was off the man for maybe a few seconds while you grabbed your purse from inside the desk. Another realization hit you in that moment.

How did he know it was me who brought the report?

By the time you looked up, Nick was shutting the door to your office. He tilted his head at you with a darker edge to his smile.

“You saw something you weren’t supposed to. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” he said.

You steeled yourself with a breath. You felt inside your purse, and your hand wrapped around your taser. You pulled it out and switched it on, pointing it towards him.

“Step away from the door or I’ll fry your ass,” you threatened. It lost its effect somewhat, with the way your hand was shaking, but it was a threat, nonetheless.

Nick raised his brows at you. He still had his golf club in hand. His movements were slow as he stepped away from the door, and closer towards you.

“Sure you know how to work that thing?” he teased with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d take a breath. Relax a bit. Come sit on my knee.”

That last bit was teasing, despite the way he eyed you, even now with a shade of desire. The kind that claimed and stole in its taking. It made you want to spit in his face.

“You’re a bastard,” you replied. “Turns out, the bastard apple doesn’t fall far from the bastard tree.”

“Watch it,” Nick warned. You saw the dangerous edge in his blue eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”

He swung the club at your head.

You managed to duck, yelping as it crashed into a lamp instead. You tried to run for the door, but that was when Nick grabbed you by the hair and nearly yanked the hairclip right out.

A short scream escaped your lips as you grabbed for his wrist. He shoved you hard into the wall, where you lost your footing and fell. Your head cracked against the accent table that once held the lamp, and your vision blurred on the way down. Glass crackled under your arm and bit into your cheek.

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser. His hands fell away from you and he went down like an elephant, jolting and writhing on the ground. You gasped for breath above him while you realized what you’d just done. You tilted your head down at him.

No, you weren’t done.

You grabbed his golf club with your free hand. When he tried to reach for your ankle, you jammed the heavy club into his hand until he shouted in pain. For every moment of frustration, anxiety, and fear this man had caused you, you gave it back to him with one heavy swing of that club into his stomach. (And maybe one more for good measure.) 

He doubled over, groaning, coughing a bit of blood. You tossed the golf club and grabbed your purse with a shaking hand. You left him where he laid.

As soon as you open the door, however, you were pushed back by the cloud of incoming smoke. You coughed and squinted against it, but your eyes widened again when you realized what was happening.

The building was on fire.

For some reason the alarms weren’t going off, but it was clear to see what was in front of you. Smoke was clogging the halls. People were rushing out of their offices for the stairwell. You couldn’t help glancing back at Nick; he was slowly pulling himself to his feet.

Part of you knew he might not make it if you left him, but when he looked up at you, with pure hatred, your fear overrode any mercy that might’ve made you turn around.

So you fled for the stairwell behind the small crowd. There were flames making their way down along with the smoke. That was all right, because you all were running in the opposite direction.

You had to blink a drop of blood out of your eyes, and you raised a shaky hand to a cut above your brow, which was also tender to the touch. You were bleeding, clearly, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You were just trying your best not to get pushed or trampled while you hastened down several floors.

The signs pointed to Floor 10 when you felt a buzzing in your pocket. It was your phone, you realized. You were about to fish it out of your pocket, but you were forced to stop short on the stairs, along with everyone else. 

The flames were coming from the floor below as well, blocking your exit.

Once again, Dean frowned while checking his phone. You still hadn’t answered his text from an hour ago. Benny came to sit beside him on the couch in the firehouse common room.

“What’s got you spacin’ out?” Benny asked, noting his friend’s mood.

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “But I’ve got a bad feeling, Benny.”

Benny’s brows furrowed. “Why, what’s wrong?”

Before Dean could answer, his phone rang in his hand. He perked up to answer it, until he realized it was his dad calling. He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dean greeted.

“Thanks to your girl, we know who Azazel is,” John said. “Daniel Savage. Nick is his son.”

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach; his shock was followed swiftly by worry.

“What? How’d she find that out?”

“She called me this morning. I told her to come straight to the precinct, but she’s not here yet. That was an hour ago,” John said gravely.

Dean’s eyes widened.

And then the alarm sounded overhead. Over the intercom the dispatcher reported a working fire at a commercial building. The address was the same as your work building: Savage & Co.

“Is that you?” John asked, once the intercom message was finished.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He was already up and out of the firehouse, getting his turnout gear on with the phone pressed to his ear. His heart was hammering in his chest, but his tone was rock steady.

“If she’s still in that building, I’m gonna find her.”

Firehouses 18 and 20 had already arrived by the time Firehouse 25 got to the scene of the Savage & Co. building. The flames were sky-high, consuming from the top and the bottom. Just by looking at it, Dean thought there had to have been at least two points of origin (where the fire was started). He doubted this was an accident.

“Okay, 25,” Chief Singer said to the entire Truck 79 and Rescue Squad crew. “House 20 got here first, so Chief Sanderson’s calling the shots. He requested our help in clearing the first five floors. Their crew is already on floors 30 through 20. House 18 has the middle.”

Dean went up to Bobby and spoke just loud enough for him to hear. He filled him in on what John had just told him about Azazel, and that you were most likely somewhere in the building.

“She’s in there, Chief. I have to find her,” Dean said.

Bobby saw the desperation in the younger man’s eyes, and he sympathized. “Have you tried calling her again?”

“She’s not answering,” Dean replied. “If he found out what she knows, he could be after her. That means she could be somewhere near the top.”

“Or she’s in the middle. Or she’s already out of the building,” Bobby reasoned. He quelled Dean’s protest with a raised hand. It then fell on the younger man’s shoulder. “I understand, son. But I’ve got a protocol to follow, and so do you, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s lips pressed together. He knew his rank and his responsibility, but you were in danger. You could already be hurt, or trapped, or…

Dean rounded up Truck 79 with swift, barking orders. After donning their helmets and masks, his and Benny’s team made their way inside. The first floor was wall to wall rolling flames. The heat was nearly overwhelming, like entering the gates of hell.

There was no moving safely through the first floor, so they had to move on to the closest stairwell and try to make it up to the second. Dean held Benny back for a moment.

“I’m going up! Stick with the guys,” Dean said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony inside the stairwell.

Benny frowned. “What’re you doin’? You heard the Chief!”

Dean shook his head. He knew he was about to defy a direct order, but he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that you were still in the building somewhere.

“I’ve gotta find her,” he said.

“You think I don’t want to find Andréa?” Benny said. “She hasn’t answered my calls either. They could be anywhere, Dean!”

Dean clasped his friend’s shoulder. “You’re making my point, man.”

And he took off up the stairs before Benny could stop him.

“Damn it, Dean!” Benny shouted after him.

“Where’s he going?” Jack asked. He and Gordon were the only ones to hang back while the rest of their crew followed their orders and searched the second floor, not realizing that their Lieutenant was no longer with them.

“To go be an idiot,” Benny growled. But he wasted no more time. He followed Dean up the stairwell.

Gordon shared a quick look with Jack before he started his own climb up the stairs.

“You can follow protocol, or you can back up the Lieutenant,” Gordon called down.

In that moment, Jack made a decision. He followed Gordon and Benny.

You had to follow the rest of the crowd after you all couldn’t make it down the rest of the stairs safely. It landed you somewhere on the 10th floor, where the group scattered. Your head was aching, your heart pounded in your ears, and you didn’t know where to go.

You fled for the stairwell on the other side of the building, and in turning a corner, you smacked right into Andréa. You gasped when you caught hold of each other.

“Oh my God!” she cried, and she grabbed you into a hug. “Are you okay? Why’re you bleeding?”

“Catch up later,” you choked out. It was so hard to breathe; you were coughing every few moments.

She looked on you worriedly and let out a cough herself. “Come on.”

She pulled you along with her by the arm. You joined a smaller group that were heading for the opposite stairwell. Unfortunately, not all of you would make it there.

A piece of the weakened ceiling crumbled and fell in a fiery heap. Andréa had been just a couple steps in front of you, and it meant you saw it before she did. You pushed her forward so she would make it across. You were forced to stop short and protect your face from the embers.

You nearly tripped and fell back, but you used the wall to steady yourself. You looked up at the sound of Andréa calling your name. You found her terrified face. There was now a wall of fire separating you from her and the rest of the group.

“Keep going!” you coughed. “I’ll find another way.”

“No, I’m not leaving you!” she called back. She pushed away the man that tried to urge her on towards the stairwell.

“Go!” you shouted, even though it raked across your throat. You forced yourself to straighten up and turn away from her. The only chance you had was if there was a way around this hallway that still led to the stairs.

Oh shit, you gasped when you turned the corner. The fire was only getting worse. The building was being consumed, and you almost couldn’t see past a few feet in front of you with all the smoke. It stung in your eyes and clogged your throat.

You stumbled along until you found a room that you could escape into. It was another restroom. The fire hadn’t yet reached inside the women’s bathroom on this floor; maybe you could wait it out like you would a tornado.

Okay, clearly I’m fucking delirious, you thought. You huddled in a corner under the sink and tried and failed to take even breaths without coughing or panicking. You pulled out your phone with shaking hands and tried once again to call Dean. The reception was absolute shit in the entire building now.

It rang, and rang, and rang. Tears slipped down your cheeks.

But despite your dismayed thoughts, he actually answered.

“Hey! Baby, are you there?!”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You clutched at the phone. “Dean!”

You coughed, and you realized smoke was rising under the bathroom door now. The fire would spread here soon enough.

“Where are you? I’m here at your building!”

“Bathroom, 10th floor!” you managed to reply. “I couldn’t get out.”

“It’s okay. I’m coming right now,” he said. “Stay put for me.”

“Yeah,” you said, with a shaky breath. You couldn’t exactly leave. “Dean, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Where’s…r—oom?”

He was glitching in and out. You gripped the phone tighter in panic. “Dean?”

“Can…ear m…”

“Dean!” Your tears fell anew. You had another reason to struggle for breath as you tried to reach him.

You slid out from under the sink to try and get better reception, but it was no use. The call failed.

“Shit!” You nearly tossed your cell across the room out of sheer frustration.

The bathroom door bursting open startled a scream out of you. Was the fire coming in?

The move did allow more smoke to infiltrate the bathroom, but instead of the fire, you saw a firefighter in all his gear. This time, it did include the helmet.

“Fire Department!” he called out.

You would know that voice anywhere. And even through the mask, you recognized the man’s eyes when he went to you.

“Dean,” you sobbed. It was halted only by a series of lung-wracking coughs and wheezing. He quickly took his helmet and mask off so he could fit the mask over your soot-covered face.

“It’s okay, deep breaths. I gotcha, baby, just breathe,” Dean encouraged. His arm was around your waist, holding you close while the oxygen finally allowed you to take in slower breaths and relax against him.

“Okay, let’s get out of here, huh?” he said. He put his helmet back on.

You grabbed the front of his jacket. “Don’t you need the mask?”

You were still having trouble breathing, coughing on every other word. Dean shook his head.

“You need it more right now,” he said.

You realized that Benny was holding the bathroom door open.

“We gotta go!” he said.

“Benny, Andréa was here,” you said. His eyes widened behind his mask. “She got out, I think. She made it to the west stairwell.”

“Okay, yeah, because no one’s getting out the east wing,” Gordon said. You noted him standing just behind Benny, with Jack in tow.

“There’s a block,” you said, pointing just ahead where you saw the pile of debris. More parts of the ceiling had crumbled around it, making it a fiery minefield. There was no other way around it at this point—only through it.

Gordon and Jack went through first, followed by Benny. With their jackets and protective gear, they were able to jump through like a flaming hoop. And they would be able to help catch you and Dean from the other side.

“Okay, you ready?” Dean asked.

“If I say no?” you said, holding onto him tighter. His hand soothed over your hair. You’d lost your clip a long time ago (along with your purse), so your hair was probably wild and frizzy and covered in soot, along with the rest of you.

Dean grinned down at you. “Then I’d say, don’t you worry. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

Even now, through your fear, he could make you smile. You steeled yourself and took a breath. You could hear it so clearly with the mask on. That, and your own heartbeat.

He counted down to three, and on the last beat, Dean covered your head and shoulders and ran with you under the flame-covered ceiling. He managed to help you jump over the fiery debris on the ground. On both of your heavy landings, a wooden support beam fell.

There was a shout from Benny, but it was too late. All Dean could do was cover you. The beam broke over his back and knocked his helmet clean off. He took you with him when he fell.

Your scream rang out—half at the fall, but mostly for Dean. It was Benny who dragged you and Dean out first. Gordon and Jack took over hefting an unconscious Dean, while Benny hauled you up onto your feet and led you to the west stairwell.

You passed out just as you felt fresh air hit the mask.

You woke to bright, fluorescent lighting that made you wince. An oxygen mask covered your mouth and nose and was strapped around your head. You made a sound of discomfort and tried to take it off, but a hand stilled yours.

“Don’t.”

Eileen’s concerned face came into view. You were confused, though happy to see her.

“You’re in the hospital,” she said. When you tried to speak, she held up a finger to you. Wait, said her eyes.

She took out her phone from her jean pocket to text someone.

“Sam is coming,” she told you, before she drew closer to sooth a hand up and down your arm. You felt tears in your eyes at just that small comfort.

They fell in earnest when Sam entered your hospital room. His eyes held the concern of a friend and a brother as he approached on your other side.

“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, laying a hand on your shoulder.

You wheezed a breath and rasped, “Water.”

Sam nodded and grabbed you a plastic cup filled with cold water. It felt like literal heaven once the mask was off and you were able to drink. He helped you while Eileen held the mask away from your face.

After you’d had all you could drink, he took the cup and Eileen placed the mask back over your face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked, after clearing your throat. You still sounded like a chain smoker, and your head was pounding. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable,” Sam said, with a sigh. But when he didn’t offer anything more, you raised expectant brows at him.

“What else?” you said. Your tone told him not to skimp on any more details.

Sam’s gaze met yours. “The beam burned through his jacket, on his back. It hit his head. They…had to perform a minor surgery to relieve the pressure in his brain, but he’s stable in recovery now.”

He was quick to add on that last bit when you began to crumble. Eileen encouraged you to breathe through your tears. The oxygen could only do half the battle if you didn’t breathe properly.

“I want to see him,” you said.

Sam frowned and held up a placating hand. “I don’t think that’s—”

You ignored him and tried to sit up. With or without his approval, you were getting out of this bed.

“Okay, you’re not listening,” Sam sighed, though he immediately went to help you. He shot Eileen an imploring look over your head.

She got the hint and helped you on her side. Together they helped you stand while you removed the mask, then the heart monitor and other wires taped to your torso.

The Emergency Department team had left your pants on, thank goodness, but they’d clipped through your blouse and bra. So the paper gown was mostly to cover your top half like a light blue poncho. It was a bit airy in the back, but Eileen held it closed for you. Right now, you didn’t care much about your modesty. You were also walking around the hospital barefooted.

At least Dean was on the same floor. It was just a long walk down the hall.

“Can you call Benny and ask how Andréa’s doing?” you asked, coughing a bit.

Sam eyed you in thinly veiled concern, but he agreed. The last he’d heard from Benny was that Andréa had been cleared by the paramedics with minor smoke inhalation. You were clearly worse.

Sam held you upright when you finally saw Dean. He had to guide you into a chair beside Dean’s bed, where he slept on his side. On his back was a large stretch of white gauze across his upper back, from nearly shoulder to side at an angle.

“The doctor said they’re only second-degree burns. It looks worse than it is,” Sam said quietly.

Eileen rubbed your back in the hopes that you’d stop crying.

You could only focus on the gauze, the smaller nicks and burns around Dean’s face, the bandage and thick gauze near his temple where they’d apparently had to drill into his skull. He also wore an oxygen mask, because if all that wasn’t enough, you were sure “smoke inhalation” was on the list, thanks to the way he’d given you his SCBA mask.

Gently, very gently, you took his hand. Your thumb swept over the back of it, over each knuckle.

“Did they say when he’d wake up?” you asked. You rubbed at your aching stomach. Does smoke inhalation cause nausea too?

Your chest was also tight. You’d head back to your room sooner or later and get the oxygen mask back on.

Before Sam could reply, you heard a groan below. You looked down at Dean with wide-eyed hope. It took a moment, but his eyes slid open. They were unfocused and dark, until they found your face.

You smiled tearfully. “Hey, baby.”

Your free hand caressed his cheek. His eyes briefly closed at your touch. When he realized you were holding his hand, he squeezed a bit. That was enough for you.

Just then, however, you had to let go of his hand. Whatever was left in your stomach from this morning seemed to be revolting. You turned your head quick to throw up onto the hospital floor.

Both Sam and Eileen called your name when you slid out of your chair and onto the floor. You blinked tears out of your eyes…or actually, it was black spots encroaching on your vision.

Sam pushed the chair out of his way to get to you. He gathered you into his arms and shouted for a doctor while Eileen went for the emergency button on Dean’s hospital bed.

The last thing you saw was Dean’s worried face out of the corner of your eye, before the blackness took you.

Dean could barely speak behind his oxygen mask, but Sam saw his worry as the nurses carried you away in a stretcher with Eileen following close behind. Sam crouched in front of his brother and clasped his hand.

“She’ll be okay, I promise. I’m gonna look out for both of you,” Sam said. “Right now, you need to sleep.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. In that small gesture, Sam also saw his stubbornness. He almost smiled. You and Dean were a match made.

“Just rest, Dean. I’m going now to check on her, but not until you close your eyes,” Sam said. It took another stubborn minute, but Dean eventually relaxed as well as he was able. His eyes closed as he fell back under the pull of medication and painkillers.

“How’s he doing?” came the voice of their father in the doorway. Sam’s expression morphed from gentle to austere. His head turned towards his father.

“How does he look like he’s doing?” Sam asked. “He had a burning ceiling fall on him. He has the mother of all concussions, and he just saw his girlfriend collapse.”

John was quiet, in contrast to his youngest son’s ire. He stepped into the room and watched his eldest. Sam saw the man’s age in the lines around his eyes, in his slow gait when he raised a gentle hand to comb through Dean’s greasy hair, mindful of his injuries.

“This shouldn’t have fucking happened,” said John. His voice was tired and gruff. Sam knew what the weight of guilt looked like, but what he didn’t yet see was regret. If John hadn’t kept digging, digging, Azazel wouldn’t have taken it this far.

Okay, Sam didn’t yet have proof that Azazel burned down the Savage & Co. building…but he didn’t believe in coincidences.

“No,” Sam said. “It shouldn’t have.”

“What the fuck was that?!” Nick shouted.

He was still dusted with soot and sporting some cracked ribs from the day’s activities. He’d stumbled into his father’s house, taken a bottle of bourbon from the man’s shelf and started drinking straight from the crystal glass.

Daniel eyed him coolly from the balcony, smoking a cigar. “Whatever do you mean, son?”

Nick was furious. He stomped over, not caring how expensive liquor was splashing on him.

“Why’d you burn the whole damn building?” he demanded to know. “I could’ve died!”

“Alistair got you out, didn’t he?” Daniel pointed towards his son with the hand that held his cigar. “See, unlike you, I think ahead.”

“I’m serious,” Nick hissed. “Our company is still important—”

“My company,” Daniel interjected, “is not that building. However, the building itself was a liability.”

Nick’s brows knit together in confusion and anger. “What the hell’re you talking about?”

Daniel took a long drag of his cigar, puffing in Nick’s face. The latter coughed. As if he hadn’t had enough smoke in his lungs today.

“Don’t you see?” Daniel asked, with a sigh that also said he wondered how he could’ve produced such a moron. “It puts distance between you and ‘Azazel’ if you’re also a victim of his threats. It destroys any physical evidence of me having been there, along with any files you would’ve eventually had to turn over to the police and the FBI.”

Nick let that idea sink into his brain. He realized that it did make sense…but he deflated as something else occurred to him.

“Uh…see, that would’ve worked, but, we have a problem,” Nick scratched his head. “Someone knows who you really are.”

By the time Nick finished explaining about you, and what you’d overheard, Daniel’s sharp gaze managed to strike fear into Nick’s heart.

Yet to his surprise, the other man’s temper didn’t blow. Daniel kept it all inside as he continued to smoke. Cigars tended to pacify him better than cigarettes.

His lips twitched at a humorless smile. “Well, that is a problem.”

“But she probably died in the fire, so we’re good,” Nick shrugged.

“No, I doubt she did,” Daniel sighed. “You’re not that lucky.”

He rolled his shoulders. Then he grabbed Nick’s arm and twisted, until his was crying out and pinned to the nearest wall. Daniel threatened to put out his cigar in the soft underbelly of the arm he held.

Nick looked up at his father with wide, pleading eyes.

“Like everything else, that girl is a problem I’m going to fix,” Daniel said. “Along with the whole Winchester brood.” 

AN: 🫣 Don't hate me lol. It gets better for them, I promise. But we have a few more chapters left to go and a few more twists in store!

Next Time:

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

Keep Reading: PART 17

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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