Why the Winchesters? (COMPLETED)

10: The Great Escape

We all ran back into the little room with the closet, and Sam shut the door to block some of the already-thick smoke.

"What are we going to do?" wailed Henri, pulling on his short, red hair.

I looked around desperately and saw the window, about six feet off the ground. "Guys, guys! Look!" I pointed excitedly to the window.

Sam nodded and he and Dean ran over to the window, presumably to break it and find a way to get one of them out, so they could haul the rest of us out, too.

Henri and I walked over, slower than Sam and Dean, and we stopped about five or six feet away from them in an attempt to stay out of their way.

Henri had a pouty look on his face before he muttered petulantly, "You said you wouldn't burn down my house." The cracking of burning wood and snapping fire got louder.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and asked, disbelieving, "That's really what you're worried about right now?"

We were interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, and Dean calling my name. "Andy, come and help me haul Sam out!" I ran over and laced my fingers, giving Sam a foothold.

We lifted him up and out; he had to wriggle a little to fit through the frame, and then he turned around and leaned back in the window. "Alright, Andy. Your turn."

I shook my head and reached back to haul Henri forwards. "He goes before I do." Sam quickly crawled out of the frame backwards, as if he knew what Dean was going to do.

Dean shrugged and picked Henri up bodily. "Hey!" Henri cried out pathetically before being tossed out the window. After a second, Sam came back up to the ledge and held out a hand.

Dean turned to me and asked, "Do you want a foothold up, or a plane ticket out?" My head hurt like someone had hit me with a frying pan repeatedly, which added to an already really bad situation.

I sent him a stinging look, which he shrugged off. "A foothold is probably my safest bet." I took Sam's outstretched hand and placed my foot in Dean's laced fingers, hopping a little to get to the ledge.

Sam pulled me out, the muscles in his arm bulging slightly. I rolled out of the way and Sam leaned back in, reaching for Dean. I got up and yanked on Henri's collar, trying to get him on his feet.

Dean crawled out of the window, billowing black smoke hot on his trail. I could faintly hear the wood of the door breaking and burning, adding to the fuel. Sam got Dean on his feet right about the same time as I got Henri on his. "Go, go, now!" Dean coughed. "We need to get out of here before someone calls the cops." The ringing in my ears got louder when Dean yelled, but faded when I took a few deep, smoky breaths.

We ran together to the car, and I hauled Henri into the backseat with me. Sam and Dean jumped in and we were off, tires squealing and exhaust mingling with the smoke pouring out of the basement.

After about thirty seconds of smoky silence, Sam turned around and looked at me, concerned. "Are you alright? did the Rougarou bite or scratch you?"

I looked myself over, the throbbing in my head slightly muting the outside noise. "Not that I can see. But I whacked my head on a step when it dropped me, and I think I might have a concussion." The ringing in my ears grew louder when I spoke.

As Sam and Henri watched, I put one hand up to my head and another to my stomach, nausea starting to push at the back of my throat. "Uh, Dean? I'd pull over right now if I were you," Henri wavered.

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at me, and his face went from concerned to oh hell no in a snap. "Do not puke in my Baby!" Dean yelled as he yanked the wheel hard to the right, pulling to the shoulder of the road.

Before the car had even rolled to a stop, I opened the door and stumbled out, tripping a bit. Sam jumped out after me, hustling around the car. As I turned to go to the back of the car, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the shiny black paint and silvery chrome.

I look green, I thought to myself blankly, right before I fell to my hands and knees and hurled the greasy food we'd eaten at the grubby roadside diner this morning. The vomit was acidic from the smoke, and my eyes teared up at the pain of it.

I heard Dean and Henri climbing out of the car, and a passing van slow down as they passed. Sam wound my hair around the nape of my neck, trying to keep it out of my way. I could tell it was Dean's hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulderblades.

I was embarrassed that these guys were watching me puke, but then my stomach heaved again and I didn't care. When I was done and was able to take a shuddering breath, I spit and wiped my mouth with my sleeve, disgusted.

A water bottle came down into my field of vision, held by an overly pale hand. "You alright?" Henri asked.

I nodded, wincing at the headache pulse it caused. "Yeah, I'm not gonna puke anymore, if that's what you mean."

Sam and Dean helped me gently to my feet. "You sure? You don't need to go to the hospital?" Dean walked to the back and grabbed my duffel bag, swinging it onto the trunk. " 'Cuz we could swing by one on the way to Bobby's if you want."

I stumbled over to my bag, hunting for my toothbrush. "No, I'm alright. I just need Ibuprofen or Tylenol. And no loud eighties rock, I regret saying," I muttered, pulling out my pink and purple toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste.

Henri shrugged and got back in the car. Sam and Dean still looked concerned, but Dean opened my door and let me sit down on the seat before closing the door for me, a firetruck and ambulance wailing past us.