"Cover the door," he demanded before walking back to me and snatching the phone from the wall. I gave him a look as if to say to think this through. But Sam was right. If we didn't call for help, the man might die.
"Look, one of the people could be having heart trouble. You need to send in a paramedic," Sam spoke into the phone after exchanging a few words with the person on the other end of the line.
"Just stay calm, we'll have you folks out of there," the voice on the other end spoke.
"Just send in a paramedic, okay?" Sam shouted into the phone. "And don't try anything else. Please."
"Paramedic?" the man helping the security guard questioned. "We don't have time for that, man!"
"Listen, I, I, I'm sorry, okay? I am. But nobody's getting out," Ronald told them firmly.
"He's dying right in front of you."
Sam looked stressed, so I placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.
"Help," the guard gasped out.
"Look, I'm sorry, I really am. But we can't let you leave," I told them firmly.
"You can't really be this heartless," the man scolded me. "You need medical attention just as much..."
"No, I don't," I snapped at him. "You better start thinking carefully about how you want this shitty situation to end because we're doing the best we can here. They will send in a paramedic, and if they don't, we'll deal with it. Now you shut your fucking mouth."
I grimaced when pain shot up through my body, and I stepped back, leaning against the wall.
"Yeah, you are the picture-perfect of good health," the man continued, and I glared at him through the open door. Ronald took my place in the doorway, and the man turned to him now. "Come on, man, you've gotta unlock the front door. We've got to get him out of here."
"Both of you stay where you are," Ronald demanded, cocking his rifle.
"Ronald, you don't need to shoot anyone else," I scolded him, and he flashed me a quick apologetic smile but still held the rifle raised. Movement in the corner of my eye made me turn to see Dean walk over. He whispered a few words to Sam, glancing into the vault.
I didn't need to hear them to know what they were talking about, but Dean still came over and quietly filled me in.
"Dark guy holding the guard. Just found his body a few rooms over," Dean whispered in my ear. I held back the impulse to just gank him right then and there, knowing I didn't have the strength.
"You know what, Ronald? He's right, we've got to get this man outside," Sam spoke, walking into the vault to get the guard. "Come on. I've got you."
"Yeah, yeah, let me help you," the shapeshifter spoke and tried to help Sam with the guard.
"Oh, I got him, it's, it's cool. Thanks," Sam said, shooting down his offer.
"Thank you. Thank you," the guard mumbled as Sam half carried him out.
"Sure."
"... Thank you."
I stared at the shifter, twisting the silver letter opener behind my back.
"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" Dean asked him once Sam and the guard was out of sight, with Ronald looking after them.
"You got the gun, man. I mean, whatever." He walked closer.
"Dean!" I called out in a warning once the shifter got too close, but it was too late. He slapped the gun from Dean's hand and shoved his head against the wall, making him fall to the ground dizzy. I quickly stepped in from of him, letter opener in hand.
He smirked at me, and when his fist connected with my wound, I yelled out in pain, collapsing to the floor, gasping for air.
"Will," Dean called out, but I couldn't answer. The pain blinded me, and I opened my mouth in a silent scream.
"Stop! Come back here!" Ronald's voice echoed between the walls as he followed the shifter.
"I'm fine. Go after him. I'm right behind you," I managed to gasp out to Dean. He looked conflicted, staring down at me, but I gently shoved him away. "Go!"
I propped myself up against the wall, looking down at the blood-soaked piece of fabric Sam had used to wrap me in. It was worse now than before; no doubt the shifter had ruined the patch up. Annoyed, I tied the fabric tighter around me, hissing in pain. Then I got to my feet and staggered after the others.
"Get down! Now!" Sam's voice echoed through the walls, and just as I walked back out to the bank, a gunshot rang out. Glass shattered, and blood splattered from Ronald, who was standing in the sight of the windows in his pursuit of the shifter.
I watched in horror as Ronald's body fell to the floor. Dean ducked for shelter just a few feet in front of me. With wide eyes, he watched as Ronald took his last breath.
I crawled over to Dean, gently placing my hand on his shoulder. He looked shaken, and his green eyes flickered up to meet mine. Sam slid in behind the wall, next to his brother. Both of them seemed out of breath, sweat glistening on their foreheads. I could only imagine what I looked like.
"Here," the younger Winchester said and held out a key. "Take care of the guard. I'm going after the shifter." Sam took off across the room, and Dean looked after him worriedly.
"Fuck." I bit my lip, looking over at the dead non-hunter.
Taking cover behind whatever I could find, I led the way over to Ronald's body and reached out to get his assault rifle.
"Sorry, Ron. You did a real good job tracking this thing, you really did," Dean spoke behind me. I stayed quiet as he mourned the man, but it only lasted for a moment before Dean grabbed my hand, pulling me along and away.
I handed him the rifle and followed him, hunched over, to the guard by the stairs. We got the guard to the doors in a joined effort, and Dean unlocked the doors.
"You should go out there as well." Dean's gaze shifted to me with worry. "Let them fix you up."
"Dean," I hissed, anxious to get this over with. "If I go out there, they will arrest me."
"Yeah, but they'll take you to a hospital first," he argued, letting his eyes wander from my arm down to my stomach.
"It's not gonna happen," I snarled and took the security guard's arm, forcing Dean to continue the last bit out the doors.
"Everything's going to be all right," Dean assured the guard as he opened the last set of doors.
Guns pointed at us from every direction, and the scene was lit up from a helicopter in the sky. Red and blue colors flashed, making the whole ordeal seem even more hectic.
"No, don't shoot! Don't shoot! Please!" The guard called out to the cops, and I took half a step out from the building, next to Dean, who held the rifle.
"No, no, no, no, no! Don't even think about it!" The hunter called out, using the guard as his shield as he looked around. This whole thing had turned into a shit show. Cops had the area blocked off, a SWAT team circled the building, and just outside the police tape, media had gathered.
"Please! Don't shoot!"
"Son of a--" Dean swore low under his breath, and our eyes met for a split second, sharing a look of panic. "I said get back! Now!" Dean boomed out to the SWAT team, who closed in on us, pointing the rifle at the guard's back.
"You ready?" I asked the guard, offering a stiff smile. He nodded his head franticly, and I removed his arm from my shoulders with a pained grunt and backed in through the door again.
"Okay, go, go!" Dean ordered, and the guard stumbled forward as Dean and I retreated into safety.
"We are so screwed," Dean muttered, locking the doors again. I ran a hand over my hair, backing up from the doors.
"What the fuck are we gonna do?"
Dean looked over at me, probably noticing the distress on my face.
"We'll figure something out." I could barely hear what he said, my mind was racing, and the constant ringing in my ears made it hard to concentrate. "Hey," he walked over and cupped my cheek, making me look up at him. "One problem at a time. We'll get out of here."
And just like that, I felt a calm wash over me like a tsunami. I felt sure of his words, even though he didn't say them with much conviction. Dean's green eyes staring into mine were all I needed. I smiled up at him, suddenly filled with the need to get closer. Standing on my tiptoes, I reached up and placed a soft kiss on his plump lips.
"You're right," I agreed and had to force the following words out. "We should get a move on."
---
Dean's cell phone rang while we walked down the steps back to the bank. I'd gotten so used to following my rules the week I had been away that the sound made my skin crawl. I glanced over at him when he answered, putting it on speaker.
"Yeah?"
"Slipped his skin." Sam's voice informed us. I sighed deeply, knowing we'd have to start all over again.
"What?" Dean groaned.
"Yeah, bastard shifts fast. A lot faster than the one in St. Louis."
"God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. Again."
"Yeah, I think most of the employees are out of the vault by now," Sam stated.
"Okay, just..." I sighed again, glancing at Dean. "Just continue to search every inch of this place. Dean and I'll gather our hostages." I looked at Dean and raised my brows. "That's felt so weird saying."
It didn't take long to gather the employees back into the vault; most of them tried to hide close by, knowing the door was locked and they couldn't get out. While I held the rifle, Dean herded the rest of the people into the dark, cramped space.
"And I thought you were one of the good guys," a voice spoke from inside. I looked up, noting it was the same woman who couldn't stop talking about what a hero Dean was earlier. The hunter stopped what he was doing and looked at her.
"What's your name?" he asked in a soft tone.
"Why would you care?"
"My name's Dean," he told her. She seemed to consider him for a while before accepting that he wasn't some kind of monster. The genuine care in his voice disarmed her.
"I'm Sherry."
"Hi, Sherry," he spoke. The phone on the wall behind me rang, and he looked back, catching my eyes. I caught on to his silent message and turned to answer, hearing him calm her before closing the vault. "Everything's gonna be all right. This will all be over soon, okay?"
"Hello?" I answered, making my voice stronger than I felt.
"This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen," a man spoke on the other line.
"Victor, what can I do for you?" I asked, feeling Dean walk up behind me.
"Surrender for starters. I want you and your accomplices out here, unarmed."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that's not gonna happen. We still have a job to finish."
A low, humorless laugh was heard on the other end. "You might want to reconsider that, Willow," Henriksen spoke. I raised my brows, but I guess I shouldn't have been surprised he knew my name. I had seen part of the folder the FBI had put together. "My predecessor was fired because she couldn't bring you in, and I have no plans of following her footsteps. You have an hour before my men come in and drag you out, supposing you haven't bled out by then."
A dangerous smirk reached my lips. "Tell her she did a good job finding information on me. It's a shame we didn't get the chance to--."
"Miss Price," the FBI agent cut me short. "I know you like to have things your way, but I also know you are not the one who calls the shots here. Hand over the phone to Dean."
I stared into the wall, grinding my teeth. I was trying to get a read on the emotionally unavailable voice belonging to Henriksen, but his fast speaking, cold tone made it hard. I could tell he wanted to get this all over with, overconfident that he would succeed. His ego got in the way of properly assessing the situation, and I needed to keep it that way. I smirked and nodded to Dean before handing him the phone.
"Yeah?" Dean answered. "Yeah, listen, I'm not really in the negotiating mood right now, so ––" I couldn't hear what Henriksen told him, but his face went from cocky to surprise.
"Whoa. Kinda harsh for a Federal Agent, don't you think?" Dean was quiet for a while before his face contorted into horror. He looked at me, and I tried to hear what was said. "Yeah, well, that part's true, but how'd you even know we were here?"
Dean's face shifted between different emotions, and I questioned whether handing him the phone had been a good idea. Suddenly, his voice changed. It got darker in a warning. "Hey, you don't know crap about my dad."
If he didn't have my full attention before, he definitely did now. His eyes flickered around the room as he listened, and then that dangerously cold smirk he got when he was pissed appeared.
"You got no right talking about my dad like that." The corner of his mouth twitched with rage. "He was a hero."
He listened to the phone for a few more seconds before he closed his eyes hard, clutching the phone until his knuckles turned white and holding it in his fist up to his head. He pursed his lips, then slammed the phone down. I guessed that Henriksen hung up on him.
"What did he say?"
Dean's hard stare softened at my voice.
"That you were the Bonnie to my Clyde," he smirked, obviously trying to contain his rage. I raised my brow, begging for the important part. "They'll be in within the hour."
I nodded slowly, "Yeah, he told me that too."
"So..."
"I'd say we got a few minutes at best. There's no way a guy like him is going to sit out there and wait an hour for us."
Sam rushed into the room, heading for the vault.
"Sam," I said, stopping him. Dean gripped the rifle I'd left on a table while he spoke on the phone, turning to his brother.
"Hey. We've got a bit of a problem outside."
Sam stopped and looked at us, shoulders tense. "We got a problem in here," he countered, motioning to the vault.
I opened the vault, pushing the thich door back to reveal the people inside. Dean took a step inside, looking between the faces for a moment.
"Sherry? We're gonna let you go," he declared. I observed her reaction, noting the unsure look in her eyes.
"What? Why me?"
"Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds, come on," Dean motioned for her to come over.
"Uh..." Her eyes flicked over to the weapon in deans hands. "I think I'd, I'd rather stay here, with the others." She took a demonstrating step back, so Dean walked in closer.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."
She watched us all warily but soon followed, deciding that it was best not to argue. When I closed the heavy door behind her, dark spots clouded my vision. Dean and Sam began to lead Sherry away, and I closed my eyes for a moment, resting my forehead against the cold metal in an attempt to not faint.
I looked down at my stomach, letting go of a shaky breath while ignoring the constant ringing in my ears. My energy was spent, and I knew it.
"Will?" Dean's soft voice called out a few steps ahead. I looked up at the two brothers, standing on either side of the shifter, and faked a smile.
"I'm coming." I forced myself to follow them, blinking away the dark spots. If I hadn't been so light-headed, I might have noticed the look the brothers shared. My head was pounding, and the pain radiating through my arm and abdomen made me nauseous. I took the lead, pressing past the small group.
Once we got back to where Sam had found Sherry's body, I stepped aside, taking hold of one of the filing cabinets for support. Dean pushed the woman inside behind me.
"I thought you were letting me go," she whimpered. Dean ignored her and shoved her forward, holding her head and forcing her to look down at the dead body on the ground that was an exact replica of herself.
It took her a second to understand what she was seeing, but then she started to scream, struggling to get free from Dean's grasp.
"Is that community theater, or are you just naturally that good?" Dean taunted her, letting go of her only for her to end up in Sam's grasp.
"This is the last time you become anybody. Ever," the younger hunter told her, raising his letter opener. She held on to his shirt but still tried to push away.
"No! Oh god!" She screamed, with a look of true terror etched on her face. "Ohhhh..." I watched as her knees buckled under her, and she fell to the floor.
"Did she just... faint?" I blinked at her lifeless form. I glanced back at the other body in the room. The two shared the same face, but the one Sam had found had a slit throat and was only wearing a neglige.
After a moment of confusion, Dean knelt to the passed-out Sherry. He stared at her, shrugged, and raised his silver letter opener, getting ready to stab her.
"Dean, wait, wait, wait," Sam said, stopping him. "What's the advantage of this plan? I mean, fainting now wouldn't help it survive."
"Huh," Dean hummed, walking over to the other body.
"Just stab them both to be sure," I mumbled and got a stern glare from Sam.
A crash echoed, and I closed my eyes in a silent curse. The time was up. When I opened my eyes again, the hand of the body with the slit throat shot up and grabbed Dean by the throat. He tried to stab it, but the shifter fought back.
That was the moment Sherry decided to wake up. She began to scream again, watching the scene, and Sam scooped her into his arms and out of harm's way.
"Get the girls outta here! Now!" Dean bellowed through his struggling. Sam moved fast and pulled Sherry with him out of the room. "Go!" Dean demanded when he noticed me coming closer to help. Suddenly, Sam was by my side, pulling me along with him.
My legs began to shake with the exhaustion of moving, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a glass window we moved past. I looked sickly pale, with dark circles under my eyes. My usually straight shoulders slumped forward, and I was covered in a thin layer of sweat.
Sam had told Sherry to go, and I noticed her frame disappear behind a corner in front of us. The younger Winchester gently pulled my arm, guiding me down another hallway.
"Freeze! Let me see your hands," a voice demanded from behind us. We complied with the demands, and I glanced back nothing three armored policemen with the word SWAT on their shoulders, pointing their weapons at us.
Sam gave me a look, and I nodded slightly, picking up his silent question. I took a couple of deep breaths, and once the cops got close enough, Sam and I spun around simultaneously. I grabbed the gun from the swat man closest to me, forcing it in a different direction, and quickly used my good arm to jab at his throat. I slipped around him, letting my foot connect to the back of his knee, and once he was on his knees in front of me, I slammed his head into the wall with all the force I could gather, effectively knocking him out.
I grabbed at my side, hissing in pain, and slid down to the floor, spent. I could barely see Sam, but he had taken care of both the other SWAT members by what I could gather.
"I've got an idea," he declared and got to his knees beside me. "But it would mean you have to be able to walk out without support."
"Yeah," I nodded, catching my breath and hoping I wasn't lying. "I can do that."
Sam looked skeptical but began to undress the closest man.
"Put that on," he told me as he threw the clothes over to me. I struggled for a bit, feeling how hard it was to lift my limbs from the floor. Once I finally finished pulling the SWAT suit on, Sam was already done with hiding the unconscious men and had gotten dressed. He held the last pair of clothes and reached his other hand out for me to take, pulling me to my feet.
We hurried to look for Dean, Sam's arm under mine keeping me steady.
We found the older Winchester in the boiler room, bending down over the shifter's body, which now had the letter opener shoved into the chest. He looked at us panting, a panic in his eyes.
"It's us," Sam's voice calmed him.
We were silent as the oldest of us pulled on the entire SWAT outfit, covering his face with the mask and helmet, just like Sam and me. "You okay?" Sam asked, looking at me where I rested against some pipes. I was just about to tell him I was but didn't have the energy to speak and forced myself to shake my head, admitting I wasn't.
I had difficulty focusing on anything and could barely hear what the brothers said, even though they had both removed the fabric from over their mouths, and I could see their lips move. Once they realized I wasn't going to answer whatever they had said, Dean took my arm in his and forced me up straight.
My knees nearly gave out, but I forced myself to take one step at a time, following Dean's rhythm. Sam walked in front of us, covering me the best he could, and by some miracle, we made it up the stairs and out the front door.
---
Once we rounded the corner of the building, my legs gave out completely. Dean stopped me from falling, but I yelped out in pain when he lifted me into his arms. I could hear my pulse in my head and could only focus on breathing while Dean and Sam took the stairs into a garage.
The sight of the Impala made me relax a bit, and once I was in the backseat, I allowed myself to close my eyes for a second.
Car doors closed, and I blinked, trying to keep myself awake.
"We are so screwed," Dean stated, pulling off his ski mask. Sam just nodded, and Dean glanced back at me with worry. "Just hang on, Will. We'll get you to a hospital."
"No," I croaked out. "they-- they know I'm..." Words failed me, and I once again focused on breathing through the pain.
"I'd rather have you arrested than dead," Dean spat, and I whimpered at the tone in his voice.
"No, hospital," I panted. "Please, please, Dean." He must have noticed the fear in my eyes because he huffed out in indecisiveness.
"You've lost too much blood, Will!" Sam scolded me. "Of course we have to take you to a hospital!"
"Dean," I mumbled, ignoring Sam. "Please, d-don't." The car roared to life, and I sunk down in the seat, resting my head. The radio was turned on, and Stryx was playing.
Oh, mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law.
Then everything went black.