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Chapter Text

It’s late afternoon and the sun is making everything uncomfortably hot in downtown L.A. It’s Marv's last month on the job at Richard Roman Enterprises before retirement. Being a security guard in one of the tallest business buildings In L.A. is hard work and he takes it very seriously.

It comes as no surprise to Marv that he was the only security guard in the basement to notice that the inner cellar door is unlocked. Probably some kids just trying to mess with him again. But behind all the pipes, in the dark, he notices a white tool bag and the sounds of someone messing with a wrench.

Marv, overly confident in his abilities, approaches the suspicious subject. It’s a man, dressed in grey coveralls, whose face is concealed by the door of the panel he is tweaking with. “Hey! Stop that! This area is restricted.”

The man replies extremely nonchalantly, and it gets on Marv's nerves. “Uh, hi. Yeah, I know. They called me down here. Some of this wiring got screwed up.”
Marv scoffs, “Okay well, nobody called it down to me. I’m gonna need to see a work order.”

The man sighs like he isn't the one being an inconvenience. “Yeah, just a second.” He reaches down into his bag and pulls out a crumbled piece of paper, that is clearly a flier for some burger joint. “Okay real funny. Just hand me the real work order or-” Blood spurts out from Marv's head. The man stabbed him straight through his ear canal and into his skull with a screwdriver.
Marv stares into the eyes of his murderer. This is a man whose face is filled with hate and determination. He is clearly someone to fear. “Nothing personal”, he says.

So much for retirement. (I’m sorry, I had to.)

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It’s the end of a workday, and people are filing into the elevator. It’s packed, and everyone is clearly tired and uncomfortable, overheating in the cramped box. The doors close and the elevator starts descending from the 43rd floor to the lobby.

A nerdy accountant keeps pressing the lobby button over and over. “Thanks for pushing that, Ed. The light is on, but really you never know. It might be broken.” A man in the back teases. “Oh, shut up.”

BOOM! A bomb placed on top of the elevator goes off, snapping the cables supporting it. The box starts racing down to the ground floor. The lights flicker and dim as people scream for their lives. The elevator shrieks like the sound of a train stopping on its tracks. Thank god for the emergency breaks. The elevator stops and everyone's face is filled with fear.

“Jesus Ed, what button did you push?”

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Outside, people run out of the building, clearly hearing the bomb go off. Sirens scream as police cars and fire trucks circle the building. One car stands out, speeding toward all the noise. A shiny black 1967 chevy impala. As the car screeches to a halt, two men hop out.

They both head for the trunk and take out their bulletproof vests and LAPD firearms. They rush into the building to meet up with their crew and Capt. Singer to get a briefing on the situation.
“Alright boys, what we have here are thirteen passengers in an express elevator, below floor thirty,” Capt Singer says in a commanding voice. “The bomber already took out the cables. The son of a bitch wants three million dollars or he blows the emergency brakes.”

“How much time do we have?” Sam replies eagerly.

“He gave one hour, which gives us 23 minutes left to save these people.”

“Well, is there any other way to keep the elevator from falling?”

“Yeah, the basement," Dean jokes.

Bobby sighs, “That is something we are trying to avoid.”

“Why are we just standing around then? Let's just unload the passengers and we will all be home by dinner.”

Bobby’s voice is flat. “This is an express elevator, smart ass. The only way in or out is through access panels. The bomber also wired the hatch on the elevator to the bomb. He’s crazy but not stupid. We just got to get the money and then we are done here.”

“Well sir, Sam volunteers to examine the device.” Sam whips his head around to angrily stare at Dean. “Seriously Dean?” Dean smirks but pretends to hide it with his newly professional demeanour.

“Fine. The two of you will check it out. The nearest access panel is on the thirty-second floor.” Bobby continues shouting and giving orders to the others. Dean just smiles at Sam, who has to refrain from punching Dean in the face.

“Looks like it’s just you and me”, Dean says as he and Sam bolt up the stairs.

Once they clear the floor and find the access panel, Dean takes out his mechanical screwdriver to unscrew the panel. The device makes a loud ominous sound that can be heard all the way through the elevator shaft. The brothers get the panel open and climb through. They go down a ladder and find themselves right on top of the elevator.

Sam examines the bomb. It looks like a bunch of sticks of C4 with red wires sprouting out both ends. Some lead over the hatch where a small green box is located. It has a blinking red light that makes Dean uneasy. The other wires snake towards the side where the breaks are, along with some more C4 set with clay. It becomes clear to Sam that the only way out of the elevator is through the doors which are blocked by a cement wall.

“What’s going on?!” Someone yells from inside the trapped box.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the LAPD. There has been an elevator malfunction, so just relax and you will be out of there as soon as possible.”

“How come they sent cops here? Shouldn't they have sent repair guys?” says another citizen. It is clear Dean's yelling has done little to soothe the hostages.

“Am I lying?" Dean whispers to Sam. He is the expert here, not Dean.

“Looks pretty solid," Sam says while inspecting the explosives.

“Anyone we know?”

“I don’t recognize the work, but they're a pro.” Sam looks at his watch. ”Damn, we are cutting it pretty close.”

“I don’t like it.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “What is there to like? But Bobby said to hold so we hold.”

Sam could tell Dean is getting antsy, they both are. “Okay, pop quiz,“ Sam says to distract, “You're at an airport with a gunman who has taken one hostage for cover. He’s almost to a plane. You're one hundred feet away.”

Dean rolls his eyes and continues to sweat in the cramped elevator shaft. He’s fidgety and keeps looking at the bomb.

“Dean? Look, just humour me.”

“...Shoot the hostage.”

“What?”

“Take them out of the equation. Go for the good wound and he can’t get on the plane with them. Clear shot.”

Sam is not sure if Dean is joking or not. “You're nuts, you know that?”

Dean just chuckles lightly, it is clear his focus is back on the bomb and the broken cables. After a while he replies, clearly concerned. “Sam, this is wrong. He’s gonna blow it anyway.”

“Why?”

“I don't know man… gut feeling.”

“Dean, right now Bobby outranks your gut. So we wait.” Sam eyes Dean to get his point across.

“How much do you think that elevator weighs?”

Sam sighs, “Dean, come on.”

“Maybe we can do something about those hostages.” He phrases it like a statement, not a question. It is clear Dean already has his mind set as he climbs back up the ladder.

Sam sighs once more. “We're not gonna shoot them, right?”

Sam and Dean end up on the roof of the building. After scanning and clearing the area of any suspicious perpetrators, Dean sees a striped black and yellow heavy-duty winch, used by window washers. The crane seems sturdy and has a long thick wire with a hook at the end.

“No, we just take them out of the equation," Dean says, continuing their conversation from before.

Dean climbs up to the platform where the winch is situated and throws down the wire for Sam to catch. Sam lugs the cable to the elevator housing on the roof. “You sure it will hold?”

Dean replies with a lot of conviction. “It will hold.”

Sam looks at his watch again. “Six minutes.”

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Bobby is pacing in the lobby on the phone. He is surrounded by his subordinates who are all trying to look busy. No one knows what to do as Bobby continues to yell at the person on the other line.

“I can’t get any more time. He’s not talkin’! I need the goddamn money now.”

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Sam slowly lowers Dean, head first down the elevator shaft with a rope. Dean is holding the cable from the window washer crane tightly in his palm. “Tell me Sam, why the hell did we take this job?”
“Awe, come on. Thirty more years of this and you get a tiny pension and cheap gold watch.” Sam chokes out. He is sweating and is clearly struggling to hold Dean up.

“Damn, right," Dean replies. He signals Sam to stop when he gets close enough and hooks the clip to the elevator. The sound of metal clanking against metal echoes throughout the shaft.

Sam begins to pull Dean back up. The moment he gets to safety at the top of the shaft, the tiny light on top of the bomb stops blinking. It makes a loud beeping sound. Sam and Dean barely have time to take cover when it explodes. The top and right corners of the elevator are blown into bits as it plummets to the ground, only stopping when the wire from the crane is pulled tight.

“He’s early!” Sam screams as he and Dean rush to the floor the elevator is now on.

The people inside scream and try to pry the doors uselessly until Dean opens it from the outside and yells at everyone to stay calm.

The elevator is a couple feet higher than the floor leaving only a few inches for people to squeeze through. They get a handful of people to safety before clanging echoes through the shaft once more.

The crane was not meant to hold all this weight and it starts to bend. Inevitably, the bolts holding it in place break off sending the winch flying through the elevator housing and getting caught on a beam. The people in the elevator scream as it drops a couple more feet. Slowly the elevator is falling and the opening is decreasing inch by inch as they rush to get everyone free.

“Move! Move! Move!” Sam yells as he helps seven more people out. The elevator falls down 3 more feet. It bounces from the suspensions sending people flying backwards and scrambling back up to get out of the box before it drops for good.

Everyone manages to get out but one woman in the back, frozen in place by fear.

“Come on! Come on, let's go! It's going to fall!” Dean yells as he reaches out a hand to the woman.

“No, no, I can’t”

“Just take one step, reach out and take my hand!”

The woman shakes her head and continues crying. “Come on!” Finally, she takes a shaky step forward and grabs Dean's hand. The elevator is much lower than the floor now and so Dean has to reach half of his body into the elevator to lift her up. It creeks ominously. It seems like it is going to fall at any moment slicing the woman and Dean in half.

At the last second Dean lifts the woman out of the elevator just as the wench comes loose from where it is caught on some cables and the elevator plunges for the last time to the ground floor. The elevator makes a loud bang sound as it is crushed by momentum. It is clear no one would have survived that long of a fall.

A moment of silence echoes throughout the building as people try to wrap their minds around the chaos that just ensued. Police start leading the hostages out of the building and towards the stairs, with Dean and Sam still looking down the shaft.

“Was it good for you?” Dean asks Sam with a twinkle in his eye.

“Ugh, you're gross. Shut up," Sam replies as they both take a deep breath and slide down the wall.

The brothers try to catch their breath and Dean breaks the silence. “Is your watch slow?”

“No, he jumped the gun. We had three minutes left.”

“Why would he do that? He's losing his three million.”

Sam sighs, “Maybe he couldn't hold his wad. It’s a common problem among middle-aged men”

“Who is gross now?” Dean chuckles. The mood is lighter than how it was before. The weight of other people's lives is now out of their hands, but something still feels off to Dean. Suddenly, his eyes widen.

“He's here.” Dean gets up with newfound energy in the now-empty hallway.

“He could have blown that thing from Pacoima.”

“No, he knew we were up to something. He must have heard us trying to save them. He's close by.”

“He's not going to corner himself in a building, Dean. We evacuated anyway.”

Dean doesn't reply but Sam looks up into Dean's eyes and sees conviction. He sits up and indulges Dean.

“Okay, so... he would want to be here, but he wants to stay mobile, right? Maybe he is in the elevators? If he was in the same shaft as us he could have overheard everything we did.”

Dean shakes his head. “Passenger cars were stopped. They checked them out.”

“...What about the freight elevators?”

Dean smiles and turns to Sam. “That's it.”

They both rush to the end of the hallway and pry open the doors to the freight elevators. They look down and see an elevator stopped five floors below them, and hear movement coming from inside.

“Would the mystery guest please sign in?” Dean smirks.

“What-” Before Sam could finish that sentence Dean is gone, using the elevator cables to slide down like a pole at a fire station.

“The ladder is right here” Sam mumbles and follows after Dean.

Chapter Text

They carefully land on the elevator, trying not to alert the perpetrator inside. They look at each other warily as they slowly pull out their LAPD-issued pistols. Sam creeps towards the hatch on top of the elevator and signals Dean to stand back. He reaches to open it when a shotgun fires from inside the elevator, nearly hitting them both. Dean and Sam jump back as the shotgun goes off rapidly, blowing randomized holes in the elevator ceiling as they dance around, trying not to get shot. Sam loses his balance and falls on top of the hatch that gives way, sending him sprawling into the elevator, and hitting his head hard on the floor.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean says as he tries to peek through the now large hole, only to get shot at once again. Dean quickly dodges the shot and makes himself obscure by hiding on the other side of the elevator, gun still in hand.

Sam is probably badly hurt and trapped with a lunatic, and Dean can do nothing about it. His brain is going a mile a minute, trying to establish his next move, when he hears buttons being pushed from below. Before he knows it, the elevator skyrockets upwards. Another gunshot just misses him by an inch as Dean looks up toward his fate. He is going to be crushed by the ceiling of the elevator shaft if he doesn't figure this out quickly. Dean hears Sam groaning in pain from inside the elevator and he takes a chance.

Dean jumps through the destroyed hatch, nearly avoiding the ceiling, and falling straight on his ass. He barely has time to get up when a shotgun is shoved in his face.

“Don’t suppose anybody would pay three million just for you.” Dean looks up and faces the terrorist. The guy is barely older than Dean with a buzz cut and a thin goatee, but his eyes look tired yet bold. Dean does not know what this man is capable of. At the back of his mind, Dean notices his left hand is badly handicapped with a missing thumb and is scared all over, but his focus is on Sam.

“You okay, Sam?” Dean growls, his eyes still looking straight at the man in front of him. The man smirks as he pulls the trigger right against Dean’s forehead. Dean flinches as a clear clinking sound fills the elevator. The gun is out of bullets.

Dean springs into action and knocks the gun out of his hands and the man sprawls backwards toward Sam. Dean quickly reaches for his gun, but when he pulls it out and aims, he is too late.

“Hold it.” The man commands. He’s got Sam, still groggy from the fall, in a chokehold. One hand is wrapped around Sam's throat and the other holds some sort of joystick with a bright button. It's a dead man's switch. If he lets go of that button they are all blown to bits. From the switch sprouts wires wrapping around the man's chest and connecting to multiple sticks of dynamite.

“Pop quiz Hotshot. There is a terrorist holding a police hostage. He’s got enough dynamite strapped to his chest to blow a building in half. Now, what do you do?” The tangent is eerily similar to the conversation that he and Sam had just had.

Despite his nerves and deep-set concern for Sam, Dean's hands and voice are steady. “There’s gonna be fifty cops waiting for you in the basement.”

“Standard flanking development, huh?” The man drawls as he steps back a bit to reach the clearly homemade control panel and presses a few buttons. “Well, maybe we will get off on the third floor… At least that's what they’ll think.”
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Bobby paces inside the security room in the lobby. Tiny tv screens displaying security camera footage surround him.

“I want the location on those goddamn shots! And where the hell are Sam and Dean!”, he screams into his walkie-talkie.

“Bobby…”, Says Ruffus, the captain's second in command. “We've got movement on the freight elevator.”

He is looking at a large control panel with information on the elevators. One of the freight elevator floor indicators ticks down to three.

“It’s on three. Let's move.”
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The elevator dings and opens its doors to the basement level, right behind the attacker. “Well, end of the line. This day has been a real disappointment, I don't mind saying.” He says as he slowly backs up out of the elevator, still holding Sam hostage with Dean's gun pointed at his face.

Dean stalks forwards after him. “Why? Because you didn't get to kill everyone?”

This angers the man as he walks backwards and steadily down the hallway toward the underground parking garage. “There will come a time when you wish you never met me,” he spits.

“I'm pretty much there already,” Dean replies.

“See, I'm in charge here! I drop this stick. They pick up your friend with a sponge.” He brings his face close to Sam's ear and stops in front of the door to the exit.

“Are you ready to die, friend?” He whispers.

Sam, now a little more alert, replies with a classy “fuck you.”

The man just rolls his eyes. ”In two hundred years we've gone from 'I regret that I have but one life to give for my country' to 'fuck you.'”

“Go ahead, drop the stick.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean says.

The man is getting impatient and he once again makes a move toward the door. “Oh Man, we got all the balls in the world right here!”

Dean replies with the same amount of hostility. “Give it up! You've got nowhere to go!” Dean's nerves are on fire. For the first time in a while, he has no idea what to do. He looks helplessly into Sam's eyes, dread filling his stomach despite his strong front.

‘Shoot the hostage’ Sam mouths at Dean. Dean hesitates. He looks towards the man, the exit and back at Sam. His mind momentarily rejecting the idea of hurting Sam.

‘Do it!’ Sam mouths angrily.

Something clicks in Dean as he shifts his aim to Sam and shoots him in the leg. The man lets go of Sam out of surprise, sending him falling to the floor clutching his wound. “You asshole,” Sam says, eyeing Dean.

Dean shrugs helplessly, seeming hilariously nonchalant, despite the situation. He quickly shifts his focus back to the man with the bomb.

“Freeze!”
He pays no mind to Dean as he quickly walks out of the door, chuckling to himself. Dean bolts forward to catch up to him, only to be hit with a wave of momentum and debris. He must have let go of the trigger because now Dean is being sent flying backwards, hitting his head against the wall, knocking him out for a long while.

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ONE WEEK LATER.

City hall looks as prestigious as you would expect. Flags are presented on stage in front of beige walls and white marble pillars. Chandeliers and lamps illuminate the rooms with red and gold accents all throughout to highlight the importance of the meetings and ceremonies that go down here.

Today, that ceremony is dedicated to the Winchesters and their team as they stand together in their pristine uniforms in front of a crowd of elevator hostages and fellow officers.

“Through dedication and bravery, these next two officers perfected the rescue of 13 citizens of this city.” The Mayor speaks in a commanding yet expertly boring tone. It is obvious by his mannerisms that he is reading directly from a script hidden by the equally boring brown podium “Thanks to them, the only life taken by the terrorist’s bomb was his own…”

The crowd listens with unbidden attention, not noticing as two officers whisper amongst themselves.

“You shot me. I can't believe it. They're giving you a medal for shooting me, you jerk,” Sam says to Dean.

“Sam, you literally told me to…” Dean smirks but is interrupted as Sam is called towards the podium to receive his medal, followed by Dean himself.

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The ceremony is broadcast on live tv and is displayed in a dark room. Four TVs are set up, framing a close-up of Dean's face as he receives the medal.

A man with a deformed hand claps along with the crowd.

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After the ceremony, most of the LAPD show up at the Roadhouse, owned by Ellen Harvelle, who is struggling to supply this much alcohol to a billion celebratory cops.

“Okay everyone, listen up.” The whole bar goes silent as Bobby raises his beer. “Here’s to Sam, for his quick thinking, his grace under pressure, and for his brave and selfless act.”

Everyone clinks their glasses together, but Bobby continues. “And to Dean, for shooting Sam. Finally, someone putting the idjit in his place.”

The bar dissolves into laughter as Sam blushes from the attention. “But seriously, here is to you boys, for doing your job. And for not getting dead. Mazel tov.” Bobby’s eyes are proud and meaningful as he looks towards the brothers. Glasses clink once more and officers disperse and mingle about the dimly lit tavern, leaving Sam and Dean at the bar.

Over time, Sam orders beer after beer, and even Dean gets concerned.
“Alright, I think that's it for the night,” he says as he pushes the beer in front of Sam further down the bar.

Sam doesn't protest. Instead, he looks straight ahead and spits out a slurred mass of words. “We're the two luckiest guys in the world, you know that? We got the bad guy and didn't lose any civilians.”

“Yeah, we're good.” Dean chuckles good naturally and pats Sam on his back.
He quickly turns to Dean with a gaze so serious and steady that his voice is the only indication that he is drunk. “No, we were lucky. You better understand. We were dealing with a total psycho. You know this guy could have blown us up anytime.” Sam finally stagers a bit as his voice cracks. “And I got a bullet in me. Six inches off the mark and I'm dead. They send my uniform home to you.”

Dean looks away and takes a swig of his beer. “Sam, come on, man. I mean, we won. We got him.”

“Do you listen? Do you ever? Cause I am not gonna be around to back you up, so you better start thinking. This thing’s got me benched,” Sam says, hitting his cane against his injured leg. “Guts will get you so far, and then they'll get you killed. Luck runs out, sooner or later.”

Sam struggles to stand up from the bar stool, but Dean doesn't notice. The words Sam said are just settling in as he stares off into the distance. He barely catches Sam before he falls over.

“Whoa!”

“I'm fine. I'm gonna go home, gonna do some paperwork.”

“Sam, you're gonna go home and puke. Let me give you a ride.”

Dean stands to walk him out towards the car. Sam gives him a grateful and understanding smile that takes a bit of the weight off Dean's shoulders.

“Yeah, well, that will be fun, too.”

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The next morning, Dean wakes up to a mean hangover and a missing phone. He groans as he realizes he left it at the bar.

“Just great.” Dean struggles out the door, battling with a horrible migraine against the sun's glare.

Dean bangs on the bar door, wincing at the sound.

“Dean Winchester, it is barely eight in the morning. I’m not serving you any more alcohol until at least after five pm,” Ellen says, swinging the door open so fast it cuts Dean off guard.

“I left my phone here last night.”

“Well, then what the hell are you just standing there for?” She leaves Dean by the now wide-open door as she goes back behind the counter, prepping for the day.

Dean walks straight to the end of the bar, and sure enough, it is right where he left it.

“Thank god.”

He’s about to turn and leave when he hears some banging behind a staff-only door and soon enough Ash stumbles out wearing his bus driver uniform.
“Dean!” he says with a cheerful smile as he goes to pat him on the back. “I saw you on tv last night. Congrats.”
“Thanks, Ash.”

Ash turns and looks Dean in the eyes. “Damn, you look like a mess.”
“Gee, thanks.” Dean rolls his eyes as Ellen joins in.

“Karma’s a bitch,” she turns to Ash. “He is just grumpy cause he was up late last night partying.”

“A party, eh?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember it all that well. Couldn't have been too great. I woke up alone,”

“The last time I partied hard, I woke up naked on the pool table.”

“That was last week, Ash.” Ellen eyes him disapprovingly, as Dean chuckles.

“Well, that's my cue. Gotta go pay the bills.” Dean follows Ash out when Ellen calls him back.

“Hey honey, you forgot your phone. Again.”

“Oh damn, thanks, Ellen.” When Dean turns around, Ash is already driving the bus down the street.

Dean shrugs and walks back to his car in the opposite direction. Suddenly, the bus explodes with a mini mushroom cloud of fire and smoke. The banging sound could have been heard for miles as people scream and run away from the explosion. Dean turns towards the bus in surprise and does not hesitate to bolt toward the danger. The bus burns bright and hot as large flames spread throughout the car. No survivors.

Dean runs to the bus anyway but can only get so close before he has to take a step back. Dean swallows sobs and screams of anger, grief and fear. He wants to lash out.

Over all the commotion, he barely hears the payphone ringing nearby. Dean focuses all his energy on that ringing. He stalks toward the phone in a dream-like state yet with a newfound sense of purpose and rips it off the hanger.

“What do you think, Dean?” A familiar voice on the phone says. “You think if you pick up all the bus drivers' teeth, they will give you another medal?”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean says in shock.

“You think I wouldn't have been prepared? Two years I spent setting up that elevator job. Two years I invested myself in it.”

The man rants to Dean as he whips his head around, trying to see if he can spot the man he is talking to.

“You couldn't understand the kind of commitment that I have. You ruined a man's life's work! You think you can walk away?! You've got blinders on to the world. But I got your attention now, didn't I, Dean?” He speaks in an ominous and quiet sort of manic.

“Why didn't you just come after me?”

“No, this is about me. This is about my money. This is about money due me, which I will collect. Three-point seven million dollars. It's my nest egg, Dean. In this world, you've got to think ahead.”

Dean is filled with burning rage. “When I find you-” He growls.

“Pop quiz, Hotshot. There is a bomb on a bus. Once the bus goes fifty miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If it drops below fifty, it blows up. What do you do?”
Dean wants to scream but stays quiet. Is he being serious?

“WHAT DO YOU DO?”

“... I would want to know what bus it was.” Dean indulges the man. There is no point trying to get through to this type of psychosis. If he has to talk to him, he might as well try to get information out of him.

“You really think I am gonna tell you that?”

“... yes?” Dean is at his wit's end.

“... what can I say? I like the game. But there are rules, Dean. And I want you to get this right. No one goes off the bus. You try to take any passengers off the bus, I will detonate. I want my money by eleven am.”

Dean quickly checks his watch. It’s already eight o'clock. His anxiety spikes.
“We can't pull that kind of money in time.”

“FOCUS DEAN. Your concern is the bus.”

Dean just breathes heavily into the phone as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. He continues to look around for any suspicious behaviour, but the scene is chaotic enough to dissuade his search. What kind of game is this guy trying to play?

“And don’t try to call,” the man continues. “The radios down. Now, the number of the bus is twenty-five twenty-five. It's running downtown from Venice. It's at the corner of Ocean park-”

Dean is already gone. He knows this city like the back of his hand and rushes towards his car. He's got to stop this bomb.

Chapter Text

Bus 2525 is pulling out of the stop as Castiel just turns the corner. He swears and starts running, already sweating from the hot day.
“Benny! Benny!” He says, trying to get the bus driver's attention by waving his arms.

He is holding his trench coat in one hand and his satchel in the other. His dark black hair flaps dramatically in the wind as he almost trips over a woman and her baby.

“My apologies... BENNY!”

Benny just laughs but finally relents, stopping the bus so Castiel can be let on. “This ain't a bus stop. Get in here.”

“Oh thank you” Cas pants. He jumps onto the bus just as the doors snap shut. The bus begins to drive away once more.

“You are a good kind man.” Cas is half smirking and Benny just laughs.

“Take a seat.”

Cas finally sits down in a middle aisle and takes a large sigh of relief. Five minutes later the bus pulls onto the freeway, slowly picking up speed.

“First time in L.A,” a man behind Cas says. The man seems short and skinny. He looks non-threatening while wearing black sunglasses and a red floral Hawaiian shirt.

“No, I live here.”

“Oh no, I mean mine! That’s just funny, you heard me wrong. The busses here are so loud I can hardly hear myself think!”

The man seems friendly enough, but Cas has had a rough morning. First, he forgets to set his alarm. Then he figures out he is out of coffee, and lastly, of course, the bus. At Least to say, he is not in the mood for small talk.

“I hate to say the word tourist but…” The stranger holds up a map and camera as he chuckles. “It’s not like I can hide it!”

“Not really…”

The man apparently doesn't seem to get the hint when Cas turns away and continues talking. “I'm Garth by the way! You know, it took me three hours just to get here from the airport. I got so lost. L.A. is one large place! Course, you live here, you probably don't notice. I'm such a yokel. There, I said it!”

Castiel is not proud of his next actions, but desperate times take desperate measures.

“Oh… oh no. I got gum on my seat.”

“What? Where.”

Cas hesitates, he has never been good at lying. He blushes as he says “It… it’s there,” then quickly moves a couple of aisles toward the front of the bus.

The bus is going just over 45 miles an hour by the time Dean gets on the freeway. He speeds trying to catch the bus. Swerving like a maniac, he barely manages to avoid the other cars on the half-deserted highway.

Cas is getting antsy. He is already 15 minutes late for work and the bus always drops him off late, even when he leaves on time.

“I miss my car.” He mumbles.

A voice beside Cas picks up. “I don't know. I just got my driver's licence but I get too nervous to drive on the freeway. This way I can just relax on my way to school.”

Cas turns and smiles at a familiar face. While Cas is not exactly besties with the people on his bus, he has to admit the company could be worse.

“Hello, Kevin.”

“Hey, Cas.” The young adult awkwardly waves and is dressed in his posh navy-blue school uniform, clutching some books. He and Cas elapse into companionable silence, and Cas finally starts to relax, that is until he hears Kevin swear under his breath.

“What?”

“Im gonna be late for school. Look.”

Cas stands up to look out the window and sees a massive pile-up of cars. This is the last thing he needs.

“Benny, can’t you just drive between these people?” Cas says impatiently.

“I am not gonna avoid traffic laws just so you can get to your boring nine-to-five. Enjoy the scenery Cas,” Benny jokes.

Cas rolls his eyes. “This is such a mess.”

The bus slows a bit as Benny tries to weave his way through the cars. There is construction up ahead and only one lane is open for cars to pass. The traffic gives Dean time to catch up to the jam. He swears under his breath as he takes a sharp right turn and speeds up the shoulder of the highway avoiding all the stopped cars.

“SHIT” Dean yells as he slams on the brakes and nearly avoids crashing straight into a cement truck. The car turns and drifts diagonally on its wheels like a hockey player breaks on skates.
Dean hops out of the car and runs towards the bus just as it is being let out and starts once again slowly building speed.

“STOP!” Dean yells as he waves his arms around frantically. He runs as fast as he can and catches up to the door at the front of the bus.

“OPEN UP!” Dean says as he slams his fist into the clear window of the thin glass door, fracturing it.

“What in the world?” Benny says as rage starts building up. “Get off the road man! This ain't no bus stop.”

“That man really wants to get on the bus,” Kevin says to Cas, his voice a little shaky.

“Don’t worry, Benny won’t let him on. Don’t let him on, Benny!” Cas replies though he has to admit he is feeling a bit shaken up as well.

The bus starts gaining more speed and Benny tries to get rid of Dean. Dean can only run so fast before his legs start to shake.

“LAPD! IM A COP. STOP THE DAMN BUS!” Dean yells once more but it's too late he is too far behind now. Desperate, Dean turns towards the oncoming cars behind him. He stands right in front of the lane yelling at a man in a jaguar to stop his car.

The car is sleek black and the owner is wearing a matching black suit. The car has its top open which makes the man's thinning hair flap in the wind. The license plate is from L.A and says CROW3Y across it.

Dean holds out his badge and runs over to the driver's side door. “LAPD, get out of the car.” Dean struggles to open the door as the man holds it closed.

“This is my car,” the man says in an English accent. “I own this car, okay! It’s not stolen!”

“It is now, move over”, Dean commands as he pulls out the gun and points it at the well-dressed man.

The man's eyes bulge as he stares down the barrel of the gun and lets go of the door. “Today is not my day.”

He moves to the passenger seat as Dean hops in front of the wheel. “If you scratch my darling Juliet, you and I are going to have a chat”, he says as Dean speeds off toward the bus.

Deans begins to rapidly swerve around the cars in front of him leaving a mass of honking in his wake. “Alright now, just slow down!”. The man, Crowley Dean supposes, is sweating heavily and is clutching his imaginary pearls, but his focus is on the speedometer. He is just over 50 miles an hour. “We don’t have time for this.” Dean steps on it.

Eventually, he finds himself beside the bus once more and honks his horn as hard as he can, trying to get Benny’s attention. He does, as well as all the other passengers.

“What the hell? What's going on? Is that the same guy?” Kevin turns to Cas who just shakes his head and shrugs. The actions are stiff and sharp.

“I’m a cop!” Dean yells. The car swings from side to side and he divides his attention from the road to the bus.

Benny makes eye contact with Dean. “What?”

“LAPD. There is a bomb on your bus! THERE IS A BOMB ON YOUR BUS!”

Benny opens up the driver's side window. “What? I can’t hear you!”

“THERE'S A WHAT?!”, Crowley exclaims as he sweats a little more and sinks deeper into his seat. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Dean’s mind is beginning to fog as he becomes more and more desperate. He takes a deep breath and when he looks at Crowley he can see he is holding a small black briefcase. He’s got an idea.

“You got some paper and a pen?”

“Yeah?...” Crowley replies as he slowly opens up his case a brings out the supplies.

“Alright, I want you to write on it, ‘BOMB ON BUS’, got it?”

Crowly fumbles with the paper in the wind. And slowly beings to write on the now-crumpled piece of paper.

“Come on dude, write it!”

Dean honks his horn loudly and moves up then changes lanes. Now in front of the bus, he yells at Crowley again. “Okay now hold it up and show it to him. Hurry!”

Crowley un-does his seat belt and stands on his knees to show Benny the note at startling speed. He gets up so fast that he fumbles and drops the note. Luckily it flies in the wind and hits the windshield of the bus, right in from of Benny and floats away before anyone else could see.

“What the…” Benny feels a jolt of fear. He thinks about his family he left at home this morning. His community on this bus. His own life. He slowly takes his foot off the gas pedal as he stares straight ahead like he is in a trance. But it is too late.

Dean looks down at the speedometer again. It's over 50, the bomb has been activated, and now the bus is slowing down. If it goes under 50 again, the whole bus explodes taking everyone with it. “NO! NO! NO!” Dean yells trying to signal Benny to speed up, but his eyes tell Dean he is somewhere else.

“SHIT!” Dean says as he swerves once more this time swerving down and moving to the door on the side of the bus. “OPEN THE DOOR!!”

Benny is still shell-shocked, sitting straight up in his seat when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Benny? Is everything alright?” Cas asks as he looks from the bus diver to Dean just outside the door. Benny finally moves to look up at Cas. He can see fear and confusion on Cas’s face. That should make him feel more scared he thinks, but it actually makes him feel less alone.

“Yeah… I’m good.” Benny takes a deep breath that seems to finally put him back in the present. With a look of determination on his face, Benny finally opens to door to the bus.

“Benny, what are you doing??” Cas says frantically.

“I got this Cas.”

That just seems to make Cas more confused as Dean yells from the convertible.

“50! Stay above 50!”

“You got it”, Benny pushes his shaky foot against the gas pedal and the bus accelerates.

“Okay, you got a cell phone?” Dean says as he turns back to Crowley.

“Of course I do. Do I look like an ape?”

“Dial 470-8000, and ask for Detective Sam Winchester.”

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“Congratulations,” a womanly voice says, disrupting Sam from his nap. Just because he came to work this morning doesn't mean he is not still suffering from a nasty hangover. The loud and busy office is surely not helping either. Phones are ringing loudly, a thousand conversations are happening all at once with Sam stuck right in the middle of the bullpen.

“Ughhhhh” was all Sam could reply, still keeping his head down on his desk. Sam jolts up as he feels a tap on his shoulder, startling the person in from of him.

“What,” Sam demands, feeling disoriented.

He hears a sweet chuckle, which makes him blush as he realizes who she is.

“Celebrated your medal a little too hard last night?” Eileen says. She is speaking in a hushed tone, like the way you speak to a scared kid, and Sam blushes harder.

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry, still feeling the consequences of my actions.” Sam signs to her. He sits up a bit straighter and tries to subtly fix his hair and uniform.

“You learned ASL!” Eileen signs back to him excitedly and Sam begins to feel a bit more like himself again.

“I am going to a few classes. Spending so much time with you helps.”

A large smile breaks onto Eileen's face as she leans towards the younger Winchester brother. Sam feels like he is staring directly into the sun. He doesn't remember the last time he felt this giddy.

“That is really sweet. You know, I was wondering if-” Elieen stops signing suddenly as she realizes the light on Sam's landline is blinking.

“You gonna get that?”

“Hmm? Oh! Let it go to voicemail. You were saying?” Sam says a bit frantically, dropping his hands altogether.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“You are a cop. What if it is an emergency?”

Sam sighs as he sits back in his chair staring at Eileen's smirking face. He knows what she is doing.

“Fine.” Sam reaches for his phone.

Chapter Text

“Sam-”

Sam just sighs as he recognises Dean's voice on the other line. “You better not be calling in sick, Dean. I dragged myself out of-” 

“Sam, he’s alive,” Dean says with Crowley holding the phone up to his ear as he tries to stay parallel with the bus.

“What?” Sam sits up straight. Eileen could tell he was concerned. She lifts her eyebrows when Sam looks at her as if to say ‘what is going on?’. Sam just shakes his head.

“The bomber. He’s back.”

Before Sam could answer Dean, Bobby storms in mid conversation with a couple of other officers walking straight towards Sam.

“He hit one in Venice already. Fire chief says there's nothin’ left.”

He stops right in front of Sam's desk. “Winchester! We just got a ransom demand from our dead terrorist. Says he rigged a city bus. Where’s Dean?”

Sam sighs, “Where do you think?”

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“Damn it.” Dean hangs up the phone as he sees the traffic thicken ahead. “I need to get on that bus.”

He looks around manically trying to figure out how to make that happen as Crowley hesitates from his seat. 

“You've got to what?” He seems concerned but quickly morphs that into badly concealed excitement. “Wait a moment, you know what? You better get on that bus.” 

Dean just ignores him and yells to Benny. “No matter what keep going straight!” and steps on the gas pedal. He speeds up a couple of meters ahead.

“Oh god, what are you doing?” Crowey asks.

“Are you insured?” Dean says as he opens the car door and holds it against the wind.

“...Fucking hell.”

All of a sudden Dean slams down the breaks. They both jolt forward as the car comes to a quick stop. There is smoke emitting from the tires and the bus speeds straight forwards hitting the door and slamming it off the hinges. Dean quickly takes his foot off the breaks and floors the car again, catching up to the bus.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT. THAT IS MY DOOR.”

“It was in the way.”

Crowley mumbles angrily as his face turns red and sweaty like a balloon about to burst. “Do you know how much this car cost?!”

Dean just remains noncommittal. His focus is getting on that bus and saving those people. He doesn't even look Crowley in the eyes as he says, “Sir, I am going to need to take your phone.”

“For the love of-- haven't you done enough?! Don’t you have your own?! It’s the twenty first century!”

A rage builds in Dean. He doesn't have time for this and he really needs to get on that bus. “Look man. I don't know what to tell you. I left mine at… oh” Dean awkwardly side-eyes him. He slides his hands into his jean pocket and pulls out his iphone. “Ha! Ummm, thanks… Take the wheel will ya?”

Dean begins to stand a bit in his seat as Crowley launches himself at the wheel, trying not to destroy his car even more. 

Everyone in the bus is now watching Dean as he slowly leans out of the car. No one can look away at the train wreck that is about to happen.

“Oh Lord. What is he doing?”, Castiel whispers to Benny.

“I have no idea.”

Dean looks both ways like a pedestrian about to cross a busy street, then makes eye contact with Benny. “Drive straight!” he orders, right before he looks right at Cas and winks.

Cas’s cheeks feel a bit hot as he tilts his head. “This man is insane.”

“Oh shit. OH shit. OH SHIT.” Crowley repeats as a mantra. Dean and Crowley weirdly work well as a team as they swap their feet on the gas pedal so Dean can stand on the seat. Dean gips the side of car and leans his weight back and forth preparing for the jump and the perfect moment for the vehicles to line up. He pushes his weight against the vehicle and takes the leap.

Everyone in the bus holds their breath as Dean almost doesn't make it. He lands right on the stairs of the bus, hitting his hip against the harsh angles. He doesn't have time to worry about that as his feet are still out of the car getting scraped up by the road. He grabs hold of the railing and heaves himself to safety.

In the convertible Crowley struggles to take control of the vehicle. He is so close to getting on the off ramp but instead crashes into big yellow water-filled collison barrels. The car comes to a quick stop as the water sprays everywhere, getting Crolwey drenched. He stands up in the car and seems unharmed as he turns to the bus speeding past. Dean gives him a quick salute and turns around, leaving Crowley in shock.

Dean walks straight towards Benny as everyone in the bus silently watches. That is until Castiel gets right in his face.

“Are you out of your mind? What do you think you are doing?” Cas yells somehow in a calm yet stern type of way. Like a parent disciplining their child.

Dean just ignores Cas and speaks to everyone on the bus as a whole. 

“Everyone, I am Dean Wincester, LAPD.” Dean holds out his badge. “We have a slight… situation on this bus here.” He finally turns to Cas and hesitates for a moment. “Sir if you will please sit down-”

Cas gawks. “No I won't, cause you are scaring everyone on this bus and-”

Dean gets in Cas’s face. “Sir PLEASE”, he says sternly. Both are breathing heavily with anger. Both seemingly ready for a fight as they hold eye contact. Cas can see desperation in Dean’s face. He finally sneaks a look at the badge then sits down with a huff.

Dean turns back to the group and begins to slowly walk down the middle aisle. He stops for a moment then attempts his best customer service smile. He observes everyone in the bus and finally makes eye contact with a blond teenage girl.

She is wearing heavy black eyeliner and the right side of her hair is put into a long braid. Dean looks at her shirt and recognises the metallica logo under her sleek leather jacket. 

“Nice shirt,” He says, but she just quickly looks away. Despite her confident looks, she is shifty and avoids Dean’s eyes. Dean just chocks it up to her being scared. He doesn't blame her honestly, and shoves down a pang of guilt as he continues walking. “If everybody will just stay in there seats and remain calm, we should be able to diffuse the problem.”

Suddenly Dean feels someone grab for his gun in the holster on his hip and hears a collective gasp spread throughout the bus. He spins around and attempts to disarm the perpetrator, but he is too late. He is looking down the barrel of the gun and can't help but feel a sense of deja vu. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME,” Metallica girl states firmly holding the gun unsteadily at Dean. She is even more shifty as before and has sweat dripping down her face. She looks scared out of her mind. She’s just an innocent teenage girl, well sort of. Dean is able to get a good look at the rolls of cash sticking out of her pockets.

Dean just looks her in the eyes and slowly raises his hands. “I don't know you, okay? I am not here for you. So lets not do this.”

She doesn't seem to be listening to anything Dean is saying. “STOP THE DAMN BUS.”

“He can’t.” Dean's posture is stiff and his movements are subtle. He is on edge but he does not let that soak through into his steady voice.

“SHUT UP” she screams and shoves the gun closer to Dean's face.

“STOP THE BUS. STOP IT.” At this point the girl is balancing on hysterics as Dean flinches and closes his eyes.

“OKAY!” He yells, finally getting her attention as she hesitates.

“Look… What's your name?”

She just shakes her head as Dean hears a whisper from the front of the bus.

“...Claire?” Kevin says. Dean looks away from Claire to the squirly kid at the front. Cas has got his arm in front of the kid who is hiding slightly behind the man. Kevin has recognition written all over his face. He seems astonished by Claire's actions.

“...we go to school together.”

Claire huffs in betrayal and has tears of fear in her eyes.

“Okay, Claire. I am going to need you to put the gun away.” Claire just wipes at her eyes. Dean can tell she is trying to seem tough. He sees a bit of his younger self in her.

“Listen, I have been there. Sometimes we just… have to do what we have to do. But, I don’t care about your crimes. Whatever you did, I am sure you had a good reason.”

Everyone is silent and on edge. No one has any idea how this is going to go down as Claire just stares at Dean. He can see her cracking.

“SO… so it's cool now. It's over, got it? I am not a cop right now. We are just two cool people, just hanging out.”

Cas would be laughing if the situation wasn't so dire. He sounds like a mom trying to impress their kid with some new slang they learned. Claire just tilts her head in confusion. Her hesitation causes a red haired woman to jump into action.

She launches herself at Claire, coming at her from behind. There is a massive struggle as she tries to disarm her but Claire squeezes down on the trigger. The bus erupts into chaos. People are screaming and ducking. The bus swerves violently and people sway from side to side.

Cas ducks to protect Kevin but as he looks up he can see blood in the windshield.

“Benny?!”

The bus serves on the highway, going straight towards a brick wall on the side. Cas makes sure Kevin is protected under the seat before making a move. 

Cas almost loses his balance but thankfully grabs the wheel in time to move the bus back in the lane. He struggles to move Benny out of the seat so as not to hurt him. 

“Kevin, I need your assistance.”
Kevin looks like he is having a heart attack and Cas sympathizes with him, he's just a kid, but he really needs to get a handle on the bus.

Dean quickly snatches the gun out of two other grabbing hands and slips it back into his holster. He comes in between the two women and shoves them apart. 

“ENOUGH!” He says forcefully. He quickly grabs onto Claire's wrist and yanks her to the back of the bus. Just as he is getting his handcuffs out he hears a shout from the front of the bus.

“Kevin please. You got this. I need to stop this bus!” Cas says as he is awkwardly sitting half on Bennys lap, trying to take his foot off the petal.

“No, don't! We gotta stay above 50!” Dean yells from the back as he cuffs Claire to a poll at the back of the bus.

“Benny is shot! We need to get him off-”

“YOU SLOW DOWN AND THIS BUS WILL EXPLODE.”

There is a long silence. Cas feels a stone sink and his stomach. He looks back at Dean through the front mirror. He is serious.

Dean takes a breath of defeat. So much for keeping everyone calm. 

“There is a bomb on this bus. If you slow down… it will explode.” Dean sighs. He sounds tired like the lie he has been trying to keep from everyone was a slight inconvenience, not a death wish.

Everyone stops and just looks around until a black haired woman speaks up venom coming out of her mouth. 

“Oh this is bullshit! This is some great joke Hasselhoff!”

Deans patience is wearing thin. “Are we going to have a problem here?”

Their staring match is interrupted by Cas’s firm voice. “Will SOMEBODY PLEASE help him?” He nods his head to Benny.

Kevin finally shakily gets up and maneuvers himself next to Cas. With a small smile to the older man he puts his hand over the bullet wound and messily moves Benny onto the floor as Cas quickly sits in the driver's seat, foot on the petal. 

The black and ginger haired woman both get up and move Benny to a seat. He’s alive but the bullet hit him in his left shoulder blade and he is bleeding out, back to front.

“I don’t know what to do”, Kevin says, “there is so much blood!”

Dean walks up to Kevin as he takes off his jacket. Red head pulls off her sweater and holds it against the wound. 

Dean hands Kevin his jacket. “Put pressure. Front and back. Keep his legs up, and put this under his head.”

Cas keeps on looking back and forth from the road to the people behind him through the mirror until Dean comes up right beside him and bends down. Just close enough to his face to be polite.

“Sir, can you handle this bus?”

Cas just stops and stares straight ahead. He is terrified. He grips the wheel a little too tight as his knuckles turn white.

“Hello? Can you handle this or am I gonna have to get someone else?”

Cas feels a surge of anger. He isn’t some useless civilian. He is going to help in any way he can. Cas finally rolls his eyes. “I got it. Thank you. What’s the plan? Is there a plan?” He says crankily. 

Dean takes a step back, satisfied by the other man's answer, if a bit annoyed. “Just for you to drive. We are okay for now. Just keep staying above 50.”

“I can do that” Cas says firmly, more to himself than to Dean. He turns to look at the man as he brings out his phone and looks through his contacts.

“You're a police officer, correct?”

“Yeah…” Dean says as he puts his phone to his ear begging for someone to pick up the other line.

“Then I should probably tell you, I am taking the bus because I got my drivers license revoked.”

Dean does a double take and slowly moves his phone from his ear. He observes Cas. He looks like, well for lack of a better term, a hot nerd. He’s all professional looking in his suit yet a bit rugged with his windswept hair and backwards tie. His eyes are intense, kind set of blue. And Dean immediately deemed him trustworthy for some reason. He didn't think he was the kind of guy that wouldn't take care of his car. 

“For what?” Dean says expectantly. What kind of danger did he put them all in by putting this guy in front of the wheel.

“Speeding”, The man says.

Dean just looks at Cas and smiles.

Chapter Text

The inside of the police station is more hectic than Sam has ever seen it. Officers running from place to place trying to get information. For the most part, everyone is just lost.

Suddenly he feels a soft hand on his shoulder and looks up from his desk to see Eileen standing over him. She gives him a soft reassuring smile.

“You okay?”, she signs.

“Yeah, I am just worried about Dean… like usual.” Sam faces Eileen head-on so she can read his lips.

“I am sure everything is alright. Sure, Dean tends to jump into things but he is good at his job.” She tells him as she squeezes his shoulder.

“Yeah, I trust him. Doesn't stop me from worrying though,” Sam says with a sad chuckle.

Eileen smiles melancholy-like at Sam with understanding. She moves her hand down from his shoulder to his and pulls Sam up on his feet. The movement must look a little awkward because of their height difference but Sam doesn't have time to think about that before he is mind is clouded by t he scent of vanilla and orange.

Eileen has got her arms wrapped around Sam's broad frame tightly. She is the perfect height so Sam can rest his cheek against her head. He gives a big sigh and lets his muscles relax. Eileen never fails to be just what Sam needs.

Sam hears someone yell his name from behind him. He turns still holding Eileen, if a bit loser than before.

Bobby doesn't even bat an eye as he and Ruffus speed walk toward the exit, adjusting their bulletproof vests.

“We are on our way to the chopper. If anything changes, let us know.”

Sam looks back down at Eileen feeling rejuvenated. 

“We got work to do.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bobby and Ruffus rush onto the helicopters and into the sky. There, they are met by multiple other choppers.

“The media circus is always ten steps ahead,” Ruffus swears as they are surrounded on all sides by news reporters, broadcasting live.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Multiple television sets light up a dark room. Different news channels broadcast the same thing. The voices of different anchors overlap into a dilapidated mess of information and speculation. 

“...wrong with the driver…

“...And at least one car, a jaguar, has been driven off the road by the speeding bus…”

“...It appears to be somewhere between Los Angeles and…”

“...the bus apparently came onto the freeway on the Lincon on-ramp. It began picking up speed, swerving and hasn't slowed down since…”

“...Minutes ago a Los Angeles police officer boarded the bus by jumping onto it from a moving car…”

The noise is interrupted by an ominously familiar voice.

“Oh, would that be you Dean?”

His soft laughter blends in with the rest of the voices filling the room.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first person Dean thought to call was Sam. The kid is as smart as a whip, and truth be told, he needed to hear a familiar voice.

If he wasn't so distressed Dean would be patting himself on the back right about now as the moment he fills Sam in on the situation, Sam goes into full work mode.

“Where do we start?” Dean says trying to keep his balance on the fast-moving bus. He can't help but be jealous of Sam all comfortable at his desk. He can hear him munching on a donut Dean has been dreaming about since he woke up his morning. Then again, desk jobs never really were his style.

“Okay, check the speedometer. Has it been fucked with? Loosened? See any wires or anything?”

Dean bends down to check the dash as well as below. He grabs Cas's lower thigh and moves his leg to the side to get more room.

“Excuse me, sir,” he says looking up at the now blushing man with a slight grin. However, he quickly focuses back on the task at hand. Dean really needs to stop getting distracted by hot guys, but he can’t help pushing Cas’ buttons.

“Ummm-” Cas mumbles.

“No, it's clean,” Dean interrupts, clearly focusing back on Sam. Sooner or later Cas is going to get whiplash from Dean’s mannerisms alone.

“Then it’s got to be under the bus”, Sam says, “ probably was rigged to one of the axles.”

Dean sighs. “Well, I can't get under the bus Sam. It’s kind of in motion-”

“Excuse me, officer!” Kevin's light voice squeezes itself into Dean's conversation. 

Dean turns to behind Cas where he sees Kevin holding on to a half-conscious Benny. 

Benny speaks in harsh breaths and long pauses “There… access panel… in the floor… underneath you, man”

Dean looks down and sure enough, he is squatting on the opening. “Huh, thanks.” He looks back up at Benny with concern, they need to get him off the bus as soon as possible. “One thing at a time, Dean,” he whispers to himself as he lifts off the panel door.

Dean watches as the pavement through the child-sized windows rushes in a blur. “Alright Sam, we’re in.”

He turns to the cluster of people trying to keep Benny awake. “Hey you, take this”, he hands his phone to Garth, “tell him what I see.”

Garth hesitantly grabs the phone and shuffles toward Dean as he peaks his head out of the panel to take a look at the underbelly of the bus. His hair flies in the wind and he has to yell for anyone to hear him.

Sure enough, right beside him, snug between some mental collums is a bomb almost identical to the one on the elevator. 

“Okay,” he yells over the rushing wind, “we got a wad, pretty big!”

“There's a pretty big wad”, Garth says into the phone.

“Brass fittings! I think I can reach the circuit wire!”

Garth squats down close to Dean as he repeats the words to Sam.

Sam’s voice is explosive right in Garth's ear. It makes him jump.“NO! Don’t do that! That's a decoy. Classic.”

“Uhhh he says it's a decoy… what else?” He asks for Sam.

“Gimmie a minute.” Dean stretches and moves his neck further underneath the bus. Cas feels a shiver go down his back as he sees Dean lean out of the bus, towards the blurry pavement, barely holding on. 

“Hey, careful!” He says without thinking.

Dean quickly pops his head back up. “You don’t worry about me, Sweetheart.” He ends the statement with a sultry wink. 

Dean's cheeks redden with clarity as Cas stares at him in disbelief before slowly sneaking in a subtle teasingly smile. Dean’s face just turns more red. There is an awkward silence and a lot of eye contact. Benny eventually coughs out a laugh and suddenly they both quickly jump back to their positions. 

But that's when Dean spots it. This time it displays large red numbers corresponding with the bus's speed, other than that the bomb is pretty similar to the decoy seen before, except bigger. Dean is about to lift back onto the bus when he hears the ticking. Connected to the bomb is a sleek gold watch.

“Fuck”, he says with a sigh. Now that is just plain creepy.

Garth hesitates over the phone. “Umm… oh darn?”

Finally, Dean launches himself out of the hole and snatches the phone from Garth. “Sam, there is enough C4 here to blow up the whole world.”

“Okay. Uh alright.” It sounds muffled as Sam squeezes the phone in place between his chin and neck. His hands otherwise occupied with flipping through files. “I need details, Dean.”

Dean fails to suppress his eye roll, “Three triggers. One on the axle, I can’t really see..”

“Umm, officer?” Cas proposes meekly.

But Dean just continues, “Cellular remote, and a timer running from a wristwatch.”

“A watch?”

“Yeah, a fucking watch. Gold. Gold band. Fairly cheesy. Sound familiar?”

“Officer.” Cas says with more conviction.

Dean just lifts a finger and continues talking to Sam. Cas has to hold himself back from breaking it.

“So what's going on, Sam?”

“Oh for Heaven's sake, OFFICER I NEED YOUR ATTENTION NOW!” 

Dean jolts up, and peers meekly at Cas. “What can I do for ya?” He says with a slight smirk

But Cas doesn't have to answer as Dean follows where he is looking at another traffic pile up ahead of them.

“Oh shit”
“What do I do? Just run them over??”

“Go on the shoulder!”

Cas swerves the car to the right, grazing a grey pickup, but ultimately making it onto the side of the busy road. Cas takes a breath but keeps his hands steady. With the speed the bus is keeping the tight squeeze between traffic and a cold concrete wall, one small jerk and the bus is stalled.

The bus speeds on the side, leaving a mass of honking in its wake. Cas thinks they are in the clear until they come across a dangerous fork in the road. The bus is heading straight towards another set of water collision barrels that divide the highway between the main and off-ramp streets.

“Stay on or get off?” Cas says looking at Dean. And Dean looks straight back at him. He doesn't answer and Cas wonders if the other man has brain damage as they fastly approach the barrels.

“STAY ON OR GET OFF??” That gets Dean's brain back online as he looks through the windshield.

“OFF! GET OFF.” And Cas does as he is told. He cuts a sharp right as Dean yells at the others to hold on. In the end, a couple of barrels hit the bus at full speed, causing a large splash of water to cover the whole front of the bus and other cars near it, but they kept on going.

The off-ramp may not have been the smartest choice. Similar to the highway the road is riddled with people trying to get home from their long days at the office. The bus balances between road and grass and Cas tries to keep the bus above the designated speed. They wham into road signs and scrap against expensive vehicles. The sound is similar to taking nails to a chalkboard, much to Cas's dismay. 

The door to the bus is barely holding on as it takes the brunt of accidents. Ripping off car mirrors and scratching against paint. You can see the sparks and feel the heat of metal against metal. Dean didn't know cars could do that. Huh, the more you know. 

One after the other signs smash into the side of the long vehicle as Cas man handles the wheels. He is surprised at how much upper body strength this takes to keep going straight. Good thing he has never missed a day at the gym. Dean sure has noticed his thick shoulders.

You are about to possibly die Dean, focus.

Surprisingly the windshield is fairing pretty well, and Cas can't help but send a thank you to whoever designed buses to have such high front windows.

Another sign smashes into the car but this time the image is engraved into Cas’s mind. The yellow sign is telling Cas to slow down, and he feels a sinking feeling as he turns the corner when Cas sees the traffic light up ahead turn red.

Cas’s foot hesitates over the breaks, but before he can make a decision he feels pressure on the gas pedal.

“OW” he yells in Dean's face. He just looks at Cas sternly, still pressing his foot on Cas’s and leans into his personal space. 

“Keep going.”

Cas exhales a quick breath before clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline. They speed (ha) past honking cars filled with people yelling and whispering to each other all waiting to see this unfold. Cas has never felt so helpless. Surrounded by people just watching this happen, but he does it anyway.

They crash fast into ongoing traffic as Cas turns the steering wheel as far to the right as he can. Multiple cars fishtail, broken headlights and lost bumpers are left in the bus's wake, but they are all seemingly flesh wounds.

All there is left to hear is Cas’s heavy panting echoing throughout the bus. The silence is startled by a sudden laugh as they begin to once again catch an increase in mph on the main road. 

“Nice going”, Dean says an easy smile on his face. He wipes the stress sweat on his forehead with his sleeve, then pats Cas on the back.

Cas sends Dean a glance and then focuses on the road. He seems somehow more strung out than before as his cheeks redden a tad.

“Yes well, this isn’t much better”, Cas says with the heavy vehicle making its way through the main part of town.

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Gordon never really liked football, not until now. He can't make sense of the teams or why people bother being patriotic over them. But he understands the rage. The pride one has for their skills. The violence and determination to get what you want, even if that means knocking other people down. 

Hm. I think the lengthy chase is getting to him. All the TV screens in his room show different angles of the same bus with the same information said over and over, except for the one that is now displaying the most recent football game.

This is what he always hates about the job. The waiting. He sits in his warehouse with his feet up chewing on a soggy bologna and cheese sandwich. The bologna is nearly spoiled and the Kraft Singles are sweating under the heat of all the running electronics. But Gordon is nothing but humble. He knows what he wants. He knows what he deserves. And he knows he is going to get it.