Chapter Text
“Engine 81, 10-8 at station,” Lieutenant Dean Winchester hung up the mike and opened the door of the truck. He was hot, tired and covered in soot from the structure fire call. It had taken an hour to contain the fire and two hours of clean up. The crew of Station 8 was glad to be back and everyone was stripping off their bunker gear in the large bay that normally held two engines, a squad truck, the Chief’s SUV and an ambulance.
The men hadn’t even made it into the shower area when the tones went off again. There were several groans before the men listened to the call.
“Engine 81, Squad 81. Traffic accident with injuries. Intersection of Highway 43 and Mendle Parkway.”
The lieutenant was first into the truck after pulling on his unwashed gear. “Engine 81 responding to traffic accident at intersection of Highway 43 and Mendle Parkway.”
“10-4, Engine 81”
“Squad 81 responding to traffic accident at intersection of Highway 43 and Mendle Parkway” Garth’s voice came over the radio.
“10-4, Squad 81”
Winchester flipped the siren and light switch and the engine pulled out of Station 8. It didn’t take long before both emergency vehicles pulled up at the accident scene. The lieutenant jumped down and quickly surveyed the scene. A panel truck had struck the front driver’s side of a red BMW. A police ran up and gave Captain Bobby Singer a report.
“Truck ran the light, hitting the other vehicle. The driver of the truck has light injuries, possible ETOH. Driver of the car is trapped with his leg pinned. He’s conscious but in a lot of pain.”
“Winchester, you and Fitzgerald take the car.” Both men nodded and took off. Garth Fitzgerald barking out orders to his crew.
“Dean, will you hold C-spine while we figure out the best way to get this guy out?”
“Sure.” Dean looked into the broken driver’s window, using his gloved hand to rip away the remaining safety glass.
“Hey, man, you doing okay?”
Brilliant blue eyes turned to him and the driver’s head nodded. He winced.
“Don’t move your head. I’m going to get in the back seat and hold your head steady until the ambulance gets here.”
“Thanks,” the driver responded weakly.
Dean wrenched the back door open and crawled inside. Using his mouth to pull his gloves off, he knelt on the seat and put a hand on each side of the victim’s neck, fingers at the jaw line.
“What’s your name?” A trained paramedic, as well as firefighter, Dean knew to keep the victim talking. The main reason was to access the mental state, but also to keep their mind off their pain to avoid shock.
“Castiel Angel. Look, I’m due in court in a few minutes. I need to call my brothers.”
“Court, huh? Don’t think you’re going to make it today. Once we get you to the hospital, they can notify your family.”
“I need to call now.” Dean’s eyes met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He was getting ready to respond when the driver pulled forward and hit a button on the dashboard. The car’s Bluetooth system lit up. “Call office.”
Dean leaned forward to keep his grip on the guy’s neck and shook his head. “Dude, nothing’s more important than getting you out of the car and taken care of.”
“Says you.” His eyes didn’t leave the reflection of Dean’s. A voice came through the car’s speakers.
“Angel Law Firm, may I help you.”
“Sarah, it’s Castiel. I’ve been in an accident. Tell Gabriel to call the courthouse and let them know, we need to re-schedule the Jackson hearing.”
“Are you okay, Mr. Angel?”
“I think so. I’ll call from the hospital. Thanks, Sarah.”
The driver punched another button and the lights on the dashboard went out.
“Lawyer, huh?” Dean said to the eyes in the mirror.
“Yes.” Dean glanced out the windshield and watched as the rescue crew powered up the hydraulic extrication tool. “My crew will be cutting you out soon. Can you feel your leg?”
“Oh, yes. I can assure you that I feel it.”
Dean grinned. “Hurts like hell, huh?”
The approaching siren told Dean that the ambulance had arrived on scene. Jo and Ash were beside the car an instant later.
“Victim doesn’t appear to have altered mental status. Severe pain in left leg. Pulse slightly elevated. No complaints of head or neck pain, but he could have whiplash.”
“Thanks, Dean. Ash, take over for Dean.” Jo walked around the car to the passenger side and got in. Once he was sure that the two paramedics had the victim, he got out and leaned into the driver’s window. “You’re in good hands, Mr. Angel.”
Dean took in the scene around him. The drunk driver of the truck was seated on the back of the engine, gesturing and yelling at the police officers. His crew was rolling up the hose, since it wasn’t needed. A tow truck had arrived and was hooking up the truck. Glancing back, he saw Garth’s crew pulling back the front quarter panel from the BMW. The driver would be out in no time. He was headed towards Captain Singer when the drunk driver leapt up and pushed one of the officers to the ground, he charged in Dean’s direction and Dean lifted his hands to stop him.
“Out of my way.” Dean never saw the pocket knife until it sliced into his left hand.
“Mother fucker.” Dean growled and punched the guy in the face with his other arm. By that time, the officers were on him and he was wrestled to the ground.
Captain Singer ran over to Dean. “You okay?” He grabbed Dean’s wrist and turned it. “You’re going to need stitches.”
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Ride in with the other driver and get that taken care of.” Captain Singer turned to go.
“Bobby…Cap…it’s just a graze. I’m fine.” At the Captain’s set face, Dean knew not to say another word.
The victim has been released from his car and was now on a stretcher, with Jo setting up his IV. The leg looked okay except for a large gash near the ankle.
“Looks like you’re going to have company in the rig.” Dean said to Jo.
“Yeah, we saw you go unarmed into that knife fight. Let Ash look at it.”
“It’s fine.”
In minutes, the victim and Dean, along with Jo were in the back of the ambulance racing towards the hospital. Dean’s wound had been cleaned and he was holding gauze over the injury. He took a look at the patient. He had his eyes closed, but his breathing appeared normal.
“He okay?”
“Yeah, he’s going to have a nice scar, but he doesn’t appear to have any head or spinal injuries.”
Dean looked over the man. Jo had cut his tailored slacks from hem to mid-thigh. ‘Nice legs’, he thought. ‘Hell, nice everything.’ The man was slim but built, like he worked out some. He had a very attractive face, ‘and those eyes’ and his hair was dark and slightly wavy. Dean wanted to run his fingers through it.
“Get a grip, asshole.” Dean mumbled to himself.
“Huh?” Jo asked, turning towards him.
“Nothing.”