Hello, guys. Still having Flashpoint fever here. That's right. Can't get enough of the series.

Spike's friendship with Lou had been very special, right? It saddened me greatly when Spike lost Lou forever. Still, I am glad to see him getting somewhat closer to Sam as best buds. I made this fic to reflect on that growing relationship. Hope it does justice.

Summary : When he and Sam are trapped inside a burning building, it is up to Spike to get them both out to safety.

"Gavin Johnson? This is the police. We need to talk," Sam called out, knocking the apartment door repeatedly. Getting no response, he started banging at the door again. "Mr. Johnson, I'm Sam Braddock from the SRU. Open up, sir!"

When that also failed to get the man to appear, Sam exchanged exasperated looks with his partner, Spike. "We do this the hard way?"

Which meant breaking and entering. Kick down the damned the door and burst inside with their weapons raised.

"Why not use the easy way?" Spike replied with a shrug. He grabbed the doorknob and gave it a twist. To his own surprise, it easily turned without resistance. "Huh. Who would've thought? It's not locked. But in this neighborhood?"

Spike's suspicion was understandable. They were standing in the narrow hallway on the third floor of a five-storey tenement building in the seediest part of town where everyone locked the doors. Everyone, including the drug users, the arm dealers, even the pimps. Gavin Johnson was none of those things, but he was a man with a shady past and now a person of interest to a recent shootout in a Chinese restaurant downtown, which had left one subject dead and two civilians badly injured.

Earlier, witnesses had seen Gavin in a shouting match with the lone subject at a table before he abruptly left in a huff. Soon afterwards the subject had suddenly gone berserk. He whipped out a gun and fired at random, causing all the customers and staffs to flee for their life. The police forces then arrived but things had gotten worse from there. Instead of standing down, the subject had responded by shooting at the patrol cars. When the SRU finally got to the scene, the dust had already settled and the subject was dead. Unfortunately, no one knew why he had reacted in such a way or what his issues exactly were.

While Ed and Raf followed other leads elsewhere, Jules and Parker remained at the restaurant to gather more information from the witnesses. It was up to Sam and Spike to talk to Gavin Johnson and find out his connections to the subject. The only problem was, he was not answering.

"Mr. Johnson, we're coming in," Spike announced as he cautiously pushed open the door before stepping inside, with Sam following close behind. "Mr. Johnson, are you here?"

The small apartment was dark and very quiet. No one seemed to be around, yet the bedroom door was ajar. The two SRU officers stealthily walked across the living room towards it and paused at the doorway. Peering inside, Sam frowned as he noticed a man lying prone next to the bed. He quickly went to kneel by the body and checked for vitals, shaking his head when he couldn't find any.

"Boss?"

"Go ahead, Sam." Parker's responding voice was clear in their headsets.

"Gavin Johnson is at his home, but he's dead."

"What happened?"

"Looks like he was strangled," said Spike, fingering the cloth that was wrapped tight around the man's neck. That was when he noticed something else. "Hold on. The body's still warm."

Sam nodded in agreement. "He died just minutes ago. We must have missed the killer."

"Did you see anyone suspicious?" the Sergeant asked.

"No, but he couldn't have gone far," replied Sam, already leaping to his feet. "Get the ME here to process the body, Sarge. We are going to—"

Coming to a sudden halt in the living room, Sam sniffed at the air. "Wait. Do you smell that, Spike?"

"Yeah," Spike responded, already heading for the kitchen. "It smells like gas."

What the bomb expert saw next caused his eyes to widen. The knobs to the stove had been twisted all the way to the side, leaking gas. And someone had jammed a bunch of newspapers into a live toaster atop the breakfast counter. The papers were seconds away from bursting into flames.

"Get out, Sam! Get out! It's gonna explode!" Spike screamed, pushing Sam ahead of him. "RUN!"

They were almost to the door when a tremendous explosion rocked the entire building. The blast swept them off their feet and they were thrown into the air like a pair of broken dolls before they slammed to the floor, burning debris falling on top of them!

Sam's ears were ringing so loud when he came to, confused. At first, he could only blink uncomprehendingly at the angry blaze all around him. Then he felt the burning heat, and things started to register inside his brain.

With a low groan, he feebly pushed a broken tea table off his chest, sending shards of broken glasses tumbling to the floor. He tried getting to his feet but he was so dizzy and disoriented that he could only manage to crawl. Heaps of rubble was in his way, confusing him even more. He couldn't even tell which part of the apartment he was in.

And then he remembered something else, something very important.

Where is Spike?

A liver of unease ran up and down his spine when he saw no sign of his friend. "Spike? Spike, where the hell are you? Spike, answer me!"

Yelling over and over for Spike, Sam got on all fours and started to go every inch of his immediate surroundings, trying to recollect where he had last seen his friend. He kicked over debris and pulled up a toppled plywood wall, but didn't find Spike underneath. Climbing over a fallen ceiling, he laboriously made his way towards where he thought the kitchen was, where the fire burned stronger. A wooden cupboard had toppled over, blocking his path. A limp arm was poking from beneath it.

"Spike!" Sam shouted as he scrambled forward. "Hang on, buddy. I'll get you free."

To his absolute relief, he heard Spike's weak yet clear voice, "Sam…that you?"

Chuckling, Sam replied, "Well, yeah. Who else do you think? Your fairy godmother?"

Placing both hands under the heavy furniture, he then said, "Listen, I'm going to lift up this thing. Think you can wiggle out from under there?"

"I can manage," was Spike's muffled response. "Do it, Sam."

"Okay. On three. One…two…three!" With all his might, Sam heaved the cupboard a couple feet up, giving Spike enough space to scoot backwards from underneath. Holding that position for several seconds, Sam then let go soon after Spike's boots were cleared.

"Thanks, buddy," Spike emitted, lying back with his eyes closed. Blood was dribbling from the cut on his forehead. "Thought I would crush to death!"

"We're still under threat," Sam said, grabbing the other man's arm and pulling him up. "The building is burning down all around us. We need to find our way out of here fast!"

Spike nodded, rising unsteadily to his feet. "I agree. Let's go. Maybe we can…"

His voice drifted off when he finally got a good look at Sam.

"What's wrong?" Sam frowned in puzzlement to see the look of utter dismay on his friend's face.

"Um…nothing. Nothing at all, just…come on, Sam. We need to…uh…get out of here, right? Hurry, let's go." Stammering, Spike was now dragging Sam away. But the ex-JTF2 planted his feet when he had just realized that something alien was sticking out of his neck.

"No, don't touch that!" Spike cried out, snatching for Sam's hand. He was too late, though.

Sam yanked out the thing, and blood spurted every which way like a broken faucet. Horrified, he dazedly stared at the shard of bloodied glass in his hand. "Oh, shit."

Instantly, Sam felt faint, his knees buckling. We would have collapsed to the floor if Spike had not quickly grabbed him with a yell, "I told you not to touch it!"

Sam grinned stupidly back. "Sorry. Dumb blonde moment."

"You are plain dumb. Period. Don't blame it on your hair," Spike groused, cupping his palm firmly over the wound to stop the heavily flowing blood. Well, some of it, because his hand was totally soaked in mere seconds.

"Spike…"

"Shut up, man. Just shut up and try to slow down your heart beat. I'll get us out to safety, I swear."

Gathering Sam close to him, Spike led the way as fast as he could between the burning rubbles, cringing at the heat. After several wrong turns, they finally emerged into the hallway, but it was very dark and already thickened with smoke. They moved blindly towards the stairway, only to find out that it was completely gone. What was left of the downward stairs was merely a gaping hole. The blast had been strong enough to break apart the stairway foundation.

"No way down, Sam. Even if we jump onto the floor below, we'll be looking at over thirty feet drop. We might break something," Spike said, already eyeing the stairs leading upwards which were still intact. Just barely.

Sam started to say something, but broke into coughing fits. The smoke was getting to him. And his clothes were thoroughly drenched with his own warm blood. He felt himself weakening at an alarming speed.

Securing his hold on his teammate, Spike said, "Hang on, buddy. We'll get out of this. Up we go now."

They climbed the stairs, one step at a time. It was a slow process. Sam began to grow heavier and heavier in Spike's grip, but he refused to let go. Not even when Sam finally faltered and dropped heavily to the floor.

"No, Sam. Don't stop. We gotta get moving," Spike coaxed, yanking at his friend's arms to pull him up.

Sam was shaking his head. "I…I can't."

"Yes, you can. Come on, Sam. Let's go!"

"No. You go."

"Sam…"

"I'm….slowing you down. Go, Spike. I'm dying anyway. Save yourself while…while you still can."

Spike felt like shaking the other man silly. He yelled instead, "I will not leave you here! Do you hear me? If I left you behind, Jules would kill me! Not to mention your Dad. Come on, Sam. Don't give up on me now."

After much prodding and cajoling, Spike managed to push his teammate back to his feet and they resumed their measured climb. The entire way, they didn't meet other living souls. Whether the building occupants had all managed to flee, or they were still trapped somewhere in their apartments, no one could tell.

Spike then remembered about the team's radio, now dangling by his collar. They had lost contact with the rest of Team One since the explosion. Parker and the others could be crazy with worry by now. Knowing them, the team most probably had already arrived at the scene.

"Sam, is your radio working?" Spike asked between coughs, adjusting his headset back around his ear. An incoherent mumble was Sam's only response, much to Spike's great concern.

"Sarge? Ed? Anyone there?"

"Spike? Thank goodness we finally hear your voice! Is Sam with you? Where the hell are you guys? Are you both alright?" Parker and Ed's voice jumped over each other in Spike's ear, bringing a rueful smile to his lips.

"We are…climbing up to the…the top floor," Spike replied, his breath labored from the effort. "We cannot go down. The stairs are gone. And Sam is hurt. Badly."

"Okay, Spike. We hear you. Continue with your progress but keep radio contact at all times. And turn on your transponders. We need to know where you are so we can get to you," was the Sergeant's calm instructions.

"Boss, the civilians…Someone might still be trapped inside their homes."

"Don't worry about that, Spike," Ed was saying, "The firefighters are already here. Let them do their job. Your job is to get yourself and Sam to the nearest exit. Do it steady and fast. We will be there to get you both out."

"Copy."

Turning to the half-conscious Sam, Spike said. "The team's here. It's gonna be alright, Sam. Just hang on, okay? Not much longer now. See? There's…there's the door to the roof. I'll open it and…we'll have some fresh air."

To Spike's absolute dismay though, the door was locked. And he had not any strength left to kick it down. He didn't think he could even pick at the lock, not with his head swimming with dizziness from the exhaustion and inhaling too much smoke.

"No, no, no…this is not happening," he muttered, lowering himself to the floor.

"Spike?"

"Boss, we are trapped. The door to the roof…it's locked. I can't…I can't get it open."

"Hang on, Spike. We're coming. Just hang on, you hear me? We're almost there. Spike? You copy?"

Spike could only nod, finding it harder and harder to breath. Looking down, he saw that Sam's eyes were closed.

"Sam? Come on, buddy. Don't go out on me." Patting at Sam's dirt-smudged cheek, Spike added, "Open your eyes, will you? Let me see those baby blues. You're still with me?"

Sam's eyes fluttered open to a slit, too weakened to even speak. Even through the dark, Spike could see how deathly pale his friend's face had become. Sam's blood had also soaked through Spike's shirt, the metallic smell so sharp against the heavy tang of cloying smoke.

"Sam, listen to me. You're not gonna die, okay? Not on my watch," Spike was saying. He grabbed Sam's hand and held tight. "Squeeze my hand, buddy. As long as you don't let go, you will live. So don't ever let go."

Sam's grip was feeble, but it was there. He never took his gaze off Spike, until his eyelids drooped once more as he lost consciousness. Tears streamed down Spike's cheeks as he cradled his friend close.

When the roof door was forced open minutes later, Spike was found bending protectively over Sam, their hands still intertwined.

Spike woke up next in the hospital. The first thing he noticed was Parker, sitting by his bed.

"Hey, buddy. How're you doing?" the Sergeant asked with a reassuring smile.

"I've been better." Grimacing with pain, Spike pushed himself upright to a sitting position, much to Parker's anxiety.

"Take it easy, Spike. You should be resting."

"It's okay, Boss. I'm fine."

"Actually, you've hurt yourself quite serious. You suffer a concussion and first degree burns, as well as smoke inhalation."

"Been there, done that," Spike replied with a shrug. "What about Sam? Is he okay? Tell me he made it."

Sighing, Parker placed a calming hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We got you both out just in time. But, Sam…he has lost a lot of blood. He has gone through a surgery and is now stabilized. It's just that he hasn't shown any signs of waking up. The doctor thinks that he will not last the night."

"That's ridiculous!" Spike glared, shaking his head in denial. "Sam is strong. The toughest man I know. Trust me, he's gonna pull through."

"Spike…"

"I want to see him. Now." Swiping the covers off him, he swung his legs over the side and stood swaying on his feet. Parker quickly reached over to hold him steady.

"Okay, Spike. I'll take you to him. Just…don't overtax yourself."

"Don't worry, Boss. I'm still fully capable to put on my uniform and hunt the son of a bitch who started all this!"

Later on, Spike would be told that the shootout in the Chinese restaurant and the death of Gavin Johnson was connected to a money counterfeit ring. A deal had turned sour, and so the killer had planted the improvised explosive in Johnson's apartment to destroy the evidence. After the fire was completely put out, two tenants were found dead and several more were injured. They had also found a cache of counterfeit bills within a secret compartment inside Johnson's bedroom.

At the moment, those were far from Spike's mind. Only one thing he cared about now and it was the wellbeing of his teammate, his good comrade. A brother-in-arms.

He noticed Ed and Raf waiting in the hallway outside the ICU. Wordy was also there, conversing quietly with the two men, their faces grim. Upon seeing Spike, they came over to greet him.

"You okay, Spike?"

"Man, you scared us all."

"I scared myself." Spike gave them a tight smile before stepping into Sam's room.

Jules rose from her seat next to the bed and wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks, Spike, for not leaving him behind. If you had, I would shoot you!"

Chuckling softly, Spike returned her hug. "You heard that, huh?"

She pulled away, her eyes were swimming with tears as he gazed sadly at him. "Spike, he's…he's very weak. Sam is fading right before my eyes."

Spike cupped her cheek. "Sam's gonna stay, Jules. What, you think he will leave you? Leave all of us? No way. Not today, and not for another fifty more years."

Approaching the bed, Spike stared forlornly at his friend's supine form. Sam lay so still, pale as a corpse. He was hooked to various machines by a riot of tubes and wires. Seeing such a strong-willed person brought down so hard frightened Spike greatly.

"Hey, Samtastic. Time to wake up, man. You've slept long enough." Leaning closer, he bent to speak softly into Sam's ears. "Besides, you still owe me ten bucks, remember? You need to pay up."

Near tears from the lack of response, Spike picked up Sam's limp hand and squeezed. "I'm not letting you go, buddy. And so shan't you. You hear me? Don't you ever let go."

It was almost an eternity later when Spike felt the returning squeeze of Sam's hand, seconds before the clear blue eyes fluttered open to meet Spike's gaze.

Sam managed a small smile as he whispered back, "I won't, Spike. I won't let go. That's my oath."

Then, and only then, Michaelangelo 'Spike' Scarlatti promptly broke down and cry.

THE END