"Is it dark?"
He couldn't tell.
It was either night time – or he was blind.
Probably night time.
No response.
"Dean..!"
A scraping sound of boot on rubble.
"Yeah...in here...it's dark," Dean finally answered.
Sam blinked hard anyway. Nowhere was as dark as this.
Trapped.
Sam's head jammed up against bricks, or concrete.
And weight.
On his chest and arms. So heavy it was constricting his breath. And mega pins and needles in his right hand. A sure sign of restricted blood flow.
He assumed Dean was the same although he wasn't saying.
He'd tried to question him. Tried to make him recount the events leading up to this moment – not for his own recollection – just to hear Dean's voice. But he'd drift off...back into unconsciousness. Leaving Sam alone.
And cold.
So God damned cold, it hurt.
Dean's cell rang. They both listened to the dull beat of the tune, forcing it's way out from underneath the rubble. Then silence again.
"I saw you once," Sam began softly. His hearing keen, since all his other senses were stolen from him.
A slight scraping noise. A hitch in breath.
"What?"
"After I left," Sam blinked in the dark. "I had to set up a bank account for the bar job. I was just coming out and I saw you in the street, changing a tire on an old Nova. You had your black jacket on and your ripped jeans."
"Uh-huh."
Even in the dark, Sam could tell his brother was frowning.
Sam licked his lips and continued.
"My first thought was ,'Dude, where's the Impala?' And then I crossed the road to reach you. " Sam swallowed at the memory, the silence ruling for a beat.
"Uh-huh." Dean prompted.
"And then, someone asked you for directions...and you stood up and started pointing - even then it didn't even register, like it should have, you know? Instead, I just barged ahead – and it wasn't until you turned around and went back to the tire that I realised...well, I saw that it wasn't you. " Sam's voice dipped as the event replayed again in his mind.
*
An explosion.
It had to be something big to cause this much destruction. Walls and roofs and whole continents falling in on them. Crushing them.
Trapped.
On his side, painfully bent over something wooden. It dug into his ribs, the slightest breath causing exquisite pain.
And cold.
So God damned cold.
He could move his right leg, and his left arm, but his head was stuck. He could lift it an inch, but then it hit something cold and unforgiving.
He struggled for orientation. At one point, he thought he might be upside down.
It was so dark, who knew.
Sam's voice would bring him back. Usually with a brusque announcement. It usually worked.
He listened to his brother's story of mistaken identity. He could see it in his mind. It was sunny, and bright. A small mid western town. A lazy afternoon. He could see it all. Well, most of it.
As if he'd buy a Nova.
As if he'd give up the Impala.
He snorted softly at the thought.
Dean's cell sparked up its tune again and they both listened to it, impotent. It whimpered on to it's inevitable stop.
He cleared his throat when the silence grew too long.
"Well...you were in a diner in Oklahoma," he spoke into the darkness. "There you were, tall in the seat. Same color hair. Same length."
"Uh-huh."
"You...you even had your lap top open...I couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe you were there..."
He shivered. His teeth clacking together for a moment before he gained control.
"Yeah?" Sam prompted.
"My first thought was...that you were still hunting. That you'd heard about the vampire nest. That you'd decided to carry on youself, you know? "
Dean closed his eyes. He breathed through the oncoming spasm of pain that assaulted him.
"So...so then you looked right at me. Just a glance. But then you went straight back to your lap top as if you'd never even seen me and I thought, 'what the hell, man?"
Dean scraped his leg across the rubble again, trying and failing to find a better position.
"What did you do?" Sam's voice seemed so far away.
"I was so mad. I went into the diner...just...just to tell you to back off – go find your own hunt..." He chuckled softly. "And then, he looked up at me...and it wasn't you. Didn't even look like you. Felt such a jerk. "
Falling rubble. Somewhere.
The sound of dirt and grit sifting from a height.
It silenced them both.
*
"I lied." Sam said gently, hoping that Dean was still there. He wanted him to be there. Suddenly wanted him to hear this last part.
"What?"
Sam turned his head towards his brother's voice.
"My first thought, " he continued. "I thought you'd come to find me. I mean...I hoped..."
No response. Sam strained to hear the familiar scraping that had signalled his brother's ability to move if nothing else.
More dust and rubble drifted down from somewhere. Compounding his hopelessness.
"Me too," Dean finally returned. "Me too."