Title: The Wind Cries, Mary

Author: dreamlitnight

Genre/pairing: Supernatural, hurt/comfort

Characters: Dean W. and Sam W. and a tornado

Rating: G

Word-count: approx. 1,500

Summary: Dean and Sam are out to de-haunt, un-huant, something like that; a house and tornado tries to blow them away...

Spoilers: none

Warnings: Contains angst.

Disclaimer: The Winchesters are not mine. Also, the title is borrowed from a song by Jimi Hendrix.

Written for prompt at hoodietime:The boys are on a hunt and end up separated - not by distance, but by access (say a wall or a cave in or whatever). Dean is hurt bad, and Sam can hear him, but he can't get to him & he's unable to call for help. I want the angst & the hurt factor as Dean gets worse and worse (goes into seizures, breathing lessens, pain increases - whatever) & all he wants is for Sam to get him the hell out of there!

A/N: I have had such a tough time writing anything lately and then I saw this prompt and... well... I was inspired. Watch out for lurking typos, they are clever little buggers.

"The Wind Cries, Mary"

The boys heard the storm sirens go off right before they heard the freight train that came roaring through the old, haunted house they were in the middle of un-haunting. The only problem was, there were no train tracks near the house. The Winchesters had time to meet each other's wide-eyed gaze before all hell broke loose. A cacophony of screeching, screaming noise overwhelmed them. Wailing moans pierced the heavy air and the house began to shake and tremble. A sound, like a child desperate for its mother, seemed to fill every space, bringing such a pall of despair that the boys longed to escape the hopeless cry; but a terrible force pulled them into a vortex of terrifying pressure and darkness. Then every sense was lit up with too much of everything, until there was nothing and the brother's lost each other and then they lost themselves.

When Sam next became aware of anything at all, it was bright and oh, so very quiet. He discovered he was lying on what was left of the first floor of the house and there was nothing but blue sky and wispy clouds above him where the second floor should have been. Taking a deep breath, he drew in the sweetness of rain-fresh air, which seemed a little ironic since he was covered in dirt and debris as was everything around him. He shivered in his damp clothing and wondered how the air could smell so crisp and new and good, when the world looked like it had just been turned upside down. Gingerly, he sat up and although sore from probably a body full of bruises, he seemed to be intact, all except for the dull ache radiating from the back of his head (probably bonked it when he fell, or flew, or however he had ended up lying there on his back). Letting his gaze roam around the massive mess of destruction, he realized with a start that Dean was missing.

"Dean!" Sam bellowed as adrenalin surged. Frantic, he stood and found himself swaying as dizziness assaulted him. He took a staggering step and then forced himself to steadiness. Blowing out a determined breath, he called for Dean again. Faintly, he heard what sounded like his name coming from far away. He spun in a slow circle, searching for any sign of his brother.

Once again, he called and was answered by the faint sound of his name. This time he realized it was coming from behind and possibly beneath him. Working to keep the panic at bay. Sam continued to call and listen, until he had zeroed in on where the sound was coming from. It was the back of where the house used to be and the area was covered with two large, downed trees and a flipped truck. This caused Sam a moment of dread as he looked to where they had left the Impala. She sat, covered in leaves and dirt, but seemingly unharmed. Sam let out a relieved sigh and then carefully knelt down farthest away from the side the truck was on. Putting his face closer to the remaining floor, he called out. "Dean, are you down there?"

"Get me out of here Sammy!" The answer was louder and definitely belonged to his missing brother.

Sam sighed in relief. "Working on it. Are you hurt? Are you in a basement or something?"

"Um... not sure, but think it might be a cellar. It seems kind of small."

"Okay. Are you hurt Dean?" Sam repeated.

"Maybe... maybe a little." Dean answered tentatively, then adding a little more info. "I'm uh, kind of stuck. Kind of wedged in here, so hurrying would be great."

Sam was quiet for a moment pondering this information, when his brother yelled his name again and this time it ended with a choking cough. This set off all the alarms in Sam's head. Sam answered back quickly. "Just working on a plan Dean. I'm still here." He really hoped Dean was not trying to hide how badly he was injured, but knowing his brother, he suspected it was exactly what he was doing.

After more than an hour of trying to find a way to his brother, Sam was nearing the edge of panic he had so far successfully held off. There was no cell signal, which he suspected was because the storm had taken the cell towers out and he could hear his brother's voice getting weaker. They were in the middle of nowhere, the trees that were in a pile with the truck weren't budging and so far, he had not found an entrance to wherever his injured brother was trapped. But if there was one thing Dean had taught his little brother, that was perseverance and Sam had it in spades.

So while Sam was topside fighting off the panic and trying to get to Dean, Dean was fighting off a panic attack of his own at being practically buried alive for the second time in his life.

Dean had awoken to pitch black, stuffy air, and something heavy across his chest and right arm. The noise of before had been horrific and it almost made the quietness of the place he was now unbearable. The only sound he heard at first was the eerie creaking of the house, which impossibly, was above him now. Dean had no idea how or where he had ended up, but it sure seemed that he was now under the creepy house he had been inside of just a few minutes or maybe hours ago. After spending a few frantic moments pushing and shoving at the heavy weight against him, he had finally given in to the pain and the inability to take a deep breath had put a stop to his struggles.

The faint sound of his name had brought a sweet rush of relief. Sammy. Sammy was okay and looking for him. Taking the deepest breath he could manage, Dean called out for his little brother. "Sam, I'm here!"

His call was met with an answer and then heavy footsteps that grew louder until they were right on top of him. "Sammy!" Dean called again, his voice cutting off with a choked wheeze as sharp pain arced across his chest.

Dean was talking himself down from an impending panic attack. He knew Sam was trying to find a way to get him out of her, but he wanted out now. He was hot and there was not enough air... he couldn't breathe. He... couldn't …. With his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he forced logical thinking to the forefront. There was plenty of air. He could even feel a faint breeze every now and then. He was fine. He was fine. He was... not fine! He just wanted his brother. Was that too much to ask? After all they had been through, Dean did not think that was much too ask for. "Sammy, please hurry. Please. I need out of here. Sammy?"

"Dean. I'm trying. Hang in there. Okay? You hear me Dean?"

"I hear you." Dean called, causing him to end up coughing and working to catch his breath.

"Dean?"

Finally the coughs died down and Dean was able to answer his brother's frenzied calls. "I'm okay. Not going anywhere." The panic he could hear in Sam's voice gave Dean the added strength he needed to revert back to older brother mode. Watch out for Sammy. Keep Sammy safe. Don't make him worry about your sorry butt. This became his mantra. With those words lodged firmly in his mind he was able to wait and breathe, a little less desperately.

This lasted until he noticed the weight of silence that had fallen. He could no longer hear footsteps or sound of Sam's muttering or any sounds at all for that matter. All was quiet and that's when actual panic set in. Dean yelled loudly for his brother. "Sam!" but got no answer. Sam was hurt, or that ghost was still around and had him cornered, or... he had given up and left... No. Sam wouldn't leave him. A voice whispered that he had done it before. Dean argued that Sam would not leave when he was trapped. But that knowledge did not keep Dean calm. He pushed at the thing pinning him down and he ignored the pain this caused as he wrestled and wheezed and coughed until tears were streaming down both cheeks.

He was not crying. He wasn't. It was the coughing that was causing the tears. Dean reasoned, because Dean Winchester did not cry. When despair began to engulf him and he felt like this black, empty place would become his tomb- inexplicably he felt a large warm hand pawing clumsily at his shoulder. He was so totally exhausted that he didn't even flinch as he attempted to make sense of what was happening.

Then a hoarse voice spoke, spoke almost in his ear. "Hey big brother, found the door. The storm had pushed dirt over it, but I found it. Gonna get you outta here."

Dean took a shuddering breath and tried to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob. This was not crying. There was just a lot of dust in this place, made his eyes water and stuff.

" 's okay Dean. I gotcha." Sam soothed, shuffling closer and patting him gently.

And the funny thing was, Dean was suddenly all right again because Sam had him. Even with the heavy thing still on his chest and even though he was still stuck in that stuffy, dark hole in the ground; Dean was all right now because Sammy was here and Dean knew Sammy was going to fix this. That's just what they did for one another. They were brothers and they were Winchesters.

~The End - Thank you for reading! Would so appreciate any words of encouragement or helpful critique you would care to offer.