Author's note: Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter – I was totally stunned by the response! I'm really glad everyone seems to be enjoying it and I promise to try and keep updating pretty quickly!

And so on with the next chapter... :)

Dean groaned. He really hoped somebody managed to get the number of the truck that had to have run him over. And then reversed over him for good measure.

He opened his eyes and blinked, trying to clear his vision. He couldn't see much, but he was aware that was because there was hardly any light wherever the hell he was, not because he couldn't see. At least that was one problem he could cross off his list.

He tried to move but a blinding pain in his side told him that was a really bad idea. As soon as the stars cleared from his vision he tried just moving his head instead. As far as he could tell he was in some sort of basement. There was rubble everywhere and he frowned as he tried to remember how he wound up there. It came back to him in a flash – the earthquake, falling through the floor and then nothing.

"Shit – Sam!" he muttered. Fear for his little brother overrode any concern for his own health, and he struggled to pull himself up. He managed to get up on his elbows this time, but dark spots danced in front of his eyes and he clamped his teeth together as his breakfast threatened to make a second appearance. The nausea passed after a moment and he managed to look around the rest of the room. Squinting in the gloom he spotted what looked suspiciously like his brother's legs, a few feet away.

"Ok, come on – you can do this." he said to himself under his breath. He couldn't help but groan out loud as he pulled himself up onto his knees.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed. His entire left side felt like it was on fire, not to mention about a million bruises up and down his body. His head was pounding in time to his heartbeat and his vision was starting to go blurry around the edges again. He suddenly realised that not only did his side feel like it was on fire, it felt wet too. Reaching down he felt inside his jacket and even in the dim light he could see that his hand was covered in something dark when he bought it back out.

"Ah, crap."

This day was just getting better and better. Deciding to worry about this delightful new development once he knew his brother was alright, Dean pushed aside the pain and managed to crawl over to where Sam lay.

His brother was on his back, one arm flung out to the side and the other lying across his chest. His eyes were closed and there was some blood on the side of his head.

"Sammy – hey Sam, come on man, talk to me." said Dean, desperation clouding his voice.

As if somehow tuned into Dean's voice, Sam's eyelids fluttered.

"That's it – come on Sam, you can do it." said Dean encouragingly.

Sam eyes opened and he blinked.

"You with me Sammy?"

He shifted his head to look at Dean and squinted at his brother.

"Dean?" he said, sounding confused.

"Well at least we know there's no brain damage, although it would have been hard to tell." said Dean with a relieved smirk.

Sam groaned, although Dean couldn't tell if that was from the pain or because of his joke.

"Come on, lets get you sat up Princess." he said, holding out his hand.

Sam grasped it and managed to sit up with Dean's help. Dean bit back another groan as the movement sparked another flare of pain in his side. He wasn't about to let Sam know about that particular gem, at least not until they were out of there.

Sam looked round the room, taking in the rubble, and then looked back at Dean. He noticed the fine sheen of sweat on his brother's face and the dried blood on the side of his head.

"Hey, you ok?" he said with concern, reaching out towards Dean's head.

Dean batted his hand away. "Dude, I'm fine. Apart from being stuck in this basement under a pile of rubble that used to be a house." he said dryly.

Sam rolled his eyes, wincing as the movement sparked a pain in his head. Making a mental note not to do that again, he looked back at Dean. He could see there was more to his brother's injuries than Dean was letting on but he could also see Dean was being his usual stubborn self about it.

"Dean.." he began, but Dean cut him off.

"Look, we can compare scars later ok? Right now we need to get out of here." he said firmly.

Sam sighed, but he knew Dean was right about that at least. Staggering to his feet he swayed briefly as a wave of dizziness swept over him.

"You ok?" said Dean.

"Yeah, just dizzy." said Sam.

Once he could see clearly again, he stumbled over the rubble to the middle of the room. Looking up he could just about see the jagged floorboards that they'd fallen through. The ceiling was far too high for them to climb out, so he made his way over to the nearest wall. Feeling his way along he was disappointed to find there was no sign of a door. It was slow progress but he managed to get all the way round, and there was no sign of a way out in any direction. He did come across the remains of some stairs up to a hatch, which was probably how people had originally got in and out of the basement, but sadly they had long since crumbled away.

"Great." he said, dropping his hands against his sides in frustration. He suddenly realised that Dean had left him to check out the whole room by himself, that he had in fact not moved from his spot on the floor. His brow furrowed in concern as he made his way back over to Dean.

Dean was meanwhile busy trying to keep from passing out on the spot. He felt cold and he knew that wasn't a good sign. He could still feel blood running down his side and when he glanced back to where he'd originally been lying he noticed a broken pipe sticking out of the floor. It was most likely what he'd landed on. Just his luck of course – why land anywhere else when there was a perfectly good pipe sticking out of the floor just waiting for him to impale himself on it?

Some days he really did wonder just how much bad luck one person could have.

He was so busy thinking about his misfortune and trying to breathe through the pain that he didn't notice Sam had made his way back over to him. He jumped when his brother put his hand on his shoulder, and swore when that jolted his side.

"Jesus Sam! Don't sneak around like that!" he hissed.

Sam looked at him with concern. "I was hardly sneaking around Dean, not with all this rubble. You just didn't hear me. Now tell me what's really wrong." he said.

Dean sighed. "It's nothing, ok?" he said, knowing already that Sam wasn't going to let the matter drop.

Sure enough Sam just looked at him, one eyebrow raised, with an expression that said he could do this all day. Dean held out for a minute, then closed his eyes in frustration.

"Fine! God you are so annoying – it's just a scratch, that's all."

Sam snorted, knowing his idea of a scratch and Dean's idea of a scratch were vastly different.

"Where?" he said simply and Dean shifted slightly.

"My left side." he said quietly.

He didn't move as Sam lifted up his jacket.

"You got that flashlight?" he said and Dean shook his head.

"Must have dropped it when I fell."

Sam sighed at their luck, and instead lifted the jacket further so he could see more of his brother's side. He cursed when he saw even in the dim light that the entire side of Dean's shirt was soaked in blood.

"A scratch?" he said, his voice a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

Dean met his gaze sheepishly. "A big scratch?" he said innocently, and Sam whacked him lightly on the shoulder.

"This is not funny, Dean! You're really bleeding here." he said sounding worried.

Dean winced. He hated when Sam sounded like that, especially when he was the one causing the concern.

"Look, it's not like we can do anything about it till we get out of here so there was no point mentioning." he said, trying to sound reasonable.

Sam was way too pissed at the fact he was practically sitting in a pool of his brother's blood to be up for 'reasonable' though.

"Uh-huh, well that makes sense of course. I mean why mention it to me now, when I could at least try and slow the bleeding down, when you can just forget about it and then give me a clue when you pass out!" said Sam, his voice rising.

Dean grimaced. "Ok, first off? Did I mention the headache? Quit yelling at me, Francis. And secondly – I wasn't about to 'pass out'. It's not that bad." he said stubbornly.

Sam sat back on his heels and stared at Dean. This side of his brother never ceased to both amaze him and scare the hell out of him. Dean would always, always insist that whatever injury he had it was 'no big deal' whether it was a splinter or a limb hanging off. He'd blithely carry on, doing his job, protecting everyone else, until in the end his body would shut down of it's own accord. And that scared Sam more than any demon, more than any spirit. Because he dreaded the day that he wasn't around to force Dean to take it seriously, to take care of him whether he liked it or not. It had been his biggest fear at Stanford and one that had resulted in many nightmares, none of which he'd ever been able to explain to Jess.

Dean shifted uncomfortably under Sam's glare. "If you're trying to kill me with your mind I don't think it's working, psychic wonder." he said dryly.

Sam shook his head. "Ass. I was just wondering how someone as smart as you can be so stupid sometimes."

Dean's cocky grin at the smart comment turned into a frown at the stupid part.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said indignantly.

"It means, quit putting everything else above your own health Dean! Some of us actually happen to give a crap what happens to you, remember?"

Dean looked away, uncomfortable as ever with anything resembling sentiment. He could see how worried Sam was about him though and he could easily imagine how he'd feel. He hadn't forgotten Sam had been knocked out himself.

"Fine. Next time I stub my toe, you'll be the first to hear about it ok?" he said, grinning at Sam in the gloom.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. Jerk."

"Bitch."

Moment effectively over with, Sam turned his attention back to Dean's side. Shrugging off his jacket he took off his shirt, pulling the jacket back over his t-shirt, and set about ripping up the material to try and make some makeshift bandages. Dean just watched, which was about as much as he could manage right now.

"Alright, this is probably gonna hurt." said Sam quietly.

"Gee, ya think?" said Dean dryly.

Sam ignored the sarcasm, helping Dean ease his arm out of his jacket for a moment so he could get a better look. He lifted Dean's shirt and t-shirt, which Dean managed to hold out of the way with his other hand. As Sam got his first look at the wound he felt his stomach knot and he swallowed. There was a deep hole in Dean's side, that seemed to go straight through from front to back. It was oozing blood from both sides, and Sam found himself praying that no vital organs had been damaged.

"Sam?"

Sam realised he'd been staring at the wound silently for a few moments and he flushed.

"Sorry." he said and Dean sighed.

"That bad huh?" he said quietly.

"No, you're right – it's just a scratch." said Sam and Dean snorted.

"You are such a bad liar Sammy." he said, but he appreciated the thought.

Sam quickly made two wads with some of the cloth and somehow managed to hold both while he wrapped a longer strip round to hold them in place. Dean said nothing, but Sam could tell by the clench of his jaw that he was hurting him.

"Sorry." he whispered, hating as always when his brother was in pain.

"Not your fault Sam." said Dean through gritted teeth.

Deciding that he'd done all he could for now Sam helped Dean back into the jacket , knowing the importance of keeping him warm.

Dean shot him a grateful look, but wasn't up to speaking yet as the nausea made an unwelcome appearance again.

Patting Dean reassuringly on the shoulder briefly, Sam got up and looked around the room again. They really needed to get Dean to a hospital but there was no way his brother would manage to reach the floorboards above their head and clamber out. In fact even Sam couldn't manage that as things stood.

Sighing, he dropped back down next to Dean again. Suddenly Dean swore, and Sam turned to face him, instantly concerned.

"What? What's wrong?" he said.

"The car! You think she's ok out there?" said Dean, his face a mask of concern.

Sam blinked. "You're worried about the car?" he said with disbelief.

"Hell yeah I'm worried about her! Earthquake, remember? You don't think anything fell on her do you?" said Dean, entirely serious.

Sam threw his hands up in the air and got up, stalking over to the hole in the ceiling again.

"You are unbelievable." he muttered.

"Come on, Sammy – I just put her back together again." said Dean, but Sam ignored him and Dean let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fine. You can walk to the next job." said Dean almost petulantly.

As he watched Sam looking up at the hole, trying to work out how they could reach it, he suddenly felt the ground tremble again.

Sam whirled round, his gaze meeting Dean's, both of them with eyes wide.

"Oh come on – no way!" said Dean, but as the ground shook again in earnest he knew their day had just got worse yet again.

"Aftershock." said Sam, stumbling back towards to Dean. Sure enough the trembling continued, and dust started to rise in clouds all around them. As bits of wood and rubble began to drop from the ceiling, Sam did the only thing he could. Covering Dean with his own body, despite his brother's muffled protest, he closed his eyes and prayed for it to stop soon.