AN: I promised someone that I would post this on Saturday, but real life sort of interfered and I couldn't do it until today. Sorry. Thank you greatly for the reviews and alerts!

Again, some warning for language.

SPN DEAN FW SPN FW SAM SPN FW BR SPN FW FW SPN SPN

The first thing Caleb knew was that he was gonna rip apart the fucker in the mac truck that hit him. The second was that for all that, he really wasn't hurting as bad as he should be. He coughed on the thick dust floating around, trying to work some moisture into his parched throat. Damn.

Blinking rapidly, he began to piece together what had happened. Okay. No mac truck. But he was sure as hell gonna take a strip off Deuce for this particular stunt! He remembered watching the younger man disappear, automatically throwing himself back as the floor started to collapse beneath him, as well. He'd lost his footing as the concrete beneath him gave way, forcing him to roll down.

It was too dark to really see anything, but he could hear the building as it settled, the rush of water draining out of piper older than he. He prayed that it was just left over- that there was no actual water source feeding them.

As he took it all in, he realized there was one thing he couldn't hear. "Dean!" he called out as strongly as he could.

When there was no answer, he tried to move, yelping when he tried to move his arm. Okay, so dislocated left shoulder. Next he gingerly moved his legs, wincing as pain shot up his leg. Left ankle broken. Maybe some bruised ribs, also on the left, painful but not broken. All in all, it could have been a lot worse. He could feel the bump on the side of his head throbbing, but graded it a mild concussion.

He tentatively stretched out with his abilities, wincing as a piercing pain split his brain in two. He barely got a glimpse of his connection with the younger hunter. Enough to tell he was alive, but nothing else. He groaned, having no choice but disconnect, as waves of nausea washed over him. Shit. So he was essentially offline. Just great. He swallowed it down, taking deep breaths to prevent what would undoubtedly be a painful rejection of his earlier lunch.

"Dean! Answer me!" he called out again, even as he carefully made it into a standing position, cradling his injured arm, his surroundings a little clearer as his eyes adjusted. He coughed again, but was thankful that the air was clearing. Obviously they had an air supply coming from somewhere. And if air could get in, that meant there was a chance they could get out. "Deuce!"

Christ, it looked like the whole factory had come down on them. He moved carefully over the debris, conscious of the fact it could still come crashing back down on them. He was thankful there was no electricity to be worried about as he pushed hanging cables out of his way, ducking around torn up rebar. His progress was painstakingly sluggish as his ankle slowed him down, catching painfully on wooden board and chunks of concrete.

He came across what looked to be a solid pillar still holding up. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he shoved his dislocated shoulder hard against it, crying out as it popped back into place. Jesus that hurt- but at least his arm was somewhat useable now. Shrugging out of his jacket, he took off his outer shirt and fashioned a field sling, using his teeth to tie the knot. It wasn't perfect, but at least it relieved some of the pressure from his shoulder. Hesitating, he decided to keep his jacket with him. Johnny would have his balls if he dared throw away any piece of survival equipment.

Reaves cursed as he tripped over a board he hadn't seen, frowning when the dislodged plank revealed the flashlight he had dropped earlier. Moving the beam around, he knew Dean had to be close. He'd only been a few feet away from him when they'd fallen, and hadn't had the luxury of any slow roll. Deuce had gone straight down.

"Dean!"

"Damien?"

Caleb turned the beam in the direction his friends voice had come from. "Yeah, it's me. Keep talking." All he could see were piles of rubble, everywhere. While the thought that Dean could be under anyone of them wasn't a pleasant one, he needed something to follow. "Where are you?"

Dean coughed, wincing as pain radiated from every source. He blinked, trying to focus, but found it near impossible. His vision kept sliding on him, moving everywhere at once. The results were nauseating. He was extremely thankful they hadn't gone for those steaks before they'd come to the factory. "Here." Even through the dizzying merry-go-round routine his eyes were pulling, he could barely make out a shaft of light as it spanned the wrecked basement, trying to narrow down his location.

Of course, it would probably be better if he got up off his ass and met his friend halfway. After all, he could see the light, but Damien couldn't see him. He tried to move, but was unable to stop the scream that bubbled up. It was everything he could do to push back the waves of darkness that threatened to envelope him.

"Deuce!"

Caleb winced as the younger hunter's distress echoed loudly around their tiny space. "Whatever you're doing, stop! Just talk me in," he ordered, hating how his voice cracked.

"Marco."

"Very funny, Deuce," Caleb growled, stepping close to a pile of wooden planks. He cursed his lame arm for how long it took to carefully remove them, and worried when Dean didn't seem to try and offer any help. The pained gasps and whimpers was enough to let him know he'd at least reached the right location. He was grateful that Dean was propped sitting up as he splashed through a fairly deep puddle of ice cold water.

His relief at finding his friend was short lived.

Even without the flashlight, Reaves could see the blood that covered the entire right side of Dean's face from a deep gash on his forehead along the hair line. His left arm was twisted in a way that had to mean it was broken, the indent on he could see through Dean's layers of clothing showed at least half his rib cage had all but collapsed.

But that all seemed minor in comparison to the pieces of rebar that were sticking through Dean's right shoulder and left abdomen. Moving the beam down the dirty body, he could see another piece sticking up through Dean's right leg, scarily close to his knee. The leg itself was bent slightly, but it didn't seem to be broken.

"Oh shit, Deuce," Caleb whispered, looking back up to the blinking eyes, knowing the horror of what he was seeing had to be reflecting back at the boy.

"You okay?" Dean gasped, trying to draw in enough air to talk. Since his best friend couldn't seem to grasp the concept of doing as he was told, he decided there was no point in letting the other man know just how bad things were. He didn't need to be a doctor to know that there was some seriously messed up stuff going on inside.

"Me? Damnit, Dean," Caleb growled, but then saw the pleading expression and sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Don't... lie... to me."

"Nothing serious, I promise. How about you? And if you even think about saying you're fine I just might have to kill you." Reaves needed an honest assessment if they stood even half a chance of surviving this.

"Easier to... tell you what... doesn't hurt," Dean gasped, seeing no need to give Caleb the nasty details. Besides, he was pretty sure shock was covering the majority of it.

"Yeah, but it might help."

"Big toe... is feeling... pretty okay," Dean grinned, knowing Damien was looking for any sign that he couldn't feel his legs. Which he couldn't, but he could feel the frigid temperature of the water they were lying in, so that had to be good news.

Caleb sucked in a deep breath, nodding, accepting. "Can you move at all?"

Dean closed his eyes, remembering what had happened the last time he'd tried. "Pinned."

"Stay with me, Deuce," Caleb ordered, finding Dean's cold hand and giving it a squeeze. "We're gonna make it out of this."

"Can... you get... out?"

Reaves shot him a weak grin. "Trying to get rid of me already?"

"Already... tried. Stupid... ass didn't... listen." God it was hard to breathe.

Caleb licked his lips, a sure sign that he was panicking, but trying not to show it. He was so out of his depth here. "I didn't listen? What the hell were you thinking?" He knew what Dean was thinking. He would have done the same thing, but that wasn't the point. It was his job to protect the younger hunter, not the other way around.

"Was... thinking... can't... lose... another... brother."

Caleb wished he could convince himself that the lump in his throat was dust. He gave the boys hand another squeeze. "We're not losing anyone. We still have steaks with our names on them waiting for us, remember?"

He patted down his pockets, trying to find the cell phone. He wasn't overly shocked when he couldn't find it. Winchester's lady luck was a bitch. "Do you think you still have your phone?" he asked hopefully. He leaned over Dean, gently trying to find his, feeling every whimper as his hands skimmed damaged skin and bones.

"Back... pocket..."

Knowing he couldn't move his friend, Caleb put his hand on Dean's thigh, slowly inching his hand around his hip to try and reach the pocket without jostling his injuries. Dean cried out when his hand moved over a large gash.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths, wishing like hell Damien would just yank the thing and get it over with, even knowing how much that action was likely to hurt. Still, knowing Caleb would feel guilty for any additional pain, he mustered enough energy to smirk. "Sorry... Prince... charming. I... expect... dinner before... getting frisky."

Caleb extracted the cell phone as gently as he could, hearing Dean's hiss when it caught on his jeans. Caleb made the effort to grin. "Hey, I was going to take you for dinner. Don't good intentions get you anywhere these days?"

"Road... to Hell. Which has... to be... better... than... here," Dean coughed, shivering violently, his face twisting with the pain of the multiple assaults.

Caleb looked at the phone he had finally relieved Dean of, silently swearing that if the Winchesters didn't have bad luck, they wouldn't have any at all. The phone was toast, crushed. The sigh from the young man let him know Dean had seen it too.

"It's okay. Johnny knows we're here."

Dean looked away from the bare thread of hope he could see Caleb clinging to, wincing as shivers ran through him, effectively setting off every one of his injuries. "I wouldn't... count on... Dad."

Caleb frowned. It was unusual for the younger man to say anything negative about the older hunter. Dean would always defend his father, even from friendly fire when needed. Which was, frankly, quite often. "Why not? I left him a message. He'll get it sooner or later."

Not willing to burden his friend further, Dean nodded, closing his eyes. "Tired."

"Sorry, Deuce. I'm willing the bet you have a pretty nasty concussion. No sleeping." The words fell on deaf ears. Dean was already unconscious. Caleb swore as he reached out a tentative hand to feel the younger man's pulse. It was weak and rapid, barely detectable by his fingers. He took off his jacket, and gently placed it over his friend to do what he could to hold off shock. Next he reached in and undid Dean's jeans, hoping to increase circulation since he couldn't lie him down.

His own heart nearly stopped when he saw the molten bruising on the kids abdomen. It was hot to the touch, despite the rest of the kid being cold and clammy. Caleb tried to swallow passed the lump that had once again taken up residence in his throat. That kind of bruising could only mean one thing. Dean was bleeding pretty heavily internally.

Caleb stood. They had to get out of here- fast.