Took forever to get this up just cause being an art major is very time consuming. Hope it's worth the wait. :)

Ch. 3

It's so much harder than it would have been if he had something on his feet to go into the wall too. Like… some ninja thing he's seen before. But he doesn't have that. The two knives in his hands are his only hope on getting across. It's a good thing their dad trains them so hard. Dean would have had a lot more trouble with this otherwise with the bag on his back.

He sinks the blades in so that they're flat, unable to slice down through the wall. He grunts when he sinks his first knife into the wall for a second time, farther out as he reaches towards the safe ground on the other side. His muscles tremble and bulge from the effort. He pulls out the second knife, letting himself swing over a little bit before plunging it back into the wall about a foot away from the other one. Then he hangs there for a second.

"Dean?"

"It's alright, Sam. I'm just making sure this wall is strong enough. If it holds me, it'll hold you." He pulls out the first knife, throwing his arm out towards land and sinking it back into the wall with another grunt.

Sam, from his side of the great divide, watches in both fear and apprehension. He watches his brother's arms tremble from the strain they're being put through. Without his shirt, which is still hanging over the bag on his back to dry, Sam can see his brother's muscles move beneath his skin. He starts to doubt he can do this. There's no way he's as strong as his brother.

Dean keeps going. By the light of the flashlight, he can see he's about halfway. Sam moves the light along with him, letting him see the wall. He can see how the tunnels have survived this long. The ground is mostly clay. Dried out here, it helps in holding him up with the mixture of rocks between. So they haven't made it to the coal part of the mine yet.

It's mostly smooth going all the way across. When he's almost to the end, the knife seems to drag down in the wall before getting a stronger hold. Dean frowns, yanking down on it a few times to make sure it'll hold his weight before pulling out the other knife and bringing it back in to imbed in the wall in front of him. Then he reaches out one more time.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief when Dean lifts a foot to touch the ground in the other side. He sees his brother test it out, making sure the edge will hold before pulling himself up and pulling the knives out of the wall.

Dean aims his signature grin across the divide to his brother. "See. No problem."

Sam bites his lip.

Dean's smirk falters. "What?"

"For you."

Dean tilts his head before comprehension dawns on his features. Then he shakes his head. "Sam, you're growing. Of course your muscles aren't going to be as big. With the rate your limbs are growing, your muscles only have time to get long. But I know you have them. You aren't easy to take down when we spar."

Sam shrugs, looking down to fiddle with the flashlight in his hands. "Still…"

Dean sighs, taking the gloves off and stuffing one inside the other before throwing them over. Then he does the same with each knife, making sure to throw them way over to the side away from Sam. "Toss me the flashlight Sammy."

Sam glares, but does so. "It's Sam."

Dean huffs. "Out of all the things that could matter right now…"

Sam only rolls his eyes to himself as he goes over to where his brother threw the knives and the wad of gloves. Dean shines the flashlight on him while he pulls them on, taking a knife in each hand and testing the grip.

"Those gloves won't slip a bit," Dean tells him. "They'll hold the handle nice and tight. Just make sure to sink the knife down and in. It'll make it more like a hook than a peg."

Sam nods, going over to the wall and looking at it with trepidation.

"You can do it, Sammy. I've seen you climb before. This is no different. Just over instead of up."

Sam lets out a breath, sinking one knife into the wall to hold on to as he reaches out over the hole to sink the other one in. Then he lifts his feet to hang. With a shaky breath, he pulls the first knife out and lets himself swing over to dangle over the hole before he sinks it back into the wall next to the other one.

"Just like that. See. You can do this."

His brother's praise has always given Sam the confidence he needs to succeed. Ever since he was little, it was always 'Good job, Sammy' or 'Of course you can do it, Sammy'. He taught Sam to ride a bike for the first time. He taught him how to drive on a stretch of dirt road when he was thirteen. Never even seemed too worried about the impala. Because he had such confidence that his brother would do awesome.

Sam lets himself hang for a bit when he's almost halfway.

"You alright?" Dean asks. He doesn't sound worried. More like coaching.

Sam nods before pulling himself back up and pulling a knife out of the wall. "How did you do this with your hurt shoulders?" he huffs.

Dean chuckles. "It hurt. But they're already going to stiff and numb rather than the sharp pain they were before."

"Hmm." Sam doesn't try to talk, trying too hard to eye his next connection point. The dirt seems soft here.

"Easy, Sammy. Baby steps. No hurry."

"Easy for you to say," Sam replies through gritted teeth as he sinks a knife into the wall. "I'm out here hanging over the abyss."

Dean chuckles. It's quiet for a minute. Then, "Speaking of steps, you now your first steps were towards me?"

Sam lets himself rest. "Really?"

Dean chuckles. "Yeah. You had pulled yourself up with a chair in the hotel we were staying at. I saw you and called to you. Dad was closer. On the other side of the table maybe four feet away. But you didn't even hesitate as you turned and came towards me."

Sam smiles to himself. It's not like his brother to bring things up like this that could easily get chick-flicky. But maybe the darkness is making him brave or he's trying to keep Sam's mind off of how tired he is. Whatever the reason, Sam takes advantage of his brother opening up. "Did I make it?"

Dean snorts. "No. You fell after two steps. But after that, you were determined. Before long you were my new shadow."

Sam chuckles to himself. Then looks over. He's surprised to see he's only a few feet from the edge.

Sam can hear the grin in Dean's voice when he talks. "See. You're almost here. You can do it, bro."

Sam keeps going. When he gets to the same spot Dean almost slid down through the wall, he does so too. Freezing in alarm, he barely holds in what could have been an undignified squeak. "Dean."

"Easy, Sammy." He's standing at the edge, one arm outstretched as if he could steady Sam from where he's standing.

Sam has his eyes squeezed closed, hands reflexively gripping the knife handles. Everything steadies for a minute. Slowly he looks over to Dean.

Dean has pointed the flashlight up so the light can shine on both of their faces. His eyes lock with Sam's. "Easy. You're alright. It's just soft there. Try a different spot."

Sam can't hold back a fearful whine in the back of his throat. "What if I fall?"

"You aren't going to fall, Sam."

"What if I do? You won't be able to get me out. I'm gonna fall."

"Sam."

It takes him a few frantic breaths, but he finally calms down.

"Now. Just find a better spot. Reach out a little farther."

"I… I can't."

"Yes you can. Just pull it out real quick and throw your arm out to reach a little farther. The wall is tougher over here."

Sam sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, using the pain to distract him for a minute. Taking a few breaths through his nose, he finally tenses.

"That's it. Ready? Go."

And Sam does. Yanks the knife out and sinks it back in so quick his body doesn't even have enough time to move down. Then he does it again with the other one. He just wants to be done. Wants to be safe. Next to Dean.

"That's my boy. Almost there." Dean reaches out, grin pulling at his lips as Sam reaches out one more time and swings close enough for him to grab his belt yet again and yank him over to the safe ground.

Sam pulls the knives out, letting his brother pull him to safety when he feels the yank on his belt. He immediately drops them to the ground, stumbling the few feet his brother pulls him away from the edge to practically fall into his brother's arms. Then he hugs him tightly, not letting go for a long minute.

"Hey. You're alright." Dean chuckles. "It's over now. You're okay."

Sam nods, his frantic breathing slowly evening out before he lets go of his brother and steps back.

Dean claps him on the shoulder, gripping it in a congratulatory squeeze. "You ready to keep going?" He doesn't tease his brother. Doesn't think any of this is funny. Sam is obviously shaken up. And why wouldn't he be? They're alone down here. If something happens that they can't fix… He stops that train of thought.

"Yeah. Let's just keep going." Gathering up their things and feeling their shirts to find that they're only a little bit dryer and ridiculously cold, they keep moving.

It doesn't take long for Dean to notice how quiet Sam is. "You alright?"

"Fine."

A sigh. "Sammy, none of this is fine."

Sam snorts. It's quiet for a while. Then, "Just wondering how I'm ever going to make it out of here."

Dean frowns. "Huh?"

"I'm not like you. Or Dad. I'm not a hunter. I just… I don't think I'm going to make it out of here."

Dean stops again, turning to grab Sam by the tops of his arms. "Don't you say that."

Even in the dark, Sam can tell his brother is wearing the disapproving frown he always gets whenever Sam says he can't do something. "Let's face it-"

"Shut up, Sam." The sharpness in the tone shocks the younger Winchester into silence. Dean continues. "You may not be a hunter yet. You don't like to kill things. You want to study or read and go to school. You don't want to follow orders. But you are a survivor. Don't you ever doubt that."

Sam frowns to himself. "I haven't survived anything, Dean."

"You survived the fire in your nursery. You survived an army of bullies at almost every school we stopped at. You survived pneumonia at ten. You survived that werewolf at thirteen and a ghoul last year. You can survive this. This is nothing."

Sam huffs, letting himself smile a little. "I survived all of those because of you or dad. Except for a few of those bullies maybe."

Dean grips his arms. "You fought off that werewolf until me and dad could get to you after we found out it doubled back to our hotel. You killed that ghoul when it came after you when we killed its mate. You survive, Sam. You're strong." He starts walking again, slinging his arm over his brother's shoulders and pulling him along. "This is a cakewalk."

Sam doesn't argue, but relaxes under his brother's arm. Nothing bad has ever happened to him when his brother is around. Dean always keeps him safe.

"Speaking of that ghoul, how's your arm?"

It had been a nasty break. Bone through the skin and all. He thought at one point he was going to pass out and the ghoul was going to eat him. That's probably what would have happened if his brother hadn't gotten there just in time, John hot on his heels. The bone took a while to heal, and sometimes still has a twinge in it every once in a while. But it's getting better. "It's alright. Nothing hurts yet."

Dean chuckles. "I don't like that word."

Sam grins to himself. It disappears though when he realizes the area suddenly feels a lot smaller. "Dean."

Dean turns on the flashlight, the light dimmer than before. Of course it is. But they can still see that the walls are closer on either side.

Sam reaches up to grip the arm that's still around his shoulders, feeling his heart rate pick up. "It's getting smaller."

Dean curses, turning off the flashlight and sliding it into his pocket. "Easy, Sam. Breathe." He puts a hand on his brother's chest, the other moving down to rest on his back. He takes deep breaths himself, making them obvious enough for his brother to still follow in the dark. He knows about his brother's recent aversion to tight spaces. He just… hadn't thought about it.

Sam calms himself quickly, keeping a hand closed around Dean's wrist. "I'm fine. Just… just had it all sink in at once."

And Dean can sympathize with that. Your body realizing all at once that it's under ground and in a small, crushing space… Not fun. "You okay to go on?"

Sam huffs out a laugh. "Kind of have to be. No way to go but forward. Dad's heading down the mountain. We need to keep going so we're closer to the search crew ourselves."

Dean pats his shoulder, keeping the flashlight off as they start forward again. "Just relax. I'm here. Let your hand drag along the wall. Let me know if you feel anything that might be helpful."

They walk. Every once in a while Dean turns the flashlight back on to see what's around them. He always asks Sam if he's okay first. The problem with closed spaces came from a ghost that had locked Sam in a tiny closet earlier this year. His second real hunt that he was taken on. It wasn't a good experience and if Dean never sees that look of complete terror on his brother's face ever again, he'll die happy. Dean wishes it had been a creature he could kill with a vengeance, not just some ghost.

Eventually, the tunnel does get smaller. Dean keeps his arm around his brother's shoulders until it gets small enough that they have to go single file. Even then, he keeps one slung around his brother's chest. They've always gone by touch. This is no different. When Sam's hand reaches up to wrap around his wrist, he knows to freeze immediately.

"Just… give me a minute."

Dean does. Pulls his little brother back against him and rests his head on top of Sam's. He realizes for the first time that his chin has to tilt up to rest on it now. Little brother isn't going to stay 'little' for too long. "You're alright. This isn't like last time. You aren't alone. I'm here with you. Okay? And you have total control. We can go back if you want. We aren't trapped. This has a way through. I can feel it through the air."

Sam breathes. "Walk with me."

Dean does. No questions asked as his brother starts slowly forward, the walls getting close enough to be a constant rub on Dean's shoulders. He keeps step behind Sam. It's a little awkward. Small, hesitant steps. But it makes Sam feel safer. And Dean takes the security of the darkness to talk about what happened. "You never told me."

He doesn't need to say more. Sam always knows what he's saying. "Didn't want to talk about it," he murmurs. "Didn't like it."

"It's still affecting you," Dean murmurs. "You should let me help sort it out. I know how it is the first few times you feel like you're going to die."

Sam grimaces to himself, letting a second of contempt for his dad wash over him. For the lives they live. He pushes it away. It's him and Dean here. "I was trapped. In a tiny closet. Not much to tell."

"Being trapped anywhere isn't a picnic, Sam."

They have to turn a little sideways to get through the tunnel now. Sam starts to breathe a little faster when he feels his brother's arm slide over his shoulder with the new position and he fears not feeling that his brother is with him. But the hand stops at his shoulder, moving to a place even more intimate for anyone who lives their lives. It curls just lightly around his throat, thumb resting on his pulse to no doubt keep track of his brother's panic with his heart rate. There's only two people in the world that Sam would ever let get a hand around his throat. But with Dean… it's more of a comfort than anything.

"I'm right here." Of course Dean knew. "Talk to me."

"It felt like forever," he starts softly. "How long was it really?"

Dean sighs. "Ten hours and three minutes."

Of course he had it down to the minutes. Probably the seconds too. "It felt like longer. The longer I was there, the smaller it felt. And the more it got harder to breathe."

"We looked the entire time, Sammy," Dean promises, hand flexing the tinniest bit where it rested where his neck met shoulder. "I don't know why everything we hunt targets you, but I'm always looking."

"I know." It's quiet for a while. Then, "I was fine at first. Figured it was better than anywhere else it could have trapped me. But as I said. The longer I was there, the more I thought you wouldn't find me." There's a second of silence where Dean can literally hear his brother realizing something. "How did you find me?'

Dean takes a breath. Sam realizes immediately that this is Dean trying to say something he'd consider chick-flicky. "I was frantic to find you," he confesses. "Couldn't believe the bitch had gotten you when you were right next to me."

"Wasn't your fault Dean," he huffs. He can feel Dean's answering shrug.

"It was dumb luck really. As much as I hate that." He lets out a self-depreciating laugh. "I was looking through the house as dad was digging her up. Right after dad burned her bones the door to the closet you were in shook. Just a little. Like her power suddenly left it. I think she was silencing your screams. Because we never heard you."

Sam stops walking now, letting out a shuddering breath. "I screamed for a long time. Would have went longer if I hadn't thought of how I was using up more air by doing that."

Dean grits his teeth, pulling Sam closer to him in a one-armed hug. "God, you're such a geek." It's said lovingly. Gratefully. Proudly. He knows his little brother's quick thinking probably saved his own life. "You were breathing so shallowly when I found you I thought you were dead," he breathes. "Then you woke up with a jerk and a look in your eyes…" he trails off, shaking his head. "I never want to see that look on your face again."

Sam lets his head fall over to rest on Dean's shoulder as they just stand there for a few minutes. "You always save me."

Dean has the sudden urge to turn his head a little more and kiss the top of Sam's. But he hasn't done that since the kid was ten. And he's fifteen now. That would be weird. "C'mon. We need to keep moving."