"No no no no no no no! No please, god no! Help me! Somebody help me!"

Dean beat his fists against the hard surface above him. He'd woken up like this, confused and trapped in total blackness.

As far as he could tell, he was in a coffin.

God. John had done it. He'd put his son in a box and buried him in the ground. His father had officially lost his mind. What if he left him here? What if he never came back?

A fresh wave of terror swept over Dean, along with a wash of total helplessness, and he couldn't stop the sobs that burbled out of his throat.

"Dad…please. Please come back. Come back, please, please, somebody help me…" His sobs grew more intense, and he continued beating on the lid of the coffin. Someone had to hear him, someone had to let him out.

God, what if that dream…what if it wasn't far from the truth? What if John really did want him gone and this was it? Maybe this was what he deserved, maybe if he'd tried harder, been a better hunter, but he'd done the best he could…hadn't he?

Oh god I'm going to die. I am going to die. Sam will never know, oh god, he'll never know. Dad will tell him some story and he'll look for me, but eventually he'll give up. Oh Sammy. I'm so sorry. I shoulda tried harder, I shoulda been a better son, a better brother. This is all my fault.

Exhausted, he dropped his hands. If this was it, then he'd be a man about it. He could at least go out with some dignity, even if he couldn't stop the flow of tears on his cheeks.

He'd failed them somewhere. There can't be any other explanation. Somewhere along the line, he fucked up enough that Dad decided it was time for him to go.

It's stuffy in the coffin, and time really has no meaning. His watch is gone, but at least he still has his amulet. He plays with it in the dark, wondering idly how long it will take for him to suffocate. Dean knows the air will run out long before dehydration or starvation sets in.

He dozes for a while, dreams about driving the Impala down an old dirt road, Led Zeppelin playing in the background, his beloved Ramble On twisting itself through his brain. Funny though, he doesn't remember all that weird scratching in the song. Tape must be screwed up.

A second later he's blinded by intense sunlight and hands on him, yanking him, pulling at him, and Dean swats at them, growling, "leave me alone!" and trying desperately to fight back.

"It's me, dammit Dean, calm down!"

Dean blinks, and his vision clears. Sam is staring down at him, he's lying in the grass, an open grave nearby.

"Sammy?"

"Thank god. I was so scared I wasn't going to find you in time." Sam sank to his knees, running a dirty hand through his mop of hair.

"How…how did you find me?"

Sam sighs, dropping from his knees to his ass in the grass. "I followed Dad. I skipped school and I followed you guys. Damn glad I did too! He could've killed you! He's not even here!"

Dean looked around. He didn't recognize the area, it didn't look like the same place as the previous burials. "It's just training, Sam. He was gonna come back and get me."

"Yeah? Tell that to your shaking hands. Or the tears still running down your cheeks! Dammit, why the hell didn't you tell me? This isn't training, it's torture, it's abuse!"

"Sammy…"

"No, Dean, this is not acceptable. He brought you out here, drugged and unconscious, and I watched him carry you into the woods, then he came back half an hour later completely alone! I've walked around here for three hours trying to find the spot, but damn, he hid you good! I've been so freaked out, I was so scared Dean, dammit, I was so scared!" Sam's voice cracks on the last word, turning into a sob, and then he's crying hard, messy tears and snot, and Dean pulls himself to a sitting position next to him and pulls Sam into his arms.

"It's ok, Sammy, I'm ok. It's ok."

"No, Dean, it's not ok. This is not ok. How long until his "training" really hurts you? I can't…I can't sit by and watch this, Dean. It's not ok." Sam sniffled. "There's something you should know, Dean."

"What?"

"I'm leaving. Soon. I got accepted to Stanford on a full ride, and I'm leaving."

Dean sighs. "I know."

"You know?"

"I saw the letter. I know. It's ok Sam. Just, Dad's going to spaz."

"Like I care." Sam rocked back and forth a few times, wiping his eyes and just breathing. Dean kept one arm wrapped around him, offering what comfort he can, but his heart is pounding. He knew Sam had the letter from Stanford, but since he hadn't told him yet, he'd foolishly hoped that meant Sam wasn't going to accept the offer.

He should have known better, that Sam was just waiting for the right opportunity. And Sam would be an idiot not to take it.

God, he was getting out. Sam was getting out.

"Come with me."

Dean startles. "What?"

Sam turns to him, determination in hazel eyes, "Come with me."

"Sammy…"

"No, come with me! We'll get a place together, we can both get jobs, I can go to school. You can get out too! You could go to school! Start at Community College after you get your GED, you're really smart Dean, you could do anything, just please, come with me. Please."

"I can't…"

"Yes you can! You can't stay with Dad, how long until he kills you? This," he indicates the grave site with a wave of his hand, "is beyond fucked up! He has no limits and he's going to push you and push you and keep sending you into situations you can't handle, and one day, it's going to be too much, and he's going to get you killed! I can't live with that Dean! Come with me, get out now while you still can. Please, Dean, please."

Dean says nothing, just pulls himself to his feet, extends a hand for Sam. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Sam huffs. "So that's it then."

"I have to stay, Sam. He needs me."

"And what about me? Maybe I need you too."

"You'll be ok, Sammy. You'll make friends, you'll do great, and I'll come visit when I can…"

"Don't fucking strain yourself." He takes off, his strides hard and angry, and Dean's shoulders slump.

He's losing them both. When Dad comes back and finds out he didn't dig himself out…and Sam's so angry.

Dean's never going to win, he'll always be trapped between them, the bridge between Sam and Dad.

With a heavy sigh, Dean starts to make his way out of the woods, turning back one last time to the open grave.

For one crazy, insane moment, he wishes he was still underground.


And that's a wrap. Thanks for reading, sorry it took me so long to finish it. I've not been very good at answering reviews, because I am so insanely busy right now with moving, kid's school, and other stuff (why the hell did I sign up for two big bangs?!) but I do appreciate every last one. You guys are the best, and I love writing, and I love it even more when you guys love it! Hugs and smoochies, pie for all!