888

Dean lifted his head, ignoring the twinge of pain that flared in his neck, and took stock of the situation.

Jack's warm weight, pressed against his side, was a welcome feeling given their current circumstances. "You okay, bud?" Dean rasped as he used the faint glow that lit the corridor to give the dog a quick once over. Despite the layer of coal dust and dirt covering the beast, turning his shaggy coat nearly black, the big dog's tail thumped contentedly on the corridor floor. Satisfied he was as good as could be, considering the circumstances; Dean focused his attention on Sara.

Unsurprisingly, the widow looked the worse for wear. A fresh cut on her temple, sluggishly trickling blood down her face, made it clear she'd hit her head in the fall. Given the swelling surrounding the wound, there was little surprise that Sara was unconscious. The hunter winced, in sympathy, as he carefully prodded the lump. He couldn't help but hope she remained out for the count, at least until they were out of their current nightmare and had access to some painkillers.

"Damn, you're a mess," he muttered as he trailed a lone finger down the grime coating her face. Filthy didn't even come close to covering just how dirty Sara was. Blood from her wounds had snaked its way down her cheeks, mixing with coal dust and dirt leaving her barely recognizable. He couldn't imagine he'd fared much better, given the spirit's penchant for gale force winds.

A quick glance about the corridor showed that Casper had, thankfully, yet to reappear. If Dean wanted to play devil's advocate, he could figure Sam had most likely only just managed to get free of the mine. Even considering his brother's giraffe-like legs, the younger hunter would need to hike back up the embankment, grab the gear and to haul ass back to the mineshaft.

"Best guess, forty-five minutes," Dean muttered.

The idea of trying to keep Sara alive for the next forty-five minutes was daunting at best. Even if, by some miracle, the spirit didn't come back, there was still her injuries and exposure to the elements to consider.

As if he could sense Dean's inner turmoil, Jack nosed closer to the hunter and plopped his big square head down on his jean-clad leg. Even in the dim light, he could read the imploring look in the dog's big brown eyes. "I know," he said on a sigh as he thrust one of his hands into the soft fur that encircled Jack's neck. A low happy sound rumbled deep in Jack's chest, even as heat from his body began to radiate up Dean's hand, making the hunter realize just how cold it was.

The ground they sat upon, was a mixture of rock and dirt, pounded down by countless machines and feet during the mine's heyday. Constant trickles of water ran down the walls forming puddles and in general adding to the cold that came from being miles underground.

Happy to have something to do, even if it was only a stopgap measure, Dean settled himself against the damp cave wall, and drew Sara carefully into his arms. The dog waited only until he had the brunette settled on his lap before he squeezed in close, his big head lying across Sara's hips. The icy feel of Sara's still form was quickly countered by Jack's radiant heating. Sitting as he was, with Jack acting like a space heater, it wasn't hard to believe the big dog's ancestors were in rescue work.

Despite the futility of the gesture, Dean then dug out a slightly crumbled bandana and dipped it into one of the nearby pools. Carefully wringing out the water, he began to wipe away the worst of the gore. It ate at him that this was the most he could offer her. Her broken and abused body deserved more than a slightly questionable handkerchief and a puddle of stagnant water.

As his hands ghosted over her chilled skin, he forced himself to focus on the good. For better or worse, they were together. He would hold onto that thought as he waited to see who showed up first, Sammy or Sara's beau.

888

Sam lay panting on the cold ground for only a moment before he pushed his exhausted body upright. Despite the fact that he wanted little more than to lie down for about a week, preferably somewhere warm, he forced himself to get moving. With Sara and his brother trapped inside the mine, every second literally meant the difference between life and death.

As he began to ascend the hill, his destination the sound of the highway above him, he refused to consider the fact that it might already be too late. No matter the couple's chances, Sam wasn't about to give up on them.

"Come on," he muttered as the ground suddenly grew steeper, causing his legs to protest as he refused to slacken his pace.

It was only a moment later, when the grade grew so steep he had no chance but to slow as he scrabbled for purchase. Now practically climbing, he was heartened, as the sounds of the highway grew louder.

At last, the brush that clung tenaciously to the embankment thinned, as did the pines rimming the roadway, allowing Sam his first glimpse of the highway. In the first bit of luck they'd had so far, the trip from the sinkhole to the road took no more than fifteen minutes. Nearly thirty minutes less than he'd assumed. Buoyed by the break, Sam jumped the dull grey guardrail and began trotting toward the dark shadow that waited patiently only five hundred feet ahead. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy to see his brother's 'other woman'.

With a snort, Sam had to admit the last time was probably last week, given the brothers' penchant for getting into trouble. Toss in the widow's own propensity for danger and it began to seem like they were always in some kind of mess.

As he neared the car, he focused his attention on the bright yellow paper that flapped rapidly in the breeze thrown off by passing cars. Recognizing the slip for an abandoned car warning, Sam grabbed the sheet out from under the windshield wiper with a grimace. He couldn't help but feel a bit thankful that he'd come back to the car alone. If his brother had been with him, Sam would have had to hear hours of grumbled complaints over the sanctity of his car. That he could have ignored. However, he'd never get back the time lost listening to Dean apologize to the Chevy for being left on the side of the road.

Overall, it would be best if his brother never knew his car had come within twenty-four hours notice of being towed.

Once at the car, Sam had one panicked moment in which he couldn't find the keys. Convinced his brother had them, the young hunter actually broke into a sweat as he patted down his jean pockets in search of the elusive keychain. At last, key in hand, he threw open the trunk and set about grabbing everything he knew he'd need, plus a couple items he tossed in just in case. Bundled into two easily managed duffels, he took only a moment to lock the trunk before he was on the move again. All in all, he figured it couldn't have taken him more than ten minutes to gather the gear.

With the car, now behind him, he began to run along the shoulder, the two bags balanced easily at his sides. Feeling overly conspicuous, and really not in the mood to share what was in the bags with any police officer that might be cruising by, Sam jumped the guardrail at his earliest opportunity and began to stumble his way down the embankment.

TBC

888

Dean lifted his head, ignoring the twinge of pain that flared in his neck, and took stock of the situation.

Jack's warm weight, pressed against his side, was a welcome feeling given their current circumstances. "You okay, bud?" Dean rasped as he used the faint glow that lit the corridor to give the dog a quick once over. Despite the layer of coal dust and dirt covering the beast, turning his shaggy coat nearly black, the big dog's tail thumped contentedly on the corridor floor. Satisfied he was as good as could be, considering the circumstances; Dean focused his attention on Sara.

Unsurprisingly, the widow looked the worse for wear. A fresh cut on her temple, sluggishly trickling blood down her face, made it clear she'd hit her head in the fall. Given the swelling surrounding the wound, there was little surprise that Sara was unconscious. The hunter winced, in sympathy, as he carefully prodded the lump. He couldn't help but hope she remained out for the count, at least until they were out of their current nightmare and had access to some painkillers.

"Damn, you're a mess," he muttered as he trailed a lone finger down the grime coating her face. Filthy didn't even come close to covering just how dirty Sara was. Blood from her wounds had snaked its way down her cheeks, mixing with coal dust and dirt leaving her barely recognizable. He couldn't imagine he'd fared much better, given the spirit's penchant for gale force winds.

A quick glance about the corridor showed that Casper had, thankfully, yet to reappear. If Dean wanted to play devil's advocate, he could figure Sam had most likely only just managed to get free of the mine. Even considering his brother's giraffe-like legs, the younger hunter would need to hike back up the embankment, grab the gear and to haul ass back to the mineshaft.

"Best guess, forty-five minutes," Dean muttered.

The idea of trying to keep Sara alive for the next forty-five minutes was daunting at best. Even if, by some miracle, the spirit didn't come back, there was still her injuries and exposure to the elements to consider.

As if he could sense Dean's inner turmoil, Jack nosed closer to the hunter and plopped his big square head down on his jean-clad leg. Even in the dim light, he could read the imploring look in the dog's big brown eyes. "I know," he said on a sigh as he thrust one of his hands into the soft fur that encircled Jack's neck. A low happy sound rumbled deep in Jack's chest, even as heat from his body began to radiate up Dean's hand, making the hunter realize just how cold it was.

The ground they sat upon, was a mixture of rock and dirt, pounded down by countless machines and feet during the mine's heyday. Constant trickles of water ran down the walls forming puddles and in general adding to the cold that came from being miles underground.

Happy to have something to do, even if it was only a stopgap measure, Dean settled himself against the damp cave wall, and drew Sara carefully into his arms. The dog waited only until he had the brunette settled on his lap before he squeezed in close, his big head lying across Sara's hips. The icy feel of Sara's still form was quickly countered by Jack's radiant heating. Sitting as he was, with Jack acting like a space heater, it wasn't hard to believe the big dog's ancestors were in rescue work.

Despite the futility of the gesture, Dean then dug out a slightly crumbled bandana and dipped it into one of the nearby pools. Carefully wringing out the water, he began to wipe away the worst of the gore. It ate at him that this was the most he could offer her. Her broken and abused body deserved more than a slightly questionable handkerchief and a puddle of stagnant water.

As his hands ghosted over her chilled skin, he forced himself to focus on the good. For better or worse, they were together. He would hold onto that thought as he waited to see who showed up first, Sammy or Sara's beau.

888

Sam lay panting on the cold ground for only a moment before he pushed his exhausted body upright. Despite the fact that he wanted little more than to lie down for about a week, preferably somewhere warm, he forced himself to get moving. With Sara and his brother trapped inside the mine, every second literally meant the difference between life and death.

As he began to ascend the hill, his destination the sound of the highway above him, he refused to consider the fact that it might already be too late. No matter the couple's chances, Sam wasn't about to give up on them.

"Come on," he muttered as the ground suddenly grew steeper, causing his legs to protest as he refused to slacken his pace.

It was only a moment later, when the grade grew so steep he had no chance but to slow as he scrabbled for purchase. Now practically climbing, he was heartened, as the sounds of the highway grew louder.

At last, the brush that clung tenaciously to the embankment thinned, as did the pines rimming the roadway, allowing Sam his first glimpse of the highway. In the first bit of luck they'd had so far, the trip from the sinkhole to the road took no more than fifteen minutes. Nearly thirty minutes less than he'd assumed. Buoyed by the break, Sam jumped the dull grey guardrail and began trotting toward the dark shadow that waited patiently only five hundred feet ahead. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy to see his brother's 'other woman'.

With a snort, Sam had to admit the last time was probably last week, given the brothers' penchant for getting into trouble. Toss in the widow's own propensity for danger and it began to seem like they were always in some kind of mess.

As he neared the car, he focused his attention on the bright yellow paper that flapped rapidly in the breeze thrown off by passing cars. Recognizing the slip for an abandoned car warning, Sam grabbed the sheet out from under the windshield wiper with a grimace. He couldn't help but feel a bit thankful that he'd come back to the car alone. If his brother had been with him, Sam would have had to hear hours of grumbled complaints over the sanctity of his car. That he could have ignored. However, he'd never get back the time lost listening to Dean apologize to the Chevy for being left on the side of the road.

Overall, it would be best if his brother never knew his car had come within twenty-four hours notice of being towed.

Once at the car, Sam had one panicked moment in which he couldn't find the keys. Convinced his brother had them, the young hunter actually broke into a sweat as he patted down his jean pockets in search of the elusive keychain. At last, key in hand, he threw open the trunk and set about grabbing everything he knew he'd need, plus a couple items he tossed in just in case. Bundled into two easily managed duffels, he took only a moment to lock the trunk before he was on the move again. All in all, he figured it couldn't have taken him more than ten minutes to gather the gear.

With the car, now behind him, he began to run along the shoulder, the two bags balanced easily at his sides. Feeling overly conspicuous, and really not in the mood to share what was in the bags with any police officer that might be cruising by, Sam jumped the guardrail at his earliest opportunity and began to stumble his way down the embankment.

TBC