A/N: Um, strong language in this chapter, and maybe some injury stuff? Nothing too graphic but if you don't like people getting hurt, don't read.


Dean's senses filtered back in slowly, one by one. First was a low buzzing in his ears, almost as if someone was whispering secrets just out of earshot. That grew stronger until it was joined by a pulsing thud, a familiar rush of blood to his eardrums. And then the sound of the blood was joined by the metallicy taste of it against his tongue, smearing along his gums like a paste. His brain hadn't caught up yet, couldn't place why it was cold and dark and why his body was riddled with…fear. How strange. He knew he should be frightened but he could not form the thoughts of why. His mind was suspiciously blank, and even in his semi-conscious state, he knew that was bad.

Something moved below him, stirring against his torso and all of a sudden he could feel again. His first instinct was to get away, to move as far from the foreign object as possible. But as Dean tried to roll to his right, a tremendous pain ripped through him.

It was not unlike being torn apart by hellhound. It was not dissimilar to the way Alistair had strung him up six ways to Sunday with meat hooks the size of his forearm. It was fire and gasoline mixing together in his bones and spreading from his toes to fingers to his goddamn eyebrows. His body went limp against the onslaught, his racing heart pumping furiously to support this wrecked carnage of his.

What the hell had happened?

Being Dean Winchester, he bit back a moan, sucking in a breath that tasted of smoke. Then the something beneath him moved again and suddenly Dean could see.

Not much, because even with his eyes open and roaming for the enemy, it was still dark. But slits of light were to either side of him and to the front of him and as soon as his retinas adjusted, he nearly puked.

The only thing holding him back was that he was not lying on the ground but on top of a person. A very small person. A child.

His daughter.

Dean's Hunter instincts finally kicked in and he felt the adrenaline overtake the pain, felt his armpits prickle with sweat and the hair on the back of his neck rise.

"Ly-," He coughed and tried again, "Lydia?"

The child was directly underneath him, his body blanketing hers – no, crushing hers. As soon as he realized this, Dean pulled his elbows under him, pushing up on his forearms until his head hit something solid a couple inches later. He wasn't going any higher. He panted from the effort, bright white dots dancing before his vision. The pain – that mind-crippling, meat-hook pain – was coming from somewhere above him, something twisting into his back.

"Lydia," he croaked, coughing again and trying to ignore the seizing of his muscles as he did so. The little girl was unconscious, her forehead sporting an impressive gash, her skin pale.

Head wounds bleed a lot, Dean reminded himself. At least she seemed to be breathing better now that she didn't have two hundred pounds of Hunter on top of her. Dean closed his eyes, trying to remember where they were, how they had gotten here. He'd been out in the barn, fixing one of the cars – a truck. Lydia had come and bothered him but didn't she go inside after that?

No, his subconscious wheedled. He had found her playing in the junkyard, climbing the scrappers, leaning out the window. His mind grabbed hold of the memory in an instant, putting it on replay for him to witness once again. She had jumped. And the car had fallen.

The car had fallen on top of them.

Fuck.

Dean couldn't believe a car had fucking fallen on top of them. He couldn't remember anything about the impact and he had no idea how long he'd been under, but it couldn't have been too long. It was never as long as it felt like.

"Liddy," he said, turning his attention to the prone figure under him. Her legs were trapped beneath his but the rest of her upper body was free and Dean couldn't see any alarming disfigurements or large amounts of blood. Just the ever-bleeding cut across her forehead.

"Lydia, come on, wake up," he said. His heart leapt when she stirred, scrunching up her eyes and then blinking them open.

"Hey, there," Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady for her sake. Every fiber of his being was screaming to panic because his daughter was pinned beneath a rusted out car, but he knew Lydia would feed off of him.

"D'ddy?"

"Yeah, baby, it's me. Can you wake up for me?"

"'m tired," she muttered, closing her eyes again and trying to roll over, as if she were in bed. Her movement jarred Dean and whatever was stuck in his back dug in painfully so that he had to take several deep breaths before continuing.

"I know, I know. But I need your help. Liddy, come on, wake up."

"Okay," she sighed and really opened her eyes this time. Their faces were only a few inches apart and Lydia finally seemed to pick up on the strangeness of the situation.

"Where are we?" she asked, craning her neck, her hair fanned out on the grass.

"Under a car," Dean admitted. "It fell on top of us. But we're okay," he added at the end when her eyes widened and her struggling became more pronounced.

"Lydia," he said through gritted teeth. "I need you to stay still, okay?" She froze but Dean could tell by the way his daughter's chest was heaving that she was frightened.

"It's okay," he said again. "We're going to be okay."

"Daddy," she whimpered, reaching up a hand tugging on his hair.

"You have to listen to me, baby," Dean said. His arms trembled. "Can you feel your toes?"

Lydia cocked her head but then nodded.

"Yes, I wiggled all of them," she said. "And my fingers," she said, holding them up in the cramped space for Dean to see.

"Good, good," he said. "This is what we're going to do. On the count of three, I'm gonna lift up on my knees and you're gonna crawl out. Okay? Can you do that?"

"I don't know," Lydia whispered. "It's too small in here. I can't move."

"You have to be super brave," Dean said. "I know you can do it."

"Brave like you," Lydia said, but she still didn't look convinced. A single tear trickled down her face and Dean's chest constricted even further.

"Just like me," Dean agreed, his throat closing over the words. He could feel the blood seeping from the wound in his back, could feel himself growing fainter, his head starting to spin.

"Okay," she said, wiping the tear away.

"Good girl," Dean said. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three!"

On three, Dean drew his knees up under him a few inches and shoved his hips toward the bottom of the car, stopping only when his lower back collided with the surface. At the same time, Dean felt whatever was in his back slide in a few more centimeters. Unable to keep back a moan, he bowed his head against the stabbing in his back.

But it worked. Lydia scrambled out from under him, sliding across the grass and popping into the open air.

"I'm free!" she shouted. As soon as she was out from under him, Dean let his knees drop back to the ground and vomited.

"Daddy, I'm out," Lydia said. "Are you coming out now?"

"Not…yet," Dean said, spitting into the grass. "I'm a little stuck so you're going to have to be a big girl and get help."

"Okay," Lydia said. She was standing up so all Dean could see of her was her bare feet, covered in dirt but otherwise unmarked. If he got out of this, Dean would never make her wear shoes again.

"Lift up your shirt and look at your tummy," Dean instructed. "Is anything bleeding?" He held his breath as Lydia inspected herself.

"Nope," she said. "I'm not bleeding anywhere."

Dean's heart nearly fell out of his chest with relief. He didn't care if he died under this car as long as Lydia was okay. Part of him wanted to laugh; he couldn't believe a car had fallen on top of her and she had walked away with nothing more than a scratch on her forehead. Well, okay, it was worse than a scratch, but she seemed to be acting pretty normal.

"Okay," Dean said. "Now I need you to go inside and bring out the phone so we can call for help. Run as fast as you can and bring Grandpa's black phone from the bedroom."

"I'll be right back, Daddy," Lydia promised and he watched her feet dart away from him.

Dean was still supporting himself on his forearms and when he tried to lower to the ground, he found he was stuck – literally – on the piece of the car sticking into his back. He couldn't seem to pry away from it and even moving an inch brought him close to passing out.

It felt like eternity until he saw Lydia's legs approaching again. She dropped to the ground when she returned and waved the phone around.

"I got it!" she said.

"Good," Dean breathed. "Press that green button and hold it to your ear. Do you hear the funny noise?" Lydia had one ear on the ground so she could look at her father and the phone pressed up against the other one. Her blues eyes were fixed on Dean as she nodded. "Okay, we're going to call Grandpa," he said, knowing that Sam wouldn't have taken his cell with him to the bookstore.

Dean read out Bobby's number and watched Lydia bite her lip as she pressed each of the buttons and then put the phone back up to her ear.

"It's ringing," she whispered.

"Hello?"

"Grandpa, it's me, Lydia, who lives at your house."

"Hi princess, why are you calling?"

Dean could just make out Bobby's words and the surprised tone; it was a general rule that they never called each other on Hunts unless it was an emergency.

"A car falled on me and Daddy," Lydia said. There was silence on the other end.

"Say that again, princess," Dean heard Bobby say. "I don't think I heard you."

"A car…falled…on us," Lydia said, pausing in between the words. "I gots out but Daddy is stuck under the car still."

"Where is Daddy?"

"Right here. I am watching him," Lydia said. She was indeed watching Dean in a way she never had before, almost refusing to blink lest he disappear.

"Are his eyes open?"

"Yes. He is looking at me." Dean sucked in as deep a breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax as much as possible. Which wasn't much. At least the pain was dying down; his entire back was numb, and while he knew it wasn't a good sign, it was a relief all the same.

"What about his lips?" Bobby was asking. "What color are they. Pink, white, or blue?"

"White," Lydia said after a minute. "But also red because they are bleeding." Dean raised his eyebrows and ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the blood that Lydia talked about. Huh. He hadn't even realized his mouth was bleeding until just now. He wondered briefly if he had more injuries he didn't know about, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

"Grandpa wants to talk to you," Lydia said, talking to Dean but speaking right into the phone.

"Hold the phone up to my ear," Dean said, "but don't come back under the car."

"Kay." Lydia wriggled forward until she was right up against the side of the car and then she stuck her arm under the car, stretching as far as possible until the phone was only an inch away from Dean's ear.

"Bobby?"

"Hey, kiddo, how you doing? Dean grunted.

"Not that good. Got something in my back, I'm stuck under this goddamn car."

"Where's yer brother?"

"Out," was all Dean could manage. "Bobby, I don't know if I'm gonna-," he broke off, looking at his daughter. She gave him the smallest smile.

"Yer gonna be fine," Bobby said brusquely. "That girl of yours is gonna call 911, don't know why ya didn't do that in the first place."

"No," Dean said. "Can't have the police lurking around here."

"Shuddup," Bobby said, voice sharp and unforgiving. "I don't give a damn about any police sniffing around my place. You let me worry about that." When Dean didn't respond, Bobby shouted in the phone. "Dean!"

"He closed his eyes," Lydia said into the phone a second later. "Grandpa, are you gonna come home and save Daddy?"

"I'm too far away," Bobby said. "But listen here, you are going to save Daddy, okay? This is what I need you to do."

xxx

Jody Mills was having one hell of a boring Saturday. Almost no calls had come in and the only thing that was might have been half way interesting turned out to be a domestic dispute between a couple. Turned out the woman had hidden the boyfriend's favorite shirt because he refused to wash it and so the man had called the police. Idiots.

She was considering turning the rest of the day over to deputy sheriff when a 911 call come over the scanner.

"A car falled on us," a little voice was saying. "And Daddy is stuck under it and he closed his eye and won't wake up."

"Sweetie, what's your name?" the dispatcher said. Jody turned up the scanner.

"Lydia."

"Lydia, how old are you?"

"Six. I'm in kindergarten."

"You sure are a big girl. Do you know your address of where you live?"

"No."

"Who do you live with? Just your dad?"

"My daddy, my grandpa, and my Uncle Sam."

As soon as Jody heard the trio, she shot up from her desk. Her deputy, Katie, looked over in alarm.

"Emergency over at Singer's junkyard," Jody said, checking her belt to make sure she had everything. "Someone's stuck under a car. I'm heading over. I know these guys."

xxx

Sam had had a successful trip to the rare bookstore. He'd been looking for some old lore on Angels and had actual found it, which wasn't something that usually happened in their field. Dean wouldn't care but he figured Bobby would be happy to add the book to his collection. He was deep in thought about the breeding cycles of Angels that he didn't even give it a second thought when a fire truck rushed past him in town, followed closely by two ambulances. It was Main Street and even though he was headed in the same direction as the emergency vehicles, Sam didn't even consider that they would all end up in the same place.

Which was why when he finally pulled into Bobby's place half an hour later, he was alarmed to see the yard flooded with flashing blue and red lights and swarms of people gathering in the junkyard lot.

Sam burst out of the car at a sprint, heading straight for the hive of activity, which seemed to be at the center of the junkyard.

"What's going on?" he asked one of the firemen.

"Sir, we need you to stand back."

"This is my house!" Sam said. "What's going on? Is someone hurt? Where's Lydia?"

"The little girl?" the fireman said and Sam nodded. "She's over in that ambulance," he said, nodding his head in that direction. "She's one lucky girl, surviving this bad of an accident."

"What happened?" Sam asked again. Frustration and anger were quickly building inside him, pushing at his skin from the inside out.

"Car fell on top of them," the fireman said. "We're trying to get the guy out. You family?"

Sam just stared at him. The fireman finally seemed to get the message and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Don't worry sir, we're doing everything we can."

Sam was torn between needing to see Dean with his own eyes and checking on his niece. In the end, he jogged over to the ambulance holding Lydia because there were just too many damn people around Dean.

"Uncle Sam!" Lydia shrieked as soon as she saw him. She was sitting on a gurney with a blanket around her shoulders. Her face was red with tears and there was car oil all over her clothes. A bandage had been wrapped around her head, but other than that she seemed okay.

"Lydia!" Sam said, scooping her up and pressing her tight to him. "Are you okay?" She nodded against shoulder.

"A car falled on us," she said, crying, "and then I called Grandpa but Daddy went to sleep and he wouldn't waked up and then all the people came and-," she broke off with a giant sob, her whole body shaking.

"It's okay, it's okay," Sam soothed, but without much meaning behind the words. Dean was still trapped under the car. And what was this about him falling asleep and not waking up? Sam's stomach convulsed. Was Dean…dead?

No. He refused to believe that. There was no way.

"Lydia, are you okay?" he said, detaching himself from the child. She nodded then hesitated.

"My tummy hurts," she said. "And my head." Sam looked over at the paramedic who had been caring for Lydia; she looked surprised.

"She didn't say anything about her stomach before," the EMT said, reaching for the little girl. Lydia shrank back and threw herself back into Sam's arms.

"I want Daddy," she said. "I want Daddy now!"

"I know," Sam said. "But this nice lady – Emily – is going to help you feel better. Then you can see Daddy."

"Do you promise?" Lydia whimpered, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand.

"I promise," Sam said, even though his insides shriveled at the false words. Of course he couldn't promise. Hell, he didn't even know if Dean was still alive.

No. He couldn't think like that.

Sam laid Lydia back into the gurney and promised to be back in a minute. He just had to make sure Dean was okay or else he was going to lose it. As it was, he was tearing apart at the seams; the very Winchester stitches that held him together were coming loose.

The crowd of people had grown and Sam noticed a second firetruck had arrived. He was about to burst through the throng when someone called his name.

"Sam!" It was Sheriff Mill, striding towards him with a look on her face that curled Sam's toes.

"Jody," he said, knowing he was about to get some answers. She wouldn't bullshit him like someone else might. "How's Dean. Is he-,"

"He's alive," Jody said. "But it's not good. Has anyone talked to you yet?" Sam shook his head, swallowing hard, bracing himself.

"From what we've gathered, Lydia was playing in one of the cars and it started to fall. Dean told her to jump just as it came down and it looks like he shielded her with his body."

"Of course he did," Sam muttered.

"Dean took the brunt of the impact. There's a piece of metal in his back that's still attached to the car. They haven't been able to extract him yet so we don't know the extent of his injuries, but I can tell you he hasn't regained consciousness yet."

"Jesus Christ," Sam said, running a hand through his hair. "Does Bobby know?" Jody nodded.

"Lydia said she called him before she called 911. He's on his way back from wherever."

"Can I see him?" Sam said, glancing over the shoulders of the fireman surrounding Dean.

"Sure," Jody said gently. "Come on."

Sam nearly collapsed when he saw his brother. They were taking apart the car piece by piece and so far Dean's face was visible, but that was it. He had an oxygen mask over his face and there were two different IVs in the back of his hand, one running clear fluids and one for blood. Sam felt his own blood drain from his face.

He dropped to his knees and then all the way to the ground, pressing his cheek against the cool grass.

"Dean?" he whispered, reaching out a hand and tentatively touching his brother's face. Dean's skin was hot under his touch and Sam's head spun. "Dean, come on, buddy," he said. "You aren't going like this. Not like this."

There was no response beyond the slight fogging of the oxygen mask as his brother breathed in and out.

"Mr. Winchester?"

A hand was on his back and Sam withdrew his hand from under the car, scrubbing his face before getting back up on his knees. It was Emily, the paramedic, who had spoken.

"We need to take Lydia to the hospital. I'm worried she might have internal bleeding and a concussion. She's asking for you."

Sam was being torn in two. He knew it was his duty to go with Lydia, that Dean would want him to go to the hospital with his daughter, but everything in him was pulling him towards Dean. How could he leave his brother like this? They had never left each other before, not when one of them might be dying. He didn't want Dean to die alone.

"Sam?" It was Jody. "Sam, I'll stay here with Dean. I won't leave his side. And as soon as something changes, I'll call you."

"Okay." Sam's voice broke on the second syllable but he followed Emily back to the ambulance. Lydia was now lying on the gurney with another paramedic leaning over. Tears were streaming down her face and she grabbed for Sam's hand the instant he came into view.

"It's okay," he told her, sweeping her hair out of her face. "I just saw Daddy and he said he's going to follow us to the hospital." Lydia didn't say anything, just turned her face away from her uncle, as if she knew he lying. As if he knew her father was dying.

The ambulance doors shut and Sam heard the hum of the sirens start up. He closed his eyes as they pulled out of the driveway, praying that Dean would forgive him for leaving him behind.


A/N: Part Three coming soon, but I wanted to give you guys this little bit that I already had written. Do you like it?