Febuwhump Day 20: Collapsed Building. Dean searched for Cas beneath the rubble of a collapsed church, but he has been pinned down and needs Dean to cut off his arm to free him.

Title: Wreckage and Rubble

He felt the rumble of the ground before the building began to tremble. Thunder sounded like it was right beside him and he covered his ears with his hands.

It collapsed inward. It wasn't anything like Dean thought it would be. First the middle of the brick building dropped straight down, then the sides followed suit. Clouds of cottony, brown dust jumped over itself as they spread across the ground. Dean held an arm in front of his face and sucked in a breath before the dust waved over him, scratching his eyes and coating his body in a layer of dirt. He raced blindly forward through the mass. His foot hit rubble and he collided with the ground, scraping his hands when he landed. He gasped and the dust that sprang in his mouth had him hacking up spit on the ground. When the clouds settled, he rubbed his teary, red eyes and took in the wreckage.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, "Cas!" he didn't know where to start, there was so much debris. He hopped from brick to brick and screamed Cas's name.

There was a faint sound like a whimper. Dean stilled and strained to hear it. The sound came again and Dean followed until it became an audible bleating. "Cas!"

"Dean."

Dean's head whipped around, finally able to pinpoint where the voice had come from. He shoveled through debris, not caring when glass cut through his hands, until he grasped onto a plank of wood, tugging until it gave way, then threw it to the side. Cas looked up at him, his bright blue eyes brimming with fear and his usually pale complexion camouflaged with dirt. He lay on his back, partly covered in a blanket of plaster and drywall, one free arm covering his mouth as molecules of dirt from the agitated board fell on him, and his other arm hidden beneath a massive slab of concrete that had somehow remained intact.

"Come on," Dean held out a hand for Cas to grab onto, but Cas stared gravely back at him, "What is it?"

"I can't move," Cas said hoarsely.

"What do you mean?"

"My arm is stuck."

"Can't you push it off with your super strength?"

Cas wiggled it as if to demonstrate to Dean his inability. "It's too heavy. I can't at this angle."

Rationally, Dean knew Cas was right, but he grabbed onto the edge of the wall and strained to pull it off.

"There's no point, Dean."

For the first time, he saw Cas's arm. From his bicep to his shoulder, the trench coat was entirely soaked in blood. "What am I supposed to do? Leave you here?" Dean shouted.

"You have to cut off my arm."

"What?" Dean gaped.

"We can't stay out in the open like this. I can regenerate it," Cas explained rationally, but his calm tone didn't stop Dean's heard from beating out of control.

"I can't."

"You have to. If we stay here, they'll find us. There's no other way."

Dean felt like he was going to break into tears. He couldn't hurt Cas like this. "You'll die."

"The vessel will die, but I'll come back."

Dean floundered, trying to think of a reason he couldn't do it. "I don't have a machete," the excuse popped into Dean's brain.

"Your knife," Cas's voice was growing thinner. Dean could see he was verging unconsciousness.

His knife was four inches long and he hadn't sharpened it in two weeks. "No," he said weakly.

"Please. I've gone through worse," Cas tried her best to give her a comforting look, but pain leaked into his eyes.

Cas was begging and Dean needed to pull himself together. He nodded solemnly and pulled his trusty switchblade from its shelter in his boot and slowly raised it to Cas's forearm. He placed his other hand on it for leverage and saw Cas shut his eyes. Even the small touch had hurt him. "I'm sorry," he whispered and pushed the knife down on her tricep. With a rip, it tore through the fabric of his sleeve and dug into the skin of his arm. Cas cringed and turned his head away, a testament to the torture he had been through that he could react with such restraint. Dean wanted to stop, he wanted to jerk his hand away, turn around, and curl into a ball, but he pressed further in and felt the knife as it carved through the muscle.

"Keep going," Cas ground out and Dean realized he had stopped moving. He had zoned out as he pushed the knife in and when it began resisting, he didn't have the capacity to dig in harder.

He jabbed the blade further down and felt the tendons snap around it. Cas threw his head back and cried out. Dean thought he might throw up, but he knew that he needed to keep it together. What Cas was going through was much worse than what he was.

When he tried to move further in, something hard stopped him. He had met bone. He gathered every drop of courage he had left in him and sawed. Cas screamed until Dean's eardrums pulsed, and then finally went quiet. When the sound stopped, Dean slowly allowed himself to look at his face. His head was lolled on his shoulder and his skin was chalky white. His lips were parted and drops of blood dripped from her mouth. He was dead. For now, Dean reminded himself, but even knowing it was a temporary death, he had still been the one to cause it.

He needed to get this over with so he vigorously drove the knife back and forth until he cracked through the bone.

His hands were slick with viscous blood and he could no longer see what he was doing. All he could manage was to cut until he reached the other side. His stomach twisted more with each slash, but he refused to pause. He almost couldn't believe it when he moved to drag the knife again and it didn't meet any resistance. He dropped it into the rubble and rushed to grab Cas by his shoulders and yank him away before his arm could try to connect back with the severed limb. He set Cas down to his side and promptly vomited. Acrid bile ejected from his throat and the combination of acid and dust made his esophagus feel like it had been rubbed open raw.

When he finished, he turned back to watch Cas. He was motionless, his body not yet repairing itself. "Cas?" Dean waited for something to happen, "Cas!" he grasped the lapels of Cas's trench coat like he might be able to shake him awake when blue light flooded from the wound. Dean marveled as the light formed the outline of an appendage, but when it grew blindingly bright, he was forced to look away.

Dean took in the wreckage of the attack. Cas shouldn't have been in this building. Whoever did this had targeted him specifically. Dean cursed himself for not preventing this. He could still feel Cas's bone snapping beneath his blade. Shivers ran up his spine.

The light dimmed and Dean looked back at Cas. His arm had reformed as good as new, but his eyelids were still shut. Dean swallowed hard and waited what felt like hours before Cas's eyes fluttered open. "Dean?"

"God," Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulders and wrenched him into his arms. "I'm sorry."

Cas didn't react to the touch at first, but slowly warmed to it and wrapped his arms around Dean, squeezing him and nuzzling his face into Dean's shoulder. "You saved me."

"I cut off your arm."

"I'm sorry you had to do that."
Dean pulled away and anxiously laughed. "You're sorry?"

"It was a weak moment for me," Cas conceded, "I knew better than to come here, but I thought I could handle it."

"You did what you thought was right. Just please don't ever make me do that again. Does it hurt?"

Cas flexed his arm curiously. "Not anymore."

"Do you hate me?" Dean asked sheepishly, trying to force a teasing tone into his voice and failing.

Cas raised his eyebrows. "Why would I hate you?"

"I mean," Dean mimed sawing him with a knife, but the action made him nauseous and he lowered his hands back on Cas's chest.

"I trust you, Dean. You did not want to do it, but you did for me. Thank you."

Dean had a hard time comprehending that he was being thanked for cutting off someone's arm, and he would be shaken for days to come, but Cas was whole again and he could work with that, at least.

writing this was like pulling teeth. i am NOT a fan of this piece and it has not been thoroughly edited bc i want to burn it