Disclaimer: See first chapter
Warnings: Actually, none. A cuss word here and there, but this isn't disturbing like the last one. It's actually almost sweet.
Chapter Two: Your Greatest Strength
"I don't think we'll make it, this time."
"Don't talk like that, alright? We're going to be fine." But Sam's voice wasn't as strong as he would have liked it to be, and Dean's voice was nearly a whisper. He had the blood-loss and pain to blame. Sam only had fear.
"Sam?" Dean asked, reaching out and just brushing Sam's arm with his blood soaked fingers.
"Yeah, Dean?" Sam asked soothingly, never pausing.
"I could never kill you." He whispered, and Sam couldn't prevent the flinch. He stopped, only long enough to look at his brother, and then returned to his work. "Even if you were the most evil sonuvabitch out there… I couldn't do it." Dean let his eyes fall closed for a minute, but they shot open when Sam patted his knee. "'M too weak." He slurred.
Sam laughed harshly, one loud—too loud in the small space and it echoed around them—bark of a laugh that nearly broke him. "I think they call that love, bro. Not weakness."
Dean groaned and let his head fall to the side. "Same thing."
Sam stopped for real this time, his fingers stopped digging at the dirt and rocks in front of them and he turned bodily to face his brother. Dean was propped lazily against the wall, his shirt a mess of dirt and blood.
The tunnel had caved in hours ago, and there was no way out but to dig.
They were running out of air and Dean was running out of blood.
Sam grabbed his brother's chin and forced Dean to look at him. He shook his head. "No." He said forcefully, shaking Dean's head a little, so he'd get it, fucking get it through his head. "They're not the same thing, Dean. Not even close."
Sam let go and went back to digging, driven by the need to get Dean to safety. Driven by his love for his brother. Love gave him strength.
"Now, shut up and stop bleeding. I'm getting us out of here."
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