Late update but here it is. Thanks to all those following.
Warning you that this is where the wincesty parts start. But it'll all be PG. So I hope you'll keep reading even if you don't like wincest. It'll be few and far between because that's not my main focus. That's just how my mind went. *shrugs*
Ch. 6
"Hey, you need a break?"
They've been walking without incident for a couple hours now. Dean has started to slow. "Nah. I'm good."
"Dean. We should take a break." Sam nudges his cheek with his nose. "You've been carrying me for a long time. And I appreciate it. I still feel like crap. But you need to rest too."
Dean sighs, slowing to a stop. "Okay."
Sam is almost worried at how easy that was. Want's to ask if Dean is feeling sick now. But he really has been carrying him for a long time. So he's probably just tired. Even though he's still mostly arms and legs, he's not light anymore. He slides down when Dean stops, leaving one arm over Dean's shoulders to maintain that contact in the dark.
Finding a wall, Dean slides to the ground, leaving his arm out for Sam to curl up under. He moves his hand up after Sam sits down to feel his forehead. "You've still got a fever. You feeling okay?"
"I'm fine. Are you okay? You seem to be slowing down some."
Dean chuckles. "You aren't light, you know." He turns his head to kiss the top of Sam's. "Rest now. We'll keep going soon."
"And I'll walk."
Another chuckle. "If you feel up to it."
Sam bites his lip as he debates on whether he wants to say what he's thinking.
Dean sighs. "I can hear that mind working. What now?"
"I just… I like you in the dark."
"...What?"
Sam shrugs. "You don't act like you don't care."
Dean is quiet for a minute. "You think I don't care?" It's barely breathed. The pain in it is badly hidden.
"No!" Sam turns, arm going around Dean's neck as the other goes around his back in a tight hug. "No. I said you don't act like you don't care. Down here, you don't act like you're some big tough guy. You aren't afraid to be a little… chick-flicky." He nudges his nose under Dean's chin. "I like you like this."
Dean's chest compresses. He wraps his arms around his brother. "Sammy…"
"Don't worry about it. I know. It's Dad, right?"
Dean sighs, situating Sam so that his legs are laying over Dean's lap and he's leaning his shoulder into Dean's chest. He lays his head on Sam's. "Only partly. You have noticed he's tried getting us places with separate rooms, haven't you?"
Sam frowns. "Yeah."
"And you keep sneaking into mine anyway."
"Nightmares," Sam mutters.
Dean reaches up to run his hands through Sam's hair. "Not accusing. Just pointing something out."
"He thinks we're too old to be sharing a room," Sam states.
"Let alone sharing a bed like we do in the hotel rooms."
"But… I like sleeping with you. I don't have nightmares." Sam's arm tightens around Dean's neck where it still hangs.
"I know, Sammy," Dean sooths, kissing his head again. There's something about what Sam said about liking the extra contact. Something freeing. It's hard to keep from wanting constant contact now.
Sam tilts his head up. When he talks, the smile is heard in his voice. "See. You're less self-conscious in the dark."
Dean snorts, too tired to put up any other protest. His hand stops moving, but stays resting on the back of Sam's neck.
Sam lets his head fall forward so his lips rest against Dean's neck. With the smell of his brother permeating his every breath, he lets his eyes close. After a minute, he can hear Dean's breathing had already evened out. Glad his brother is finally resting, he lets himself drift off.
Sam has no idea how long it's been since they fell asleep. Waking up first is a shock. He can tell by Dean's breathing his brother is still asleep. Laying completely still, he starts to wonder what it was that woke him. From the way his eyes want to fall closed again, he can tell they haven't been sleeping for long. Something had to have woken him up.
A few seconds later, a loud 'crack' sounds down the tunnel, making his eyes snap open. That is definitely what woke him up. His hand clenches around Dean's shirt where it's fallen while he slept. He listens, not willing to wake his brother up. He ends up sidetracked though, when he feels the obvious heat coming from his brother.
Now that his own fever is gone, he notices that Dean is way too warm. His brother is always warm, but after sharing a bed a million times in hotels across the country, Sam can tell when it's different. And this is different. This is a fever. He curses to himself. He got Dean sick. He flinches when another sound makes its way through the tunnel. He tries to wake up his brother. "Dean. Dean, wake up," he hisses. Trying to stay quiet.
Dean mumbles, hand coming up to rest on Sam's arm.
"Dean."
It may have been the desperation in his voice that wakes Dean up. His brother's hand tightens around his arm, head jerking away from where it was touching Sam's.
"Something's down here."
Dean is definitely awake now. "Where?"
Sam frowns at the obvious fatigue in his brother's voice, but the alertness is still there. "I don't know. I could just hear it moving. You think it's the wendigo?"
Dean curses, pulling the strap of the bag over his head and feeling around for the zipper. "Maybe. Let's pull out the flares in case." Finding them eventually, he hands one to Sam and keeps the other for himself. "We each have one chance with these. Don't miss."
Sam's heart goes into overdrive, ears straining for any other noise that might indicate what or where the thing is.
"I'm gonna laugh if it's just the tunnel cracking away."
Sam elbows him in the ribs.
Dean lets out a squeak of pain.
Sam's head whips around as if he'd be able to see his brother in the dark. "What's wrong?" That was not the sound Dean makes when Sam gets a jab at him. That was real pain.
Dean never gets a chance to answer though. Because the sounds get closer. "Sam," he murmurs, "those are footsteps. I'm going to hand you the flashlight and you're going to flick it on when I say, okay?"
"Okay," Sam breathes.
"I'll have the flair ready. Keep yours ready in case."
They're both silent, listening as the quiet shuffling gets closer.
"Ready?"
"Yeah."
One more sound of a step and Dean nudges him. "Now."
They've both done the research on wendigos. Seen the lore drawings. Read about what they're like. Nothing prepared them for the actual, terrifying thing. When the very last of their light floods the tunnel, Sam's breath catches in his throat at the sight that greets them.
Dean fires off the shot.
Having the gun ready with anything else would have been the perfect plan. But with the wendigo, seeing the gun in Dean's hand gave it enough warning to take off before the flare could connect. Then things get frantic.
The brothers push themselves to their feet, getting ready for the attack. Neither are ready in time. Dean gets thrown across the tunnel, the blur that goes by disappearing for a second.
"Dean!" Sam starts over to his brother. The next attack slams into him, more than likely cracking a rib or two as air whooshes out of his lungs with the pained squeak that would have been a yell if he had enough air. He lands on his back, a stray tear running down into his hairline from the pain in his chest.
"Sammy!" Dean had righted himself just in time to see his brother land, his heart clenching when his brother doesn't get up. As he straightens, he himself grimaces against his own pain as he tries to get over to his brother. He barely takes a step before the thing is standing in front of him.
It's impressive in stature, no denying that. And it's obvious the skeleton like body is stronger than it should be for how it looks. It stares him down, gruesome face twisted up in a snarl. It has Dean trapped away from his brother. The wendigo is stronger than him, but strong or not, Dean isn't going to stand for that. The speed surprises him again when he takes one step forward. He never makes it to Sam.
Body colliding with a beam in the tunnel wall, his head cracks against it. He doesn't get up from where he rolls to his back after landing.
The wendigo walks forward, hand reaching out for Dean.
"Hey!"
The shot is fired in time with the yell, the flare colliding with the creature just as it turns around. It goes up in flames. When the flames die out, the tunnel is pitch black again, the flashlight a tiny speck of yellow in the ground, unable to even shine farther than in the flashlight itself. That doesn't matter. Sam knows where his brother is.
"Dean! Dean, wake up!" Sam kneels over his brother, hands on his chest. He nudges him in panic, fingers going to find a pulse a second later. He doesn't find one. "Oh God." Tilting his brother's head back, the basics of CPR start running through his head. He and Dean had both learned at an early age. Being left home alone, it was vital in case anything happened. Now? Sam only hopes it will save Dean's life.
Sam breathes into his lungs, reaching down and checking that his head really was tilted back far enough that the air wasn't going into his brother's stomach. When he feels that it's okay, he starts compressions, tears running down his face, both from the pain of his ribs and his fear for Dean. "C'mon Dean." He breathes for his brother again, turning his head to listen after. Still nothing. He goes back to compressions. "You can't leave me down here!"
He goes through five rounds of compressions and breathing with the pain in his chest. All the while he gets more and more frantic. When he still doesn't get anything and his chest is burning too much to continue, he slams his fist down on Dean's chest. "Damnit Dean!" He falls forward, head resting on Dean's chest, and cries. "You can't leave me, Dean. You can't leave me." Talking about life now, not just here. "Please. Dean." He can't talk anymore after that. Sobs overtaking him, unable to even find air to breathe. Like his brother took it with him.
His whole body slumps forward now. He lays his head on Dean's chest, arms going around the one of Dean's that's next to him. If Dean is dead, then he doesn't want to continue. Won't continue without his brother. Can't even imagine leaving him alone down here, dead or not. Tears run down his cheeks and nose to drip onto Dean's shirt. He turns his face to burry his nose in the smell. Peace washes over him. He's ready to just lay here and die next to his brother. It's then that he feels a faint rhythm against his forehead.
His head jerks up, eyes wide as they attempt to look through the dark at his motionless brother. He reaches up to check for a pulse, finding one very weak, but there. He sniffs, wiping the tears from his face. "You jerk. You did that on purpose." As he hiccups to try and stop crying he can't help but smile, sinking his fingers into Dean's hair and brushing through it over and over again. Does what Dean always does to him. A familiar sign of affection.
He lays his other hand over Dean's heart to reassure himself of Dean being alive as he sits by his brother's shoulder and looks around at the surrounding darkness. Eventually he's calm enough to start thinking. "Now what, Dean? We have no flashlight. You're out for the count. I'm still uselessly weak after being sick and can't carry anything because I think the thing broke some of my ribs." He sighs. Reaches over to feel for their bag in the darkness, eventually finding it and pulling it towards him. He starts feeling around inside, seeing what else they have.
When his hand closes around the metal container, he wants to kick himself. "Dean! We forgot about the matches," he growls. Opening the container, his fingers find the lighter first, making him roll his eyes. "We are such idiots."
It's hard to fill the lighter with fluid in the dark, but he manages. Flicking it on a minute later, the small glow makes him smile. Being in the dark for more than at least twelve hours makes you miss the light. He turns to his brother, inspecting his face in the dark. Turning it. Checking for any major injuries. Besides a few scratches and dirt, he seems to be okay. It's the way he's still burning up that worries Sam.
He's reluctant to leave his brother, but the hope of a fire is too hard to pass up. Being in a coal mine that's been abandoned, means there's perfect coal just laying around. His breath catches when he pushes himself up, arms going around his chest as pain spikes through it. "Ow." He clenches his teeth, waiting it out. When it goes back to a dull throb, he starts walking.
It's harder to find good coal than he thought. It seems like there are either different types, or some are just better than others. Eventually though, he has a small pile of ten, along with a few pieces of wood from the broken beams around them. With the help of most of the lighter fluid, he gets a small glow going. A flame or two appears every once in a while, but mostly it's just the glow of the coals.
Sam leans back against his brother's legs, trying to get his ribs to stop hurting. The hitching in his breathing from the pain is the only sound in the tunnel now. He doesn't fall asleep, the pain and leftover adrenaline keeping him up. He keeps the small fire going with other pieces of old wood and a few coals added every half hour or so. Through it all, his hand is resting on his brother's heart to reassure himself.
It's an immeasurable amount of time later that Dean finally stirs with a groan.
Sam is instantly scooting closer to his head. "Dean." From the light glow of the coals, he can see his brother's eyes flicker open to focus black orbs on him. "You feel okay?"
Dean groans again, eyes going closed. "Never better." He pushes himself up, grunting in pain before he lets himself fall back against the wall he had been thrown against. He sits slouched there for a while before pushing himself up a little more to at least be close to sitting. Then he looks over at Sam. "You okay, Sammy?" He reaches out, pressing a hand to Sam's side. "You hit the ground pretty hard."
Sam grimaces at the memory of the unforgiving force ramming into him. "I've been better," he hedges.
Dean glares, blinks, and looks to the coals when he realizes he's actually able to see Sam. Then he looks to Sam again. "We are such idiots," he groans, letting his head fall back against the wall.
Sam grins. "That's exactly what I said." He goes to reach for another piece of wood, not realizing he'll be leaning over farther than before he moved closer to where Dean's head was. The white-hot pain that shoots through his torso almost makes him black out. He let's out a sharp cry, letting himself fall to lay on his back as he waits for the piercing pain to go away.
When Sam lets out that scream, Dean feels his stomach drop to a pit he didn't even know he had. The level of panic that overtakes him is staggering. It gives him the energy he needs to finally push himself up. "Sam! Sammy, hey, talk to me." Dean pushes himself to kneel next to Sam, hands hovering over his brother's body, not sure what to do.
"Just… give me a second," he pants.
"What the hell, man?" Dean's worry turns to anger, one hand finally resting on Sam's shoulder, the other lightly touching his side.
"I think the wendigo… cracked a rib or two," Sam grits out. He takes a few breaths, letting out a slight whine when he pain doesn't go away.
Dean lets out a shocked sigh of, "Oh, Sammy…" He feels around his brother's chest, grimacing as he causes his brother to let out squeaks of pain. "I'm sorry. Just trying to see what all is wrong…" he trails off as his hand sinks in where it's not supposed to and Sam let's out a sharp cry. "It broke at least one," Dean growls. He reaches one hand under his brother and keeps the other on top. "The pain isn't going away because it's moved. I'm going to try and get it to move back so it won't puncture anything. Okay?"
Sam's head falls over to look at him. "You can do that?" he grits out.
"Dad had something hit him hard once. I managed to move it enough until I got him to the hospital. You ready?"
Sam lets out another wine, closing his eyes and nodding once.
Dean doesn't warn him. It wouldn't help the situation any. He just goes to it, fingers digging into his brother's side and stomach to try and get the rib away from important organs. It's easier than it could be, still mostly in position. It just needs to be pulled back, which is something Dean can safely do until they get to the hospital. The hardest part? Listening to Sam.
It starts out as a harsh cry, turning to choked gasping as the pain gets more intense. Dean keeps up a mantra of 'I'm sorry', his own tears springing to his eyes at his brother's pain. When he's finally satisfied, he gingerly lays himself down next to his gasping brother, hand cupping the back of Sam's head and pressing his own in to touch them together. They're practically sharing breath.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry little brother. You need to calm down now. The pain will go away. Breathe with me Sammy. C'mon. God, I'm sorry." A few more of his own tears slide down his cheeks as Sam lets out small sounds of pain as he tries to stop the heaving of his chest. He doesn't know what else to do besides just breathe, letting Sam start to match his shaky breathing to his. "That's it baby boy. You're okay."
Sam's breath hitches one more time before going mostly back to normal. He nudges his nose against Deans. "Thanks." He just breathes for a minute. "It's almost back to how it was earlier. Just a throbbing. Not like a knife is sinking into me."
Dean's hand tightens on Sam's neck where his hand has slid. "Good." His eyes fall closed in relief. They snap open a second later when he feels lips brushing against his own.
It's a short kiss. Barely there. Sam pulls back with his bottom lip under his teeth in nervousness.
Dean stares in shock, stomach wildly out of control. "Sam…"
"Don't. Just… take it for what it was. Okay? Just… don't ruin it by telling me it shouldn't have happened." Sam looks down.
Dean sighs, forehead going forward again to touch to Sam's. His fingers play with the ends of Sam's hair. He doesn't say anything. Because honestly, he doesn't want to ruin it either.