Thanks for the continuing support guys! :)
School is... well... school. But I'm finding time to keep writing.
One tiny wincest moment in this chapter. As usual, nothing major. Easily ignored i hope for those who don't care for it.
Enjoy!
Ch. 7
Neither of them move from where they're laying until the coals are almost dead. Dean lets both of them rest. Doesn't want to make Sam move. But they can't just stay here. When he's happy with how long his brother's breathing has been normal, he pulls back to make eye contact. "You doin' okay?"
Sam sighs. "We need to keep going, huh?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Not your fault." Sam goes to push himself up, wincing.
"Hold on. Okay? Just let me help." Dean seems to take forever to get to his own feet, holding his breath in the process.
Sam notices. "What's wrong, Dean? Did it hurt you too?"
Dean lets out his breath, knowing he won't be able to hide this from his brother much longer. "Remember the first cave in? When I said something got me?"
Sam shudders at the memory of the tight place. "Yeah."
"I think it's getting infected." He reaches down, hands snagging under Sam's arms to lift him up to his feet in one heave with a little help from Sam.
"What?!" Once he's on his feet, he turns to Dean, wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs from the movement.
"Easy. Calm down, Sam. I'm going to be okay."
"I thought you were getting sick! You have a fever! That's not okay! What if they don't find us before you get even more sick?"
Dean takes Sam's face in his hands, leaning down the small distance to make eye contact in the very little bit of glow from the embers. It is pretty impressive how much their eyes have adjusted to the darkness after being down here for so long. "Sam. We're both getting out of here alive. Okay? We'll get out in time."
Sam steps forward to touch their foreheads together. Liking how it's become their thing. "Promise."
"I promise, Sammy. I'm not going to leave you."
Sam sniffs. "You better not. I don't know what I'd-"
"Hey." Dean's voice is hushed. "Don't think like that. I've been fine so far. And when they find us, they'll just shoot me up with antibiotics until I'm so drugged up there's no way the infection could get any worse."
Sam huffs. "You sure you're alright? How deep is it?"
Dean chuckles. "Stop worrying about me, Sammy. It stopped bleeding a long time ago. Now it just hurts."
"Well I'm with you there," Sam teases half-heartedly, arm resting around his ribs.
Dean grins, sliding an arm around Sam. "C'mon. Time to move on."
They stop to kick dirt over the coals and to pick up the bag. Sam wishes desperately he could take some of the burden from his brother, but when he goes to lift the bag, a sharp pain shoots through his chest. They end up walking like they have been, Dean's arm protectively over Sam's shoulders and the bag over his other shoulder.
They move a lot slower now. Sam breathing shallow because of his ribs and Dean slowing down from the infection spreading from the cut on his own side. They eat their last sandwiches as they walk, stomachs still growling when they're done because of how little they've eaten before now.
"How long do you think it's been?" Sam asks.
"Well… we aren't dieing of starvation yet. So less than a week."
"Dean."
"What? How am I supposed to know? It's always dark. What's your guess?"
"Four days."
"That long, you think?"
"A fever doesn't go away in a few hours on it's own. I know that was at least a day though it felt longer because I was miserable. And I think maybe two days before that. And now. Four days total. But… it's felt like so much longer."
It's quiet for a while.
Sam is the one to break the silence. "You're thinking they should have at least met us half way by now." It's not a question.
Dean sighs. "I'm not gonna lie. Yeah, that's what I think. But I also know that Dad wouldn't let them drag ass."
Sam chuckles. "Yeah."
"They'll get here. One way or another. If they have to drill a hole in the mountain, Dad would get them to do it."
"From fear for their lives, maybe," Sam quips.
Dean snorts. "You're a brat."
Sam shrugs. "It's been said."
Dean chuckles. "Bitch."
"Jerk." Sam reaches up to lay his hand on his brother's that's resting on his shoulder. His face drops when he feels Dean sliding his hand away. A second later, his mouth drops open in shock when his "no chick-flicks" brother links fingers with him, hand hanging over his shoulder so Sam doesn't have to reach up so much.
"Not a word of this to anyone."
Sam smiles to himself. "My lips are sealed." His fingers curl closed around Dean's.
The walk is boring for the next half hour. So of course it has to go bad again.
If it's not for Dean stumbling, they probably would have walked right into it. Just like the beginning of their journey. As it is, it's part of the cave in that Dean trips over because of how little he's lifting his feet to walk. He's practically leaning on Sam now, though the younger Winchester doesn't call him on it. Even though it hurts his ribs, he wants to give his brother as much help as possible to walk. Until Dean decides that face-planting on the ground is the next big thing.
Sam lets out a squeak when the yank of his brother's body jerks his own and irritates the broken bones. He stumbles a little, trying to keep a hold of his brother, but ends up empty handed when it all quiets. "Geeze."
Dean grunts, starting to push himself up. "Sorry," he pants.
Sam reaches out to help him back up with the minimal use of his arms. "You alright?" This is the second time that Dean's fallen. The first time was funny. This time is worrying.
"Lighter. I think we should see what else is around us. It feels rough." When he's standing, he takes the lighter from Sam.
They both stand there, looking at it for a full minute in silence.
"So… this is why the rescue team hasn't gotten to us yet," Dean murmurs.
They're almost certain this was the mouth of the mine. The very beginning. The way it widens at the end before the completely blocked opening has belongings of the miners dropped. The place hasn't been touch since it happened, it looks like. Hats are laying everywhere. Even some clothes. Dean might notice the bones of a hand sticking out from under the rubble. That doesn't mean he tells Sam.
Turning back to look down where they came from, Dean sighs. It's hard to keep optimistic for Sam when his own hope is drained away. He's tired. So tired. He just wants to rest. But Sam… "You ready to backtrack?" he asks tiredly.
Sam just shuffles forward, sliding back under Dean's arm to start them off again. "So close, yet so far. We could have been out of here." Sam's tired too. But they need to at least try to get out of here a different way. Winchesters don't just lay down and die. So they go back. Nothing is said. Both are just too tired of being here to think of anything else to say. They just walk.
The more they walk, the more Dean leans on Sam. Once again, probably unconsciously. When Sam's ribs really start to burn, he's the one who suggests a break. He knows his brother is determined not to give in so he takes the decision away from him. "C'mon. I need a break. Let's sit for a while."
Dean just grunts as Sam lowers him to the ground, automatically opening his arm to tuck Sam in next to him. Sam frowns when he notices his breathing is rougher, Dean's temperature also probably the highest it's been so far. It worries him but he keeps his concerns to himself. Until Dean passes out anyway.
It doesn't take long for Dean to fall asleep after sitting down. His fatigue was obvious. When Sam moving around doesn't wake him, he scoots away and very slowly lowers him to lay on the ground. Pulling up his brother's shirt, he gets the lighter out of Dean's pocket and flicks it on. He immediately wants to throw up.
This isn't infection anymore. This is death. If Dean doesn't get help soon, he's going to die from the infection spreading through him. The discoloration around the gash is so grotesque that Sam lets the lighter go out and turns away in case his stomach throws up any of the last bit of food he had. He barely keeps it down, steeling himself for what he has to do now.
Squeezing it out isn't going to save Dean, but it may buy him some time. The process? The grossest thing Sam has ever done. And he's done it before. But nothing like this. This is… it's sickening. "Please stay asleep. Please just stay passed out." If his brother wakes up while he's doing this, it's going to hurt. He hopes for that one little mercy for Dean.
He uses one of the knives to open the wound again by the light of the lighter, wincing at the whine that Dean makes. "Sorry. I'm sorry." It's like a reverse from earlier. Apologies keep tumbling from his lips as he puts the knife and lighter down again and starts squeezing the puss out. His stomach flips, but in the dark, he can't see it. After a few seconds, Dean stops making sounds and Sam hopes he's out for the count. He periodically picks up the lighter in one hand, looking to see how much it's working until it's only blood coming out.
He slides off the big jacket, his jacket, and his shirt, rolling his shirt up and pressing it to the wound. Then he pulls his belt through the loops of his jeans, sliding it under and around his brother to fasten it right over the wad of his shirt and pulls it through until it's tight, but not too tight. He's glad his belt is almost too long for him seeing as he has to use the last and tightest hole when wearing it, it's fastened at the second one now to fit around Dean's side.
"What I wouldn't give for some alcohol. Heck, whiskey would work." He pulls his jacket back on, zipping it closed before pulling the other jacket on. If Dean starts shivering, he'll give it to him. But something tells him it's not that kind of fever. "We need to keep moving," he groans to himself. If they don't, Dean could die before they get help. It doesn't take him long to figure out what needs to happen. It takes forever for him to work up to it knowing how much it's going to hurt.
He ties the string from their bag around the gloves to keep it from cutting into his brother, putting them right under Dean's armpits and tying the ends around the bag. Then he sighs as he looks around by the faint light of the lighter. The ground is smooth, but every once in a while there's something that could potentially hurt Dean. He'll have to use the lighter as much as possible to keep him from getting more hurt.
Wincing as he pulls the bag over his head and shoulder, he tries to situate the strap higher on his chest so it doesn't touch his broken ribs. It also keeps Dean's head from dragging the ground. Then he starts the painful trek of pulling his brother down the tunnel. The only thing that keeps him going after the first initial spike of pain is the thought of leaving his brother alone down here to go find help. And he's not quite ready for that yet. Not so close to that encounter with the wendigo.
He recites every Latin incantation he knows, every fact about any creature his dad and brother have told him about, and every city he's ever visited to keep his mind off of the pain. It only half works. He takes frequent breaks, stopping to lean against the wall to breathe and be weak enough to let out a few whimpers for a second. Then he pushes on. It seems to go on like this forever. Kept company only by his brother's feverish mumblings every once in a while.
He has no idea how long he's been going or how far he's gotten before he has to stop for good, tears springing to his eyes now that he's sinking to the ground next to his brother's body. "I'm sorry, Dean. I just can't. I told you I'm not strong enough." He lets out a pained grunt as he pulls his brother into his lap, laying Dean's head over his thighs and letting his arm fall over Dean's chest. If he can't take his brother with him, he'll stay here and die with him. But he's not leaving him.
"You've never really left me. You were always there when the creature came after me. Killed the werewolf, the ghoul, and found me when the witch had me trapped. You've even made sure no one at school messed with me. I'm not leaving you. If I'm not strong enough to save you, then I won't leave you." He feels his eyes getting heavy. He presses his hand over his brother's heart. "Love you, Dean." Then he lets himself fall asleep.
He wakes up to a hand tapping his face. The first initial ones he ignores, but then his eyes snap open. His hopes of a rescue disappear when he still sees nothing but the blackness surrounding them. Then his heart leaps, his hand coming up to take Dean's in his. "Hey, man. You doin' okay?"
Dean huffs from where he's still laying in Sam's lap. "I feel like crap. How long was I out? And when did you take care of my side?"
"I have no idea how long you've been out," Sam sighs, hand lowering both his and Dean's to rest on his brother's chest. "I got some of the infection out. That and the fever are why you probably were out for a while. I didn't know if you were going to wake up. So I kept us moving for a little while."
Dean groans. "You re-opened it and squeezed it out, didn't you?"
Sam shrugs. "Had to. You were sleeping, and I think you woke up for a bit but you got lucky and passed out and missed most of it."
Dean squeezes Sam's hand in his. "You probably just saved my life for another day. That's probably why I'm even awake right now. Able to fight off the fever for a while."
Sam sinks his free hand into Dean's hair, running his fingers through the soft spikes. "Maybe. Sucked doing it though."
"I know." Dean's voice is soft now. Understanding. Hurting someone, even to help them feel better, sucks. Then he stiffens. "What do you mean you kept us moving?"
Sam sighs. "We had to keep moving Dean. Or we're going to die down here."
"What did you do?" he growls.
Sam tugs lightly on the strings still under Dean's arms. "Pulled you along for a bit."
Dean groans. "Damnit, Sam! You could have hurt your ribs even more!"
"I have the string tied to the bag. Had it over the upper part of my chest. I had it handled." He scowls down where he knows his brother's head is.
Dean sighs, too tired to even argue right now. His voice is suddenly very weak when he talks again. Like he used all of his energy to yell at Sam. "Don't hurt yourself trying to help me. It won't do any good."
Sam sighs. "I wasn't doing very good anyway."
"Sammy. I mean it. Just… please." Dean reaches up with his free hand to hold on to the back of his neck and squeeze it lightly. "Make sure you get out of here."
"I'm not leaving you, Dean." It's said in such a calm, matter-of-fact voice.
"If you have to…"
"I'm not."
"Sam. Listen to me."
"No! You listen! I'm not going off and leaving you here to die while I'm gone!"
Dean sighs. "Sam, I'm not dying yet."
"But you will if they can't get to us! And I'm not going off to let that happen to you while I'm gone!" Sam clutches his brother closer to him as if Dean has enough energy to wrench himself away.
Dean squeezes the back of Sam's neck again. "I'm going to die for sure if you don't help them get here faster," Dean murmurs.
Sam lets out a whimper he'll never admit to. "That's not fair, Dean."
"I don't care about fair. That's the truth. Now c'mon, Sammy. You need to see if one of those other tunnels has a way out. You need to get out. And you need to find help. Or you need to bring them to me. Because you're way too hurt to get me any further. And I'm not getting myself anywhere. I can barely lift my hands because of how weak I am."
Sam sniffs in the dark, barely holding in the pitiful sounds he knows he'd be making if he wasn't keeping himself from doing so.
Dean sighs in his lap, pulling his head down to kiss his temple. When he feels Sam's head turning, he doesn't protest. Instead, he welcomes Sam's lips against his. When Sam whimpers against him, he deepens it. Comforts Sam the only way he feels he can right now. When he pulls back, Sam hugs him to his chest tightly.
"I'll be back. And you better be alive."
Dean chuckles, hand moving from his neck to tug his hair lightly before falling to his stomach tiredly. "I'll be here. Promise." He doesn't think about what's happening between them. He'll address it when they're safe. If they ever get safe. And if they don't? Well his last moments were with his brother.
Sam kisses Dean on the forehead before extracting himself out from under his brother. He slides out of the big jacket, laying it over Dean.
"Sam, no," Dean protests when he realizes what Sam's doing.
"You're going to be laying here for a while." He lifts Dean's head to tuck one of the sleeves up under his head and makes sure the rest of the coat is covering his upper half. "You get the big coat since I'll be walking to stay warm."
"You are so stubborn," Dean hisses.
Sam grins, kissing his forehead one more time. "I know." He finds Dean's hand and squeezes it. "I love you."
Dean sighs. "You know I love you too, Sam."
"Wanted to hear it before I go." He leans down to press his face into Dean's chest, giving him a light hug and breathing in a deep breath of his brother's unique scent. One last comfort. Then he pushes himself painfully to his feet. Before pulling the bag over his shoulder, he takes out a knife and hands it to Dean. "You keep this one."
"Be safe," Dean murmurs, hand closing around Sam's before sliding off to take the knife.
Sam sniffs. "I'll try." Then he turns and walks down the dark tunnel, lighter in his hand and bag over his shoulder. He doesn't look back.