Alright, first things first - I just wanted to say something about my last chapter, the "Cold" one. I forgot to mention it in my author's note last time, so I'll say it now. It was supposed to be set near the end of Season One. I just wanted to make sure I said that, cause I don't really think that Sam would care that much now if he got an email from one of his old college buddies about being his best man. Too much has happened for him to care about that now, I think. Just wanted to clear that one up! :D
Okay, this chapter - I think I may have gone a teensy bit overboard with this one! :P But it came into my head, and then the ideas just kept coming and coming! So it's a bit longer than a short story, I guess. I was thinking of splitting it into two chapters, but... nahhhh. It would have spoiled the effect, a bit. So I hope you guys don't mind reading a bit longer of a chapter!
Alright! Enough talking LOL. On to the story.
Oh one more thing! (Teehee) This one's not really just a Hurt!Dean story, it's more of a Hurt/Panicky!Dean story. Plus it's a bit darker than the other chapters of this story - more of a serious situation. Still, the usual sap warning. :D Now, onto the story for real! Enjoy!
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx
They're on an old farm, hunting a particularly evasive chupacabra. The farmer, Otis Johnson, an old friend of their dad's, called them about a week ago when it started attacking his livestock. He's a hunter too, or used to be, but he's getting on years and would rather have a couple of "young bucks" – as he said - like Sam and Dean take care of it.
"Chupacabras are ornery creatures," he'd said when he'd called Sam's cellphone. "And I really don't think I'm in good enough shape to track and kill one of 'em anymore. Still, it needs to be done, and this one's killed six of my sheep already."
The boys had agreed to take the job, as Chupacabras weren't really that hard to take care of. Just a silver bullet, and that was it. "As easy as our job comes," Dean had said as he packed their bag for the hunt.
What they weren't counting on was the weather. As soon as they'd left their motel room, they'd seen the dark clouds rolling in. The weather's been blazing hot since they arrived in Oaklahoma, and Sam knows a bad storm when he sees one. Still, they have another job lined up right after this one – a poltergeist in Ohio – and they're on a tight schedule. So, out they go anyway.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Now, the wind is so strong, even Sam can barely walk straight. "Dean, this is stupid!" He calls, and his words are whipped away on the wind as soon as they come out of his mouth. Dean still hears him.
"So?"
Sam groans to himself and steps over the barbed wire fence meant to keep the cows in. There aren't cows right now though, cause Otis brought them in earlier, knowing there was going to be shots fired. He holds down the barbed wire with his feet so Dean can climb over, then carefully steps off and follows his brother across the empty field towards the dilapidated barn.
"What makes you think it's gonna be in there?" he yells over the wind, and Dean glances at him.
"Come on, Sam, every single Chupacabra we've ever hunted has ended up in the barn!"
"We could still look for it out here first," Sam replies, even though he knows Dean's right. The thing is though, he isn't sure that going into a creaky old barn in a storm like this is the best idea. The sky is almost black now – and yeah, it's nearing night – but this is an unnatural kind of black, the kind that makes Sam worry there might be something much worse than just a thunderstorm on the way. The kind of black that's tinged with green.
Dean shakes his head, leaning forward against the wind. "No point in dragging it out, Sammy! Let's just get this done."
The heat is even gone now, it feels more like a very-cold-spring-day instead of a blazing-hot-dead-of-summer day. Sam is glad he insisted on them bringing their jackets, even though Dean had kicked up a fuss and argued that they almost never got to hunt without jackets, why not take the opportunity? Because, Sam had insisted, You never knew when you were going to need a jacket.
Ha, he thinks in a mildly smug way as they finally reach the barn door, and decides he will remind Dean of just how right he was later.
The wind is so strong, Dean can't slide the barn door open by himself, and Sam has to add all his strength to get it open. They feel the first drops of icy rain as they duck inside the dark barn.
Inside, it's extremely dusty, and all around them is an ominous creaking sound as the old boards strain against the harsh wind. Sam sees Dean load his shotgun, and follows suit. His brother then takes out his flashlight and turns it on – immediately it becomes obvious where they're going to have to go.
A few feet ahead of them there's a hole in the floor, leading down into the underground part of the barn. Sam groans out loud, but Dean doesn't hear it.
"Let's go, Sammy," he says, but he doesn't look too pleased either, Sam notices.
The boys hurry to the gap in the floor, and Dean goes down first. Sam follows, pulling out his own flashlight. The steps creak under his feet, and they're small and awkward, nowhere near big enough to walk properly on. Did I ever mention I hate old barns? Sam thinks irritably.
In the basement of the barn, it's twice as dusty as upstairs, but not as noisy. Dean sneezes violently, three times, then rolls his eyes. "Why does the creepy little monster always have to hide out in dark, gross places?" He comments, and Sam grins.
"Probably cause if it was in the light, it wouldn't be a creepy little monster anymore," he replies.
Dean cocks his head and smirks, and the boys continue forward. There's a creepy old lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, which is about an inch above Sam's head, and he walks into it without even seeing it first. "Ow!" he says loudly, right as Dean shouts, "There it is!"
Sam instantly aims his shotgun, moving up to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother. "Where?" he hisses.
"Went behind that hay bale," Dean says shortly, and they move forward together. The ground feels spongy and unstable under Sam's feet, and he has a brief, horrible image of it giving out under his feet, and him falling into some tiny dark room below. This image quickly disappears as the Chupacabra makes a run for it, clearly highlighted in the beam of Dean's flashlight.
Both of their shotguns go off at once, and the small grey animal falls in its tracks. They stand still for a moment, waiting to see if it's really dead, and then lower their guns as it doesn't move. "Nice shot," Dean comments, moving closer to look at the dead animal. "Same to you," Sam says, grinning.
The Chupacabra is just as ugly as Sam remembers the last one being, and they pick up the small dead body and bag it with disgust.
"Now let's get the hell out of here," Dean says, sounding relieved. "I'm really looking forward to a nice, soft bed."
"I'll second that," Sam replies, aiming his flashlight back towards the small staircase. "You got the Chupacabra? Or want me to get it?"
"Can you?"
Dean sounds funny, and Sam turns to look at him. He looks a little pale. "You okay?" Sam asks.
"Yeah – let's just get out of here," Dean says again, not really meeting his eyes. Sam realizes a moment later it's Dean claustrophobia kicking in. He's had that fear for as long as Sam can remember, and it really is uncomfortably tight down here.
"Yeah, let's go," he agrees calmly, picking up the bag of dead Chupacabra, and together they head towards the opening in the ceiling. Sam lets Dean go first, knowing he'll feel better as soon as he gets the hell out of here. "Thanks," Dean says before he goes up, and Sam smiles at him, following a second later.
In the main part of the barn, the noise has got worse. A lot worse. There is a large board flapping on the side of the barn now, hanging on by what looks like one nail. The roof, too, is falling apart quickly – there are several boards gone, and rain is pouring in the gaps. It's pitch black outside now.
"Crap," Dean says loudly, Sam barely hears him over the roar of the wind and the boards slamming against each other.
"We've gotta get out of here!" he yells, as loud as he can. He's suddenly absolutely certain that right now, this is the most dangerous place they can be.
Dean nods and starts for the exit, then suddenly halts and turns back around.
"What?" Sam says desperately, almost running into him.
"I left the shotgun down there!" Dean looks stricken at the thought of having to go back.
"Dammit, Dean!" Sam looks back at the black hole in the floor. There's no way he can send Dean back down there and feel right about it. And they can't just leave it there, it's one of their best, one of the double-barrel ones. Not exactly cheap. I have to go.
Sam's not exactly thrilled at the prospect of going back into that creepy little room, but he has no choice. "I'm going!" he yells above the wind, putting down the dead Chupacabra. "Wait here!"
"Sammy, you sure?" Dean grips the front of his jacket for a second, his eyes big and dark in the gloom. "It can wait till tomorrow!"
"I'm going," Sam says again, not wanting to take the time to explain that he's pretty sure this barn won't be standing tomorrow. And he really doesn't want to have to go digging through endless rubble to get their shotgun.
He pulls away, aiming his flashlight down the dark hole, and is down in seconds, almost slipping on the stairs. Swearing in a steady stream in his head, he shines the flashlight around the underground room in jerks. There. Right by the hay bale where they shot the Chupacabra. Dean must've put it down while he was bagging the thing. He darts toward it, grabs it, and heads back toward the stairs.
Just as he's about to run up, there's a loud snapping noise, more like a bang, a strange rushing noise, and a thud. Sam stops dead, listening to the roaring wind, and then has a sudden, horrible image of what has happened. He scrambles up the stairs faster than he ever thought he could move, only to be greeted by the sight of no Dean.
"DEAN?" he hollers, whipping his flashlight around. He notices, with a burst of fear, that the board that was flapping around on the side of the barn is now gone. He spins around frantically, until his flashlight settles on the thing he had prayed he wouldn't see.
Dean is crumpled at the bottom of the closest barn wall, and the board is laying across his torso.
"DEAN!" Sam yells again, rushing towards his fallen brother, fear creating a hard knot in his stomach. He reaches his side and falls to his knees, immediately checking his pulse. It's there, it's strong.
Sam barely lets himself rejoice before going to work on the board, pulling and lifting it off Dean as best he can. It's heavy – Sam doesn't even want to think about what it would feel like hitting you. Especially not with that wind behind it. He manages to heave it off and to the side, and then lightly pats Dean's cheek. "Dean, come on man! Wake up!" He's desperate to get out of here, terrified that the barn's going to go further than it already has.
Dean does not wake up. Sam notices now that his breathing is a little funny, and worriedly lifts Dean's shirt. There is already heavy bruising spreading across Dean's chest and ribs, and Sam knows there's got to be at least one broken rib in there.
"Dammit!" he says out loud, pulling Dean's shirt back down and sliding his hands under Dean's arms. He knows it isn't safe to move to his brother without knowing how badly he's hurt, but he also knows there's a much better chance of them being crushed to death if they stay in this death trap of a barn.
He starts to lift Dean, but stops when Dean suddenly gasps, waking up with a jump. Sam almost drops him in surprise.
Dean gasps again, struggling in Sam's grip, trying to stand. "Dean, hey man! Take it easy," Sam says, pulling him up and against him in one swift movement. Dean's hand automatically grasps his shirt, and he leans heavily on Sam, despite his efforts to stand properly.
"Sammy?"
"Yeah Dean – you okay man?"
"What – what happened?" Dean sounds breathless, and there's a hitch in his voice Sam knows immediately is from pain.
"I'll explain later, Dean – we've gotta get out of here!" Sam yells. A split second later, they hear another loud snap as the boards on the roof are ripped off – thankfully they blow over the barn – and Sam starts pulling his brother toward the door, which is also beginning to rip off and is flapping dangerously in the gale.
"S'mmy – get – gun?" Dean asks haltingly, gripping Sam's jacket tightly as he struggles to keep up with Sam's pace. The only reason Sam can hear him is cause his head is so close to his ear.
"Yes, Dean! I got the frigging gun!" Sam snaps angrily, irritated with his brother's concern over a gun right now. He barely has time to register Dean's wounded eyes before the barn door snaps off, and, with a horrible creak not unlike a giant tree falling over, the whole barn starts to follow suit.
Sam has no time to think, he only knows that if they don't move, they're going to be crushed.
He scrambles as fast he can backwards and toward the opening in the floor. In that split second, he feels Dean realize what he's going to do, and his brother starts struggling like a wild animal.
Sam has been witness to Dean's fear a few times before, but never like this. He knows that it is complete, unadulterated fear that is making his brother so strong, but there's no other choice. He hastily pins Dean's arms to his sides and pushes him down the staircase first, and, with the wall only seconds away from crushing him, leaps in right behind Dean, landing almost on top of him, and they both fall over. The wall slams down above them with an earth-shattering bang, and then there's only blackness.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sam quickly rolls off his brother, who is completely still, and kneels beside him. "Dean?"
His brother is silent, Sam can only hear his rapid breathing in reply. "Dean?" he says again, feeling around for his shoulder. "Are you ok?" He isn't sure whether Dean's been knocked out, or if he's just terrified.
A moment later his question is answered as Dean sits up abruptly, almost hitting Sam's head. "Sam?"
"Yeah, Dean, I'm right here."
"Please don't tell me we're under the barn." Dean's voice is wobbling.
Sam takes a deep breath, his heart twisting at his brother's fear. "Yeah we are." It takes him a moment before he realizes that Dean is going to hyperventilate, he's breathing so fast. He grips Dean's shoulders, giving him a little shake. "Dean! Hey! It's okay, man. It's okay! Listen to me, okay?" He feels Dean's hand on his arm, and grabs it with his own, holding on. "It's alright. I'm gonna call Otis, he's gonna get us out of here. No need to panic, right?"
"No need to panic? Like hell," Dean says desperately, chest heaving. His breathing is starting to catch now, as his bruised – or broken – ribs make themselves known. Sam knows he'd better calm his brother down before he does even more damage.
Without letting go of Dean's hand, he feels around for his flashlight, which he knows was in his hand when they fell. It's just a few feet away, and he grabs it and switches it on. He squints in the sudden light, then looks at his brother.
Dean's eyes are huge in his white face, looking almost black they're so dark. There's a scrape on his temple, and Sam moves closer, tilting Dean's chin with one hand so he can see it better. "Just a scratch," he says comfortingly, then meets his brother's eyes again. Dean just stares at him, breathing fast and heavy. He's starting to shiver now, trembling so hard and so suddenly that Sam almost jumps back. It takes him a moment to realize that Dean is having a panic attack, and he quickly pulls Dean against him, backing up against the wall.
"Hey, hey!" he says quickly, "Relax, Dean – it's okay! Come on, man, don't do this!" He runs a hand over Dean's short hair, rubbing his arms soothingly, but Dean is clearly already too far gone to relax, and only shivers against Sam's chest, gasping for air. Sam frantically searches his brain for anything he's ever read that has to do with stopping panic attacks – this is so not good! – and remembers something about how slowing down the breathing is the best thing to do.
"Dean," he says, quietly but firmly, "Dean, I need you to listen to me, okay?" He grabs Dean's hand and presses it against his chest, flat. "I need you to breathe with me, man. Breathe with me, okay?" He determinedly slows his breathing down, deep and steady.
Dean pays no attention, his hand instead clenching and gripping Sam's shirt desperately. He shifts, turning more towards Sam, then whimpering suddenly as his ribs protest the movement. Sam stops him quickly. "Dean," he says, firmer this time, "Listen to me!" He flattens Dean's hand again, holding it against his chest. "Breathe with me! Come on, Dean."
Dean buries his face in Sam's chest, and for a moment Sam thinks he's not listening still. But then he hears Dean's breathing start to hitch, and slow down a little. "That's it," he says encouragingly, rubbing Dean's back comfortingly with his other hand, "That's it, bro."
It takes a few minutes, but soon Dean's breathing is almost matching Sam's. He stays with his head pressed against Sam, and Sam lets go of his hand, allowing him to hold on to his jacket again. "Good, Dean. Good job." Sam smiles, knowing that if Dean were feeling better, he'd snap at him to stop talking to him like he's a five-year-old. Determined to get that Dean back, Sam carefully moves Dean away from him so he can see his face.
He's still kind of pale, but his colour is coming back slowly. His eyes are still huge, but they're slowly becoming lighter green. "Hey bro," Sam says gently, wrapping his hand around the back of Dean's neck. "How do you feel?" He's scared Dean isn't going to answer for a second, but then –
"Bad," Dean says, his voice raw. "Hurts."
Sam's heart sinks, he almost forgot about Dean's ribs. "Oh, Dean. I know. The way you're sitting probably isn't helping either." He tries to move his brother, but Dean flinches when Sam attempts to rearrange him, and instead holds on to Sam's jacket tighter. "Okay – maybe not," Sam says, scratching his head. If moving Dean's only going to hurt him more, probably best to leave him where he is. At that moment, his cellphone rings.
They both jump, and Dean's breath hitches in pain. "Easy, Dean," Sam says soothingly as he scrambles for his cellphone. He thanks the Heavens that it didn't get crushed in all the madness, and wiggles it out of his pocket so he doesn't have to move Dean. "Hello?"
"Sam? That you?"
Sam almost starts laughing, he's so relieved. "Otis. Yeah, yeah it's me."
"Are you boys okay? I can see the barn from here, it collapsed. You weren't near there, were you?"
"Um… yeah… we're okay… but we're kind of under the barn," Sam replies, tightening his grip on Dean's shoulders.
"What?" Otis pauses. "Under the barn?"
"Yeah." Sam would laugh at Otis's incredulous tone if the situation wasn't so serious.
"Holy crap, Sam. Are you sure you're alright?"
"Well Dean's a little banged up. But he'll be okay, if we can just get out of here."
"Alright… alright… hang on, Sam. I'm calling for help. We'll have you guys out of there as soon as we can."
"Thanks Otis. Hurry, okay?"
"Damn straight I will."
Sam hangs up.
"Otis is sending help, Dean."
"Good." Dean's voice is barely a whisper. He sounds like he's just about out of strength.
Sam decides enough is enough. "Dean, I'm going to move you, okay?" He lifts Dean under the arms, shifting his brother so he's facing away from him, then settles him back down leaning against Sam's chest. Dean's breath hitches painfully for a few moments, then evens out as Sam lays his hands over Dean's sore ribs, applying gentle pressure to keep them from shifting so much. "There you go," Sam says quietly, leaning his chin on top of Dean's head. "Just relax."
Dean is silent for a moment, then whispers, "Sam?"
"Yeah, Dean?"
"Stop talking to me like I'm friggin' four."
Sam smiles.
Dean drifts off not long after that, his hand now holding onto Sam's jacket sleeve tightly.
Sam, left alone with his worries, studies the room. It's actually quite large – probably as big as the barn above, but he can't see that far – only to where the flashlight beam ends. It's frightening thinking of that huge, dark space beyond their little circle of light. Anything could be there. Anything. Sam quickly puts a clamp on his imagination – well it's not really my imagination if I know it might be real, right? – and concentrates on waiting for Otis and his rescue team to come.
The air is stuffy and dry, and Sam could really use a drink. He ignores this thought until eventually, he drifts off as well.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
He's awakened suddenly by a scraping sound. The flashlight has gone out, darkness presses in on his eyes as he searches pointlessly for the source of the sound.
Sensing Sam's unease, Dean wakes up, shifting in Sam's arms. "Sammy?"
"Yeah Dean."
"Where's the light?"
"It went out, Dean. It's okay, don't worry." This seems like a pretty pointless thing to say, seeing as Dean's breathing has already sped up again, but Sam has to try.
"Stay still, Dean," he says as his brother shifts, breaths starting to become panicky. "Dean – hey, listen!"
Dean stops, breath hitching in Sam's ear as the sound comes again, unmistakably from overhead. Sam feels a huge smile crack his face.
"They're coming, Dean! We're gonna get out of here!" He wants to run and pound on the wood, let them know where he and Dean are, but doesn't want to leave his brother alone. Anyway, they'll find them soon enough. Otis knows where his basement is.
Hearing rescue so close seems to calm Dean, and his breathing evens out again, to Sam's relief.
A little while later – Sam isn't sure how long – light appears at the top of the stairs. Dean jumps, and Sam immediately yells "WE'RE HERE! WE'RE UNDER HERE!" He can hear something now, like a machine. "Hey Dean, I think they're digging us out with a backhoe!"
After that, it isn't long before the hole's cleared. A pair of feet appear, and then a middle-aged man wearing a construction worker's uniform comes down the steps, shining a flashlight around. He jumps when he sees the boys, and then heads right over. "You guys okay?"
"Yeah," Sam nods. "We're okay."
"Whole damn barn fell on top of you," the man says, shaking his head. "You guys are sure lucky."
"Yeah."
He gets up slowly, keeping his hand on Dean's shoulder so he knows he's not leaving him. His legs are so stiff, he almost falls over when he gets up. The construction worker leans down to help Dean up, but Sam stops him. "I got him. Thanks." He lifts Dean to his feet, and his brother clings to him, wavering a little, leaning his head on Sam's shoulder.
"Easy, Dean. Let's get out of here," Sam says, and together they walk towards the light.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Later, in their motel room, Sam lies awake on his bed, listening to Dean's deep, steady breathing as he sleeps.
He'd talked to Otis, after they got out of the barn. Otis said that a tornado had touched down last night, barely missing them. The microbursts around the funnel cloud were what had knocked the old building down, apparently.
Sam huffs again, glancing over at his brother. Dean looks peaceful now. He's propped on his side to take pressure off his ribs, three pillows cushioning his sore body. Sam smiles. Thank God they got out of there alive. If that tornado had come any closer…
He shudders a little, and looks back at the ceiling. One thing's for sure – next time they see a storm like that rolling in before a hunt? They are so not going – screw the tight schedule. And two?
No more frigging barns.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
*Collapses on floor*. That was a long one! But hopefully an enjoyable one? :D Do tell!
~Deanandhisimpala
