AN: Finally we have a rescue and a little comfort for a hurting Dean. To Kathy, Shazza19, iwokeuponthewrongsideoflife, Colby's Girl and Dargur for their kind reviews - thank you so much!
Blasting Out
Clumps of rotten wood and earth fell like rain. Sam and Bryce were huddled on the mound of earth by the existing cave in but judging by the creaking groan of the remaining ceiling beams, it was only a matter of time before the whole chamber collapsed. In the dark it seemed like the sounds were coming from everywhere, magnified by his own fear.
"Hey Sam," Bryce said, in a hushed voice.
"Yeah?"
"Uh…about earlier." Sam hadn't forgotten the suspicious comments, but it wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. "What I said…I don't think it's true." Bryce stammered out his apology.
"Forget about it," Sam offered. Some of it was true of course, but it was all water under the bridge at this point and he'd mostly made peace with his past. He'd probably deal with the aftermath of his choices and trauma for the rest of his life. Of course, based on the current situation, that might not be much longer.
"Anyway, I'm sorry." Based on the other hunter's tone, Bryce seemed glad to get that off his conscience. Everyone handled impending death differently, Sam figured.
"Thanks," he said shortly. The idea of dying didn't bother Sam much, it was the idea of leaving Dean that stung so sharply. Especially leaving his brother to suffer. He doubted the curse would actually kill him, but it was likely going to cause Dean a lot of needless agony until it wore off.
There were more sounds; the heavy thumps as parts of the ceiling hit the packed floor, the slithering of dirt as it poured out of the cracked walls like sand in an hourglass. There was also a muffled scraping Sam couldn't identify before it stopped. Brushing dirt out of his hair, Sam hugged himself and tried to ignore the strange noises. What would Dean do when he was gone? Would he stay in the bunker, keep hunting? At least he had Miracle for company and wouldn't be completely alone. Maybe eventually Dean could find someone to settle down with, maybe have a kid? Sam was imagining a long and wonderful life for his brother when Bryce nudged him, breaking him out of his fantasy.
"What's that noise?"
Sam focused his attention on his hearing. The scraping had returned, slow but rhythmic. It was familiar, like the squeal of the Impala's doors or the slide of a clip into a gun…or the digging of a grave. A flashbulb went off in Sam's brain. Someone was digging! He eagerly scrambled to his feet, slipping in the loose dirt.
"Dean?" he called. His shout was muffled, landing flat against the earth surrounding them. Sam strained to hear a reply, or at least more digging but everything was silent except for his heart that thudded loudly in his chest.
"Bryce? Sam?" A woman's voice filtered through the pipe above them. Bryce struggled to stand, almost taking them both down on the unstable pile. Sam braced the other man with a hand on his bicep.
"Jane?" Bryce shouted into the metal grate.
"Bryce! Thank God, you're alive!" Jane's relief was evident, but Sam's joy was short-lived. Where was his brother?
"Get us out of here!" the bearded man demanded into the tube.
"I'm trying…kind of working one-handed here." The pipe made her sound echo-y and far away, but Sam could still hear her frustration. Dean wouldn't be letting her work alone if he was there.
"Where's Dean?" Sam shouted his question, afraid of Jane's answer. There was a long pause. His heart was in his throat as he waited for her answer.
"He's here. He's um, not doing too well." Bryce jostled him a little, his impatience evident even in the darkness. Sam did a quick analysis of their situation. Dean was obviously incapacitated or else he'd be checking on them himself. Jane wasn't going to be able to dig them out alone. He had an idea.
"Is my brother's car there?" Sam called.
"Yeah."
"Alright, I'm going to give you a list of things to get from the trunk." His plan was risky and if Dean were in any shape to argue, he no doubt would be calling Sam crazy. Sam figured he'd ask for forgiveness once they were out of this hole. It wasn't like Dean could give permission anyway. "You're gonna blow us out of here."
xxxxxx
After a long and interminable wait while Jane worked above them, she called to signal everything was in place.
"Damn, you really are a lunatic, Winchester," Bryce grumbled, but he willingly moved farther away from the corner where they planned to escape.
"Not the first time I've been called that," muttered Sam as he touched the dirt ceiling above their heads one more time. Their plan was in Jane's hands now. He didn't mean to doubt her, but he'd sure feel better about this if Dean were the one setting this up. Unfortunately, according to Jane, his brother was completely out of his mind with pain.
"How do you know it won't bring the whole roof down on us?"
"Bringing down the roof is kind of the point. Look, if Jane has done this the way I told her too, the explosion should be just enough to punch a hole for us. We'll climb through before too much dirt pours in." Sam hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. His calculations should be sound in theory, but he was drained, both from Charity's ghost and from stress. It was more than possible he had screwed up the physics somehow. Plus, shouting instructions through a ventilation pipe was an imprecise way to communicate. If Jane had misunderstood anything or done something wrong…well they'd find out shortly.
"Okay, I'm ready." Jane's voice filtered from above. "Move back, I'll count to ten and pull."
Sam scrambled away from the corner, bumping into Bryce in the dark. He crouched and wrapped his arms around his head. This was it.
There was a low whump, so low he felt it more than heard it, then the roof blew inward, bringing with it a whiff of fresh, damp air and a torrent of dirt. Sam grabbed Bryce's arm and dragged him closer. He fought their way through the landslide that threatened to knock them under, grit and bits of roots coating his hair, his face and sticking to his clothes. Coughing and sputtering, Sam shielded his eyes and looked up to see stars sparkle high above. A rope dropped in front of him and he spotted Jane looking down blotting out the starlight.
Forming a loop, Sam slipped it around Bryce's chest and shoulders. "Okay, pull," he commanded. Jane disappeared and he could hear the comforting growl of the Impala's engine. "C'mon, time to climb,' he encouraged the other man. He did his best to boost Bryce even as his own feet kept sliding out from underneath him in the loose dirt. The other hunter did his best to help as he was dragged up the steep incline. Sam had to look away to protect his eyes from the falling debris. When he looked back Bryce was gone and there was only the patch of sky. Shaking the soil out of his hair, he waited for someone to reappear as loose earth continued to rain on him.
For a moment, he feared they had left him behind. That he was about to be buried by the shaky pile of damp earth rapidly growing around his legs. But Bryce's smudged face popped into view.
"Ready to get out of there?" he asked with a grin, tossing down the rope. Sam quickly stuck a foot into the loop and wrapped the towline around his arm. Bryce gave a signal and the recognizable big-block engine revved, lifting Sam off his feet. More and more earth cascaded around him as he was dragged out of Charity's prison. The heavy dirt pummeled him, infiltrating his clothes and getting in his eyes and ears. In a moment, he broke free of the muddy shower and crested the top of the hole, Bryce's hand helping him to crawl over the lip to freedom.
Based on the puddles, the rain had only recently passed, but Sam didn't care that his jeans were getting soaked by the wet grass. He was filthy and gross but so very happy to be out of that place. On hands and knees, he put some more space between him and the tomb before making the effort to stand. The rumble of the engine stopped and Sam looked fondly at the car in front of him. She glistened darkly with water droplets, the rope that had saved them still tied to her bumper. He half expected Dean to fling open the driver's door and begin fussing over him, complaining about how he was going to get mud on the upholstery. But it was Jane who awkwardly climbed out of the big car.
"Where's my brother?" he asked as she handed him the keys. The plastic bag on her cast crinkled as she waved towards the back of the house.
"He was too heavy, I couldn't drag him any further," she said defensively. "It was all I could do to get him out of the hole he'd dug." After that she rushed past him to where Bryce was sitting exhausted on the lawn. Bypassing their tender reunion, Sam scanned the rest of the yard, spotting a glimpse of neon yellow in the shadow of the house.
"Thanks," he tossed over his shoulder as he sprinted over. Dean was curled on his side, not far from the back door. Based on the muddy drag marks in the grass, Jane had pulled him here for safety, away from the explosion.
Sam dropped to his knees, hovering a hand over his brother's shoulder. Damn, this was bad. Dean's fingers were white-knuckle tight in his short hair. A low keening sound vibrated from him as he rocked forward and back. Jane had draped the blanket they kept in the trunk over him, but Dean was soaked and dirty, his t-shirt plastered against his back under the stupid safety vest.
xxxxxx
Dean hurt all over. He was on his side, the smell of mud and grass strong around him. Disoriented, he had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten here. He tried to sit up, but his muscles shrieked at him and a lightning bolt of agony shot through his gut. Curling around himself, he rode it out, biting down on the scream that wanted to escape his clenched jaw. It was hard to breathe, and his mouth tasted like dirt. For a panicked second he was buried alive again.
Forcing his heavy eyes open, he was relieved to see the night sky above him. The rain-washed stars glittered brightly. Rain - yeah, it had been raining and he'd been digging. Digging to save Sam. Sam! It was impossible to hold onto a thought. Save Sam. Sam would save him, end this torture. There was terrible hammering in his head and he screwed his eyes back shut. Was Michael pounding on the door? How did the archangel get inside his brain again? Dean couldn't let him loose but the assault was the worst yet. His very skull was going to crack open like a ripe watermelon, oozing pink mush onto the ground. Driving his fingers into his hair, he tried to hold his head together. Time drifted past as he floated on a black river of razor blades.
Heavy fingers tapped against his cheek, triggering spikes of torment. Another spike of anguish ripped through him and he couldn't help but moan, pressing his face into his bare arm to escape the torture. Someone was grabbing him, manhandling him upright. Dean's stomach heaved and rolled. He wanted to push away from his attacker, but all he could do was sag against the arm wrapped around his chest and spit bile into the grass.
"Whoa, Dean I've got you." The voice penetrated the fog of confusion.
"Sam?" Dean whispered, eyes still shut, praying it was his brother and not a terrible trick.
"Yeah, it's me. You're okay, I've got you." Warm breath was on his face and Dean crumpled against the solid frame. The body heat felt good against his chilled skin. Slowly, agonizingly his pain started to ease.
"You're doing good, Dean. Just breathe," Sam's soothing voice was clearer, but Dean couldn't have answered if he tried. The booming in his head had backed off a bit, but thinking was still impossibly difficult. Letting Sammy take the lead, Dean tried to do what he was asked and focused on sucking air into his lungs and back out again.
After a while, there was an exquisite shift and that strange and wonderful alignment clicked into place between them. He could feel Sam. The big hand on his face, the firm grip on his forearm, the steady breathing under his shoulder. But also sense that weird synchronicity, the extraordinary unification with his brother. If he wasn't so completely depleted, Dean would be awestruck by the intensity. As it was, he simply savored the comfort as the pain siphoned away. Relief was too small a word.
"You still with me?" With his ear against Sam's chest, the question was a muffled vibration.
"Yeah," he was able to croak.
"Good." Sam's voice was thick with emotion.
As the torment eased, Dean realized he was practically sitting in Sam's lap, hugged against his chest by those long arms. He ought to be embarrassed to be cuddled by his brother like a girl, but he was literally too wiped to care. Tilting his head back against the kid's broad shoulder, Dean squinted up at Sammy's face.
"Sorry Sam, I don't go all the way on the first date." He couldn't quite reach his usual level of sarcastic, big-brother teasing but Dean was pleased when Sam barked out a laugh.
"Since when?" Sam asked with his trademark sass. Still, Sam shifted them a little and Dean's backside hit the wet grass. His jeans were already soaked, clinging uncomfortable and clammy to his legs. Sammy took his hand off Dean's cheek but kept a hold of his arm which prevented him from face-planting. He was still very woozy.
A car drove by and they both watched it slow to rubberneck at the crazy scene. His Baby was parked crooked in the backyard, splattered in mud with tire marks tearing up the grass. In fact, there was mud and puddles everywhere, along with a large hole in the lawn. And there were two grown men spooning in the middle of this mess. Dean patted Sam's arm.
"Okay, let's get out of here." He felt like a wrung-out dish rag, but it was time to split before they drew more attention. It was a miracle no one had called the cops already.
Dean tried to stand on his own, but he swayed dangerously and would have face-planted if Sam wasn't holding him. Slipping an arm around his waist, his little brother took most of his weight and helped him to make his way towards the car. There were met there by Jane and the guy Dean assumed was Bryce. Under her bruises, Jane was pinched and drained, cradling her casted arm. Bryce didn't look much better, his face very pale against his dark beard.
"Ready to go?" Sam asked, polite as a picnic, like they weren't all wet, dirty, and exhausted. Dean didn't want to think about how long it was going to take to clean Baby's upholstery. But that was tomorrow's concern, tonight he wanted a shower and a bed. He could sleep for a week. Sam walked him around to the passenger side and Dean managed a controlled fall into the seat. The other hunters climbed into the back and Sammy slid behind the wheel.
