Supernatural, PG13+, pre-series, Gen
Notes: This was written, quick and dirty, for a h/c comment fic meme over at spngenlove. Not beta read.
Dean opened his eyes to black and wondered for a moment if his eyes were open at all. He blinked, feeling grit and dust moving against his eyeballs, his eyelashes sticking together with each movement, and he hoped like hell it was darkness around him. The other option wasn't one he was about to think about right now, especially when… he shifted slightly.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean's voice emerged on a croak – attempting to move his arm was not the brightest move he'd ever had. The pain seemed to start at a point near his wrist and then ping back and forth along every nerve-ending in his body.
Breathing in to talk brought with it a fine dust and set him to coughing, which in turn set his wrist to throbbing all the harder. A few cracked ribs joined in the chorus of singing nerve-endings and for a while all he could do was hold his breath and tense up with pain.
"Son of a fucking bitch!" he repeated, once he finally managed to breath without coughing. He carefully stayed still long enough to catch his breath. "Where the hell am I, anyw… Sam?"
Dean moved more carefully this time, shifting only slightly and trying to peer through the dark. "SAM?"
SAM, Sam, Sam, am, am… The echoes bounced around the cave walls, marking out the small space.
The cave. Dean remembered the rocks and dust falling in around them. He'd dragged Sam into a side tunnel that hadn't been caving in quite so rapidly.
"Nuurg, mmnph?" Something bumped into Dean's back and, reaching out into the darkness with his undamaged arm, Dean found a foot. He whacked it.
"Sam? Hey, you okay?"
In answer there came some uncontrollable coughing and spluttering and Dean winced in sympathy. "'m okay, I think… Nothing broken... Bump on m' head though… rocks."
Yeah, that sounded completely coherent. "Yeah, you sound peachy, dude."
"Back at you, Asswipe."
"Best you can do?"
There was quiet for a moment, then some shuffling, Sam moving about, which at least proved to Dean he wasn't that badly hurt.
"No…I can bring the magic of light!" The reply was over-enthusiastic and deliberately sarcastic, like a preacher on Sunday morning TV. There was a metallic click and a lighter flicked. The hand not holding the miracle of light started poking and prodding at Dean, seeking out hurt spots Dean hadn't had a chance to catalogue himself yet.
"Quit it, smart ass!" Dean swiped at Sam, feeling a tacky wetness on his brother's head as he did so. Sam hissed and drew back.
"I would if I thought you'd tell me yourself." He waved the lighter toward Dean's head, his other hand now pressed to his temple.
The lighter flicked off and there was darkness again.
"Ribs and wrist. The rest is just bruises," Dean relayed the worst of it quickly, before managing to roll onto his back with a groan. "Damn." He landed on something lumpy in his pocket.
"Sam you are a master of the obvious… Hey?"
"A least we won't starve." The lump in his pocket was Dean's travel food of choice, M&M's, and the packet was almost full. He popped one in his mouth and sucked on it, trying to build up a little moisture to counteract his dry throat… and also to make as many annoying slurpy noises as humanly possible. The slurping sounded particularly gross as the sound echoed about in the dark.
"Dean, shut up."
Dean slurped louder, grinning even though his brother couldn't see it.
"Seriously, Dean. Do you hear that?" Sam's voice was deadly serious, and Dean felt his heart race a little faster.
In the quiet that fell between the brothers, there was a scraping noise. A low repetitive scrape, thunk…scrape, thunk… that was getting louder.
"We killed it, right?" Sam asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"Shot and torched it. Nothing survived that." Dean hoped he sounded confident. For all he knew there was more than one so-called Cave-monster with ten inch nails and knife-like teeth living in this cave system. He struggled to sit up, Sam helping by dragging him by his jacket until he was sitting against the wall, panting with the effort as his ribs and wrist throbbed in steady unison.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam had flicked on the lighter again, hiding the flame behind his hand to maintain their night-vision.
"You armed?" Dean asked.
"No. Sawed-off is under the rubble. Glock's outta ammo."
Scrape, thunk…scrape, thunk…
In the slight glow of the flames, a few rocks moved and fell into the cave space and the scraping, scratching noises stopped.
"Dean? Sam?" John's voice echoed in through the hole. "Sound off if you gotta pair."
Two relieved voices bellowed back as loud as they could.
"Thank God you're okay. We're coming, boys. Just keep talking."