Supernatural: Rocks Fall (Everyone Dies)
Title: Rocks Fall (Everyone Dies)
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG-13 for Language and Temporary Injury
Word Count: 3,196
Author’s Note: I guess I should fess up to this, huh? My unfortunate struggle with not sucking at gen fic continues! Written for ratherastory for spn_summergen using the following prompt: "Sam and Dean are dealing with a run-of-the-mill hunt in an abandoned mine when everything goes south, in a big way. Something (up to the author) causes a cave-in, trapping one or both brothers on either side of an impenetrable wall of rock. Separated, possibly injured (oh, please!), they have to figure out just how to get out of there, since no one in the whole world knows where they are. Early seasons preferred, if only so that there's no angelic get-out-of-jail-free card, but I'm not really fussy." Thanks to peppervl for the beta.
Summary: Sam and Dean are hunting a mountain troll when a rock fall leaves them not only trapped but separated, too. Oh, and of course Sam had to go and break his leg. Because that's just their luck.
Original Link: http://spn-summergen.livejournal.com/114413.html
The hunt sucks.
Or so Dean has been told about eight times per minute for the last three hours. So yes, it's dark, and no, they don't really know what they're looking for, and fine, Dean could have probably done a little more research on mountain trolls so he would have known about the smell and prepared accordingly. But that doesn't mean the hunt sucks. Mostly Dean's brother is just a princess.
"Shut up, Sam," he replies.
Dean's an hour and a half past bothering to think up witty retorts to Sam's complaints and gave up on the less clever but always dependable your face sucks forty-five minutes ago. Not because he agrees or anything. It's just kind of stuffy in here and talking wastes their oxygen.
"Aren't arguing because you know I'm right," Sam mumbles under his breath as he pushes his way deeper into the cavern.
Dean watches him stomp off, annoyance and amusement warring inside for a few moments before he follows. Sam is moving fast enough that Dean can't see him around a bend so he picks up his pace. "Sam?" It echoes louder than Dean expects before Sam responds.
"Yeah, I'm…" He pauses, feet shuffling on dirt somewhere in the distance. "There's a fork up ahead. Do you want me to wait for you or split up?"
"Wait for me to get there."
Dean jogs until he sees the light from Sam's flashlight and points his own at whatever his brother is looking at. The cavern splits off into two directions, right seems to end immediately, just a small room-sized cranny, and left stretches on indefinitely until there's a turn that obscures how far it really goes.
"I'll take the long tunnel," Dean says, but Sam grabs the back of his shirt and pulls hard.
"Oh no you don't." Sam is clearly amused, but his tone is firm. "That room smells like rotting asshole, and you chose this stupid job. I'm taking the clean passage. You can poke around in there."
"I was just trying to spare you the extra walking," Dean replies, batting his eyes innocently and silently cursing the day Sam got old enough to stop taking everything he said at face value.
Sam shakes his head and shoves Dean lightly before making his way down the left passage.
"Just don't go too far, dear, you don't want to get lost," Dean calls out in falsetto.
Sam turns and flicks him off with both hands. Dean has every intention of sticking his head into the room, catching a glimpse of whatever rotting creature is causing the smell, and then joining Sam in the comparatively stink-free cavern, but the room is empty on first glance. Which means Dean actually has to go in and poke around to find out what's responsible. Awesome.
Dean finds nothing but smooth rock inside, but he follows the stench to the far wall and notices a grove in the rock. A door shaped grove.
"Bingo," Dean mutters. Then he lifts his voice, "Sam, turn around. I think I found the nest, but there's something blocking…" He lets his words fall away as he applies everything he's got to forcing the rock to move, gripping where it pokes out like a handle and pulling. It doesn't budge at first, but Dean knows a hidden entrance when he sees it, so he persists tugging until the sound of stone scraping the ground fills his ears and he falls back, unprepared for the sudden give of the wall.
"Was that good?" Sam calls out from somewhere far to the left.
"I'm in," he says. "So definitely good."
"How many eggs?"
Dean covers his mouth, the smell wafting from the unborn trolls even stronger, and has to blink away tears to see them. "Six," he says. "Get here fast so we can kill them and get back to open air, Jesus Christ."
"Still have to worry about the paren-what’s that noise?"
Dean pauses to listen. There's a rumbling starting up at the fork in the road, and as much as Dean wants to pretend he doesn't know what it means, he does. The door wasn't the only thing he knocked loose.
"Sam, run! The passage is about to cave."
Dean hears his brother's footfalls, still too far away for comfort, and he knows he should just make a break for it, but he's frozen in place. Sam's not going to catch up before the way is blocked. He shakes his head and jumps to his feet as the first rocks begin to fall, lining the floor with small boulders that keep getting bigger as more of the cave shakes free.
"Dean, get out," Sam yells.
Dean can hear him turning the corner, remembers just how far the cave seemed to stretch before that turn. He pauses at the fork, just long enough to see his brother running, and in that split second, Dean loses his chance to get out. The rocks are falling too steadily now, and Dean can't cross, hardly jumps back in time to avoid being crushed. It's not until he lands on his ass in the room with the eggs that he realizes he really should have had the foresight to at least dodge into the same passageway as Sam. It's too late now; the rocks are piled high, a wall of boulders with just the slightest bit of space at the top and at least a foot of mountain between him and Sam.
He shoves as soon as the cave-in stops, trying to see if the rocks are small enough to knock down the wall, but he has no luck.
"Sam?" he asks.
There's a long quiet, and Dean's heart nearly gives out before his brother's voice carries over, small and tinny. Clearly strained. "I'm here."
"Are you dead?"
Sam snickers. "Do I sound dead to you, Einstein?"
His tone ranks about a 9.5 on the bitchy scale, which is good. If he still has the composure to have a bad attitude, it means he's not in that much pain.
"What happened?"
"A rock landed on my-" Dean hears Sam forcing the words out as he fights with something, and there's a loud cry when he drops off.
"What was that?"
"Pushed it off." Sam's words break on a groan of pain. "I think my leg is broken."
"Well, that's just spectacular, Sammy. Nicely done."
"Nicely done, me?" Sam yells. Dean can practically hear his nostrils flaring. "You're the idiot who paused at the rock fall instead of running for help. How are we supposed to get out of this now, Dean? And let's not forget who chose the hunt to beg-"
"Oh, come off it! Like you've never picked a stupid hunt."
"I never took us miles into a cave in the middle of nowhere without telling anyone where to come look for us." Sam pauses. "Fuck, Dean, we are really screwed."
"And to think that boulder only missed your head by blind luck," Dean snaps, "too bad."
"I am so incredibly not in the mood for your crap right now, man." Dean hears a sound like Sam is banging something on the rock. "Oh, lovely. And now my flashlight is dying."
Dean turns off his own, remembering just how little battery life they had, and takes out his cell phone just in case. No signal.
There's a sigh from the other side of the wall. "I know you're checking your phone, Dean. Obviously it's not going to work."
Dean glares and shuts the phone too hard. "We're gonna be fine, Sam."
"And how are we gonna be fine?" Sam practically roars it, his words echoing through the cavern for half a minute after he's said them. Dean has a passing thought that he'll cause another cave-in and they'll be stuck even if they manage a way out of this one.
"Okay, calm down, man. Let's not fight. Fighting is going to help no one."
It's a long, grudging silence before Sam finally replies, "Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry. My leg just really hurts."
Dean nods, presses his hand against the wall because that's as close as he can get to comforting right now. "It's all right, Sammy. I'm gonna get you out of here."
"Oh, are you? What's the plan?"
Dean laughs. "How about a little patience, smartass?"
They sit in relative silence for a long time, probably an hour; Dean turns his cell phone off to save the battery, so he's relying on guesswork.
"Got any bright ideas yet?" Sam asks, but he sounds more like he's trying to amuse himself than anything.
"Bite me," Dean answers, kicking at the floor. "How're you holding up?"
"My leg hurts like a bitch, and I'm wondering how I'm going to walk the three miles out of here even if we do somehow get the rocks out of the way, but aside from that, I'm having a party."
"Yeah, well, for what it's worth, I'd trade the broken leg for the smell in here in a second. I'm gonna pass out pretty soon."
Sam's laugh comes delayed, but it's still nice to hear. "Guess you might as well. There's nothing for it but to wait until something happens. We're not getting out any sooner if we both sit and stare hard enough."
Dean rises from the rock he's been using as a chair and runs for the wall. He smacks against it, wave of pain all along the right side of his body, but no luck.
"Dude, are you trying to knock it down by running at it?"
"No," Dean lies, clutching an aching shoulder with his left hand.
"Sit down," Sam says anyway. "The last thing we need is to both be injured."
Dean paces between the rock and the wall, unsure whether to sit or try running at it again. It feels wrong, plopping down and taking a nap while Sam is in pain just a few feet away. This hunt is his fault, the cave-in was his fault, and Dean was supposed to be the one on the wrong side of this.
Dean shakes his head, trying to abate some of the worrying. It's not going to help Sam. The best he can do is distract him. "Hey, it's too bad you can't walk. I bet your head could break through this wall no problem."
"Haha, Dean. Really funny," Sam answers. His voice dims. "Hey, I'm fine. You know that, right? There's nothing to worry about."
Dean moves to sit on the floor by the wall wedged between him and Sam, pressing his back against it and letting his legs spread out in front of him. He's getting tired and being as close as he can to his brother is the best shot he has of relaxing right now.
"Why're you telling me?" Dean says. "You're the one crying."
"I'm not crying," Sam tells him, sounding confused.
He smiles. "Are so."
"Am not. I'm not even complaining."
"I can hear your sobs. In fact, I think I see a little puddle of tears leaking over the rock wall. Sam, calm down. You're going to drown us both in here."
Sam's laugh is breathy from the pain but genuine. "I hate you so much."
"Right back at ya," Dean replies.
The back-and-forth dies off then, leaves them in a comfortable silence. Dean starts opening and closing his phone just because he can't think of anything better to do, and he's getting antsy.
"You tired, Sam?"
"A little," he admits. "You?"
"Nah. You think you'll be able to sleep? We've been in here for a few hours, it's probably nighttime already."
"I'm not-" Sam's words are interrupted by a yawn. "I probably shouldn’t."
"We'll sleep in shifts. I'll wake you up in an hour or so."
"Okay," Sam agrees. "But actually wake me."
"I will," Dean promises, pretty sure they both know he's lying.
Dean stays on the lookout for most of the night, but he passes out at some point. He awakes with his head pressed against cold stone, every joint in his body protesting the sleeping arrangement. It takes him a few seconds to realize that the sound of rocks shifting and being pushed aside is what woke him.
"Sam, is that you?" Dean asks, blinking at darkness. He pulls out his flashlight and turns it on, only to see the same impenetrable wall he'd spent hours staring at before he fell asleep. "Sam?" he repeats, louder this time.
"Dean, please tell me you got out somehow and that's you moving the wall."
Dean wipes a hand over his face and groans. "What's going on over there?"
"Well, don't be alarmed, but I'm pretty sure it's the troll, and I'm pretty sure it knows I'm here."
Dean's instinct is to panic. Sam can't fight right now, he's a sitting duck, and they've intruded not only on the creature's home but on its nest as well. It's gonna be pretty pissed off, to say the least. He takes a deep breath, tries his best to think logically before he does anything stupid. "Okay, Sam, I want you to let it keep going until it's opened a big enough hole for me to come in and get you. Tell me when he's done that, okay?"
"Yeah," Sam answers, his word covered over by the start of a loud roar. "Uh, Dean, I can see it."
"Will you fit out?"
"No. Tell me what you're planning? Please?"
"Stay quiet," Dean tells him.
It's another five agonizing minutes before Sam screams. "Dean, now! It'll be in here any moment. Tell me what to do."
Dean walks back to the nest of eggs and unloads six copper bullets, one into each. The smell is as strong as Dean had feared it would be, the whole reason he didn't waste them last night. He nearly gags, but it works. The troll must know what the smell getting stronger means, because it roars again, much louder this time, and Dean begins to see the rocks blocking him in disappearing with huge, angry swipes of a thick green hand.
"Dean, you idiot. You just upset it even more!"
"Quiet, man, don't remind it you're over there."
"It's gonna kill you," Sam says, sounding hysterical. "I'm coming to help you."
"Sam, don't you move. I've got it, you hear? I'm just waiting until it paves the way for me, then I'm gonna plant copper between its eyes." It's not Dean's best plan ever, he will admit that, but he's not about to let Sam try crawling through jagged rocks when he's already down one limb.
The troll barges past the last row of rocks in one crushing step, which Dean was not prepared for. He'd thought he had at least another half a minute, so he isn't aiming yet. It roars, the same stench curling around Dean, stifling him. He finally can't take it anymore, can't think through it. He tries pulling the trigger, but he must not pull hard enough, because he never hears the bullet. The smell is making him feel faint and he has to bend over to try breathing something that isn't toxic.
The troll is reaching out for him, Dean thinks he should dodge. He can't make his body follow. He closes his eyes, waiting for an impact of some kind, hoping the adrenaline will carry him through the fight. The troll is an inch away from squashing him.
Three shots ring out, and the troll falls on his face at Dean's feet. That was lucky, Dean thinks as the cloud of dirt the monster kicked up begins to settle back down. Sam is coughing in the entrance, standing on one leg, bracing himself on the wall.
"Wow," Dean manages. "Not bad for an invalid."
Sam's lips turn into a smirk. "You're welcome," he says. "Can we go now?"
"Yeah, crutches, good call."
Dean half-carries Sam through the miles of cave still standing between them and freedom. It's relatively uneventful until they reach the mouth of the cave and meet Mr. Mountain Troll. The air has been getting clearer as they've approached the exit, so Dean is almost back to normal, aside from the fact that he still wants to gag.
The troll must be able to tell what Sam and Dean have been up to, because as soon as he sees them, he begins to charge, running from the foot of the mountain to the mouth of the cave. Dean would like to respect the dramatic integrity of the moment for the troll's sake, but he's just not in the fucking mood. He waits until it gets within shooting range and fires two bullets into its brain, a nice, clean kill. The troll falls, turning to stone as its body decomposes.
"Oh, good," Sam says. "I guess that's all of them."
Dean snickers and helps his brother limp to the nearest bench-like rock he sees outside the cave. "Okay, I'm going to bring the car as close as I can get it. Think you can handle waiting here?"
Sam's only response is a cutting look; Dean grins and ruffles his brother's hair, dodging Sam's attempt to smack him away before Sam even starts. The car is a twenty minute walk, and Dean can only get it as close as the foot of the mountain before the rocks that were once a troll block his passage. He gets out of the car, setting the backseat up so Sam will be able to climb in as easily as possible, and goes back for his brother.
Sam stumbles to his feet on his own, which makes Dean bite back on a lecture.
"Can you wait five goddamn seconds so I can help you?"
"If I'd done that earlier," Sam smiles smugly, "you'd be dead." Dean slips under one of Sam's arms to support him, and Sam wrinkles his nose. "God, dude, you smell awful."
Dean laughs. "I'm taking a four hour shower when we get to the motel," he says. "And I am not above racing you for who goes first."
"I'm going to kick you so hard when I have two legs again," Sam promises as Dean helps him into the car. Which kind of makes Dean consider dropping him, but he doesn't. Dean's generous and forgiving like that.
"Good hunt," he says as he starts the engine.
"Except for, you know, everything about it," Sam replies, hardly containing a smile.
Dean shrugs. "We finished it, though. No more missing hikers."
"No casualties at all. Except for, you know, me."
"Aww, perk up, grumpy," Dean says, reaching back to pat Sam's thigh just a little too hard. Sam makes an "oof" sound that is much more rewarding than it should be. "Drinks are on me."
"Well, I guess that fixes everything," Sam replies dryly.
"Damn right it does."
Dean turns up the music when Sam tells him to "shut that shit off"; Sam crosses his arms over his chest, sighing in a put-upon manner; all is well in Dean's world, and they bicker to the hospital, through the visit, and all the way home.
Want more? HERE'S A TIMESTAMP
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG-13 for Language and Temporary Injury
Word Count: 3,196
Author’s Note: I guess I should fess up to this, huh? My unfortunate struggle with not sucking at gen fic continues! Written for ratherastory for spn_summergen using the following prompt: "Sam and Dean are dealing with a run-of-the-mill hunt in an abandoned mine when everything goes south, in a big way. Something (up to the author) causes a cave-in, trapping one or both brothers on either side of an impenetrable wall of rock. Separated, possibly injured (oh, please!), they have to figure out just how to get out of there, since no one in the whole world knows where they are. Early seasons preferred, if only so that there's no angelic get-out-of-jail-free card, but I'm not really fussy." Thanks to peppervl for the beta.
Summary: Sam and Dean are hunting a mountain troll when a rock fall leaves them not only trapped but separated, too. Oh, and of course Sam had to go and break his leg. Because that's just their luck.
Original Link: http://spn-summergen.livejournal.com/114413.html
The hunt sucks.
Or so Dean has been told about eight times per minute for the last three hours. So yes, it's dark, and no, they don't really know what they're looking for, and fine, Dean could have probably done a little more research on mountain trolls so he would have known about the smell and prepared accordingly. But that doesn't mean the hunt sucks. Mostly Dean's brother is just a princess.
"Shut up, Sam," he replies.
Dean's an hour and a half past bothering to think up witty retorts to Sam's complaints and gave up on the less clever but always dependable your face sucks forty-five minutes ago. Not because he agrees or anything. It's just kind of stuffy in here and talking wastes their oxygen.
"Aren't arguing because you know I'm right," Sam mumbles under his breath as he pushes his way deeper into the cavern.
Dean watches him stomp off, annoyance and amusement warring inside for a few moments before he follows. Sam is moving fast enough that Dean can't see him around a bend so he picks up his pace. "Sam?" It echoes louder than Dean expects before Sam responds.
"Yeah, I'm…" He pauses, feet shuffling on dirt somewhere in the distance. "There's a fork up ahead. Do you want me to wait for you or split up?"
"Wait for me to get there."
Dean jogs until he sees the light from Sam's flashlight and points his own at whatever his brother is looking at. The cavern splits off into two directions, right seems to end immediately, just a small room-sized cranny, and left stretches on indefinitely until there's a turn that obscures how far it really goes.
"I'll take the long tunnel," Dean says, but Sam grabs the back of his shirt and pulls hard.
"Oh no you don't." Sam is clearly amused, but his tone is firm. "That room smells like rotting asshole, and you chose this stupid job. I'm taking the clean passage. You can poke around in there."
"I was just trying to spare you the extra walking," Dean replies, batting his eyes innocently and silently cursing the day Sam got old enough to stop taking everything he said at face value.
Sam shakes his head and shoves Dean lightly before making his way down the left passage.
"Just don't go too far, dear, you don't want to get lost," Dean calls out in falsetto.
Sam turns and flicks him off with both hands. Dean has every intention of sticking his head into the room, catching a glimpse of whatever rotting creature is causing the smell, and then joining Sam in the comparatively stink-free cavern, but the room is empty on first glance. Which means Dean actually has to go in and poke around to find out what's responsible. Awesome.
Dean finds nothing but smooth rock inside, but he follows the stench to the far wall and notices a grove in the rock. A door shaped grove.
"Bingo," Dean mutters. Then he lifts his voice, "Sam, turn around. I think I found the nest, but there's something blocking…" He lets his words fall away as he applies everything he's got to forcing the rock to move, gripping where it pokes out like a handle and pulling. It doesn't budge at first, but Dean knows a hidden entrance when he sees it, so he persists tugging until the sound of stone scraping the ground fills his ears and he falls back, unprepared for the sudden give of the wall.
"Was that good?" Sam calls out from somewhere far to the left.
"I'm in," he says. "So definitely good."
"How many eggs?"
Dean covers his mouth, the smell wafting from the unborn trolls even stronger, and has to blink away tears to see them. "Six," he says. "Get here fast so we can kill them and get back to open air, Jesus Christ."
"Still have to worry about the paren-what’s that noise?"
Dean pauses to listen. There's a rumbling starting up at the fork in the road, and as much as Dean wants to pretend he doesn't know what it means, he does. The door wasn't the only thing he knocked loose.
"Sam, run! The passage is about to cave."
Dean hears his brother's footfalls, still too far away for comfort, and he knows he should just make a break for it, but he's frozen in place. Sam's not going to catch up before the way is blocked. He shakes his head and jumps to his feet as the first rocks begin to fall, lining the floor with small boulders that keep getting bigger as more of the cave shakes free.
"Dean, get out," Sam yells.
Dean can hear him turning the corner, remembers just how far the cave seemed to stretch before that turn. He pauses at the fork, just long enough to see his brother running, and in that split second, Dean loses his chance to get out. The rocks are falling too steadily now, and Dean can't cross, hardly jumps back in time to avoid being crushed. It's not until he lands on his ass in the room with the eggs that he realizes he really should have had the foresight to at least dodge into the same passageway as Sam. It's too late now; the rocks are piled high, a wall of boulders with just the slightest bit of space at the top and at least a foot of mountain between him and Sam.
He shoves as soon as the cave-in stops, trying to see if the rocks are small enough to knock down the wall, but he has no luck.
"Sam?" he asks.
There's a long quiet, and Dean's heart nearly gives out before his brother's voice carries over, small and tinny. Clearly strained. "I'm here."
"Are you dead?"
Sam snickers. "Do I sound dead to you, Einstein?"
His tone ranks about a 9.5 on the bitchy scale, which is good. If he still has the composure to have a bad attitude, it means he's not in that much pain.
"What happened?"
"A rock landed on my-" Dean hears Sam forcing the words out as he fights with something, and there's a loud cry when he drops off.
"What was that?"
"Pushed it off." Sam's words break on a groan of pain. "I think my leg is broken."
"Well, that's just spectacular, Sammy. Nicely done."
"Nicely done, me?" Sam yells. Dean can practically hear his nostrils flaring. "You're the idiot who paused at the rock fall instead of running for help. How are we supposed to get out of this now, Dean? And let's not forget who chose the hunt to beg-"
"Oh, come off it! Like you've never picked a stupid hunt."
"I never took us miles into a cave in the middle of nowhere without telling anyone where to come look for us." Sam pauses. "Fuck, Dean, we are really screwed."
"And to think that boulder only missed your head by blind luck," Dean snaps, "too bad."
"I am so incredibly not in the mood for your crap right now, man." Dean hears a sound like Sam is banging something on the rock. "Oh, lovely. And now my flashlight is dying."
Dean turns off his own, remembering just how little battery life they had, and takes out his cell phone just in case. No signal.
There's a sigh from the other side of the wall. "I know you're checking your phone, Dean. Obviously it's not going to work."
Dean glares and shuts the phone too hard. "We're gonna be fine, Sam."
"And how are we gonna be fine?" Sam practically roars it, his words echoing through the cavern for half a minute after he's said them. Dean has a passing thought that he'll cause another cave-in and they'll be stuck even if they manage a way out of this one.
"Okay, calm down, man. Let's not fight. Fighting is going to help no one."
It's a long, grudging silence before Sam finally replies, "Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry. My leg just really hurts."
Dean nods, presses his hand against the wall because that's as close as he can get to comforting right now. "It's all right, Sammy. I'm gonna get you out of here."
"Oh, are you? What's the plan?"
Dean laughs. "How about a little patience, smartass?"
They sit in relative silence for a long time, probably an hour; Dean turns his cell phone off to save the battery, so he's relying on guesswork.
"Got any bright ideas yet?" Sam asks, but he sounds more like he's trying to amuse himself than anything.
"Bite me," Dean answers, kicking at the floor. "How're you holding up?"
"My leg hurts like a bitch, and I'm wondering how I'm going to walk the three miles out of here even if we do somehow get the rocks out of the way, but aside from that, I'm having a party."
"Yeah, well, for what it's worth, I'd trade the broken leg for the smell in here in a second. I'm gonna pass out pretty soon."
Sam's laugh comes delayed, but it's still nice to hear. "Guess you might as well. There's nothing for it but to wait until something happens. We're not getting out any sooner if we both sit and stare hard enough."
Dean rises from the rock he's been using as a chair and runs for the wall. He smacks against it, wave of pain all along the right side of his body, but no luck.
"Dude, are you trying to knock it down by running at it?"
"No," Dean lies, clutching an aching shoulder with his left hand.
"Sit down," Sam says anyway. "The last thing we need is to both be injured."
Dean paces between the rock and the wall, unsure whether to sit or try running at it again. It feels wrong, plopping down and taking a nap while Sam is in pain just a few feet away. This hunt is his fault, the cave-in was his fault, and Dean was supposed to be the one on the wrong side of this.
Dean shakes his head, trying to abate some of the worrying. It's not going to help Sam. The best he can do is distract him. "Hey, it's too bad you can't walk. I bet your head could break through this wall no problem."
"Haha, Dean. Really funny," Sam answers. His voice dims. "Hey, I'm fine. You know that, right? There's nothing to worry about."
Dean moves to sit on the floor by the wall wedged between him and Sam, pressing his back against it and letting his legs spread out in front of him. He's getting tired and being as close as he can to his brother is the best shot he has of relaxing right now.
"Why're you telling me?" Dean says. "You're the one crying."
"I'm not crying," Sam tells him, sounding confused.
He smiles. "Are so."
"Am not. I'm not even complaining."
"I can hear your sobs. In fact, I think I see a little puddle of tears leaking over the rock wall. Sam, calm down. You're going to drown us both in here."
Sam's laugh is breathy from the pain but genuine. "I hate you so much."
"Right back at ya," Dean replies.
The back-and-forth dies off then, leaves them in a comfortable silence. Dean starts opening and closing his phone just because he can't think of anything better to do, and he's getting antsy.
"You tired, Sam?"
"A little," he admits. "You?"
"Nah. You think you'll be able to sleep? We've been in here for a few hours, it's probably nighttime already."
"I'm not-" Sam's words are interrupted by a yawn. "I probably shouldn’t."
"We'll sleep in shifts. I'll wake you up in an hour or so."
"Okay," Sam agrees. "But actually wake me."
"I will," Dean promises, pretty sure they both know he's lying.
Dean stays on the lookout for most of the night, but he passes out at some point. He awakes with his head pressed against cold stone, every joint in his body protesting the sleeping arrangement. It takes him a few seconds to realize that the sound of rocks shifting and being pushed aside is what woke him.
"Sam, is that you?" Dean asks, blinking at darkness. He pulls out his flashlight and turns it on, only to see the same impenetrable wall he'd spent hours staring at before he fell asleep. "Sam?" he repeats, louder this time.
"Dean, please tell me you got out somehow and that's you moving the wall."
Dean wipes a hand over his face and groans. "What's going on over there?"
"Well, don't be alarmed, but I'm pretty sure it's the troll, and I'm pretty sure it knows I'm here."
Dean's instinct is to panic. Sam can't fight right now, he's a sitting duck, and they've intruded not only on the creature's home but on its nest as well. It's gonna be pretty pissed off, to say the least. He takes a deep breath, tries his best to think logically before he does anything stupid. "Okay, Sam, I want you to let it keep going until it's opened a big enough hole for me to come in and get you. Tell me when he's done that, okay?"
"Yeah," Sam answers, his word covered over by the start of a loud roar. "Uh, Dean, I can see it."
"Will you fit out?"
"No. Tell me what you're planning? Please?"
"Stay quiet," Dean tells him.
It's another five agonizing minutes before Sam screams. "Dean, now! It'll be in here any moment. Tell me what to do."
Dean walks back to the nest of eggs and unloads six copper bullets, one into each. The smell is as strong as Dean had feared it would be, the whole reason he didn't waste them last night. He nearly gags, but it works. The troll must know what the smell getting stronger means, because it roars again, much louder this time, and Dean begins to see the rocks blocking him in disappearing with huge, angry swipes of a thick green hand.
"Dean, you idiot. You just upset it even more!"
"Quiet, man, don't remind it you're over there."
"It's gonna kill you," Sam says, sounding hysterical. "I'm coming to help you."
"Sam, don't you move. I've got it, you hear? I'm just waiting until it paves the way for me, then I'm gonna plant copper between its eyes." It's not Dean's best plan ever, he will admit that, but he's not about to let Sam try crawling through jagged rocks when he's already down one limb.
The troll barges past the last row of rocks in one crushing step, which Dean was not prepared for. He'd thought he had at least another half a minute, so he isn't aiming yet. It roars, the same stench curling around Dean, stifling him. He finally can't take it anymore, can't think through it. He tries pulling the trigger, but he must not pull hard enough, because he never hears the bullet. The smell is making him feel faint and he has to bend over to try breathing something that isn't toxic.
The troll is reaching out for him, Dean thinks he should dodge. He can't make his body follow. He closes his eyes, waiting for an impact of some kind, hoping the adrenaline will carry him through the fight. The troll is an inch away from squashing him.
Three shots ring out, and the troll falls on his face at Dean's feet. That was lucky, Dean thinks as the cloud of dirt the monster kicked up begins to settle back down. Sam is coughing in the entrance, standing on one leg, bracing himself on the wall.
"Wow," Dean manages. "Not bad for an invalid."
Sam's lips turn into a smirk. "You're welcome," he says. "Can we go now?"
"Yeah, crutches, good call."
Dean half-carries Sam through the miles of cave still standing between them and freedom. It's relatively uneventful until they reach the mouth of the cave and meet Mr. Mountain Troll. The air has been getting clearer as they've approached the exit, so Dean is almost back to normal, aside from the fact that he still wants to gag.
The troll must be able to tell what Sam and Dean have been up to, because as soon as he sees them, he begins to charge, running from the foot of the mountain to the mouth of the cave. Dean would like to respect the dramatic integrity of the moment for the troll's sake, but he's just not in the fucking mood. He waits until it gets within shooting range and fires two bullets into its brain, a nice, clean kill. The troll falls, turning to stone as its body decomposes.
"Oh, good," Sam says. "I guess that's all of them."
Dean snickers and helps his brother limp to the nearest bench-like rock he sees outside the cave. "Okay, I'm going to bring the car as close as I can get it. Think you can handle waiting here?"
Sam's only response is a cutting look; Dean grins and ruffles his brother's hair, dodging Sam's attempt to smack him away before Sam even starts. The car is a twenty minute walk, and Dean can only get it as close as the foot of the mountain before the rocks that were once a troll block his passage. He gets out of the car, setting the backseat up so Sam will be able to climb in as easily as possible, and goes back for his brother.
Sam stumbles to his feet on his own, which makes Dean bite back on a lecture.
"Can you wait five goddamn seconds so I can help you?"
"If I'd done that earlier," Sam smiles smugly, "you'd be dead." Dean slips under one of Sam's arms to support him, and Sam wrinkles his nose. "God, dude, you smell awful."
Dean laughs. "I'm taking a four hour shower when we get to the motel," he says. "And I am not above racing you for who goes first."
"I'm going to kick you so hard when I have two legs again," Sam promises as Dean helps him into the car. Which kind of makes Dean consider dropping him, but he doesn't. Dean's generous and forgiving like that.
"Good hunt," he says as he starts the engine.
"Except for, you know, everything about it," Sam replies, hardly containing a smile.
Dean shrugs. "We finished it, though. No more missing hikers."
"No casualties at all. Except for, you know, me."
"Aww, perk up, grumpy," Dean says, reaching back to pat Sam's thigh just a little too hard. Sam makes an "oof" sound that is much more rewarding than it should be. "Drinks are on me."
"Well, I guess that fixes everything," Sam replies dryly.
"Damn right it does."
Dean turns up the music when Sam tells him to "shut that shit off"; Sam crosses his arms over his chest, sighing in a put-upon manner; all is well in Dean's world, and they bicker to the hospital, through the visit, and all the way home.
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