My first Supernatural story! It's set sometime late in Season One. Naturally and unfortunately, I don't own the show or the Winchester boys.

Special thanks to amyblair, who has given me some great advice and is an excellent writer herself. Thanks, Amy! :)

So here goes! Let me know what you think!

Chapter One

It's never a good thing when it hurts to breathe.

It's also not so good when you're awake enough, aware enough to realize this. And it still hurts to breathe.

And it's never, ever good when you're trapped in the dark, possibly alone, and oh yeah, it hurts to breathe.

Dean Winchester managed a passably deep breath, winced, groaned, and tried to sit up. For a few seconds, he was convinced he had gone blind or something, but his eyes started to adjust to the dark, and he could soon make out the shape of his hand in front of him. His hand… and nothing else. No one else.

Panic slammed through Dean's body along with the pain. Sam!

"Sammy?" Dean called hoarsely, fighting to ignore the nasty tugging in his chest and the metallic taste in his mouth. "Sam! Where are you?"

His voice bounced back off the walls of the cave, ringing in his ears.

Panting, one hand pressed to the sharpest point of pain in his body--his lower ribs on the right side, Dean stood. Once he was on his feet, the pain exploded through him. He barely managed to stumble to a wall and catch himself before toppling over. Leaning against the cool wall of the cave, he fought to draw oxygen into his lungs. Another attack of panic clawed at his psyche when the air wouldn't come. It just wouldn't.

Oh crap… I'm going to die…

No, no, no! Not yet! Have to find Sam!

With a mighty effort, Dean dragged an agonizing breath of air into his body and hollered with everything he had left, "Sam!!!!!"

Still no answer.

Dean felt an involuntary sob jolt through his body. Not Sam. Surely the creature hadn't taken Sam…

Pain--inward and outward--doubled him over, and he stood gasping, bent in two, clutching at his fiercely aching ribs. He clenched his teeth, worked his jaw, balled his fists, and willed himself back upright, willed himself to start walking. He had to find Sam.

Dean's shuffling feet kicked something metallic across the cave floor, and he swore. Then he remembered--his gun!

Dean squinted through the dark until his green eyes caught a glimpse of a dull glint. He followed the dim light, reaching toward it, nearly collapsing with relief when his fingers brushed the cold metal of his gun handle. Trying to keep his breathing even, he slid the gun into his jacket and continued his unsteady walk through the cave, trying desperately to remember what had happened.

A cold draft of air struck his face, awakening him, stirring his memory.

…claws. Teeth. Creature. Glowing eyes. It was coming toward him. He was reloading his gun. And that thing was coming at him way too fast.

BAM!

The creature jerked, spun--spun on Sam, who had shot it, Sam, who had saved his brother's life, Sam, who was standing in front of two very terrified innocent people.

"No!" Dean shouted. "Get them out of here, Sammy!"

"Not without you!" Sam called in reply, firing at the creature again. The thing staggered, went down on one knee.

By this time, Dean had successfully reloaded his gun. He fired at the creature, and it turned on him--just like he wanted it to do. "Sam--GET THEM OUT OF HERE!" He put all the authority he could muster into his voice, channeled every bit of John Winchester he could marshal.

Then, suddenly, something happened--something completely and totally unexpected.

An explosion from somewhere, a flash of light, Sam calling his name, everything shaking--

Then something slamming into him, sharp pain in his side, lack of oxygen, blackness…

Dean gasped at the memory. Something big had went down in the tunnels. Probably something bad. Sam could be in danger!

He had to hurry.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, quickening his pace. Heck, he didn't even know if he was headed in the right direction. But, by God, he was going to keep going until he found his brother--or died trying. He could do no less.

It didn't take long for the faster pace to wind him. Pain bloomed afresh in his side, coupled with a nasty, coppery taste in his mouth. Coughing, Dean bent over, struggling for air, struggling to stay on his feet… He was failing… He was failing Sam…

"Dean!"

Dean's head snapped up, and he ruthlessly swallowed down a cough.

"Dean!"

The call came again, faint, but clear.

He was headed in the right direction.

"I'm coming, Sammy!" Dean cried, leaning heavily against the cave wall and staggering forward and a pace that surprised even himself. Adrenaline surged through him. Determination to find his little brother fueled his strength.

"Dean, what happened?" came Sam's voice, quizzical, anxious, but strong and alive.

"I don't--I don't know," Dean managed in reply. "The--the creature… Did we get it?"

"It's dead, Dean."

"And the people? That Evan kid and that hot Ashley chick?"

"They're okay. They're out."

Relief flooded Dean's soul. He stopped walking, leaned against the wall of the cave, closed his eyes. We did it… We did it… Ugly bastard's dead… Innocent people are alive… Sammy's alive… He came back for me… That's nice… It felt so good to have his eyes closed, to be leaning on something cool and strong…

"Dean, where are you?"

"Right--I'm right here, Sammy," Dean muttered. He forced his eyes opened, shook himself. Ouch. That hurt.

And suddenly, there was Sam, his long, lanky frame silhouetted by some distant light.

Dean grinned. "Sammy!"

"Dean!" Sam rushed toward him.

"Sam, are you--are you okay?" Dean asked quickly, hoping to God that Sam was alright. If anything happened to that kid--

"I'm fine, Dean," said Sam, reaching his brother. "I got out of the way when--" Uh-oh. Sam's voice was changing, lowering. Never a good thing. "Dean, you're hurt."

"You sure you're okay, Sam?" Dean asked, trying to sound firm. His voice wasn't cooperating. The painful lack of oxygen in his lungs probably had something to do with that.

"Dean, I'm fine."

Dean smiled again. Sam sounded so agitated. If only it wasn't so dark… But it was funny anyway. Dean knew his brother well enough to imagine the look on his face.

"You, on the other hand--"

"'M fine, too," Dean managed. He patted the wall next to his head. "Just--just testing the strength of the walls down here. They're, uh, they're good and strong."

"Dean--"

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean grunted, pushing himself away from the wall. Wow. That felt weird. And not too nice. He tried--and failed--to hold back a soft groan at the sharp pain seizing his ribcage. "Just as long--just as long as you're… okay…" Dean frowned, winced, sucked in a sharp, painful breath of air.

"Dean--"

"I'm okay," said Dean breathlessly. His knees gave out then, and he pitched forward.

Sammy caught him, of course, with those big, long arms.

"Dean!"

The panic in Sam's voice almost made Dean smile. Almost. Pain, dizziness, lack of breathing--these things combined to make it hard to smile.

"Let's just… get out of here," Dean panted, bracing himself on his brother's arm and finding his feet again.

"Where are you hurt?" Sam asked, brotherly concern lacing his voice.

"We can discuss that later, Dr. Quinn," said Dean shortly, annoyed at being coddled. "Let's just get the--" His words were cut short by an embarrassing whimper as pain blasted through his body.

"Dean!"

Everything was suddenly foggy, painful, weird, and totally devoid of oxygen. "Tell that Ashley chick that she really looks good in hiking boots," said Dean.

"Oh my gosh, Dean…" Sam gently eased his brother to the cool stone floor of the cave. "Can you breathe?"

"Heh. No." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth to keep from saying anything else stupid--or making any more telling sounds of pain.

"What happened?" Sam asked, leaning his brother against the wall and reaching behind him for his pack.

"You tell me," Dean wheezed. He was suddenly, annoyingly scared. His body didn't feel right--especially his ribs and his lungs. Not good. "What was that back there?"

"I don't know, Dean," said Sam quietly. "But if you hadn't shot that creature when you did…" His voice trailed off, and Dean could hear him rummaging through the pack. He hoped Sam would pull out a flashlight. The darkness was getting annoying…

And he was fading…

Oh, heck no.

"Sammy," Dean bit out. The pain and weakness and not-breathing-ness were washing over him. He was drowning. "Sammy," he repeated more loudly.

"What is it?" asked Sam, turning to him, touching his shoulder.

"Don't--don't let me go," Dean told his brother intensely, clutching the front of Sam's shirt with one final burst of strength.

"Dean!" he heard Sam cry.

Then he was out--like the light Sam had failed to produce.

Panic.

It raced through Sam Winchester's mind and made his body a bundle of jittery nerves. "Dean!" he shouted, gently shaking his brother's shoulder. The panic increased when Dean's head lolled forward. "No, Dean! Don't do this!" Sam softly tapped the side of his brother's face.

Dean didn't respond. Unless, of course, one could count the ragged, shallow breathing noises.

Busted ribs, Sam diagnosed. And possibly a punctured lung. Or two. Oh, God…Please not two…

Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had to get Dean out of there--and into a hospital or somewhere equally safe and helpful. Especially if weird things kept happening in this cave.

Gathering his wits, Sam shouldered his pack and slid his arms under his brother--one behind Dean's shoulders and one under his knees. Muscles tensing with the effort, Sam stood, lifting his older, smaller brother in his arms. Dean moaned, his head lolling against Sam's shoulder. Sam felt his stomach clench. Dean wasn't supposed to be weak. Dean was supposed to be the strong one. Dean was supposed to carry him.

"It's alright, man," Sam told his brother soothingly, not even sure that Dean could hear him. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean murmured hoarsely, perhaps feverishly.

Sam bit his lip--hard. It took every effort to keep from sobbing right then and there. Here was Dean--battered and broken--and he kept constantly asking if Sam was okay. It was typical, Sam thought. And scary.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam told his brother wryly. "Save your strength."

Dean didn't respond. Sam thought maybe he had passed out again. Maybe he hadn't even awakened at all.

Peering through the darkness, Sam headed toward the light, cursing himself mentally for giving both flashlights to Evan and Ashley. There was a sinister, cold feel to the dark, and it made Sam think about the strange explosion--or whatever it was--that had occurred in the tunnels. It had come as a complete surprise. And Sam still didn't know what had caused it.

All he knew was: the creature was dead, the civilians were saved, and Dean was badly injured and needed him.

Suddenly, there was an echo from behind him, causing Sam to stop in his tracks.

Another echo, this time clearly the echo of a footstep.

Sam tightened his grip on his brother, preparing to take off running full tilt if need be.

Dean stirred in his arms. "Sammy?"

"Dean, it's behind us," Sam said. He could feel a threat lurking in the dark. That didn't feel very good…

"Put me down," Dean muttered restlessly.

"Dean--"

"Sam, I said put me down," Dean insisted through clenched teeth.

Also with clenched teeth, Sam set Dean gently down on his feet, keeping an arm around him to steady him.

Dean swayed, and for a second, Sam thought he might have to throw his older brother over his shoulder and take off running, but Dean managed to find his balance, tossing Sam a grin that was barely visible in the dark--yet clearly cocky. "See? I'm getting better already?" he panted.

"Sure, Dean. You're magic," Sam retorted dryly.

Another footstep echoed through the tunnel.

"Weapons?" Dean rasped.

"I've got a knife in my belt. My gun's in my pack."

"Heh." Dean drew his pistol from his jacket. Sam could see even in the dim light that the elder Winchester's hands were shaking, and he could hear very clearly that Dean's breath was labored and painful.

"Dean, maybe you should sit this one out," Sam suggested.

"Not on your life, Sammy." Dean cocked his gun, looked Sam straight in the eyes.

Sam got it, then. To Dean, this was about Sam's life--it was about protecting it. It always was. "Dean--"

Dean turned and faced the darkness of the cave behind Sam. "Whatever this thing is, bullets might not take it down," he practically choked out. "You saw what it did in the tunnels back there--"

"Yeah, and we didn't see it," said Sam, turning to face the same direction as his brother. "We don't know what we're up against, Dean."

"I know," said Dean. He swayed again, free hand going to his right side and pressing there.

"Dean?" Sam placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dean jerked away from his touch. "'M fine, Sammy."

"Dean, maybe we should--"

"Run?" asked Dean. He paused to cough into the crook of his arm. Sam didn't like the sound of the cough. It was wet and heavy and oxygen starved. It had to hurt. It hurt to hear it. "I can't run, Sam," Dean continued finally, breathlessly. "Maybe you should go without me, go get help."

Sam rolled his eyes. Not this again. "I'm not leaving you, Dean."

That was when a maniacal laugh rang through the cave, causing both brothers to jump.

Dean aimed his pistol toward the darkness. "What the--?"

"The Winchester boys," came a loud and clear voice. "How very nice to see you!"