Hopefully there isn't too much OOCness, but I wanted to entertain the idea of what if the grenade explosion hadn't gone as planned? So here's this story then!

Some slight spoilers for 12x22, so be warned. (if anyone wants to talk/rant/scream about the finale I'm all ears). This is a deathfic, but it's not gory or anything, but also be warned. Other than that, have an amazing day!

Aaaaannnndddddd I don't own Supernatural.

Dean had been itching to use the grenade launcher since…forever, it seemed. And the look of sheer joy on his face, even given the situation, made Sam smile back. Because never mind that they were running out of air and the explosion could cause the whole bunker to come down and mom was brainwashed and the Brits were killing people. For the moment, it was just his older brother and a big, bad weapon that he had been waiting to use and never ceased to bring up.

So he led Toni down a nearby corridor and handcuffed her to one of the small railings, just in case something should happen. It only took about five seconds for an explosion to sound, which made Sam flinch a bit despite knowing that it was coming.

What he didn't expect to be coming, however, was the sound of falling rubble that came shortly afterwards.

"Dean!" he yelled, sprinting back towards the room, flashlight out and brushing away smoke in the air as he moved. "Dean?" The room was filled with smoke and it took him a moment to get his bearings. But when he did, he noticed what should have been a hole covered by rubble. It took him another two seconds to find Dean, his legs partially covered by jagged pieces of cement, unconscious by one of the room's walls.

Sam's breath caught in his throat as he hurriedly made his way over, not seeing any moving coming from his brother's chest. "Dean, hey," he said quietly, flashlight discarded next to him as he bent down, gingerly removing what rubble he could before lightly tapping Dean's face, hoping to rouse him. "Come on back to me."

In the faded light, he could make out multiple gashes on Dean's legs, courtesy of the rubble, and a decent-sized cut on his forehead, probably caused by the blast throwing him into the wall.

"Dean," Sam said a bit more forcefully, shaking his shoulder. It was an explosion that Dean set off, they'd survived worse tens of times before, he couldn't really die from something like-

And just like that, Dean sucked in a breath and coughed on the smoke, wincing from the sudden movement. "Hey, hey, you with me?" Sam asked, practically half begged, that the impact hadn't been too bad.

"Told ya we should've…used it before. Test runs help," Dean muttered after a moment, coughing again and struggling to sit up.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam replied, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as a bit of the terror died away. He gingerly helped Dean sit up against the wall, well in tune to the wince of pain that Dean was trying to hide.

"Did it bust through?" his brother asked, squinting to see the wall before placing a hand to his head. Dean took it away almost immediately, looking a bit…confused at the red he saw there, and muttered a "great" under his breath.

Sam cast another glance towards what should have been the hole, wondering if by some miracle, it had opened to reveal a ladder on the other side, but no such luck. "No, the ah, tunnel collapsed." He was silently glad, however, that if it had to collapse, it hadn't done so while Dean was trying to climb up it. Because that would have ended up even worse.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled, shaking his head. "Still, it was fun, right?"

Sam looked to his brother, really looked, and saw something he didn't quite know what to do with. The simple question held more weight than they wanted to admit. That tunnel had been their last option. Now here they were, with less oxygen now that the explosion had eaten it up, no way out, and an injured brother.

"My turn next," Sam replied, trying to smirk back. Because there would be a next time, there always was. "Come on, let's get you up."

Dean didn't complain or comment, just nodded and blew out a pained breath as Sam pulled him to his feet and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It shouldn't have been so hard, but the simple motion left him panting. "Where to?" he ground out, maneuvering the both of them out of the busted room.

"You're my chauffeur now, are you, Sammy?"

Now that brought a smile to Sam's face, amid everything. "Hilarious," he replied, giving his brother a bit of an eye roll. He turned down a hallway and into Dean's room, which was the closest to where they had been. Sam was trying to keep the wheezing to a minimum, but leaning Dean onto the bed and gradually retracting his arm was a massive weight off his shoulders that only seemed to help in the slightest.

"You good?" Sam asked, taking a step back. He figured that if they had any actual light, Dean would look more pale. But in the reddish blue light, he looked almost…normal, aside from the red streak on his head and the dark droplets that were slowly coating the floor.

"Yeah, aces," Dean nodded back closing his eyes but not moving an inch.

"Right." Sam was cut off from saying anything else by the sound of metal on metal outside in the hallway. Right, Toni was still handcuffed. "I'm gonna," Sam started and stopped when Dean nodded, making his way back out of the room and down the hall.

Toni was seated on the floor, hands wrapped around the railing. She looked up a bit expectantly as Sam approached, but her face fell. "I suppose there's no way out then?"

"Not at the moment, no," Sam shook his head, leaning back against the opposite wall. Even standing made his head spin.

"At the moment? There's no other way out, Sam, and you know it."

Sam clenched his jaw, but refused to nod, even though it was becoming more and more clear to him.

"And I don't know about you, but I'd rather not asphyxiate." Her comment caught him a bit off guard and he looked to her. "I know you've got a gun back there, I'm no idiot."

Sam didn't smirk at the comment, but simply brought the pistol out from the waistband of his jeans, turning it over in his hands.

"It'll save you and your brother some air if you'd rather think like that," she offered, her eyes still on him.

The fact was, Sam would rather think like that. It wasn't mercy, and it wasn't revenge for all the crap she put them though, himself specifically. It was so he'd get more time with Dean, which he was okay with.

"It's the best of a bad-"

"Alright," Sam cut her off quickly. By the looks of things, she hadn't expected him to agree. "I'll do it." He cocked the hammer, giving her time to reply in case she suddenly doesn't want to get shot in the head.

As expected, there was nothing but a tiny nod. Sam didn't reach down to undo the handcuffs, as it wouldn't do any good anyways, and he quite frankly doesn't trust her. His arms were wavering a bit with the fading oxygen, and he waited a few moments after she closed her eyes to fire off one round.

It echoed throughout the cold, empty bunker, pinging off of concrete walls and tables and books. Almost immediately, there was a worried "Sam?!" coming from down the hall and some movement.

"All good, be right in," Sam assured back, taking another look at Toni before heading back down to the room, one hand leaning against the wall the entire time. When he got back to the room, he dropped the gun on the table, not like they'd be needing it any time soon. "Loose end," he explained shortly, knowing that Dean would get it.

Speaking of Dean, he had sunk down from his spot on top of the bed to being on the ground next to it, propped up against the frame.

It reminded Sam of so many times when he had tapped on his brother's door to find him on the floor, leaning against the bed with a book or a bottle of beer in his lap

That time…that time was different. His skin shone with sweat and even from his place in the threshold, Sam could see how shallow his breathing was. Still, there was an edge of worry in Dean's eyes, and Sam saw exactly what it was from. I should have killed her, not left you alone for another minute with the monster that did you so much harm. You shouldn't have had to do that.

It was all said with a gaze, and Sam replied back with a nod. Because he knew, under different, better circumstances, that Dean's finger would have been on the trigger in an instant.

"How you doing?" Sam asked, taking another wavering step into the room.

"Peachy," Dean breathed out, wincing slightly as he patted the floor next to him up against the bed. Sam made it about halfway before collapsing the rest of the way down to meet the floor, where Dean's hands steadied him and propped him up against the bed. "You good?"

The question was reversed, and the answer was still the same. "Always," he nodded weakly, before casting a worried glance at his brother's still bleeding leg wound.

" 'm fine, Sammy," Dean assured, leaning his head back against the mattress and closing his his eyes. "Hey, could you…grab the pictures on my desk?"

It wasn't exactly an odd request, but it kept the ball or worry in Sam's throat. The simple motion of reaching up to grab a few pictures left him trying to steady his breathing once again, as if he had been climbing up a mountain and there wasn't enough air.

"Giant humans use too much air. I toldya to stop growing," Dean commented and smirked a bit before gingerly taking the photos from his brother. He flipped through them, almost mindlessly, Sam watching before he landed on one of the two of them at a table, mid laugh. "Remember this?" he asked, not looking up from the image, as if trying to burn it into his memory.

"Yeah, it was…" Sam trailed off, the air making it hard to think, like he was grasping at straws, but eventually he got it, "the day I got my soul back." He didn't say that it got shoved in him, and he didn't mention the wall or the horrific aftermath…just that he had gotten it back, because of his big brother.

"How many sandwiches did Bobby end up making you?" Dean finally looked up and grinned at Sam, who spent a few moments thinking.

"Like…four, I don't know." It was the first time Sam had smiled in…who knew how long, and it showed on both of their faces. Neither was focused on the camera, but both of them were laughing, caught up in the moment, that was for a few minutes, a good memory without context.

Dean chuckled to himself, which soon turned into a fit of coughing. The pictures trembled in his grasp as he calmed down again, his face a shade paler than before. "Sasquatch," he muttered, and flipped through a few more before landing on the one of them with Mom. Both brother's eyes lingered on the photo. The photo itself was yellowed and cracked down the middle, but the faces and the tree in the background were still distinguishable.

"You think she'll…" Sam trailed off, unable to think of how to finish the sentence.

"I'd like to say she'll be fine, Sammy, but honestly," Dean gave a halfhearted shrug, "I don't know. Hope for the best, right?"

"Mhm," Sam simply hummed back, the lack of oxygen making it hard for a sudden wave of dizziness to go away. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the mattress with a sigh.

Who else even knew about mom? How many more hunters would she kill? Would she ever find out that she helped Ketch lock her sons in the bunker to—

"Hey, come on, we're not done talkin'," Dean said a moment later, tapping Sam on the knee. There was an undertone of panic that Sam was able to pick up on, and that alone had him opening his eyes again.

"What you wanna…talk about?" he asked quietly.

Dean dropped the pictures into his lap, letting his arm rest on the floor, brushing against Sam's. "I don't know man…anything." His words were starting to slur together a bit, much like both of their thoughts.

There was no way out. No air vents, no explosives, no signal to call anyone, nobody to come looking…no air to keep them alive. If Sam had to pick any way to go, he honestly never thought asphyxiation would be it. Sam found himself thinking back to the bunker, their tomb, and the endless books stacked up in it. The weapons, the spells, the knowledge, would it all be lost?

He liked to entertain the idea that when mom kicked the Brit's asses, which she would, or someone would, they'd find the bunker and pick up where he and Dean left off. He smirked a bit at the image of the initials scratched into the surface of the wooden table, and wondered if any other initials would join it with time.

Or maybe the red lights would blink forever, a layer of dust would cover everything, and that would be it. Maybe—

"Sammy, wake up man," snapped him out of…wherever he'd been.

"Yeah," he cracked open his eyes to see the worried green orbs staring back at him, although they too were only halfway open.

It was the end of the line, and they both knew it, but they didn't want to be the first to admit it to the other. Dean lightly tapped Sam's leg before smirking and closing his eyes. "Blaze of glory, huh?"

Sam let out half a laugh, and found there was no more air to take in to replace it. A brief wave of fear washed over him. He was nearly used to the sensation of dying, but this time, it was…different. Even half conscious, Dean's fingers against his jeans served as an anchor, an action which Sam reciprocated to Dean's uninjured knee.

"As usual," he whispered, nodding faintly against the mattress, even though his brother couldn't see him. There was no more air to take in after that, and it made his lungs burn. His fingers twisted into his brother's jeans as he let out half a sigh. "Night, jerk."

It took a moment, one terrifyingly long moment where Sam entertained the thought that maybe Dean was already…gone. But that moment ended with a slight pat on the knee. "Night, bitch." There was love and pain and a bit of fear all rolled up into the two words that became the last thing he ever heard.

The burning sensation in Sam's lungs gradually stopped and he slumped to the side, his head resting on his brother's shoulder. Not long after, Dean's head came to a rest on his brother's, the pictures still discarded on his lap, the droplets of blood still falling onto the gray pavement.

Eventually an alarm sounded, since there was no more air to take out, and the bunker became deathly silent. There was no humming of water pipes or air or electricity.

There was just the steady flashing on and off of that dark, ominous red light, forever bathing the bodies of the two brothers.