Title: The Big One
By: nancy
Pairing: Charlie/Ted, RayK/Fraser, Van/Deaq, Jesse/Steve, Shawn/Lassiter, Mac/Danny, Sam/Dean, Brenda/Fritz, Derek/John, Morgan/Garcia/Kevin, Hotch/Reid, Nathan/Eliot, Leland/Randy, Don/Colby/Charlie
Fandom: Psych, dueSouth, The Closer, Leverage, Numb3rs, Life, Supernatural, Criminal Minds, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Diagnosis Murder, Monk, CSINY, Fastlane
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: everything ever. *grin*
Warnings: angst, violence, character death, language, disaster!fic,het, INCEST, slash, underage, threesomes, WiP and fem pairings
Notes: this is all Juli's fault. honest. well no, okay, I did mention an earthquake we'd just had a couple weeks ago but *she's* the one who started the whole, "What would the Leverage team do in an earthquake?" thing and it seriously just spiraled out of control from there. blame/thanks should be sent her way. *grin*
More notes: this is kind of an experimental format for me, so all feedback gratefully accepted in advance!
Summary: The Big One finally hits California.

***

Ray and Fraser

One minute Ray was sound asleep on the too-comfortable hotel bed and the next, he was on the floor. The moving floor. Things fell off shelves and tables, loud crashes that harshly struck his still-sleep-dazed mind. Something hit his head and he rolled away from whatever it had been instinctively. The entire room seemed to sway and it was all he could do to clutch at the carpet as dizziness assaulted him and shout, "Fraser!"

Strong arms grabbed him around the waist and hauled him haphazardly across the room to the closet. They stumbled and fell repeatedly on the way and then were clinging to the doorframe and each other. Ray's heart beat so fast that he thought he was going to pass out, disorientation adding to his physical misery. Only the solid body of his lover gave any sense of reality as the heaving of their room continued, loud cracks in the plaster and glass echoing loud in his ears.

And then it just faded away, almost gently in comparison to the violent start.

Panting harshly, Ray held fast to Fraser as he waited for another attack. He vaguely heard the screeching of car alarms from outside, but was mostly focused on the panic waiting to get loose. It wasn't until Fraser knelt beside him that he realized the other man had been covering him with his body. As soon as he could move without shaking, Ray planned to kick him in the head for it.

Careful hands cupped his head and Fraser said, "There will be an aftershock for an earthquake of that magnitude. We need to stay right here."

But Ray saw the gaping hole where the outer wall used to be and shook his head wanting go get somewhere ground level as soon as they could. And then his hissed in pain as the movement set off the injury he'd forgotten about.

"Where are you hurt?" Fraser demanded instantly.

Ray gingerly touched the side of his head and replied, "Something clonked me on the head when it first happened."

Fraser made a dissatisfied noise and then said, "I can't see the injury in the dark, let me check if the electricity still works."

Just as he began to move, though, the earth shook again. Ray grabbed at him, but Fraser immediately pulled himself back and resumed his spot over Ray. It felt just as bad as the first one, throwing them around without care as they held to the closet frame. Ray's arm locked around Fraser's hip, his face pressed against his lover's belly as the world shook for another eternity. It finally stopped and he was left listening to his own harsh breathing and feeling the rigid tension in Fraser's body.

"Jesus, Benton," he breathed. "How many more of them're going to hit?"

Fraser knelt back down beside him and answered, "There's no set limit, Ray. From the damage to our room, I would estimate the initial earthquake to be at least an eight on the Richter scale, possibly higher given the building is only three to five years old and fully compliant with the earthquake building code and regulations. I'm sure many of the older buildings are partially and completely collapsed now."

"I will never again give you shit about wasting money on a good hotel," Ray said fervently.

Fraser's chuckle sounded a little breathless and he replied, "I am pleased to hear that, Ray."

"So, how long do we…"

Another aftershock cut off the question and Ray braced himself against Fraser again. This one didn't feel as bad as the first two, but they still got jostled real good. Part of the ceiling tiles came down on them, aggravating his head injury. He could only imagine how badly Fraser had gotten clocked. Fortunately, they were the fairly light, crumbly type of tile and not solid wood or plaster.

This time Fraser didn't move. He just said, "I think it best for me to stay here until there are no more aftershocks."

Ray wanted to argue, but his head hurt too much; something Fraser was probably counting on to satisfy that overprotective urge he had when it came to Ray. Or anyone, really, but especially Ray. They stayed there for an eternity, or so it seemed. Ray sank down onto his ass and rested his head against the doorway, holding onto the back of Fraser's calf.

Finally, Fraser said, "I think we're safe to move now, but I want you to stay here while I get a flashlight."

Ray vaguely saw his lover walk to their bags by the dresser and pull out a flashlight. The benefits of traveling by train and not airplane, he supposed; Fraser could bring all the gear he'd wanted to bring. He'd thought Fraser crazy for wanting to take a train ride across the continental US, but it had turned out to be a lot of fun and he'd seen more of the country than he ever had before. They'd only arrived in Los Angeles a couple of days ago and had been enjoying the heat and beaches of a mild California winter.

Fraser turned on the flashlight and moved way too close to the hole in the wall for Ray's comfort, peering outside.

"Fraser, get away from there!"

"Right you are," Fraser agreed, turning to walk swiftly back to him.

Ray glared at him and said, "You're really asking for it, buddy."

Fraser half-smiled at him as he replied, "I'm truly not, Ray. Now then, let me look at you."

He knelt up while Fraser bent down to look at his head. There was a gentle pushing of fingers against the place that hurt most and he cursed under his breath.

"You have a rather sizeable goose egg, but the skull is intact," Fraser reported. "How is your vision? Any nausea?"

Snorting, Ray countered, "We just went through a massive earthquake. I don't know what the blurred vision and shaky stomach's from."

"Point," Fraser admitted.

Without warning, another aftershock struck only this one was worse than the initial quake. It threw him out of the closet altogether and he rolled perilously close to that opening in the wall before stopping himself. The world heaved every which way and his sense of direction was just gone as he clung to the patch of flooring, nails digging into the carpet.

Then the ceiling caved in and blackness took over for real.



Sophie and Parker

They were in Parker's small house painting each other's nails when the first tremor struck. Sophie shrieked in fear as the world moved around them, while Parker was already on her feet and grabbing her under the arms. Sophie held tight to her as they stumbled to the doorframe between the living room and kitchen. Even that wasn't safe, Parker knew as the house continued to heave, cracks appearing violently in her walls and windows shattering. It was an old house, after all, more
of a bungalow than anything else and hadn't been built with modern standards. She'd mostly bought it because it was cute.

She watched, fascinated, as the entire house seemed to slide back and forth on its foundation. Sophie clung to her, face buried against Parker's throat, but the tight ball of excitement in the pit of her stomach kept Parker's head up and her eyes wide as she took in the sight of her first real California earthquake. It was because she was looking that Parker saw the way her ceiling began to splinter apart.

Even before the shaking had stopped, Parker dragged Sophie into the kitchen towards the pantry door. A split second later, the ceiling caved in where they'd been and Parker let out a whoop of excitement and thought, This is way better than base jumping off Big Ben!

Not to mention, she definitely wouldn't get arrested after an earthquake. Not that they'd been able to hold onto her, but she had actually been arrested that time.

Then she smelled gas and it ceased being fun. Fortunately, the earth stopped right around then and she was able to shove Sophie towards the back door. They were outside seconds later and she kept an arm around Sophie's waist to keep her moving. The neighborhood she lived in was quiet and family oriented with small, older houses, many of which were partially or completely off their foundations. A few of the palm and juniper trees had toppled over, smashing in a number of ceilings and cars.

Walking out to the street, Parker kept hold of Sophie to make sure the other woman didn't accidentally walk on glass that Parker just knew was strewn all about. Car alarms sounded with aggravating frequency and she heard the crying and shouts of her neighbors and their children. She wondered if she should maybe see if they needed help, but decided that the adults would be able to take care of the kids and she needed to keep an eye on Sophie anyhow. The boys would never forgive her if anything happened to Sophie. Really, she would never forgive herself.

Another, equally as violent aftershock moved the earth beneath them and split open the road on which they stood. Sophie's scream echoed so loud in her ear that Parker hoped her eardrum hadn't burst with it. She angled them towards her car, as far from the splitting street as possible where they could hold onto something, shelter near something.

They fell a few times, but Parker kept them going and they reached her big old Ford safely. Parker leaned against the tire and held Sophie protectively against the vehicle as she watched power lines go down and tree limbs that were older than she was break off the trees lining the sidewalks.

The sparks from the power lines were almost pretty, like tiny fireworks. Unfortunately, the sparking from the power lines caught the gas now floating in the air and Parker watched her house go up like a roman candle.

Making a face, she sighed and muttered, "And I paid cash, too."

The aftershock ended and she stood to survey the damage to the neighborhood. More collapsed ceilings, more destroyed cars, and a whole lot more fires. Shaking her head, she suggested conversationally, "You know, maybe we should go back to Chicago. Things tend not to move around like this there."

"Parker!"

Looking down at Sophie, she asked, "What? They don't."

Another aftershock knocked her off her feet and her head hit the driveway hard enough to hurt. Parker rolled towards the car and moved protectively over Sophie, the other woman holding fast to her thighs. Any other moment than the middle of an earthquake and Parker would really have enjoyed that. The tremor finally stopped and she found more of her neighbors had stumbled out of their falling-down homes. There wasn't really anywhere to take shelter, but at least all the trees and power lines in the area were already down so they didn't have to worry about getting crushed anymore.

Putting her hand on Sophie's soft hair, she prompted, "Hey. You all right?"

"All right? Am I all right?" Sophie repeated.

Parker winced, sensing that the other woman was working up a good head of steam.

Sure enough, Sophie climbed to her feet and shouted, "The earth is splitting apart beneath our feet! Your house is on fire! That house and that house, are also on fire!"

Parker sighed and wished Nate were there. He could usually stop the ranting. Of course, then the mother of all aftershocks hit and threw them both to the ground. She crawled over to Sophie and covered the other woman with her body, pinning her to the grass even if it did try to keep tossing them around. She could hear the crack of pavement and wood and metal as the world upended in a way it hadn't the first three times.

She saw her own car, a big, 1981 Olds, move sideways towards the other house when she knew perfectly well the emergency brake was engaged. She saw her lawn collapse in on itself a mere five feet away, a sinkhole forming before her very eyes. She saw the tree nearest them, a massive palm, roll like a Lego Log into the split and disappear from sight.

It seemed like an eternity that she lay that trying unsuccessfully not to move but finally, the earthquake ended. Panting from the adrenaline high and the completely inappropriate urge to make out with Sophie, Parker slowly climbed to her feet. She took a long look around the devastated neighborhood and then had to let out a loud whoop of triumph that they'd made it.

"Parker!"

Parker gave her a bashful grin. "Sorry."

Suddenly, Sophie let out a low, pained moan. The sound raised the hair on the back of Parker's neck and she instantly dropped to her knees, gripping Sophie's shoulders. "What? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No, oh my God, no!" Sophie continued to moan.

Pulling the other woman up, Parker searched her for injuries, but found nothing. "Sophie! What's wrong?!"

In the light of the moon, Parker saw tears fall on the other woman's face as they hadn't before and Sophie begged, "What's happened to Hollywood? Does it even exist any longer?"

Parker gaped at her and then threw her hands up in the air and prayed for strength as she stalked away and stomped on a flaming patch of earth. Just because she loved Sophie, didn't mean she understood her.



Don, Colby, and Charlie

Colby glanced briefly over at Don sleeping in the passenger's seat and couldn't help smiling. It was so rare to actually see him in such a trusting state that he reached out and combed his fingers through the short, thick hair. The motion caused Don to yawn and shift, but not completely wake. Chuckling to himself at the sight that he had to term `cute,' not that Don would ever know, Colby yawned and wondered what Charlie was doing home alone for the weekend.

Alan was spending the weekend with Larry and Amita doing their group research thing. It was a rare time indeed that Charlie had an entire weekend to himself without anyone demanding his attention, but this weekend was it. He'd claimed it loudly and often for everyone to hear. Don and Colby were headed to San Francisco for a seminar thing that David had weaseled out of and Charlie wasn't qualified to attend, not being an actual agent.

Of course, they'd wound up leaving late from Don's apartment having been distracted by a sock fight that had turned into wrestling and then far more interesting diversions. That, naturally, had led to a long shower and they'd had to eat before leaving. It had been eight o'clock before they'd even gotten on the freeway for real thanks to a four car accident; they'd spent two hours without even leaving LA proper. It would probably be five in the morning before they got to the hotel in San Francisco and that was cruising at a good speed.

They'd talked about work for the first couple of hours of the drive. Don had started yawning pretty consistently around midnight so Colby had told him to sleep. He hadn't actually expected the other man to put his seat back and do just that, but Don had. So it had just been Colby and a softly playing country station for the last half-hour. He'd had enough caffeine to know that he was good to go for another couple of hours, especially since he planned to stop and stretch his legs when they got to Santa Barbara in about twenty minutes.

The earthquake struck at twelve forty-six. Colby knew because he'd just looked at the clock on the dashboard. The numbers were burned into his brain as he tried to control the SUV through the insane shaking of the freeway.

"Fuck!" Don shouted, gripping the `oh shit' handle with one hand as his seat came up. "You got it?"

Colby answered grimly, "I'm losing it, hang on!"

A few seconds later the SUV slammed into another car, spun in a complete circle, hit another car and then rolled too many times to count. Colby's neck protested the thrashing around and then his head did the same as the airbag deployed and struck him full-force in the face, crushing his nose. He vaguely heard Don shout his name over the crunch of metal and glass, but the world faded in and out and Colby didn't know if it was the vehicle still moving, or if it was the earth.

Finally, silence returned and they remained stationary. Colby's entire body hurt and it was a struggle to turn his head to look at his lover. They were hanging upside down, kept in place by their seatbelts, and the blood rushing to his head damn sure didn't help the situation. Headlights from a vehicle behind them illuminated Don's bloody face and when their eyes met, Colby wondered if he looked as scared as Don did.

"You okay?" Don asked.

Colby barely restrained a hysterical laugh as he answered, "I'm hanging upside down waiting for the aftershock. No, Don, I am not okay."

Don snorted and said, "Yeah, okay. Dumb question. Can you get loose? We need to get the hell out of here before it hits."

Colby braced himself with one hand on the roof of the SUV while his other undid the seatbelt. He fell almost right away, though he didn't hurt himself too badly being ready for it and cushioned by the partially inflated airbag. He took a few seconds to orient himself and catch his breath before shifting off the odd angle he'd landed in.

Groaning as more pains made themselves known, Colby had just gotten himself upright and facing Don when the first aftershock hit. Something struck their vehicle and Colby clung to the Don't seat, feeling the world tilt surreally around them as he sat on the roof and he almost went headfirst into the door. He would have, if Don's hands hadn't grabbed him in time.

Once the earth stopped moving again, Colby pulled out his Swiss army knife and sliced through Don's seatbelt, catching his lover and cradling him for only a moment before saying, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Good plan," Don seconded.

They disentangled and wound up climbing through the back window, which was gone save for jagged pieces around the edges. Colby helped Don to his feet and then whistled in shock at the pile of cars blocking the freeway.

Grim, Don commented, "Good thing it wasn't rush hour."

"Thank God for small miracles," Colby agreed.

Don grimaced as he touched Colby's still-bleeding nose and said, "It looks broken, Colby."

Colby could've told him that. He'd broken it before and it felt just as painful this time, as the last two. He accepted the handkerchief that Don produced from somewhere and pushed an end in each nostril as he tilted his head back.

"I'll straighten it on three. One. Two."

Don twisted the broken cartilage back into place and Colby shouted in pained surprise. He glared sideways at Don and demanded, "Where the fuck was three?"

Giving him a crooked grin, Don replied, "You didn't really want to wait for it, did you?"

Colby rolled his eyes and said, "We should see who needs help."

"You need to take five minutes and just…"

The earth moved. Again. This time seemed worse to Colby, but that could have just been because they weren't in a large, fairly protected SUV. He staggered and fell to his knees, grunting at the impact and staring dumbly as a fissure opened in the cement and seemed to come right at him. His brain screamed at him to run, the cars that fell into it telling him that it was no ordinary sinkhole, but he couldn't move.

At the last second, Don tackled him and they rolled down the incline, off the freeway altogether and into the quasi-shelter of a fallen oak. It had just happened, the sharp sent of wood reaching through even Colby's broken nose. He held tight to Don and waited out the insanity of an earthquake like everyone else; by praying.
 
It did end eventually and he released Don eventually. Panting, he exclaimed, "Jesus. Are they always that bad?"

Between the oddly angled headlights and the startlingly bright moonlight, Don's shaken expression was easy to see. Shaking his head, Don said, "Not even Northridge was this bad. Fuck, Colby, this is different. This is, I don't know what this is. I think this is 1906 big."

Colby's eyes widened at the mention of the San Francisco quake that had leveled the city. "Are you serious?"

Don nodded and ran a trembling hand through his hair. "How's your head?"

Colby frowned until Don put a hand to his temple and showed it coming back dark with blood. Surprised, he answered, "Don't even feel it."

"Not surprised. Adrenaline's pumping," Don observed, letting out an explosive breath.

Knowing they had to check on the civilians on the freeway, Colby suggested, "We should split up to check on survivors. I'll take the east side and you start west. Meet back here in, what, twenty?"

Don was looking at his dark cell phone in disgust as he replied, "Yeah, I guess we should. If you feel dizzy, stop what you're doing and give a shout. That's an order, Cole."

Colby had just given him a salute when the third aftershock literally threw him through the air to land on his back a few feet away. It was much, much worse than the other ones; worse even than the original quake and he didn't understand how that was possible. He rolled with the earth, unable to do anything else, unable to grab hold of anything that wasn't moving. When it finally ended, Colby discovered that his leg was pinned beneath a large tree and he hadn't even felt it happen.

Panting harshly into the stunning silence of the aftermath, Colby tried not to give in to the panic thrumming through his veins. His head ached, his nose throbbed, and he was trapped with no idea of how or where Don was. Shoving all emotions into the box labeled, "Panic Later," the one he'd developed in the Army, Colby said deliberately, "One thing at a time."

Colby sat up cautiously and discovered that he wasn't seriously injured at any point, although he might have a concussion given the nausea. Then again, that could just be because of the rollercoaster ride he'd just escaped that could restart at any time. It didn't take very much to get his leg free, thankfully, but it did turn out to be sprained. The good news was he had plenty of tree branches to pick from to use as a crutch. He found a sturdy one pretty easy and hobbled in the direction he thought they'd last been in, calling Don's name as he went.

He found Don unconscious by the side of the road. How he'd gotten uphill in that last tremor, Colby had no idea. Lowering himself beside the other man, Colby felt for a pulse and sagged in relief on finding it strong and steady. Relying on his medic's training, he carefully but firmly felt around Don's skull for any weak spots and found none. Sending another prayer of thanks skyward, Colby settled in to wait for his lover to wake up and prayed the earthquakes were over.



Brenda and Fritz

Sitting at the kitchen table going through old paperwork was Brenda's least favorite things to do. That Fritz sat in the living room watching some old basketball game and cheered against the winning team made her occasionally roll her eyes, but really, it made her feel nice and homey. And then Kitty suddenly let out a tremendous hiss, growling dangerously as her fur expanded to twice its usual size before she jumped from the table and ran for the bedroom.

Startled by the cat's behavior, even a little frightened, Brenda stood and walked towards Fritz. "That was the strangest thing I have ever seen!"

Fritz looked at her briefly before going back to the game and asking, "What was?"

"Kitty," Brenda replied. "She just gave an incredible hissy fit and growl and took off for the bedroom."

Fritz frowned at her and then, without warning, ran to her. He grabbed her around the waist and braced them against the doorframe between the rooms.

Brenda swatted at his ass and exclaimed, "Oh, very funny. You know, if Provenza put you up to this, I'm going to…"

The earthquake scared the bejesus out of her and Brenda clung to Fritz with one arm and helped brace them against the doorframe with the other. There had been a few other quakes since her arrival in Los Angeles, but nothing, absolutely nothing on this magnitude…knickknacks fell off shelves along with books; Fritz's baseball tower rolled out of place, the balls scattering across the room; windows broke; ceiling dust fell; alarms went off.

By the time it ended, Brenda shook in reaction, adrenaline pumping through her in a way it hadn't since she couldn't remember when. "Oh my goodness. Oh, my goodness."

Fritz's arms came around her and he kissed her temple and the side of her head as he breathed, "We're okay. Everything's fine now."

Brenda took a couple of minutes just to rest on his strength, breathing in his comforting scent. And then a frightening thought surfaced and she looked up at him, biting her lip.

"What about aftershocks?" Brenda questioned. "This is an old house, Fritzie."

He seemed uncertain for a moment, glancing up at the ceiling and then pulling her to the front door, hand holding tight to hers. "We're supposed to stay inside during a quake, but you're right. This house is old and not up to earthquake code. It can't be."

"I have to get Kitty!" Brenda exclaimed, tugging against his hold.

Fritz shook his head and just gripped her hand tighter as he retorted, "That cat's got a better warning sense than we do. She's not coming out until it's safe."

They'd just reached the front door when the first aftershock hit and sent them stumbling into the front yard. Brenda hit the flagstones on the front path hard, trying to break her fall. A sharp pain in her wrist said that she's broken something in the attempt. The wind left her in a rush at the impact and she curled into a ball hoping that nothing fell on her until the violent shaking stopped.

The aftershock ended at last and Fritz was there a second later, scooping her into his arms and demanding, "Are you all right? Where are you hurt? Brenda, answer me!"

"If you'd give me a second, I would!" she snapped, waspish.

He took a visible breath and answered, "Sorry. Where are you hurt?"

Resting her head against his chest, she said, "I think I broke my wrist, but I'm fine otherwise."

Fritz let out a shaky sigh and rested his chin on her head as he observed, "We're okay, then. We'll go back inside and wrap it up and then head to the hospital."

"No, we need to go to the station first," Brenda stated firmly. "The city will be in chaos after that kind of earthquake and…"

"You're hurt! You need a doctor to look at you!" Fritz interrupted angrily. "The city can wait!"

Fritz's arms tightened around her when the earth spoke up yet again, cracks appearing in the ground itself like some kind of disaster movie. Fritz stood with her in his arms, no mean feat considering how violently everything was moving around them. He staggered across the yard, away from the sinkhole and all Brenda could do was hold tight to him with her good arm, staring at the fissure over his shoulder and praying that they got away all right.

A car swerved off the road in front of them and Fritz cried out in pain as he swung her in the opposite direction. He managed to get them out of the car's path and that of the ever-widening crack in the ground, but Brenda heard him cursing and knew he was in pain from something she couldn't see. The world rested at last and Fritz dropped to his knees, face buried against her throat as he panted harshly.

Brenda tried to extricate herself, but he held on too tight. "Fritzie, what's wrong? Let me go so I can look at you!"

"It's my back," he groaned, fingers digging into her hip. "I threw it out again."

Letting out a sigh of relief as it could have been so much worse, Brenda told him, "Let me go and lie down. You know that's the only help for it."

"If I lie down, I won't get up again any time soon," he countered.

And what if there was another aftershock, she heard him silently ask.

Letting out a sharp breath, she said, "Okay. All right. C'mon now, let me help you stand up and we'll just, I don't know, wait here for a few minutes."

It took some serious doing as well as cursing that should have turned the air blue. Finally, he stood upright with an arm over her shoulder and her arm around his waist, supporting him. Something kept her tense, something told that instinct deep inside her that they weren't done yet. That instinct turned out to be right when another aftershock hit their street, but it seemed even more violent than the others combined.

Brenda lost hold of Fritz in the upheaval and fell on her broken wrist, pain and shock driving a shriek from her. She managed to grab hold of the chain link fence with her good hand and held on with all her strength, hooking a foot through one of the openings as well. Naturally, the fence itself became uprooted and she was in freefall once again. An especially loud cracking noise caught her attention and she looked up to find herself near the bottom of a large palm tilted alarmingly in her direction.

Scrambling for some kind of purchase, Brenda crawled one-handed away from it, but had no idea in which direction it would ultimately fall. The ground continued to move beneath her and then it faded back into normality. Struggling to breathe against all the dust and grit in the air as well as her own nearly-panicked body, Brenda forced herself to sit up and search at least visibly for Fritz.

She found him kneeling across the street, leaning against a car, and let out a huge sigh of relief. He caught sight of her and offered a big grin of his own and waved at her, clearly as happy to see her as she was him. Brenda climbed slowly to her feet and started walking towards him, calling, "This doesn't happen in Georgia, you know."

An ominous cracking noise echoed like a shot through the neighborhood. She saw Fritz's eyes widen in shock and fear, looking beyond her and absolutely knew what was going to happen without him saying a word. Brenda leapt as far as she could, but the tree crashed down on top of her, driving the world away in an entirely different fashion.



Shawn and Lassiter

Carlton did his best not to grin as Shawn rambled on about pineapples and their health benefits. Keeping a genuinely annoyed expression on his face around the younger man was becoming more and more difficult. It was, however, still fun to get that crestfallen look when Shawn thought Carlton didn't appreciate him or his efforts. It was also more than fun to get that pleased as punch expression when Shawn thought Carlton did appreciate him and his efforts. Carlton's fondest memory was Shawn gaping at him in court for just that reason.

Stakeouts were one of Carlton's favorite parts of being a detective. He had time to observe the scum and think about how very good it would be to arrest said the scum. Usually it was O'Hara in the passenger's seat, but she'd come down with food poisoning in a major way just like half of the rest of the department. The Chief hadn't wanted him watching Learson on his own, so Shawn had promptly offered his services. Carlton had instantly refused, but the Chief had overridden him.

"You know, I was thinking I should give you a blowjob while we're here alone in the dark. It's not like Learson's actually going to do anything that involves leaving that hooker alone in his apartment after midnight."

Carlton went very still and mentally reviewed the conversation Shawn had been having with himself while he'd been thinking. Glancing at the younger man, he found a huge grin in place and let out an exasperated sigh and complained, "Spencer, if you don't…"

An earthquake sent his car skittering sideways from where it was parked at the curb into the street. Carlton braced himself against the roof with one hand and put his other across Shawn's chest to keep him in place. Shawn's hand gripped Carlton's arm and they rode out the massive tremor staring at each other in silence. The car rocked violently and it was probably only the late hour that kept another car from ramming into them on the normally quiet street.

By the time it ended, Carlton was almost expecting Shawn to launch himself across the street and press their mouths together. Adrenaline and heart pumping from the earthquake, Carlton wrapped both arms around Shawn's back and kissed him back fiercely, teeth clicking together as Shawn moaned, a sound of pure arousal. Thrusting his tongue into Shawn's mouth, Carlton tasted pepperoni and spices from the pizza Shawn had brought earlier.

Panting harshly, Carlton broke the kiss and stared at the younger man in dismay. All his careful plans to keep as much emotional and physical distance were clearly now blown out of the water.

"Don't even think about pretending that didn't happen," Shawn informed him smugly. "I will sexually harass you all over the workplace if you do. Meanwhile, if you just screw my brains out on a regular basis, no one will ever know."

Put like that, Carlton grinned and resumed kissing that insanely mobile mouth. And then the earth moved again in an aftershock, shocking the hell out of him. He kept his arms tight around Shawn as the car moved again and power lines and telephone poles began to fall all up and down the street.

Shawn held tight to him and exclaimed, "What the fuck?"

Carlton didn't know what was going on, but they were safest exactly where they were and he kept a firm grip on Shawn, just in case. The temblor lasted as long as the original, which was just as unusual, and it was a good minute later that they were parked across the street from their original location. Pushing Shawn back into his seat, Carlton picked up the radio which was crackling with chatter as the dispatcher tried to give multiple orders all at the same time.

He depressed the send button and said, "Lassiter to Base."

"Lassi."

"Not now Shawn," Carlton ordered, then depressed the button again. "Lassiter to Base."

"Lassiter!"

Irritated, Carlton opened his mouth to repeat his call into the dispatcher when Shawn simply reached over, took hold of his head, and turned it to the side. Power lines dangled right outside his window, sparks hissing in an arc as the wires snapped and swung arbitrarily. He looked at Shawn and ordered. "Out your side."

Shawn gave him a, "Ya think?" look and proceeded to do just that.

Grumbling to himself, Carlton followed and they walked down the street to where there were no power lines ready to electrocute anyone. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the Chief's number, but got a busy signal. "The lines must be jammed."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Shawn retorted.

Carlton grit his teeth and snapped, "Spencer, so help me God, I am going to…"

A second aftershock threw them both to the ground. Carlton grunted in pain when his shoulder struck the curb. He twisted instinctively towards Shawn's cry and saw the younger man holding his head. Given the concussion he'd gotten from Drimmer only the week before, that definitely would not be a good thing. He crawled grimly towards Shawn, ignoring the moving pavement and the multiple cracks appearing in it. This was by far the worst earthquake he'd been through and that included Northridge.

Carlton reached him at last and covered Shawn with his own body. The other turned towards him, wrapping an arm around him and holding so tight it was uncomfortable. Buildings swayed all around them, poles fell, trees cracked alarmingly and then also fell, something exploded nearby, maybe a restaurant with gas ovens.

Finally, it was over and Carlton slowly sat up, heart beating hard against his chest and shoulder aching with a new bruise. He looked at Shawn and asked, "How's your head?"

"Hurts," Shawn answered.

Shawn's lack of loquacity told him just how much it hurt. He stood and surveyed the damage to the neighborhood, unsurprised by the holes in the buildings and the piles of plaster and wood on the sidewalk and street. When Shawn started to get up, Carlton immediately pushed him back down and ordered, "Stay there! Another aftershock could hit and you don't need to hit your head again."

Unbelievably, Shawn did stay down. Carlton wanted to reassure him that everything would be all right, but he didn't know that it would. He knew the phone lines were down and assumed the cell towers were as well. The radios would still work, but his car was currently surrounded by electricity. They were about five miles from the station and only three from the hospital, so he would walk Shawn there first and then borrow a car to get to the station.

He tried not to think about what condition O'Hara, the Chief, Guster, or even Henry might be in. Thinking about the older house he'd stayed in just the week before, Carlton really hoped that Henry was okay.

"What are you thinking?" Shawn asked quietly.

Before he could answer, a third aftershock hit, but it felt far stronger than all the others. One second he stood beside Shawn and the next he was ten feet away and flat on his back, the wind driven from him. One of the remaining telephone poles toppled alarmingly close to him and he rolled in the opposite direction.

And then, in a scene from one of his worst nightmares, Carlton saw a car out of control and Shawn right in its path. The younger man obviously saw the car and struggled to get out of the way, but it zigzagged in an unknowable pattern. For a moment, as Carlton forced himself upright against the shaking ground, he thought that Shawn would get out of the way. Then the car spun in a three-sixty and the back corner clipped Shawn, sending him flying through the air to strike a wall before crumbling to the sidewalk.

Carlton stumbled across the street, barely able to keep his balance. The aftershock ended then and he ran the last few steps, dropping to his knees beside Shawn's bloody and broken body, breathing, "Oh, Christ, Shawn."

He reached a trembling hand to the younger man's throat and found a pulse. Sagging in relief, he jumped to his feet and ran to the car that had hit Shawn. He yanked open the door and found a terrified young woman in the driver's seat. His rage dissipated instantly at her wide, scared eyes and he ordered, "Help me get him to the hospital!"

She nodded and followed him back to Shawn.

Carlton found plenty of wood fragments with which to secure Shawn's head and neck, using his tie and belt to bind the wood in place. Shawn regained consciousness as Carlton buckled the belt to the last notch. Relieved, he asked, "Can you move? Don't do anything big, just test the limbs, Shawn."

Looking as scared as he had during the quake itself, Shawn moved his hands and feet and then said, "I think I'm okay. Well, not okay okay, but you know, okay. I can feel everything. God, can I feel everything. I don't think any of my ribs are in one piece anymore and don't even think about my knee working."

Letting out an explosive sigh, Carlton replied, "All right. We're going to bring you to the hospital now. Try to move as little as possible, just in case."

"That, I can manage," Shawn countered dryly.

Carlton grinned a bit madly at the very-Shawn response and carefully helped him to his feet. They moved slowly to the car and lowered him into the backseat. That taken care of, Carlton informed the girl, "I'm driving."

She nodded, still shaking and big-eyed, and wordlessly moved to the passenger's side.

Carlton took a moment to let himself shake at the near-miss and then collected himself, climbing into the driver's seat. Shawn wouldn't be the only one needing help after whatever that was. The hospital would probably be thronged with people needing help. Carlton had no problem whatsoever using his badge to secure whatever medical help Shawn needed though.

Or, he wouldn't have, except the ocean now stood where the hospital used to be.



Charlie and Ted

Dani looked over at her partner expectantly, waiting for some kind of Zen crap to come spouting out of his mouth. It was after midnight and she was tired, cranky, hungry, and horny; not necessarily in that order. She wanted to hunt down Tidwell and screw his brains out and then have a big meal. Whatever else someone could say about their Captain, he was surprisingly good in bed.

Unfortunately, they were sitting in the lobby of a hotel waiting for an informant of Charlie's to show up so none of that was on the menu. She snorted and thought, More like an old bitch from jail.

Because she had deep suspicions about how a quiet and unassuming Charlie could have lasted twelve years without showing some kind of brute force.

Charlie finally looked at his watch and opined, "I suppose he's not coming."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "That's it? No ancient Chinese proverb or bit of wisdom to cover the situation?"

"Why do you always say Chinese? I've used Hindu, Jewish, and Native American wisdom, too," Charlie pointed out. "Plus, you know, the Irish have a lot of surprisingly esoteric sayings. You know, there's this saying about wind and rain and a roof that covers quite a lot of situations."

Rolling her eyes, Dani stood and told him, "I'm going home."

"That too," Charlie agreed, standing with a grin.

They got partway to the door when the earthquake tossed Dani ass over teakettle onto the carpet. It was softer than some of the landings she'd had since partnering with Charlie, but she landed wrong and twisted her arm backwards. It was the worst she'd been through in a long time and Dani grit her teeth as she crawled along the floor towards the relative shelter of the concierge desk.

When it stopped, she stayed where she was for a few seconds to catch her breath while scanning for her partner. She spotted Charlie covering an older woman with his body protectively and felt anew the knowledge deep in her gut that he was a very good man. Weird as hell, but very good.

Dani stood and walked over to him as he was helping the woman to her feet. She called out, "Anyone hurt? Everyone all right?" and pulled out her badge, clipping it to the front of her belt. There were headshakes from everyone in the lobby, though most of them looked shaken by the experience.

Charlie's gaze lingered on where she was rubbing her elbow area and he questioned, "You okay?"

"Just twisted it," she confirmed. "I'll put some ice on it later."

Quirking a grin at her, he asked innocently, "Did you feel that?"

"I am going to hurt you," Dani threatened, though it was half-hearted.

He chuckled. "No you're not."

The world shifted violently again and she staggered right into Charlie, the two of them stumbling first against the wall and then to the floor. He pushed her forcibly against the wall and sheltered her with his body as he had the other woman. What was chivalrous for someone else just made her want to smack him in the back of the head. Still, she couldn't deny the sense of safety he brought; Charlie was surprisingly solid lying over her, pressed against her at various places.

He grunted, wincing and twitching a shoulder back. Dani heard something break and knew one of the lights had fallen on him. When the noise and shaking finally stopped, Dani let out a long breath and asked, "You okay?"

"Bruised," he answered, hopping lightly to his feet. Louder, he called out, "Everyone all right this time?"

Dani stood and saw that the other people in the lobby were all pale and scared, but in one piece. Some were in doorways, but most were holed up under counters and holding onto one another. She ordered loudly, "Everyone stay put. Hopefully that's the last one, but there's no sense in taking any chances."

Charlie had moved to help up the woman he'd sheltered before and was now walking her to a doorway. She saw him pull out his cell phone and make a call as he walked back, a worried expression in place. That alone told her he was calling Ted and she grimaced, but didn't comment. She didn't trust the ex-con as far as she could throw him, but Charlie did.

"No service," Charlie announced when he got back. "Not that I'm surprised. That was a big one."

Dani nodded and suggested, "We should call in from the radio in the car."

They headed for the door only to meet with the exact same fate as the first time. Dani yelped in pain when she rolled into a table leg face first, her nose instantly splattering blood all over the expensive cream carpet. Grabbing hold of the heavy metal table, she pulled herself under it and pinched her nose shut with a gasp of pain. Charlie had rolled in the opposite direction and landed under the concierge desk this time.

More lights fell from the ceiling and then parts of the ceiling itself fell before the aftershock ended. Dani stayed where she was then, knowing in her gut that the worst had yet to come. Meeting Charlie's gaze from across the room, she saw the knowledge there, too. Dani had a theory that natives to California had a sixth sense about when earthquakes were really done and they could go back to work and life without worrying any more.

"Everyone stay right where you are!" Charlie shouted in his cop-voice. "Nobody move!"

The silence was rigid with a tension that was palpable. Dani heard some of the civilians crying while others remained tight-lipped with fear. And then her stomach surged with the world tilting on its axis. Dani clung to the metal table that was fortunately bolted into the floor. She saw Charlie and others thrown around willy-nilly as though dolls in some giant child's tantrum.

Visible cracks in the ceiling echoed over the rumble of the twisting earth and Dani felt her stomach drop as the floor fell away in great, gaping chunks. She screamed Charlie's name as he fell closer and closer to the fissure, unable to do anything except watch while death stalked her partner. It toyed with him as every single thing that Charlie grabbed hold of, became uprooted and rolled closer to the hole in the floor.

It flashed through her mind then, what would happen if Charlie died in the earthquake. In a matter of seconds, she saw herself telling Ted and holding the man as he cried for his lost lover. Then she was at Charlie's well-attended funeral. Then she was staring at her father back at work as if nothing had ever happened. As if Charlie had never existed at all. The only sign that he ever had would be a broken man named Ted Earley and a hole in her own heart where Charlie had been.

Launching herself from shelter, Dani somersaulted across the moving floor to where Charlie half-hung over the void. She grabbed the chandelier that had crashed to the floor in the last aftershock and it stopped her unchecked flight into madness. Twining her legs in its solid wrought metal, Dani threw her arms out and screamed Charlie's name.

He reacted just as she'd hoped, flinging his arms in her direction, which she grabbed. His hands locked onto her forearms while she did the same to his and yanked him back from the fissure with all her strength. His legs kicked in the air, unable to get purchase, but also doing a crawling motion with his knees. Finally, he managed to push towards her as she pulled and Charlie came closer to her by half a foot. One hand released to grab higher up her arm and then the other until they were face-to-face and then Charlie shifted above her just enough that they could hold onto one another around the chest. That, naturally, was when the world stopped moving.

Dani lay there panting with her heart pounding against her chest and unable to loosen her hold on Charlie. But that was okay, since he seemed afflicted with the same problem.



Sam and Dean

Sam grinned as he watched Dean flirting with a girl near the bar. They'd rolled into Hollywood the day before on rumors of a group practicing demon worship and trying to raise a demon with serious power. There'd been a friendly argument about whether or not it was the Scientologists when Bobby had first called them about it. And even though it wasn't Seal-breaking worthy, since neither Uriel or Castiel had shown up, they'd agreed that it bore looking into.

Not that being in California during winter had anything to do with their decision.

Dean sauntered back to their table and sat across from him as he said, "She's got a friend who's into freakishly big guys like you, if you're interested."

Sam snorted. It really was a good thing that he wasn't the jealous type. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Dean replied, winking.

"Dick."

"Bitch."

Chuckling, Sam finished his beer and said, "While you were getting her phone number, I found something interesting in the book Missouri sent me last month."

"Oh yeah?" Dean questioned, sounding curious. "What's that?'

Turning the small, leather bound book towards Dean, Sam explained, "Some kind of…"

Before he could say `cataclysmic event,' the floor shook heavily beneath his feet. Sam grabbed hold of the table, but it was moving along with everything else. Dean grabbed his hand and yanked him to the floor, covering him protectively as they huddled under the table for the rest of the earthquake.

There were plenty of screams of fear from the girls around them and Sam winced as they reached upper registers not meant for men's ears. Glasses fell off the tables, shattering on the wooden floor to make for dangerous tread. Sam watched a neon pool ball roll by with a strange sense of detachment.

When it was over, he drew in a deep breath and said shakily, "That was something."

"Yeah," Dean muttered, slow to let him go. "What do you say we find a doorway to stand under in case it happens again?"

Sam stood with a nod as he said, "The aftershocks shouldn't be nearly as bad, but that's a good idea."

Except at a glance, all the doorways were filled; not that there were many.

They looked at one another and said simultaneously, "The Impala."

Sam felt disoriented as they walked towards the exit with a bunch of other people who probably had the same thought as the Winchesters. Unexpectedly, Castiel appeared in front of them, blocking the way. He looked exactly the same as before, his tan trench coat hiding the lean frame of the man whose body he inhabited. Sam grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled him back, away from the angel.

"Why are you two here?" Castiel demanded, sounding and looking furious. "Why aren't you in Texas?"

Sam glanced at his brother, but found Dean just as mystified.

Dean prompted, "What's in Texas, other than no earthquakes?"

Giving them a sour look, Castiel stated, "Just that. Now it's too late. I can't interfere."

Sam questioned cautiously, "In what?"

But Castiel disappeared as abruptly as he'd shown up and Sam had a very bad feeling about the entire encounter. Dean wore a similar expression and Sam suddenly knew they didn't have any time. He shoved Dean at one of the massive, nouveau pool tables that looked hideous but would provide excellent shelter in an earthquake.

They'd just climbed under one when the world upended again, throwing people and furniture all over the place. Sam held tight to his brother, pinning him down this time so that nothing could happen to him. There were more screams and an unpleasant sounding gurgle from somewhere nearby, but Sam kept his head down and his face pressed against Dean's shoulder. This one lasted not quite as long as the first, but Sam didn't move when it finished.

"Jesus," Dean muttered.

Sam was ready to agree, but decided instead to say, "This isn't over. Castiel wouldn't show up for something like that, bad as it was."

Dean sounded grim as he echoed, "I know, but what can we do? It's an earthquake, not demonic or a Seal."

Sam looked up at last, scanning the room to find the girl Dean had been flirting with impaled on a pool cue. Feeling sick, Sam wondered if Castiel had done that. Sam wondered a lot about the angel who'd pulled Dean out of Hell and seemed to have an unusual fixation on his brother even if assigned to watch over him and give him knowledge of the Seals. He damn sure hadn't needed to burn his palm print into Dean's flesh for any reason that Sam had been able to discern.

Another aftershock struck then and Sam had all he could do to hang onto Dean, who held fast to a table leg. Even with his arms locked in place around his brother's chest, Sam had to brace a foot against one of the other table legs to keep even close to not being thrown around like before. There were loud thuds and crashes all around them. Sam swallowed back nausea at the sight of another young woman crushed beneath the large iron-framed mirror that had fallen from a wall.

When it stopped, Sam asked, "Do you think that's it?"

Dean shook his head, meeting his gaze with a bleak one of his own. "Not bad enough to warrant a visit from Castiel."

Sam kissed him, not sure he would get another chance, and whispered fiercely against his ear, "I love you and will never regret loving you like I do."

Dean's jaw flexed and he said harshly, "We are not going to die underneath a friggin' pool table, Sammy. No fuckin' way, you hear me?"

Sam nodded and then hunkered down while others started moving around the bar again. He was going to shout at them to get underneath something, to find shelter, but it happened again before he could. This time was the reason that Castiel had shown himself, he knew that without being told. Even the monstrosity under which they crouched groaned and shifted with the violence of the quake.

And then the building quite literally fell down around them.




Morgan, Garcia, and Kevin & Hotch and Reid

Spencer rubbed his eyes and yawned as the words began swimming on the page in front of him. In the last four days, they'd come no closer to finding out who the unsub was, let alone catching him and it was getting to all of them. This small town in southern California that had fallen prey to such an evil had no business being targeted the way they had; young men and women between the ages of seventeen and twenty-one murdered in horrific ways. Nine so far in the span of a two weeks and it was clear that the unsub was just getting started.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders and massaged them, working at the tension he hadn't consciously noticed in the muscles there. He groaned in pleasure and said, "Thank you."

Hotch chuckled, a sound rarely heard anywhere, let alone on a case, and replied, "You're welcome. And you've been staring at the same page for five minutes now, so I would say that you're done, Spencer."

Sighing, Spencer admitted, "I could use a couple of hours sleep."

Hotch left off the massage and moved to lean on the desk, facing him as he said, "You could use at least eight, but I'll wake you in four."

Spencer smiled up at his lover. "That sounds like an excellent compromise. Where are the others?"

"Morgan and Prentiss are going over the victimology with Sheriff McLean again, Gacria is on standby, and Jordan's working on the press release for the morning news."

"And we're taking a break?" Spencer guessed.

Hotch nodded firmly. "We are. Let's head back to the hotel."

Spencer stood and wanted to just lean on the other man as they walked out of the small station, but forced himself upright. He was so tired, not having slept hardly at all for the last four days. It wasn't nightmares this time so much as not enough time to let his brain slow down enough for sleep to take hold. Maybe Hotch was going to use one of his tried and true methods to get him to sleep. He grinned thinking about how that usually involved a lot of demanding sex.

They were in the small parking lot when the earth moved violently beneath his feet. Not the most coordinated under the best of circumstances, Spencer fell the first moment his foot came down and the ground wasn't there. His elbows cracked sharply against the cement and his chin did the same a second later, causing him to bite his tongue hard enough that blood instantly filled his mouth. Spencer coughed, choking on his own blood as the shaking ground threw him this way and that. Disoriented, he couldn't tell which way was up as he tried to find a hold in the cracked pavement, fingernails bending back in sharp bits of pain when he failed.

When the earthquake stopped, he coughed and wheezed for clean air, spitting out blood that kept filling his mouth. Hotch was there seconds later, turning him over so the blood fell out instead of
pooling, which helped a lot. Then some kind of cloth pushed into his mouth and Spencer pressed his tongue against it, ignoring the pain in favor of hopefully clotting what felt like a massive chunk out of his tongue.

Hotch held him halfway upright and held his shirt against Spencer's chin as he demanded, "Any other injuries?"

Spencer pulled out the cloth, absently noting that it was Hotch's tie, and spat out a mouthful of blood before gasping, "My elbows hurt, but I don't think they're actually injured."

Hotch let out a visible sigh of relief and ordered, "Put the tie back in your mouth and no more talking."

Nodding, Spencer had just done so when the aftershock struck. Hotch fell on top of him, but then covered him deliberately, pinning him in place. He had no idea how Hotch managed to keep them in one place with the ground heaving, but he did; maybe through sheer force of will. Spencer held tight with one arm around Hotch's waist and the other gripping the edge of a big crack of pavement, trying to help.

He heard some kind of explosion nearby and flinched, praying it hadn't come from the police station where Morgan, Prentiss, and Jordan still were. When the aftershock finished, Spencer instantly turned and spat out both the tie and the accumulated blood, coughing a little to get out the nasty taste at the back of his throat.

"You okay?" Hotch asked, rubbed a hand up and down his back. "Spencer?"

Spencer nodded and said, "I think the bleeding's slowing down."

"Good. Use this now."

Accepting the handkerchief that Hotch had taken out from somewhere, Spencer put it in his mouth and stood with help. He felt as though someone had beaten him with some kind of blunt instrument, aware of how much worse it would have been had Hotch not been with him.

"Oh God."

Spencer turned at Hotch's anguished words and found the police station engulfed in flames. The explosion must have come from a gas line or generator, maybe both. Grief weakened his knees and the only reason he didn't land on his ass was Hotch caught him, slowing his fall. Kneeling beside him, Hotch held him tight, lips pressed to the top of Spencer's head.

The second aftershock came as a complete surprise and separated them. Spencer's head connected with the pavement and he groaned at the new source of pain, curling into a ball. It was impossible to think, his senses overwhelmed by the latest assault. The sound of the world crashing down mixed with the rumble of moving earth. The flash of falling lampposts and the nearby fire caused him to clench his eyes shut.

When the second aftershock finally ended, Spencer forced himself onto his hands and knees, spitting out the handkerchief and more blood. It was a lot less than before, thankfully, so the wound was clotting even with all the chaos going on around him. He found Hotch several feet away, not moving, and with a lamppost partially on top of him.

Panic lit through him and Spencer scrambled across the distance on his hands and knees, not sure that another wouldn't strike at any moment. His mind raced through statistics on earthquakes and aftershocks but he really hadn't read much about them, despite growing up in Vegas. Spencer didn't see any evidence of electricity in the fallen lamppost, so he stood and hauled the insanely heavy thing off Hotch, adrenaline fueling his need to save his lover. He'd only managed to swing it off to the side before it slipped from numb fingers the moment Hotch was clear, but all that really mattered was that it was off Hotch.

And then his mind thought about things like pressure wounds and crush injuries and he frantically opened Hotch's shirt and undid his pants to look at the bruised and ugly bare skin. There weren't any punctures that he saw, no blood, but that didn't mean something wasn't bleeding internally.

"Spencer, Spencer, it's okay, I'm all right."
 
Spencer abruptly realized that he was babbling about the statistics on those injuries and that Hotch had been calling his name for a several seconds. Relief so intense that his vision grayed out hit Spencer and he swayed, only keeping conscious because he knew he had to help Hotch. He bent to kiss Hotch, needing to know that he was truly okay, and then gasped, "You shouldn't move, you should stay right here until I can get an ambulance to bring you to a hospital."

Shaking his head, Hotch took Spencer's hand and squeezed it hard as he ordered sternly, "Calm down, Spencer. Trust me. I know my own body and I'm not bleeding internally. We need to find shelter in case there's another aftershock."

Spencer looked around the now-dark parking lot and slurred, his tongue swelling unpleasantly, "There aren't any more lamps to fall and no nearby trees. We're probably safest right here."

Hotch grunted as he sat upright and Spencer put an arm around his waist for support. They both stared at the burning building for a few seconds in silence. There was no way to know if anyone had gotten out, maybe were just on the other side of the building and wondering if Hotch and Spencer were dead.

He was almost expecting the third aftershock, but when it came, Spencer instantly knew it was much higher on the Richter scale than the previous three events. He could feel it in his bones, the way he felt it when the desert night would go below zero or when he looked into someone's face and just knew with utter certainty that evil hid in their seemingly innocent faces. Gideon had always claimed that he needed to listen more to his instincts than to his logic and this time Spencer's instincts said they were screwed.

Spencer flailed as he rolled over the parking lot and then slammed into a now-vertical portion of it. Groaning at the impact, Spencer instantly clawed his way in the opposite direction as the pavement swayed like some kind of man-made wave about to crash down on him with killing force. His heart thundered with the effort, his tongue bleeding more freely as he grit his teeth to get anywhere but there.

He almost made it.



Leland and Randy

Leland had known that he was going to regret letting Randy drive. Had known it from the moment the other man had flashed those baby blues at him and stood by the driver's side door with a hopeful expression.

"I have the directions mapquested and ready to go," Randy had said, holding up papers. "I have the hotel reservations and the snacks and I even have the itinerary for the conference."

And then he'd looked at Leland with that damned, `pretty please may I?' expression and Leland had caved completely. He'd just sighed and tossed Randy the keys, walking around to the passenger's side. Now they were on the road to Los Angeles, only not really because about four hours into the drive, Natalie had called and told him that one of the detectives had called Monk's house looking for him because the people at the hotel were looking for him.

The people in the San Francisco hotel.

Randy hunched a little further down in the passenger's seat as if knowing that Leland's pissed thoughts had returned to their favorite whipping boy; namely, Randy.

"I am so sorry, Sir," Randy repeated for about the hundredth time. "I was sure that the conference was the one on forensics and not the one on interagency cooperation. If I'd known it was that one, I would have…"

"Shut up, Randy."

"Yes, Sir."

They had almost made it all the way down to Santa Barbara before the call had come. Leland had been very tempted to just take a hotel room for the night and make Randy pay for it, but he wanted to get back more than he wanted to make Randy pay for two hotel rooms.

The earthquake took him by surprise and nearly sent them careening off the freeway. Leland brought them to a controlled stop, if barely, and was doubly glad that Randy hadn't been driving at that point. He kept a tight grip on both Randy and the steering wheel as the ground shifted beneath the car. It was a strong one and left him a little breathless when finally done.

He glanced at Randy, who looked pale and shaken, and asked needlessly, "You okay?"

"Yes, Sir," Randy replied, running a hand through his hair. "Wow. That was…scary."

Leland nodded, agreeing, "It was. I should call Monk and make sure he's okay."

It was only because he was looking that he caught a flash of something he couldn't identify flash across Randy's face then. Before he could ask about it, the aftershock hit almost as strong as the original quake. The car shimmied sideways towards the guardrail and he had the brief, grateful thought that they were on the other side of the freeway and not the one next to the ocean. They still wound up with his door scraping against the midway guardrail, but it was better than sliding into the ocean.

The ocean that heaved and splashed over the other side of the freeway in a very disturbing manner. Leland had lived in California too long  to take anything for granted. As soon as the aftershock stopped, he ordered, "Out, Randy! Now!"

"What? But Sir, policy says…"

"Now, Randy! Get the fuck out of the car!"

Randy looked shocked by his language, but it got him out of the car. Once they were both out, Leland hustled the younger man across the freeway and urged him to start climbing up the hill. There weren't any other cars on their part of the freeway, fortunately, because Leland had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. The hill was steep and hard to climb, the dirt dry and crumbling under their fingers, but he refused to let Randy stop. He cursed loudly at the other man,  going so far as to grab him by the belt and haul him upwards when Randy stumbled.

The wedgie forced Randy to keep going and he looked almost panicked by the fear that surged through Leland like the massive waves splashing onto the freeway below. They made the top of the hill just when the next aftershock struck and Leland almost fell back down the incline. Randy grabbed his arm and yanked it nearly out of the socket, but that was fine since it got him firmly up and over the edge.

Leland clung to both the ground and Randy, determined not to lose his hold on either one as the world moved around them. Dirt and rocks fell from the higher ledge above them and he had visions of the entire hillside avalanching down with them caught in the middle of it all. It remained intact, though, and as soon as it was over, Leland jumped to his feet. He hauled Randy up the next part of the hill to what he hoped was the very top where they could get away from the coast that he suspected was finally about to fall into the ocean.

"Run, Randy, God fucking damn it!" he shouted, shoving Randy up and over the last part of the incline.

The moonlight clearly showed Randy's shock and fear, but Leland didn't care as long as it got the younger man moving faster. He caught Randy's hand and ran full out over the flat land, pulling Randy with him. There were houses not far in the distance, though this portion of land seemed to have been dedicated to nothing in particular. He ran so fast that his lungs burned and his legs protested the unusual usage, his body not used to this kind of physical exertion. It wasn't all that long ago that he could barely walk, using a cane to get around with a back that could barely be straightened.

Then again, imminent death was a great motivator.

The third aftershock threw them both to the ground even as the earth refused to stay still as it should. There were no trees or power lines to worry about, so Leland grabbed hold of Randy and staggered forward in a haphazard way. The younger man got his feet under him and helped with an arm around Leland's waist, the painful and overwhelming sound of some kind of roar coming from behind thrumming further panic through him.

Leland didn't dare look for fear of what he would find, he just kept putting one foot in front of the other as fast as he could, which wasn't nearly fast enough. When the third aftershock finally ended, he kept running, kept Randy running, still hearing whooshing sounds from behind that made him think of Vietnam and the whoosh of death known as Napalm.

They reached the first line of houses and even though he wanted desperately to stop, Leland panted for air and kept going. Moving beyond the houses at a slower speed just because he couldn't maintain the one that had propelled them so far, Leland prayed in a way he hadn't for a very long time. Prayed in a way that he'd rediscovered at the monastery. Prayed that he and Randy would live through whatever was going on. Prayed that there was no one left in the houses he heard being destroyed by something he couldn't take precious seconds to look at yet.

When the ground became wet and muddy beneath them with strong pulses of seawater, panic renewed his need to go faster. The same seemed to strike Randy because he also put on a burst of speed, arm locked around Leland's waist. Then there was water around their ankles and rising faster than they could go. Waves slapped at his calves from behind. Forcing himself to look around instead of where they were going, he spotted a three-story house still intact to the west. Leland dragged Randy in that direction, slopping through the increasingly deep water that now slogged bitter cold around their every step.

The water was thigh-high by the time they reached the house and he shoved Randy at the trellis along the porch that led to the second story. The push-pull of the ocean sucked at him even as he grabbed the trellis for balance. Only a second behind him, Leland climbed the sturdy wooden structure and shouted at Randy to move faster. They reached the roof over the porch and he spotted a fire ladder. He swung Randy that way by his belt, stumbling after him and waiting for him to climb up to the third level roof.

They made it there a few seconds later and then there was only a short reach to climb up to the top of the house. Once there was nowhere else to go and they were situated against the brick chimney, Randy wedged against it, Leland looked at what they'd been running from to find…the ocean. The water covered as far as he could see, surrounding the house they were on and covering the smaller ones.

Randy shook violently against him and Leland tightened his grip around the younger man's shoulder. Shock made him shake almost as much as Randy, glad of the sturdiness of the chimney holding them up. Then he spotted the massive shadow coming at them and knew instinctively that it was a tsunami. He forced Randy to his feet so that they stood behind the chimney and could hold onto the top of it. Not that he thought that would save them, not with the wave coming at them fast and with all of nature's fury.

It looked like California had finally fallen into the ocean.



Van and Deaq

"Yo, babe! I'm home!"

Van looked up from his paperwork at Deaq's shout and grinned. "In the kitchen!"

Deaq popped into the kitchen a few seconds later, pulling off his holster and pausing to kiss the top of Van's before dropping the holster and gun on the table and collapsing in the chair next to him. He looked tired, brown eyes bloodshot and moving slower than he usually did; it was to be expected with his additional responsibilities, but still worried Van a little.

Having Billie out of town on her honeymoon had left running the Candy Store to Deaq while Van had pulled paperwork duty. Add to that two new recruits who had more arrogance than brains and it led to very long days.

Grinning, Van prompted, "How're the kids?"

Deaq rolled his eyes and said, "We were never that evil when we first started. Or that stupid."

Van snickered meanly as he replied, "That's what you get for retiring us. You get to train the replacements."

Because after six years pulling many and varied undercover stunts, Van and Deaq had run out of bad guys who didn't know them on sight. The only ones they could sting were out-of-towners and no way could Billie justify bankrolling them for so little gain.

Reaching out, Deaq laced his fingers through Van's hair and pulled him in for a long, hard, dominating kiss. Van groaned and opened to it, thrusting his tongue against Deaq's as his lover devoured him. At first, he thought that the world moved with them and then, as the table shifted out from under him, realized that it moved regardless of them. The kiss broke off damn fast and they dashed for the doorframe, laughing and shoving on the way.

"Asshole," Van insulted with a grin, grabbing hold of the doorframe.

Deaq hip-checked him into the doorframe and countered, "You totally thought that was all me, didn't you? You're such a queen, V!"

Rolling his eyes, Van retorted, "I'm not the one with an oral fixation."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that baby," Deaq teased.

The quake was done by then and Van said pointedly, "Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight."

Deaq was still grinning as he pinned Van against the doorframe and resumed the make out session. Their teeth clicked together as the kissing grew more heated, Deaq's hands gripping his ass tight, kneading the muscles there so that Van groaned and arched up into his lover's crotch. The aftershock sent them crashing to the ground and Van started laughing with Deaq groaning beneath him, but not in passion. Rolling off him, Van grabbed hold of the doorway and held a hand down to the other man.

Making a face, Deaq accepted the help and took hold of the other side of the door and complained, "Ma Nature is seriously putting a crimp in my groove, here."

Van snickered again and told him, "Maybe Ma Nature has issues with your groove. It's not nearly as smooth as it used to be, you know."

Deaq gave him an annoyed look. "I'll show you smooth just as soon as it's me makin' the bed move, you little bitch."

Van smirked, mission accomplished. There was nothing hotter than Deaq with something to prove; he got damn inventive.

Once the aftershock finished and he took a look around the kitchen, Van's smirk faded and he said, "Damn it. Cleaning is so not sexy."

"Leave it `til tomorrow," Deaq suggested, coming up behind him.

As distracting as it was to have the other man pressed up the way he was, Van shook his head and told him, "If we don't do it now, we never will and you know it."

Deaq made a rude noise, but didn't dispute the claim.

The second aftershock hit just as Van was bent over to pick up the broken pieces of his glass. Naturally, he fell forward onto the glass, the movement throwing him off-balance. He grunted in pain as he felt something pierce his abs and rolled off as fast as he could to see one of the longer shards sticking out of his gut, blood soaking his shirt. Fortunately, it had cut into him lengthwise and not at the point, so it hadn't gone very deep.

"Van! Shit, you okay?"

Deaq rushed over to him and pulled him to his feet, bringing him back to the relative safety of the doorway. Leaning against him for support, Van sighed explosively and yanked out the glass at the same time. Deaq instantly covered the wound with his bunched up shirt, putting pressure on it. A tight grin showed on the black man's face as Deaq quipped, "If you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask, baby."

When the ground stopped moving at last, the kitchen was in shambles. So was the living room and, Van was sure, the bedroom and bathroom. Everything would be wrecked thanks to what had felt like a seven at the very least. Windows in the living room were mere shards hanging from the edges while the front door slanted sideways, telling him their house was literally off its foundation.

"Son of a bitch," Deaq muttered.

Van sighed. "Yeah. And we just bought the place, too."

Deaq kissed the back of his neck as he said, "We'll fix it up good as new or get somewhere even better."

Even though he knew he was whining, Van sighed again and said, "But this is our first house. We bought it together."

"I know, baby, and it pisses me off too, but what can we do? If it's not safe here anymore, we have to get somewhere else to live," Deaq replied, almost gently.

Despondent, knowing Deaq was right, Van said, "We should call in and see if they need extra bodies at the PD."

"No, first we're going to the hospital and getting you stitched up."

The firm words were followed fast by another aftershock that was way stronger than anything that had gone before. They were thrown apart, Van into the living room and Deaq back into the kitchen. Van landed on the hassock and twisted off it the wrong way, his back protesting the unnatural movement. The overhead fan swung crazily and Van's eyes widened as time seemed to slow and the fan blades came down at him. He launched himself out of the way at the last second only to have the bookcase topple down on top of him.

That actually proved to be a good thing because the ceiling came down a few seconds later.



Morgan, Garcia, and Kevin & Hotch and Reid

Alarms went off at three forty-seven. Alarms that Garcia hadn't even known existed. Alarms that scared the shit out of her even more when she realized they were coming from seismographic links to places in California. Everywhere in California. California, where her team and lover currently were hunting down a serial killer.

Even though it was insanely late, she'd stayed at the office in case the team needed her for something. It was a brutal case and one that could get a break at any moment. Fingers flying over the keyboard, Garcia discovered that there was nothing left, technologically speaking; there were no responses to the team's blackberries, cell phones, no GPS signals, nothing.

Garcia did her best not to hyperventilate as she hit Kevin's speed dial, which was number two. Morgan was number one simply by seniority in her bed, if not her heart. She loved both her men with all her heart and one of them was in dire trouble.

"Wha? Penny? What's wrong?" Kevin's sleepy voice answered on the third ring.

"California's gone! No communication! Massive earthquake! I don't know what's going on because I can't reach anyone!" she wailed, panic fluttering her breathing ever faster.

"Calm down, Garcia, I'm leaving now!" he exclaimed. "Just keep breathing for me, okay?"

Garcia took a few breaths at a slower pace and repeated, "Breathing, right. I can do that."

"You can also take control of one of the satellites and reposition it to where you know Morgan last was."

Feeling like a complete idiot, Garcia spun her chair back to the workstation and started typing.

"I'm in the car now, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Garcia nodded and whispered, "Hurry," before disconnecting.



Mac and Danny

Stella groaned and rubbed at dry and tired eyes. Halfway through her second shift in a row and hiding out in Mac's office wasn't exactly how she'd planned the night. The nice, hot bath had been shelved in favor of a triple homicide because they were shorthanded with Mac and Danny both in San Francisco at a conference. Personally, she thought they'd decided to go just to get out of the cold and snow. It wasn't like Mac didn't already have the entire Encyclopedia Britannica in his head and Danny wasn't all that far behind.

A noise outside the office caught her attention and she frowned as the level continued to increase, people shouting about something. The last time she'd heard that tenor had been 9/11 and her gut clenched. Rushing out of the office, she found people running back and forth, some openly crying and some just standing in the hall, dazed.

Since Lindsay was home, Stella jogged to where she'd last seen Adam and found him staring at his computer screen in shock. He didn't even look up when she entered and called his name. She grabbed his shoulder and demanded, "What's going on?"

Mute, he pointed at his computer.

Looking at the monitor, Stella couldn't make sense of what she was looking at. And then she saw the iconic neon cowboy tilted dangerously off its mooring. "What is that? Is that…Vegas? They had an earthquake?"

Adam's eyes were filled with grief as he shook his head. He moved closer and then moved her onto the stool where he'd been sitting and explained, "It's California. There was…it's…The seismographs picked up a massive earthquake along the San Andreas."

Stella's hand went to her churning stomach and she whispered, "How massive?"

"Ten point seven."

Shock rendered her silent, her gaze glued to the chaos into which Vegas had descended. When she found her voice again, she ordered,  "Turn up the sound."

Adam typed into the computer and the female anchor, who had a bruised cheek and a black eye, said, "…no word yet on California. All communications have failed, though we are still trying to reach our sister stations on the coast. We turn now to Dr. Harold Turner, a seismologist who consults with the government."

The camera switched from the desk to what was probably the weather area under normal circumstances. A man in his forties with thick glasses and faded brown hair stood in front of the map, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and reported, "At twelve forty-six Pacific Standard Time, an eight point three event struck in multiple places along the San Andreas fault-line. That was followed by two aftershocks of eight point naught and seven point nine. Then, then there was another quake, the true event that registered at ten point seven. We only received the briefest of data from that one before all our instruments were destroyed. Until we can communicate with those left in the wreckage, there is no way to know  what has happened for sure."

The camera flashed back to the desk and the male anchor finished, "Thank you, Dr. Turner. We will keep you apprised of the situation as we find out more. As of right now, the White House has announced the repositioning of the National Guard, portions of the Army and Naval Corps while the Air Force here in Nevada and in Utah is flying out to assess damage from visual inspection."

"Turn it off," Stella said hoarsely, mind whirling as she turned away.

Mac and Danny were in San Francisco. They could very well be dead. Adam's hands gripped her shoulders from behind and he pulled her in close, holding her with an arm around the waist as he said, "They'll be okay, Stella."

She was so distraught that the contact was very, very welcome. Stella turned and held onto him as if afraid he would disappear on her as well.

***

Charlie and Ted

Charlie stole the first car he came across that could be hotwired and was drivable. His own car had been crushed beneath a section of the hotel and while he could live with bullet holes, digging it out was not going to happen. Leaving Dani at the hotel to organize and take care of the civilians, Charlie drove home as fast as he could while keeping an eye out for wandering and dazed people on the road.

It seemed to take forever before he made it to his house in the hills and he passed more devastation on the way there than he wanted to think about. Most of his neighbors on the canyon wall now had homes at the bottom of it. His own mansion stood about halfway down, blocked by a kind of pileup of mansions. `Stood,' was relative since it slanted at a precarious angle and looked more like a pile of matchsticks than an actual structure.

Jaw tightening at the thought of Ted being buried in that rubble, Charlie shoved aside any thought that he might not have survived. Taking a deep breath, he released it and murmured, "Your thoughts are the universe. What you believe, is."

Then he climbed out of the car and took the flashlight and emergency kit that he'd swiped from the hotel with him to find Ted.



Van & Deaq and Jesse & Steve

Going through the quake was the second scariest thing ever to happen to Deaq. The first had been when Van had been poisoned and almost died before they could find the antidote. Deaq didn't lose consciousness or anything as the world heaved around him like a demented roller coaster ride; he felt every bruise and cut as it was inflicted. He finally landed between the fridge and counter where the roof proceeded to fall on top of him.

A few minutes went by before he regained his senses, his head still spinning from the disorientation, and when he did it was to find out that he'd been buried. It took too long to get loose from there, but he worked methodically and finally broke free. Deaq knew that Van was somewhere in the living room and he climbed over what used to be their roof in that direction. The moon and stars showed startlingly bright from above, lighting his way. He shoved aside planks of wood and sections of plaster, calling Van's name as he listened for any kind of response.

He worked slow and careful, not wanting to accidentally add more weight to whatever lay on top of his lover. At least an hour went by before he struck pay dirt. Deaq found Van's foot sticking out and quickly moved to uncover the rest of him. When he'd cleared away the debris, it was to find a shard of metal sticking out of Van's abdomen and blood pooled around him.

Forcing down the panic, Deaq scrambled back into the kitchen as fast as he could and grabbed towels from the cabinet by the fridge. He rushed back and put pressure on the wound, trying not to move the de facto blade from where it might have pierced something vital. It seemed like forever before the towels stopped being soaked with blood, tossed aside in favor of clean ones.

While he sat there waiting for the blood to stop, knowing too much had already been lost, Deaq tried to plan how to get Van to a hospital. He had no idea if their cars had survived the quakes and if they had, which hospitals might still be standing. Phone service probably wasn't working, though he would check as soon as his hands weren't covered in blood, so he couldn't call 9-1-1.

And then the water crashed through what was left of the windows and poured through the open door. Deaq barely had time to get a neck hold around Van before there was enough water in the room that he had to kick and support them both. Deaq grabbed for anything to keep them from sinking, finally managing to wrap his arm around the top of the doorframe into the kitchen. It wouldn't last, though, because the water kept rising and they would drown once they hit the ceiling.

Deaq grabbed the plastic hamper that was floating by, temporarily losing hold of the wall but kicking to keep them up. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he managed to put it over his head and then clamped back down on the doorframe. Deaq shifted his hold on Van, getting a better grip over his shoulder, around his chest. The water continued to rise until the only air around was under that hamper. He tread water as slow and calmly as he could, trying not to panic at the thought of how he was jostling the knife around in his lover's gut.

It seemed an eternity of bitter cold water before the level finally started to go down. It was slow and incremental, but finally, Deaq's feet touched the floor. He tossed the hamper aside and took a much
stronger hold on Van, pulling him over the water to the sofa and holding him there with one hand while yanking things off the cushions. He was done before the water had lowered enough that Van ended up on the sofa.

Wishing he could see better, Deaq carefully felt around the wound where, thank God, the metal still rested. It was a foregone conclusion that there would be infection by that point; Deaq just wanted Van to live long enough to get one. Kneeling on the floor, he cupped Van's wet cheek and ordered, "Don't you fuckin' die on me, V, don't you dare! We're gonna get you better, buy a new house, and you're gonna annoy the shit out of me for another fifty years, you hear me?"

Deaq kissed Van's forehead and wondered how in hell he would get Van to a hospital now. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Once his thoughts had calmed to somewhere he could plan, he said, "I don't know if even that new monstrosity in the driveway will work after all that water."

Still, all he could do was try. Just as he stood up to start making real plans…

"Hello? Anyone in there?" an unfamiliar voice shouted.

Deaq instantly shouted back, "In here! I need help!"

"Hang on, I'm coming in."

"Thank God," he muttered.

A flashlight beam swept the area before landing on him and Van. Deaq looked over to find a big shape in the dark walking towards him. He vaguely recognized the big man from a neighborhood watch meeting Van had dragged him to. They hadn't been there long enough to get to know any of their neighbors and Van had insisted that the predominantly white neighbors know exactly who he was, just in case. Deaq had been outwardly dismissive, but silently agreed.

Crouching beside him, the newcomer said, "Damn, that looks bad. Look, my partner's a doctor so let me go get him to take a look."

Deaq let out a long, slow sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Be right back. Just keep doing what you're doing."

Nodding, Deaq agreed, "I will."

*  *  *  *

Steve had seen plenty of dead in the hour he'd been going door to door, but the majority of injuries had been broken bones and head injuries. Finding the man holding his friend's innards together with
his hands and a large piece of metal sticking out of the stomach area had been a shock. He jogged back to where Jesse had set up shop, conserving his strength because it was going to be a long night and he didn't know if the man would even still be alive when he got back with Jesse.

He found Jesse setting the arm of their immediate next door neighbor's daughter, Shara. She was eleven and crying up a storm as her equally as bruised and shaken mother held her tight. Steve automatically scanned the area for Markie and found him sitting quietly with a flashlight, reading a book to Shara's little brother. Even though Markie had been scared out of his five-year-old wits just four hours ago, he'd proven to be both their son by buckling down almost right away and helping someone younger than him.

Steve couldn't remember being so scared as when the quake had woken him from a sound sleep and thrown him to the floor. All he'd been able to think about was getting to Markie. Jess had been right with him and they'd been on the move even before the quake had finished. They'd found Markie standing silent as a statue in his doorway holding onto the wall, the drills they'd run firmly embedded in his young mind. The first aftershock had seen them standing right there and then Steve had herded his family downstairs just in time for the second aftershock.

They'd been in the outside doorway when the last aftershock had struck, sending them flying out onto the back patio. Steve had crawled towards the beach, one hand clamped onto Jesse's arm and Markie clinging to him like a leech, his little legs around Steve's waist. The house he'd spent most of his life in had weathered the quake with surprising strength and not even left the foundation an inch.

Unfortunately, they couldn't say the same for the water damage. Just as they'd caught their breath from the final aftershock, Jess had shouted at him to run and yanked him back towards the house. Steve caught a glimpse of a massive wave coming at the shore like a tsunami and put on as much speed as he could, lacing his hand with Jesse's and running full out.

They hadn't made it very far when the water caught up to them. It had separated him from his lover, though he'd been able to keep hold of Markie when the tide pulled them under. It had taken all his strength to kick to the surface, praying that Markie was holding his breath until he'd broken through the water. His son had instantly coughed and spluttered for air as Steve had done the same for his own battered lungs while keeping them on top of the waves, instead of under them.

All the lessons they'd given Markie since he'd been a baby were a lifesaver then as he'd just held quietly to Steve, making it much easier. The next interminable time had been a nightmare of swimming against the tide of a startlingly cold Pacific with one arm and holding fast to his son with the other. He'd swum to the highest point he could find, finally making it to the second story of the house behind theirs, across the wide street. He'd collapsed there while the owner of the house, Jack, had thrown a blanket over him and Markie. All he could do then was trust in Jesse's swimming abilities to keep him safe.

It had taken another hour for the water to recede, but recede it did, taking most of the beach with it. Steve had waited it out by keeping Markie wrapped up in the blanket with him and praying Jesse was all right. They'd found one another shortly after, both shouting for the other as they'd walked down the street. There'd been a long, group hug as they'd reassured each other that they were all right and then Jesse had gone right into doctor mode, checking them out and then their neighbors.

Steve had felt pretty useless while Jess had taken care of the other people and so had decided to go door-to-door. Jack had found a couple of working flashlights and they'd split up in opposite directions. He'd done that until reaching the end of the block and then gone eastward to continue the search for survivors. It had been a good twenty minutes of finding only bodies and mostly mobile people before coming across those last two in that wreck of a home.

"Jess," Steve greeted tersely.

Looking up from Shara, Jesse took one look at him and straightened up, grabbing his medical bag and saying, "Let's go."
 
Steve nodded and jogged back the way he'd come, explaining about what waited for them. They were back to the wreck of a house in ten minutes and he waited as Jesse took over for the black man.

"His pulse is thready, how much blood would you say he lost?" Jesse questioned.

The black man answered, "I don't know, he was bleeding when I found him and it took a long time to stop. Then the water…we were floating around in all that, I don't know what that's done to him."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"Shit. All right, I can't leave the metal in because it's just going to cause an infection, if it hasn't already, so get the bandages out of my bag to stem the bleeding. Steve, come here and hold him down. I don't want him thrashing around when I'm in the middle of something." Steve moved into position at the injured man's head, putting his hands on the man's shoulders and getting ready to exert force if necessary.

"Stay down by his feet and get ready to hold him down if he wakes up," Jesse ordered the black man when he returned. "Put the bandages there."

Watching as Jesse splashed rubbing alcohol on first his hands and then the metal piece in the wound, Steve winced when his lover pulled it out sharply and tossed it aside. There was a splatter of blood into the air before a towel came down. The bleeding stopped fairly quickly, maybe because Jess knew what he was doing or maybe because there just wasn't enough blood left in the younger man's body. Steve rooted for the former.

"Steve, shine the flashlight down here so I can see."

Steve picked up the flashlight and did as instructed, grimacing at the sight of the bloody gash. Jesse just picked up a scalpel from his bag, splashed alcohol on it, and used it to move aside the jagged opening, peering inside to look at who knew what. Whatever he saw caused him to sit back with a sigh and announce, "I can't be completely sure without the right technology, but it looks like tissue and muscle damage, no organs. I'll sew him up and we'll get him to a hospital as soon as we
can to make sure."

"Oh thank God," the other man sighed. "And you. Thank you so much, both of you. I'm Deaq and the man you're about to sew up is my partner, Van."

"Steve and Jesse Sloan," Steve replied, reaching across to shake the man's hand since Jesse was busy again.

It didn't take Jesse long to finish suturing Van up and, yet again, Steve was amazed at the skill his lover so casually displayed. Once it was over and bandaged with supplies from Jesse's bag, Jesse said, "We should find something to carry him on so he doesn't get moved around too much. I want him where I can keep an eye on him, or I'd just tell you to keep him here."

They wound up using the front door as a makeshift stretcher to bring Van to the ugly Landrover in the driveway. It was in one piece, but partly in the street and partly in the driveway. It started right up for Deaq and he drove them back to Jack's house, which had turned into a kind of neighborhood place of operations. They carried him inside and lay Van, complete with door, on one of the beds. Jesse insisted on the door because the bed was wet and he wanted to keep Van as dry and warm as possible. Blankets appeared with Jack's wife, Kara, and they shifted Van up while Jesse put the blankets down on the door. They left Deaq sitting in a chair beside the bed.

Outside the room, Steve pulled Jesse into his arms and soaked in the comfort of knowing his own lover was safe and healthy. A small missile crashed against his leg and Steve grinned as he looked down to see Markie giving him mini-versions of Jesse's pleading expression, complete with floppy blond hair and blue eyes. Laughing softly, he picked Markie up and kissed him on the forehead, leaving his other arm around his lover's waist.

The Sloan family took a few minutes for themselves.



Shawn and Lassiter

The last time Shawn had been in this much pain, he'd been driven off the road while on a motorcycle. A close second to that had been getting pistol whipped by Drimmer right across the head. Of course, both those times had been relatively limited pain while this time, his entire body felt like he'd been hit by a car. And then he frowned as the memory of being hit by a car ran through his mind in vivid Technicolor. Well, more like muted Noir, since it had been dark at the time.

Groaning, Shawn opened his eyes and found himself in a hospital room with four other people, his leg in traction and his midsection wrapped tight with something. The other patients were all on rollaway beds while he was on a normal one, so he figured that Lassiter had yelled at someone to get him all nice and comfy.
 
There was only emergency lighting in the hall while the room was dark and people were running back and forth out there, so Shawn figured that he hadn't been out for too long. He remembered waking up on the street but had passed back out on the drive. He experimentally shifted the leg that was in traction and then grit his teeth as his knee violently protested. They were either conserving meds or had thought he'd be out for a while longer, maybe both. Whatever the case, he needed to know what was going on instead of being in some bed doing nothing.

"Spencer? You awake?"

Shawn turned his head towards the doorway at the quiet words and found Lassiter standing there. "Yeah, I'm awake."

Lassiter walked into the room and to his bed, looking down at him with something like relief as he said, "Good. You sound coherent. They didn't have the power to do a CAT scan or MRI, so we had to take on faith that you'd wake up with your usual charms."

"Awww, you missed me, Lassie!" Shawn exclaimed, grinning. The grin faded as he asked, "How bad is it? Are the phones up? Can you call and see how, um, everyone's doing?"

Shawn got really scared when Lassiter took his hand and couldn't seem to find words to answer the questions. The other man finally said, "Shawn, Santa Barbara's…well, parts of it are underwater now. The coastline's gone. I don't know what the extent of it is, but I had to go north a few towns before finding even a working hospital."

All Shawn heard was… the coastline's gone…before his mind went blank. His father and Gus were, in all likelihood, dead. Drowned. Lost to the ocean.

"Shawn! Shawn, stop it! Spencer!"

Coming back to himself with a snap, Shawn went absolutely still as he panted harshly in the otherwise silent room. He was partially off the bed, his leg twisted painfully in its sling while still sticking into the air.

Lassiter cupped his face and said firmly, "I will do my best to find them, Shawn, but you have to stay here. You dislocated your knee again and this time you did serious damage. If you don't let it recover  completely, you'll have trouble the rest of your life. No walking until the doctors say you can, understood?"

At a loss, Shawn nodded and clenched his fingers in Lassiter's dirty shirt. He tried to say something but couldn't, his mouth and tongue useless as grief continued to swamp him. Lassiter sat on the bed and wrapped strong arms around him, pulling him close until there was no choice but to let it out.

Who could stay strong with Lassiter offering to do it for them?



Brenda & Fritz and Derek & John

Fritz had never been one to believe in those stories about fate and adrenaline fueled strength and blind luck. His life had been lived with logic and rules and regulations right up until the moment Brenda had stormed into it and all of that had flown out the window. She was a force of nature, of that there was no doubt, and a storm he'd welcomed into his life no matter how much they clashed or how much he had to give way so that she could `win' and be `right' all the time.

Seeing that tree come down had spurred him forward faster than he'd known himself capable of doing. It had been as though the world moved in slow motion and even though Fritz knew he wouldn't get there in time to save her, he ran as fast as he could. When he got there only seconds later, it was to find Brenda had almost made it free with her crazy leap for safety, but not quite. She lay face down on the street, her leg caught and twisted at a very, very ugly angle.

Fear and desperation thrummed through Frtiz as he pushed a shoulder under the bottom edge of the large tree and shoved as hard as he could. His heart felt like it would explode out of his chest from the exertion and his legs spasmed almost as bad as his back, though with less pain. He only vaguely saw someone else take up a spot beside him, but definitely felt the help they lent as the tree finally gave way, shoved off Brenda to roll a little down the street.

Fritz collapsed with a groan, clutching his back for a few seconds before forcing himself to crawl back towards Brenda.

"Hey, easy there," someone said, holding him in place. "Let me take a look at you."

Squinting up at the vague shape in the dark, Fritz recognized a young voice, probably late teens. Fritz forced himself upright and said, "I have to make sure she's okay."

"Derek's looking her over, he can handle the broken leg. You need to stay put," the kid insisted.

Fritz shook his head as he countered harshly, "You can help me, or get out of the way."

The boy muttered, "Where have I heard that before?" but assisted him towards Brenda, which was, thankfully, only a few feet away.

She was still facedown, but a man knelt by her leg, holding it in his hands. Before Fritz could say or do anything, the man twisted and pulled on the leg, a loud crack echoing through the air. Fritz snarled wordlessly at the way the other man handled Brenda, but then stopped himself in place. The leg was set and Brenda was still unconscious so she didn't have to go through the pain of it being done.

Taking a breath, Fritz said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," the man replied. "I didn't want to move her in case there's problem with her back or neck. We should immobilize her somehow."

Fritz ran a hand gently over Brenda's head and agreed, "I know. I'll just…"

He'd tried to stand, but his back spasmed violently and he went down with a curse and a groan. The pain literally stole his breath away and now that Brenda was out of danger, he let it. When he could think again, the teenager was sitting next to him, hand on his shoulder.

"You all right now?" the kid asked.

Nodding, Fritz replied, "I will be. My back goes out now and again. The only thing I can do is lie down and wait for it to get better. Great timing, right?"

"Perfect," the man agreed. "Look, I'm Derek and that's my nephew, John. I'm going to see about getting your wife taken care of, you just take it easy."

Fritz grabbed the guy's arm and said, "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but are you qualified?"

Derek replied wryly, "I wouldn't say I'm a doctor, but I've tended men and women in battle."

Startled, Fritz let him go. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"Don't worry about it," Derek interrupted. "Get some rest."

It was clearly an order and one Fritz really wanted to obey; between his back and his legs, his body was seriously not happy. Now that there was someone to help, he took hold of Brenda's hand and closed his eyes, trying to just breathe through the pain.



Morgan, Garcia, and Kevin & Hotch and Reid

The pain in his arm was excruciating and pulled Derek from the dark of unconsciousness in throbbing bursts. Groaning, he tried to figure out where he was and what hurt most, but it was difficult. His head throbbed in time to his pulse and arm, and something pinned him in place so that he couldn't move to check out the pain for real.

Flashes of memory surfaced as he lay there. An earthquake. Another one. Some kind of explosion. Being thrown across the room. Another earthquake. Furniture and the ceiling falling. Flames so hot and close that he'd thought he was going to die. And then nothing.

Taking a breath, Derek lifted the arm that didn't kill like a son of a bitch and felt around to take stock. It felt like a desk was directly above him, keeping the majority of the debris off him. There was all kind of metal and wood and plaster surrounding and lying on him and he slowly began shifting things off to the side with his uninjured hand.

It took several minutes before he could see the gaping hole where the ceiling used to be. His right arm hung useless as he carefully pushed into a sitting position. The world spun a bit crazily, but this time it was just his head and not the ground beneath him. Derek breathed slowly for a few minutes and then pulled himself upright by way of the desk that had saved his life.

Grinning down at the ancient metal monstrosity, he said, "I'm going to have you bronzed, baby."

Derek looked around the room and his grin instantly disappeared. Walking through the debris, he looked for other survivors. He found two dead deputies before coming across Sheriff McLean unconscious, but alive. Prentiss would be somewhere close since she'd been talking to the Sheriff when the quake hit, so he kept searching. His entire body hurt and he couldn't even feel his right arm any more, but Derek kept plowing through the wreckage. There was no way he would rest until he knew what had happened to the rest of his team.

He finally found her buried under a couple of filing cabinets in the corner by the remnants of the west wall. He pulled aside both of them and knelt beside her, feeling for a pulse. It beat slow and thready, worrying him more than the burns he found on her throat and arms, the clothing burned around her shoulders and torso.

"Need some help, son?"
 
Looking over at the raspy offer, Derek found Sheriff McLean walking towards him. "Yeah, she's burned and her pulse is weak. She needs medical attention."

"Did you find my deputies?" McLean asked.

Derek nodded and answered, "I'm sorry, neither of them made it."

The Sheriff's Adam's apple bobbed a few times, but he nodded resolutely and said, "Let's get your partner seen to."

With one arm out of commission, all Derek could do was take her legs with his good arm while the older man picked Prentiss up under the arms. It took forever to walk out of what was left of the small building, stumbling on debris as they went. Derek had to lock his knees to get outside, his own body wanting to fall down limp and stay that way for a month.

They placed Prentiss on the grass directly outside and Derek dropped down beside her, trying to catch his breath. Just a minute or two to rest and he'd get up to find Spencer, Hotch, and Jordan. He had to find them, no matter what.

"Derek! Derek, help me!"

Derek's head jerked up at Hotch's shout and he found the other man limping towards him at a fast clip. Climbing to his feet, he met Hotch halfway and demanded, "Were Spencer and Jordan with you?"

"It's Spencer," Hotch told them, holding his side. "Part of the parking lot came up in the quake and he's trapped beneath it. Sheriff, is there a backhoe or some kind of tractor nearby that you know of? We need to rig it to pick the cement up."

The word `trapped' held new meaning for Derek and he couldn't imagine what kind of shape Spencer would be in if pavement had collapsed on top of him; nothing good, that was for sure. Despite that, the only emotion Hotch showed was determination and some anxiety, nothing like panic or desperation. It had to be denial, because no one survived being crushed by pavement, not for long anyhow.

Catching a similar look of disbelief on McLean's face, Derek said, "Show us where he is, Hotch."

"Don't look at me like I'm unhinged, Morgan," Hotch snapped. "Spencer's fine, other than some minor injuries in the initial quake. He's trapped in one of the sinkholes."

Sinkholes? Derek silently repeated.

That was when he actually looked at his surroundings and gaped at the jagged furrows slicing through what had been solid land and pavement just hours ago. He'd expected the downed power lines and telephone poles, but actual rents in the ground? That hadn't been part of his earthquake knowledge.

Shaking his head, Derek questioned, "Just how damn strong was this quake?"

"Like nothing I've ever been through," McLean replied.

They followed Hotch towards the center of the parking lot and Derek saw exactly what Hotch had been talking about. A large chunk of pavement sat crooked on the ground as if some kind of jigsaw puzzle piece trying to fit in the wrong place. Peering into the small opening, he called out, "You in there, kid?"

"Morgan? Thank God you're all right!" Reid exclaimed right away. "How's everyone else?"

Derek grimaced, but answered, "Prentiss has some serious burns that need looking after and we haven't found Jordan yet."

"Then we should get moving," Hotch stated. "Sheriff? Any equipment you can think of?"

McLean thought about it for a second and then nodded. "Yeah, yeah there's a construction site right down the street. Should've thought about it right off. I'll take a car over and drive it back."

Nodding, Hotch said, "I'll wait here for you. Morgan, you need to get Prentiss and yourself to the hospital. The SUV is intact, so here, take the keys. I'll help you get her in and then you get her there."

"What about Jordan? We don't know what happened to her yet," Derek pointed out.

Hotch pressed the heel of his palm to an eye before saying, "Of course. We'll get Prentiss in the vehicle and then search for Jordan while the Sheriff gets the backhoe. Spencer, we'll be right back."

Spencer answered back, "Not going anywhere, guys."

It was more humor than Derek had heard him use in a long time, so he had to smile.

Derek knew Hotch thought that Jordan was dead because no chance would he have forgotten about her. They got Emily into the SUV and then returned into the building to search for Jordan. Unfortunately, they found her almost right away. She'd been caught in the explosion and thrown into the wall, like Derek, but her neck was at an unnatural angle, speaking of a wrong landing.

Hotch bent down and closed her eyes, his own closing momentarily in grief. Then he turned to Derek and said, "Prentiss and you are our main priorities now. Let's go."

Derek nodded, following him back outside to the waiting vehicle. He paused at the driver's side seat and caught Hotch up in a strong hug, holding the other man tight before letting him go and saying roughly to the other's surprised face, "I'm glad you and Spencer are okay, Aaron."

Hotch smiled then, a soul-weary but genuine smile, and replied softly, "Same here. Take care of her, and yourself. We'll join you as soon as we can."

Derek climbed into the SUV with a grimace and Hotch's assistance. He drove off towards the hospital that he only vaguely remembered the location of from a visit to one of the victim's mothers. Glancing in his rearview mirror, Derek's caught sight of Hotch bent and defeated, holding himself around the middle.

Only Prentiss in the backseat kept him from turning back.



Nathan and Eliot

Nathan's head throbbed unpleasantly from where something had fallen on it during the second aftershock, but it was Eliot's deadweight that worried him most. The younger man had jumped on him just before the ceiling had come down, tackling him towards the conference table and protecting him from most of the fallout. He didn't need to open his eyes to feel the solid torso over his head, Eliot keeping him safe. A twinge went through him at the thought of the injuries the other might have sustained in the effort to spare him.

Nathan reached up and found Eliot's throat, hesitantly feeling for a pulse and then sagging in relief at finding one. Feeling around with his hands, he discovered that they had actually made it partially
under the desk, though he didn't remember getting there. All due to Eliot, he knew. Taking a breath, Nathan carefully wiggled out from under the other man, gently laying him down on his stomach. He didn't want to move Eliot too much until he knew the extent of the injuries.

Somehow, and he had no idea how, there was emergency lighting; it was dim and flickering, but it was there. He knelt up and pulled the debris off Eliot's lower body, throwing it aside without care. His hands moved firmly over Eliot, feeling for broken bones and not finding any until he came to the right foot, which hung at a very unnatural angle and had swollen right out of the sneaker. Hissing in anger, Nathan swiftly undid the laces and carefully pulled the footwear off, tossing it aside. Thankfully, that seemed to be the worst of the injuries, though he was worried that Eliot still hadn't
regained consciousness.

Looking around the wreckage of their office, Nathan shouted, "Hardison!" and climbed to his feet. He swayed a bit, balance uncertain, and then walked towards the kitchen where he last remembered the black man being, making a midnight snack for their poker game.

Nathan's foot went right through the floor as he left the conference room and he shouted as his body dangled halfway through to the next level. It was a real struggle to keep himself from just falling straight through, his arms taking the brunt of his weight as he tried unsuccessfully to pull up and out of the hole.

"Nate! Shit, hang on man!" Hardison exclaimed.

Looking over at the other man, he called out sharply, "Don't run! Test your weight before you step."

Hardison jerked back before his foot came down and then looked around. He grabbed a metal pipe and tapped each bit of floor before he walked closer. It took forever, Nathan's upper body and arms aching with the effort of holding himself in place until Hardison could get there. Sweat dripped down his face and his arms shook while his legs dangled over God knew what below and then finally, Hardison was there.

Lying down flat as if on thin ice, which they really probably were, Hardison pushed the metal pipe underneath Nathan's armpits, sliding it across the floor for added support. He then took a firm grip on Nathan's arms, said, "Take a breath, big man," and pulled.

Nathan hissed in pain as rough bits of wood scraped through his shirt, gritting his teeth until he was bent up and over the floor where he could wiggle his hips to help move himself forward. And then his knees were up and he crawled forward on his own, gasping, "I'm good! I'm out!"

Hardison let him go and sat there, watching as Nathan panted for air. "So. We're moving back to Chicago, right?"

Nathan snorted in dark amusement and said, "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Where's Eliot?" Hardison asked, looking around.

Waving tiredly at the conference room, he answered, "By the table. He's out cold and has a broken ankle, might even be fractured from the swelling, can't tell without an x-ray."

"Okay, so what's the plan?"

"You injured?"

Haridson shook his head. "Nah. That marble countertop saved my ass from getting flattened. I'm good. You?"

Knowing the dizziness for what it was, Nathan answered, "Concussion, but I'll be okay. I'm mobile, anyhow. We need to get Eliot to a hospital."

"If there's any left standing," Hardison pointed out.

Nathan grimaced, but said, "Can you get online somehow?"

Hardison looked at him like he was stupid.

"Right," Nathan muttered. "Okay. The old-fashioned way it is. We'll make a stretcher and carry him out. If the garage isn't buried, then we'll drive around until we find a working hospital."

"And if it is?"

Nathan glanced across the destroyed room to where Eliot still lay. "Then we walk. He needs medical attention."

Hardison sighed as he stood up and said, "All right. Let's get to work."

Nathan walked carefully back across the office, pausing to look down the hole he'd nearly gone through and then wished he hadn't. The floor below was gone; it had merged with the one underneath, which meant he would've fallen two stories into, basically, construction materials. He saw by the emergency lighting that there were plenty of metal poles and pipes and wood fragments down there to kill him, too.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Nathan put it out of his mind and focused on Eliot.

Between the two of them, they were able to take apart what was left of the conference room table and then tore up strips of the curtains to tie Eliot in place on the slippery surface. Not having any idea how to take care of the ankle aside from stabilizing it until a doctor could fix it, Nathan just used some of the smaller pieces of wood to bind it in place. The wood was heavy even without Eliot on it; carrying him was a real struggle until Hardison had the brainstorm of using the a/v cart instead. It was a solid metal thing, which was a relief, and they set Eliot and the makeshift stretcher on it.

Looking at Hardison, he asked, "When did we buy that?"

"A couple months ago," Haridson answered, grinning.

Nathan shook his head and announced wryly, "I really am just a figurehead around here."

They wheeled Eliot out of the office, Hardison poking the floor ahead of them as they went. The hallway was just as much of a disaster as the office had been. They slowly navigated the chunks of debris and then stopped at the stairwell.

Frowning, Nathan said, "We shouldn't jostle him too much."

"You stay here and I'll bring down the cart first," Hardison suggested. "Then we'll carry him down together."

But Nathan knew he just didn't have the strength. His arms already felt like wet spaghetti and his head was throbbing again just from the short distance they'd pushed Eliot down the hall. There were too many  stories for Hardison to do that much work twice. Nathan could see that he was losing steam too, no matter what he said about not being hurt. Something was wrong because Hardison was not just subdued, but favoring his left side.

He finally said, "No, we'll just go slow and stop at each level. You take the back."

"But Nate…"

"Just do it Hardison, I don't want to argue about it."

Hardison muttered something that sounded like, "Stubborn honky," but took up position behind the cart.

Nathan took the front and then began one of the hardest descents of his life. He was freely sweating by the second level and shaking with exhaustion by the fifth. They paused there to rest and move some of the blockage.

"I thought these new buildings were supposed to withstand like Judgment Day," Hardison groaned, hauling aside a thick metal sheet.

Shrugging, Nathan countered, "That didn't feel like Judgment Day to you?"

Hardison snorted. "Good point."

A couple of hours went by before they finally reached the lobby and Nathan immediately dropped onto his ass, panting from the exertion. Hardison collapsed beside him, also breathing hard, and then asked, "It's bad none of that woke him up, isn't it?"

Nathan didn't want to think about it, but had to nod agreement. "It's not good."

"I'm heading down to the garage. I'll be back," Hardison said abruptly.

Nathan watched him go and then leaned his head back against the cool cement wall, closing his eyes. It was a crazy situation and not one he'd ever truly contemplated, an earthquake of that magnitude.

Hardison prompted, "Nathan?"

Squinting up at him, Nathan answered, "Yeah?"

"We're walking."

Not even having the energy to curse, he simply stood up and asked, "You know where the nearest hospital is from here?"

Hardison tapped his temple. "Got the whole map of the city right here, boss."

The intelligence and talents of his people could be very scary at times, but in this case, Nathan was just grateful. Taking a breath, he said, "All right. Let's go."



Leland and Randy

What had looked like a tsunami ready to wipe them from the face of the planet turned out to be a massive wave that drove into them with enough force to steal Randy's breath. If it had been a tsunami, he knew that neither of them would have survived. They would have been washed off the roof like bits of flotsam and drowned. As it was, only the feel of the solid man behind him kept Randy sane as he clung to the brick chimney and choked on salt water.

It seemed like forever that they were there, half-floating, half-clinging to the chimney. The water pushed and pulled at them, just like a regular tide, but far stronger than anything he'd ever swum in before. His body was numb, he couldn't even feel his hands which held fast to the brick on their own, maybe molded there permanently. Violent shivering told him that he was approaching hypothermia despite the Pacific supposedly being warmer than other bodies of water.

"Randy? Hey, you still with me?" the Captain asked suddenly.

Randy's head jerked upright when he hadn't even realized it had been lowering. "I'm so tired, Captain. I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this."

Voice rough, the Captain ordered, "For as long as it takes, Lieutenant, you hear me? Don't you dare give up now! It's almost dawn and search and rescue will be starting up any time now. You stay with me, understood?"

Nodding even though he was exhausted, Randy said, "I'm sorry, Sir."

"What for?"

"Screwing up the conferences," Randy explained. "If I hadn't, we'd be safe at home right now instead of, well, in the new coast line."

The Captain told him gruffly, "I'm not going to forgive you until we get rescued, Randy."

"It's not that, Sir. It's just…"

"Just what?"

Randy drew in a shaky breath more because of what he was about to say than the cold water around them. "I don't mean to screw up so often, Sir. It's just that I need to live up to your expectations and that makes me nervous sometimes because I hate disappointing you. But then I screw up which does disappoint you, so it's all kind of useless. I'm useless, most of the time. I don't know why you keep me around."

He didn't expect the smack to the back of his head and turned wounded eyes on the other man.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Lieutenant, or I'll kick your ass as soon as we're off this roof," the Captain snapped. "And what kind of bullshit is that? `Keep you around?' Randy, you ran the entire
department when I was out of commission. You run interference for me and those damned bureaucrats at City Hall. You do my paperwork before I even know it's due. Keep you around, my ass. You've earned your place, Lieutenant. You've earned your rank and you've earned my respect."

Completely thrown by the angry recitation, Randy just gaped at him.

"Can you do boneheaded things? Hell yes, but so does everyone else. Don't you ever question yourself like that again or I'm going to get seriously pissed off."

And he did sound pissed, which confused Randy more than it probably should have. The only thing he could think of to say was, "I'm sorry, Sir."

The Captain sighed and ordered, "Randy, turn around. C'mon, I've got you, you won't get swept away."

It took serious effort, but Randy pried his hands loose and turned around, clutching at the brick behind him. The Captain was right, of course; the other man was pressed up against him and he wouldn't be going anywhere. He'd always known the Captain was a strong man, he just hadn't realized that it would one day literally hold him up.

Dawn was coming for sure now, because he could make out the outline of the Captain's face in the dimness, though not the expression.

"First things first. My name, is Leland. Use it. Next, I would have no one but you as my partner, ever. And last…"

Randy gasped in astonishment when the Captain kissed him. It was a brief kiss, the scratch of the mustache a surprising sensation, but it was enough to make him smile in disbelief at the other man.

That warm chuckle he'd always craved graced the air and the Captain…Leland…told him fondly, "Get some rest, Randy. I've got you."

Randy put one arm over Leland's shoulder and rested his cheek on the other, feeling more secure there than he had anywhere else before.



Ray and Fraser

Fraser woke to the smell of plaster, metal, and blood. The plaster and metal were easy enough to figure out since he was buried in the rubble of what used to be their suite. More accurately, what used to be the suite above them as it had come down hard in the final aftershock. Or what he thought was the final one, there could have been more in the time he'd been unconscious.

The blood was more difficult to pinpoint. He didn't feel injured, but then, being pinned in the same position long enough for the sun to rise could have numbed him to wounds. As if in direct contrast to the madness of the previous night, the sky outside their wall was a clear blue and the sun shone bright above. From the small space in the debris through which he saw the sky, he estimated that it was approximately eleven in the morning.

All of which went through his mind in a matter of seconds. He slowly and carefully began pushing aside debris, relieved when his limbs responded without sluggishness. Small aches and pains made themselves known as he moved, but Fraser knew himself not to be injured in any significant way. That was troubling, since he still smelled the blood and couldn't see anything save broken building materials.

At last able to stand, Fraser surveyed the wreckage and found nothing encouraging. The entire side of the building had fallen away and his stomach clenched in panic at the thought that Ray might have fallen away with it. If only Diefenbaker had been with them; the wolf would have warned them of the impending earthquake and they would have been safely in the closet without injury to Ray.

As it was, he had to quell the need to simply tear through everything to get to the other man. One wrong move and the wrecked room could come flying apart. The ceiling had already literally come down upon them and he saw with a glance that the rest could follow at any moment.

Fraser took a calming breath and called loudly, "Ray! Ray, can you hear me?"

There was silence in return, so he slowly started pulling aside ceiling tiles, wooden planks, and metal pipes in his quest to find his lover. And then he found the body of a woman, her throat skewered by one of the pipes, the source of the blood that he'd been smelling since waking; hopefully the only source. He closed her eyes respectfully and murmured a quiet prayer over the body before returning to his search.

He continued a slow, methodical search while trying not to hear the shouts and cries from outside their missing wall. Unlike the night before, he stayed clear of the edge of the opening. He didn't want to see the devastation in the stark light of the day; at least not until he had Ray safe with him.

A good forty minutes of painstaking searching later and Fraser found his lover wedged into the corner on the opposite side of the room. From the angle of his arm and the bone shard sticking out of his shin, Ray was in considerable danger. How he hadn't bled to death, Fraser didn't know or care. He immediately felt for a pulse and found it slow, but steady. On closer inspection of the leg, he found mysterious burn marks, one of which seemed to have cauterized the wound.

Fraser took the miracle for what it was and cleared the debris away from Ray, making a path to the doorway. Opening it, he saw a few dazed people wandering the halls and knew he would find no help from them. He turned back and scanned the wreckage he'd just gone through and then climbed over to their luggage.
 
After dressing, he shook his boots clear of the plaster and bits of wood and metal, pulling them on and tying them tight. Then he pulled out the highly inadequate first aid kit from his carry-on and brought Ray's smallish suitcase with him over to his unconscious lover. Setting the leg almost turned Fraser's stomach and he was heartily glad that Ray was unconscious for the entirety of it. He found broken metal rods that he could stabilize the leg with and he used all four of their belts to tie them in place as tight as possible.

Once he'd taken care of that, Fraser carefully moved Ray to a fully prone position and reviewed the broken arm. Unlike the leg, there were no fractures, just a clean break; although how it had happened, Fraser had no idea. Possibly, the other man had tried to hold onto something as the building had shook in that last tremor and been thrown in the wrong direction. He wrapped smaller pieces of wood to the arm and then went in search of the bed, pulling the sheets from it and tearing it into long strips. He used the strips to bind the arm firmly to Ray's body.

He also pulled a pair of sweatpants out and cautiously tugged them onto the other's mostly bare body. While it was currently quite warm, especially in comparison to what they were used to, that very sun could later burn Ray's pale skin. Getting him into the sweatshirt proved far more difficult, but Fraser managed.

Fraser paused there to eat one of the power bars Ray constantly carried with him, knowing that he had to maintain his own strength. There was no water, unfortunately, so he forced down one of the
high-energy drinks from Ray's suitcase. He grimaced at the aftertaste and began putting a travois together on which to carry Ray. Even when he woke, there was no way the other man would be capable of walking down six flights of stairs.

Ray woke as he was working on the travois, groaning and calling Fraser's name. Instantly lowering the apparatus, Fraser hurried over to his lover and knelt beside him.

Pale eyes squinted up at him as Ray said, "Never comin' back here again."

A somewhat giddy laugh escaped Fraser at the complaint and he bent to kiss Ray, relief surging through him that the head injury wasn't as serious as it was bloody. Smiling down at him, Fraser promised, "Never again. We shall return to Canada and remain within its stable, geographic borders."

"Never thought I'd want th'snow `n cold so much," Ray mumbled, losing his battle to stay conscious.

Fraser kissed his forehead and said, "We'll be back before you know it."

It was another hour before Fraser was satisfied the travois would not only hold Ray, but hold him firmly while upside-down, given that they would be traversing a stairwell. He carefully shifted the other man onto it and secured him in place. Fraser tugged on the various straps and rigging to triple check and then had to admit that he was as ready as he'd ever be to face whatever might be outside the hotel.

Fraser packed the first aid kit, all the various foodstuffs and snacks, as well as the liquid "refreshments" in his carry-on and set it on the floor beside Ray. Since his lover was as well situated as possible, even were he at a hospital, Fraser had to take time to check on the others on their floor. He couldn't simply leave without rendering assistance to those who needed it. Kissing Ray's forehead, he murmured, "I'll be back directly," and left the room.

Going door to door found a surprising number of uninjured, but still dazed, people. There were a number of motionless bodies like the woman in their own room as well, though less than Fraser would have imagined given the magnitude of the earthquake. It was another half-hour or so that he'd marshaled the mobile people into a search and rescue team, aided by the presence of a pair of visiting police officers, though one was only able to stay in place due to vision problems.

Satisfied that he'd done what he could, Fraser returned to his room and was relieved to find Ray still unconscious or asleep. It would have distressed him greatly to awaken and find himself so restrained, as well as alone.

Fraser slung the carry-on across his torso, picked up the travois and started tugging it out, into the hall. They were near the stairwell and by then, people were aware enough of themselves and their
circumstances to be moving in that same direction.

A random man in his early thirties picked up the other end of the travois and Fraser said over his shoulder, "Thank you kindly."

"Anytime," the other responded.

With the assistance, they were out of the hotel in short order. Setting down the travois, Fraser mentally reviewed the maps he'd memorized on the train and announced, "The nearest hospital is two miles east of here. I can't guarantee there will be any assistance there as I don't know their status, but all of you are welcome to walk with me. There is, of course, greater safety in numbers."

The man holding the other end of the travois told him, "Count me in."

"Thank you," Fraser replied. "I am Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. The gentleman in the travois is my partner, Detective Ray Kowalski. And you are?"

"Kyle Reynard. I'm on vacation. Or, was until last night anyhow."

Fraser's lips quirked into a commiserating smile, briefly. "Understood. Shall we?"

They picked up the travois once more and began walking along streets filled with rubble and destroyed vehicles with portions of buildings atop them. Glass lay shattered everywhere, crunching under their feet and every now and again, Fraser saw a still body part, whether leg or arm, protruding from the wreckage. The city was still in a way it certainly hadn't been when they'd arrived two days earlier. Still, though not silent as the wail of emergency vehicles and cries of the injured they passed echoed through the air.

Fraser paused whenever they found someone alive, but unable to propel themselves towards help. He and Kyle and a woman named Penny kept the others organized and moving, rendering first aid to the ones they found on the way. It was nearly two hours later that their ever-growing group made it to the hospital only to find it partially collapsed. Doctors and nurses were doing triage right in the street.

"Damn," Fraser cursed quietly. Looking at Kyle, he said, "We should stay here for the time being and give aid. At the least, the government will send assistance here once FEMA arrives."

Kyle's lips twisted and he pointed out dryly, "You have heard of New Orleans, right?"

Acknowledging the comment with a shrug, Fraser replied, "There's no help for it. Come. Let's find a spot to settle and then see what help we may give."

"You're an odd man, Constable," Kyle told him.

But he picked up the travois again and they walked into the melee of doctors and nurses doing what they could to save lives. Most of the group had dissipated upon reaching the hospital despite its condition, so he only had to worry about himself and Ray again. Fraser spotted a quieter area with a few empty tables and angled that way, Kyle following easily and then lowering the travois onto a table when Fraser did.

A doctor came over only moments later and questioned, "What do we have?"
 
"A compound fracture of the leg and a clean break on his arm," Fraser replied. "I set them both, but would appreciate someone with medical training to check out my partner."

Nodding, the doctor waved over a nurse, who brought a bowl filled with what smelled like antiseptic. A quick glance to it showed it filled with various medical instruments. The doctor  swiftly cut along the material covering the metal rods sticking out from the bottom of the sweatpants. Fraser hissed on seeing that the skin around the point of the break was an ugly purple and black aside from the burns.

"You didn't mention the electrical burns," the doctor said, looking at him.

Fraser answered, "I didn't know what they were. What type of burn, that is. I don't know how he got them."

Frowning, the doctor said something to the nurse which made her run off. He watched as the doctor examined the broken leg and then moved on to the arm, cutting aside the fabric there as well. The nurse returned then with a basket filled with casting supplies and a bottle of some kind of lotion.

Ray groaned as the doctor unstrapped his arm and Fraser immediately bent close to his lover and asked, "Ray? Can you hear me?"

"What the fuck hit me?" Ray groaned, blinking up at him.

Worried at the memory loss, Fraser reminded, "There was an earthquake, remember?"

Ray frowned and then nodded slowly. "We got separated in that last one."

Relieved, Fraser agreed, "We did."

"Fuck! Ow! Ray exclaimed, lifting his head to glare at the doctor, who was draining and cleaning the leg wound.

Fraser distracted him by taking his good hand and saying, "It's just as well that Diefenbaker is not with us, for he would never let us hear the end of it."

Ray blinked at him in confusion and then started laughing weakly. "Right. Right, Dief totally said California would fall into the ocean, didn't he?"

Not that Ray understood the half-wolf as well as Fraser did, but the two had their own kind of communication. It generally involved pineapple pizza and donuts, but they certainly understood one another after a fashion.

The doctor announced, "Marie here will show you how to get the cast going. I need to check on other patients."

Fraser nodded and reached out a hand as he said, "Thank you, Doctor. And good luck."

Looking startled a moment, the doctor smiled and shook his head. "Thanks. Good luck yourself."

Fraser watched carefully as the middle aged woman explained how many parts water per mixture and about wrapping the limbs themselves. When she was done, she asked, "Are you sure you can do it?"

"I am," Fraser stated.

She hesitated, but then rushed off.

Looking at Ray, he said, "This will likely hurt."

Ray half-smiled as he replied, "Lay it on me, partner. I can take it."

Fraser kissed him instead, unable not to a moment longer. It was a short, hard thing, a brief reconnection before he simply rested his forehead on Ray's.

Ray put a hand on Fraser's shoulder and whispered, "Thanks for getting me out."

"Thank you for surviving," Fraser whispered back.



Mac and Danny

Danny had forgotten how much he'd hated being in the dark as a kid until just after the earthquake that had nearly brought the hotel down around their ears. He'd made it to the closet for the second
aftershock, having been thrown literally out of bed on the first strike and then trying to find his glasses in the dark had taken him through the first aftershock. He'd hadn't found them, but the second aftershock compelled him to forget them and run for the closet as fast as he could, hanging onto the doorframe as hard as he could.

The third aftershock, the mother of them all, had thrown him into the closet itself and debris had blocked the door shut on him, trapping him inside. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get out and so he'd spent the rest of the night going between panic that he'd never be found and a restless sleep driven by the adrenaline crash.

A faint shout of his name from outside somewhere caught his attention some unknown time later and he knelt up and shouted back, "In here!  I'm in the closet, Mac!"

The irony did not escape him.

He heard crashing and scraping noises before the door finally opened. Danny blinked up at the big blob surrounded by a halo of light and asked, "Mac? That you?"

"It's me," Mac replied, a hand gripping Danny's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Danny covered the hand with his own and grinned in relief. "Blind as a bat, but okay, yeah. You?"

"C'mon, let me help you up," Mac offered.

Danny accepted the guiding hand and blinked at the other man, unable to describe the intense relief at knowing he was all right.

"Careful, part of your floor is gone, so just hug the wall here."

Startled by the warning, Danny did as he was told and held onto Mac and the wall as they walked towards where he remembered the door being. It was full day out and he could mostly make out things around him. It would suck when darkness returned, but he was okay for the time being.

Once they were out in the hallway, Mac pushed him against the wall and said firmly, "Stay put. I don't want you tripping and breaking your neck."

Danny grinned and held up his hands. "Staying put." And then, just because he was so happy Mac was okay, he added impudently, "Glad we decided to stop in LA first, Mac. Check out the beaches. Enjoy the sun. Great idea."

Mac snorted. "Smartass. I'm going to look around and see if anyone else needs help. You stay here, okay?"

Saluting, Danny replied, "I'm good. Not moving, Mac, promise."

"Good."

Danny watched him go and then looked around the dimly lit hallway. He wasn't sure where the light was coming from, but it was enough to make out the big piles of debris in the hallway.

"Excuse me, but do you need assistance?"

Danny turned towards the polite question and squinted to make out a tall guy with dark hair. He shook his head and answered, "No, I'm waiting for my friend to get back. He's checking on the others in the area to see who needs help. Guess you are, too."

"That I am. My partner is injured so I will be bringing him to a nearby hospital and wanted to be sure that no one else was in need."

"Danny?"

Turning towards Mac's voice, Danny told him, "He was just checking if I needed help."

"Thanks. I'm Detective Mac Taylor and this is Detective Danny Messer. NYPD Crime Lab."

"Constable Benton Fraser," the man replied.

Mac said, "I found a couple of walking wounded down the hall. Did I hear you say you knew where the hospital was around here?"

Constable Fraser confirmed, "You did. We should work together."

"Absolutely," Mac agreed.

Not that Danny did anything. He just stood there as a meeting point and greeted new people Mac sent his way until Mac showed up about twenty minutes later. He'd forgotten that he wasn't wearing a shirt until Mac pushed a t-shirt into his hands and said, "Here. My suitcase didn't go through the floor. I've got your sneakers, too."

"You went back into my room?" Danny exclaimed. "Are you crazy?"

Mac countered firmly, "You can't walk around barefoot with all the glass. Put them on."

Aghast at the risk Mac had taken, Danny took a few seconds before donning the clothes and shoving his feet into the sneakers. It didn't matter that Mac was right, the risk had definitely not been worth it. He could've found something else to wear from a room that was intact.

"It's done, Danny. Let it go."

Danny glared at the Mac-shaped blob and retorted, "Just wait until I tell Stella what you did."

Mac snorted. "Yeah, because that's going to scare me."

His head was already killing him from trying to squint and see around him and he wished in vain for glasses or contacts.

Mac took his hand and put it on his arm, ordering, "Here, hold my arm."

Danny took it and groused, "I hate not being able to see."

"I know," Mac replied softly, kindly.

Walking down the stairs absolutely sucked, Danny was so scared about missing a step he couldn't see and falling down a flight to break something. He held tight to Mac and didn't even protest the arm around his waist. Outside was warm, thankfully, since all he had on was Mac's t-shirt and his own sweats. Constable Fraser led the way from what Mac said, and the group was about thirty strong when they left what remained of the hotel. By the time they'd walked to the hospital, there were about fifteen more people, some injured, others just dazed from what they'd gone through.

"Man, are the shrinks going to be busy after this," Danny commented when they stopped finally.

Mac lightly cuffed Danny upside the head and told him, "Be nice."

Danny half-grinned at him. "That was nice."

Mac brought him over to a waist-high area of rubble and lightly pushed at him to sit down. There was a mostly flat top, so Danny got comfortable as Mac said, "Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but I want you to stay put here, out of the way. I'm going to offer my services to the doctors, see what they need help with."

Mac was right, he didn't want to hear it. Danny protested, "I can do something to help! I'm not hurt or anything."

"Danny, you're practically blind right now. Please, just stay here. I'll be back to check on you later."

Folding his arms across his chest, Danny muttered, "Fine," and glared at the ground, refusing to look at Mac.

Mac sighed, but left without saying anything more.

Danny's stomach rumbled shortly after Mac left and he sighed, wondering how he could get something to eat. Or even if he could, given the circumstances. He decided to wait until Mac returned, knowing he would never find his way back to his current perch.

"Detective Messer? Are you all right?"

It was Constable Fraser's voice and Danny looked over to see the man a short distance away and getting bigger. "I'm fine, thanks. Just, you know, useless. Hey, how's your partner? Mac said he looked hurt pretty bad."

Sounding relieved, Fraser answered, "He'll be all right. The doctor set both limbs properly and he's got casting now. Thank you kindly for asking after him. You know…I have an idea. I'll be right back."
He was gone before Danny could say anything, so he just shrugged to himself and closed his eyes to save his headache a little.

It wasn't long before Fraser returned saying, "Here, try these on," and a pair of glasses pressed into his palms.

Startled, Danny opened his eyes as his hands automatically opened the frames and then settled the glasses on his face. The world instantly came into focus, though a little fuzzy around the edges, and he jumped off the wreckage with a shout of happiness. Looking at Fraser, he discovered the man to be handsome and in his mid-forties with blue eyes. Danny grinned broadly and threw his arms around the man exclaiming, "Thanks! Thank you so much!"

Fraser looked startled at the display, but then smiled and replied, "It is my pleasure. Ray only uses them for distance, but his vision is atrocious at that range, so I thought his spare set might suit."

"Oh man, do they!" Danny replied. "You have no idea how much this means to me, Constable. I really appreciate it like you don't even know."

Fraser gave him another smile and said, "I may have an idea. Where is your friend?"

Danny looked around as he answered, "No idea. He was a medic in the Marines back in the day, so he went to offer his services."

Nodding, Fraser echoed, "And now that Ray is sorted, so shall I."

"I'll go with you," Danny told him.

They walked around the open area where doctors were still working on the injured who kept showing up. Fraser was drafted to some kind of surgery almost right away. Danny kept walking until he found Mac, who was wrapping up some girl's arm with gauze. Mac did a double take on seeing him and then started laughing; the girl even giggled a little.

Danny frowned. "What? I got something on my face?"

"Just glasses that I thought went out of style in the fifties," Mac answered, still grinning. "Where'd you find them?"

"Constable Fraser found me and them. They belong to his partner," Danny explained.

Mac finished up the bandage and said to the girl, "You should see if there are antibiotics somewhere, maybe ask one of the nurses, but you'll be okay now."

She smiled at him shyly and replied, "Thank you."

Mac nodded and she wandered off. Looking at Danny, he asked, "Are you hungry? I found a food station. I was going to bring you something when I was done with her."

Danny's stomach answered for him and he half-grinned at Mac. "Lead on."

They walked out of the area where people were still being worked on by doctors to another section where a couple of women were organizing supplies and a man was handing out, and possibly guarding, food. There were plenty of small boxes of cereal and a big bowl of fruit, but not much else.

Danny took a box of Wheaties and an apple, wishing he had something to wash it down with, then spotted the carton of bottled water and snagged a couple, handing one to Mac. They moved a short distance away and sat on the ground together.

"So what do you think?" Danny asked. "When's the national guard and whoever going to show up?"

Mac looked up at the sky and answered, "I don't know. Soon, I would think. Maybe they're already here, just not here."

Danny sighed and then said, "What about the people who live here, Mac? I mean, we've got somewhere to go, but most of these people…there can't be much left around here for them."

Mac gripped his shoulder, squeezing it a bit as he replied, "First things first. People need medical help, food, shelter, and clothing. Once emergency services has gotten things in play and people are
sorted at least nominally, then the government will step in with home assistance."

Shaking his head, Danny told him, "You've got more faith in it than I do, then."

An aftershock rumble through, sending Danny's heartbeat into a spike while Mac yanked him off the pile of rubble. It wasn't bad, just enough to feel the earth moving and scatter some of the lesser packed debris, but Danny couldn't make himself let go of Mac when it had finished. He didn't even remember grabbing hold. Meeting Mac's gaze, Danny said, "Jesus. I really just want to go home, Mac."

Mac put an arm around his shoulders and drew him in close for a one-armed hug. "We will, Danny."

Danny was disconcerted enough not to protest when the arm stayed in place.



Sam and Dean

The last thing Dean remembered was Sam pushing him down and lying on top of him, sheltering him from the building collapse. The little bitch. Like he needed protecting? Well, his hand killed like it had been crushed under something unpleasantly heavy and his head throbbed painfully as well as his neck, as though he'd been lying in a twisted position for a long time.

He didn't feel his brother lying on top of him anymore, though, and had room to roll over, so he did. It was totally dark; the kind of dark that made him distinctly uncomfortable, the kind that made him
think of being buried alive.

He heard scraping noises and asked, "Sam?"

"Dean? You okay?" Sam answered immediately, sounding relieved.

Nodding even though Sam couldn't see him, Dean said, "Fine, other than my hand."

"Yeah, I wrapped it as best I could, but there's not much to work with and I couldn't see it, just felt the blood."

No wonder his hand killed. Dean grimaced and asked, "Make any progress?"

Sam sighed audibly and then admitted, "I didn't dare. I'm not sure what will happen if I pull out the wrong thing. Right now we've got space about eight by two thanks to the pool table, but that's about it."

"How much air do we have left? How long was I out?" Dean questioned slowly.

"I don't know. I can't remember the ratios."

And Dean had never known them, so he was no help in that department whatsoever. "We'll figure something out."

"Hello, boys."

Sudden light popped into existence and Dean squinted against it to find Ruby stretched out in a seemingly comfortable position a couple of inches off the ground. He grimaced automatically, but was actually relieved to see her; maybe a demon would interfere where an angel wouldn't.

"Having fun?" she finished.

Dean snorted. "Thought we'd hang around for a while and wait out the air, what with the whole needing to breathe thing."

"Dean, c'mon," Sam murmured.

Ruby smirked a little and echoed, "Yeah, Dean. C'mon. You don't trust me to get you out of this?"

Eyebrows lifting skeptically, Dean questioned bluntly, "Can you?"

"Technically? No, not directly. But you should be getting some assistance in a few minutes," she replied.

And then disappeared.

Rolling his eyes, Dean looked to where he knew Sam was and said, "She is truly, a pain in my…"

A loud crack echoed above them and Dean grabbed for Sam, positive the pool table was about to give way. Sam's hand covered his and gripped it tightly. Instead of something coming down, though, a massive portion of wall pulled away from above. A man's head poked into view as the sunlight blinded Dean and said, "You boys okay in there?"

Rubbing his eyes, Dean grinned over at Sam and said, "We are now."



Don, Colby, and Charlie

Charlie woke up suddenly and completely, gasping in shock for something he couldn't quite remember. It was dark, darker than he liked it to be really, and he felt the floor beneath him instead of his bed, which was confusing. He was sure that he'd gone to bed, so how he'd wound up on the kitchen floor was anyone's guess. Of course, he only knew it to be the kitchen floor because of the linoleum under his hands; he couldn't actually see anything.

When he tried to roll over, agony spiked through his left shoulder like nothing he'd ever before felt. Charlie cried out with the pain and collapsed back to where he'd been. It felt like there was something actually stabbing into his shoulder joint and he lay in the dark, panting as he tried to regain his senses.

As the pain abated, Charlie lifted his other hand only to encounter something hard not six inches from his chest. He felt around and recognized the kitchen table as being nearly on top of him. He frowned and reached above his head only to discover the stove. Carefully shifting his feet around, Charlie felt the underside of what might be the ironing board. And then his mind finally kicked in and he nearly lost control of his bladder on realizing that somehow, the ironing board and stove had stopped the table from crushing him, catching it as, likely, the ceiling above had crushed the table flat with its weight.

Charlie tried not to hyperventilate when he understood just how thoroughly he was trapped.

***

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