A/N: Alright so lemmie state, this isn't my original idea. It was something that someone said on Tumblr (but I read it on Pinterest cus I'm innocent like that.) and I thought that I HAD to do the idea. So.. I hope you enjoy this oneshot!
"Son, get out here!" John's loud voice boomed throughout the motel room and the fifteen year old retreated out into the main room where John stood at the door, shovel in hand.
"Uh.. What's going on? Are you doing a salt and burn? Do you need me to help?" Dean's eyes brightened slightly at the thought of helping out his old man for a once.
The idea was shot down quickly by John shaking his head, smiling widely. Dean didn't know why at the moment, but it sent shivers down his spine and he wished his twelve year old brother was here right now. He had trouble facing his own father some days because he just.. he's changed a little.
"I want you to be prepared for anything in the future Dean, because I won't always be around." John explained to him and Dean self consciously backed up.
"Where are you going with this, dad?" Dean asked uncertainly, not liking the gleam in his father's eyes.
"I want to bury you in a coffin in the ground and I want you to dig yourself out." John explained calmly, as if what he just said was sane. Understandable. Normal.
Dean instantly felt his heartbeat pick up. At first he thought it was some sort of joke, but when John began to walk towards him, instantly his breath began to pick up like he'd just ran miles.
"N-No I'd rather not right now." Dean spluttered as he shielded himself from John by running behind the bed. When was a piece of furniture going to stop the force that was John Winchester though?
"Dean, man up. What if a demon buries you some day, or something?" John sighed as he snatched Dean's arm and ignored the panicked look in Dean's eye's that were starting to get misty.
"D-dad stop shouldn't we wait until Sammy gets home?" Dean gasped as John dragged him out to the Impala and got him in with no trouble.
"Nah, I'll test Sam later. I want to see how you take it though." John smiled over at Dean like he was awarding him something, instead of telling him he's going to be buried by his own father.
The ride out of town took forever and Dean swore he was going to have a heart attack. He kept his face turned away from John as tears began to gather in his green eyes. Millions of scenarios ran marathons through his mind like hell was on it's tail and he bit at his fist hard.
What if Dean couldn't dig himself out? What if he suffocated? Or everything caved in?
Oh god was he going to be put in a box? A coffin? Did his father expect him to die?
A whine accidentally escaped his throat at the thought and John glanced over at him with a raised, unimpressed eyebrow.
"You're not getting out of this Dean." He stated and Dean bit harder. His throat began to close up on him and he closed his eyes tightly. Before he knew it, they had parked in a field and John was already getting out.
"I've got a box for you to get in when I bury you." John explained as he began to dig into soft earth. It had been raining for the past three days. Damn Missouri weather. Maybe if the earth was harder on John, then he would've given up.
That wasn't the case however. John had dug an average sized hole around three feet down. It had taken some time to dig the hole, but it was done and John was inserting the box and opening the top.
"Okay Dean. Get in." He nodded at the box but Dean was frozen to the spot, not even blinking and barely breathing.
John sighed roughly, as if this was something that annoyed him, and he grabbed Dean's arm.
Instantly, his eldest son reacted.. loudly.
John ducked under a loose, fast and wild appendage and he stared at Dean with wide eyes as the other glared at him, tears streaming from his water, bright green eyes. His lips were curled in a snarl and his body language screamed out "fight and flight."
"Dean stop with this shit and get in the box!" John snapped as he easily overpowered his son and shoved him into the ground. Dean scrambled to get out but John was quicker than his son and was closing and locking the box. Dean pounded hard on the box, crying and sobbing as he could hear dirt covering his box, and his mind was beginning to go blank, giving up on living. He had only so much oxygen in his enclosed space, and it was quickly being sucked into Dean's lungs by the rate he was breathing.
He tried kicking at the hard wood, but it didn't give and he curled up on himself. Silently saying goodbye to Sammy.
Oh god what is John going to say to Sam when he gets home from school."Sorry Sammy. You're brother failed my test. It's your turn now."
As he began to think, John was growing a little worried on the surface. At least two minutes has gone by and no response from the ground. No shuffling from anything, and he decided he'd start to dig again or he'd have to make this Dean's grave.
By the time he dug up the coffin, at least five or more minutes had passed, and he opened the box. Dean quickly brought in the much needed oxygen and curled in more on himself.
"Dean for fucks sake." John growled as he grabbed Dean by his wrist and dragged him out of the box. He looked him up and down and shook him to make sure he was at least alert.
After a few moments, and Dean stared at him with a lost look in his bloodshot eyes, John sighed and turned away and grabbed his shovel.
"I guess we'll try again tomorrow. We'll try until you get it Dean." John grumbled and Dean winced, feeling like he'd been shot in the heart and skinned alive at the obvious disappointment in John. The way he spoke, the way he walked away, hell even the way he carried the shovel screamed disappointment!
Dean lowered his gaze and continued to breath in deeply, trying to calm his heart.
Slowly, he followed his father to the Impala and tried to get comfort in the Impala's scent but instead it made him feel sick now. It smelled like John. His almost executioner.
The ride back was in complete silence and when they reached the motel room, the sky was turning shades and Dean hoped, no he prayed that Sam was home. He wouldn't be able to take John's anger right now. He'd break. He's sure that if John touches him again tonight, then he'll instantly shoot him.
Dean decided he was going to hide his gun tonight.
When they got inside, Sam was sitting at the table and it was almost like he had some sort of "sixth sense" that told him when Dean was feeling like shit. Sam's gaze instantly met Dean's and the older flinched and looked away when John slammed the door behind them.
Sam began to demand for answers but Dean ignored him and laid down on his bed, curling up under the sheets. John began to instantly get into an argument with Sam and Dean fell into slumber to the sound of shouts, insults and threats being thrown over his head. Like usual. Like Dean didn't almost die today.
"Get in the damn box, boy!"
Dean struggled but it was like arms were grabbing at him, pulling him into his eternal resting place and he watched the box close, but he could still see through it. He could see the entire time John took huge piles of uncovered earth and threw it onto Dean's box enthusiastically. His laugh was disturbing as he continued, and his smile twisting across his face.
As he finished and patted the ground, he sighed in relief.
"Thank god I'm disbelled of such a disappointment."
Dean suddenly realized that he had no air and as he desperately clenched at his throat, begging for oxygen, it wasn't given. He punched at the wood but it never moved from the force that made his knuckles bleed.
"N-No! No please Daddy I'm sorry! I promise I'll do anything! I promise I-" Dean stopped as he choked on nothing. His oxygen was gone and he could feel his lungs shrivelling and screaming at him to escape his underground prison, but his chance of escaping kept going down. Black began to dot at his vision as patterns began to dance in his eyes and he bit his lip and struggled around.
As Dean closed his eyes for a final time, he wondered if Sam would grow to be old. Without him.
Dean awoke in darkness, and he knew he must still be in the box. He struggled but found his limbs weren't moving like they should. Was he restrained? Intoxinated?
"Oh god." He gasped and gripped at whatever he was laying on.
"Dean?" A muffled voice came from nearby and Dean quickly snapped his head to where he heard the voice, but he couldn't see.
Soon, there was a light click and the room brightened to show that he was still in the motel room. What was restraining him was his bed sheets, as they had gotten tangled in his struggling for oxygen, and the voice had come from Sam.
The other blinked at him sleepily, but when he registered Dean's pale, sweaty skin and panicked look, he instantly awoke himself and came to his bedside.
"Dean?! What's the matter?" Sam gasped as he stared into his eyes and realized quickly that Dean was having trouble breathing.
"Okay Dean, try to match my breathing, okay?" Sam began to breathe quicker than usual but it was still slower than Dean's rate. He tried hard, and while staring into Sam's eyes the entire time, his heart began to relax and soon they were breathing in and out deeply and slowly.
When Dean had calmed, he stared at his feet and gripped at his hair.
"Dean.. What really happened today? Dad said you failed a test but.. You don't simply fail dad's tests unless they're truly impossible." Sam stated and Dean sighed.
"Sam.. I don't want you involved with this okay? I think it'll be better if I just try to work it out on my own." Dean explained to him quietly, and was telling both himself and Sam at the same time that he'd get over it at some point.
Sam stared desperately at Dean, but he knew when he wasn't going to get any headway with this. Instead he helped Dean organize his blankets and then crawled in with his brother.
They fell asleep together, gripping each other for safety, and for their own sanity.
Even if they hunt monsters every day, the true nightmares are in their heads..