Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any character from the show, Supernatural. They belong to Kripke and crew. I'm also not getting any financial benefits, by posting this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
He slowly began to wake up. Or at least, he thought he was waking up. Only problem was, was that when he opened his eyes, all he saw was blackness. His head hurt and he was breathing in warm, stuffy air. He tried to sit up and his head bumped something soft and unmoving. He tried to feel around with his hands and found that they could not go very far, without hitting something soft. He began to feel claustrophobic, as he realized that he was in a casket. Placing both of his hands on the material immediately in front of his face, he pushed with all his might and was unable to open the lid. Not willing to give up, he tried kicking the lid off and was also unsuccessful. Despite his best efforts, he began to feel panic starting to set in. He vehemently shook his head and tried to get himself in check. He had to keep his cool. Hopefully, his brother would soon get him out.
They had been on a hunt. A disgruntled man had found a way to control a powerful spirit and was using the spirit to kill people. The man would lure a person to a building. The spirit would then trap the person in a casket, and then, the man would arrange for the casket to be buried somewhere. To make things worse, the spirit never killed the person, before trapping them in the casket. Hence, the people landed up getting buried alive. The brothers had exhumed some of the caskets and had found claw marks, inside the caskets, from the people's vain attempts to escape. The brothers had managed to find the disgruntled man; but, he killed himself, before the brothers could learn how he was controlling the spirit. With no other option available, the brothers had found themselves at the building, where the ghost resided, and had been attempting to dispose of it.
Some how, he now found himself in a casket. He was fairly certain that his brother would soon free him. But, the complete darkness and warm, stuffy air caused doubt to quickly creep in. What if his brother had also become trapped in a casket? What if, his brother didn't know he was even in a casket? How long had he been in the casket? Had he been unconscious for a long time and during that time, had the casket already been moved to the place of burial?
He knew that all he needed to do was find out what time it was. That would easily let him know whether or not his fears were justified. With this simple solution before him, he began to feel a little calmer. Recalling that his watch didn't have a light feature, he quickly searched his pockets for his flashlight. Dread began to set it, as he realized that he didn't have his flashlight. Taking a deep breath, he tried to again calm himself. Ok, he wasn't going to let this bother him. After all, his cell phone also had a clock and light on it. All he had to do was check that. Hastily, he began to search his pockets for his phone. Horror came rushing in, as he realized that he had lost his phone. He now had no way of knowing how much time had passed. AND, he had no way of calling for help. He began to feel a tremble develop in his hands, as he realized how helpless he was.
So little time was left, before the deal expired. He knew how precious that time was and now, he wouldn't even get to see that year come to an end. Once again Winchester luck had set in and he and his brother would be cheated of that last full year together. He shook his head, at the thought of not getting to spend those last days with his brother. They had been trying to find some way to nullify the deal without a brother dying; but, their efforts had thus far been unsuccessful. Still, they had held out hope that something would come up and both brothers would live beyond the one year. Now, it looked as though that no longer mattered. Fate… destiny… or whatever else controlled what happened during one's life had decided to step in and cheat the brothers of that one last year.
He felt a dull, throbbing headache set in. He noticed that he had begun to perspire and didn't know if the sweat was due to the warmness, inside the casket, or if he was perspiring due to stress. Surprisingly, he felt a little nauseated and wondered if that may be due to something he had eaten.
Again, he tried to take slow, shallow breaths. He didn't know how much time he had left; but, he didn't want to speed up that time by using up the remaining oxygen quickly. There was so much left unsaid between him and his brother. And all of that would remain unsaid, if he died here. With renewed effort, he again tried to get the lid open and again his efforts were unsuccessful. He could feel his gun in the small of his back and considered using it. However, he was concerned that the casket may no longer be above ground. If the casket was underwater or in the ground, then he would only be creating a hole for water or dirt to enter through. He just didn't feel comfortable taking that chance.
He noticed that he was having a little bit of chest pain. Slowly, he began to rub one of his hands, over his chest, in the hopes of relieving the discomfort. And despite the fact that he was lying flat and wasn't moving, he felt a little dizzy. He again tried to take shallow, slow breaths; but, he didn't feel any relief from his problems.
He wanted… he wanted… what did he want? He wanted out of this casket!! He wanted… to be with his brother. He wanted to be in the Impala, with his brother, heading down the road towards their next hunt. He wanted to be able to spend more time with his brother. He wanted… to fight alongside his brother in the demon war and win. He wanted… wanted…
Without noticing it, he had begun to slowly rub his other hand over his stomach, while his one hand still continued to rub his chest. He just felt so sick right now. His mind felt like it was getting stuck in sludge and couldn't work right any more. He had a feeling that all this meant something; but, he just couldn't seem to figure out what that was. He tried to change his position, in the casket. However, he found that he could not truly turn onto either side. He could shift to each side a bit; but completely rolling over to either side was out of the question. His dizziness was getting worse. And whatever he had eaten earlier in the day was making an increasing effort of making a re-appearance. Somewhere a part of his brain was saying that all this was a very bad thing. Although since when was being sick ever a good thing?
Images, from his past, came back in pieces. He saw the faces of those they had saved and those they had lost. He didn't know if they were chasing death or death was chasing them. And based on his current situation, it looked as though death was about to catch him. He had done so much during his life and felt that there was still so much more left for him to do. He let out a slow, suffering sigh. Was this really how his life was to end? Alone? In a casket?
He felt like he was drifting. A part of his brain yelled, "WAKE UP! You're about to die! Do something!" But, the rest of his brain and his entire body ignored that little voice. Any type of movement, even if it was just lifting one finger, took too much effort. In fact, it felt like his entire body was made of lead and that a forklift would be needed to raise a limb. He felt like he was floating. In his heart, he knew this was wrong and that he needed to fight. But, his body just didn't seem to have any energy in it, for a fight. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep wasn't something that he got to enjoy too often, because of all the hunting and all the strange hours that hunting required that he keep. His body just felt it very comforting to be going to sleep. He felt the temperature change and lazily opened his eyes. He noticed a soft glow, before his eyes closed again. He suddenly felt a new warmth engulf him and felt content.
/SN/
Where could his brother be? The ghost had been attacking him; but then, his brother intervened and got the ghost away from him. His brother had been standing across the room from him one minute and the next second, he was gone. During his brother's absence, he had managed to finish the banishing spell and ritual that he and his brother had concocted. With a final, painful, loud scream, the ghost was finally gone. He had then been able to focus on finding his brother. After yelling his brother's name and receiving no response, he began to feel very concerned. Something was wrong. If he could have, his brother would have made his whereabouts known by now. Thinking of a simple way to find his brother, he pulled out his cell phone and called his brother. As he intently listened to his phone, he realized that he could hear his brother's phone ringing nearby. Quickly, he went in the direction of the ringing phone. To his dismay, he found the phone lying on the ground, close to where he had last seen his brother. His heart grew heavy, when he was unable to find his brother anywhere near his phone.
He leaned against a wall and tried to figure out what to do next. He quickly reviewed what they knew about the ghost and recalled how the ghost put people into caskets. If that had happened to his brother, then he needed to find him soon. He swiftly began looking around the floor that he was on. The building was a huge old warehouse, which had been deserted for years. It had several floors, including a basement. He definitely had his work cut out for him. He had a lot of ground to cover. Not wasting any more time, he promptly began to search for a casket. As he entered a nearby room, he found a casket. However, the lid was open and upon a quick look inside, he was saddened to see his brother was not there. He shook his head at that thought. He never would have thought that he would be saddened to not find his brother in a casket. He didn't want his brother to die, and especially not any time soon. He hoped that he would never see the day that his brother lay in a casket, dead. And yet, today, he wanted to find his brother in a casket, alive. Their lives were just too strange.
He continued with his search through the building. To his horror, almost every room, on this floor, contained at least one casket. The caskets came in all sizes and styles. He had never really paid any attention to caskets before. Sure, he and his brother had plenty of experience digging up caskets, and then burning the casket and its occupant. So honestly, while he knew that caskets came in different sizes, his focus was always on the casket's occupant and never on the casket itself. Now, as he was checking out each casket for his brother, he was amazed by all the different styles. Not only did the material that was used to make the caskets vary; but also, the interiors of each one greatly varied. Thus far, he had not seen the same type of casket twice. He was sickeningly surprised by how many caskets he had come across, on this one floor. His brother was not a short man. But since the brothers had found one of the ghost's victims, who was five foot ten inches tall, crammed into a short four foot casket, he knew that he could not overlook even the shortest of caskets.
He finally finished his search of the one floor and moved onto the next. He looked at his watch and saw that the search had taken a little over two hours to complete. How long did his brother have? Was his brother still alive? Even though they had found evidence that the people had been placed in the caskets alive, he knew that that was no guarantee that his brother was still alive. As it was, they had so little time left, before the deal expired. And now, it seemed as though they would be cheated of that one year. His heart tightened, at the thought. There were still things that he wanted to tell his brother. Would he never again have a chance to tell his brother those things?
As he moved through the next floor, he saw several big boxes. At first, he began to walk by them, until he saw writing on one, which said that the box contained a casket. Fortunately, he was able to find a crowbar on the floor and was able to open the boxes, in order to check the caskets, which were in them. What had already been a daunting task was now far more overwhelmingly. Not only did he have to check caskets for his brother; but, he also had to open boxes, in order to ensure that no casket went unchecked.
His arms were aching from the effort it took to get the boxes open. His shirt clung to him, due to sweat which was a result of searching for his brother. His heart seemed to slow a little more, as each casket he searched failed to reveal his brother. His eyes burned, from all the dirt and dust which was raised from him opening boxes and searching through the old, abandoned warehouse. His body screamed for a little time of rest. He could feel his muscles aching and longed for the relief that a long, hot shower could give. But, he wouldn't stop, until he found his brothers. He had no other choice, but to keep searching. As futile as the search seemed to be so far, he knew that his brother's life solely depended on him. He would keep going, until he found his brother. His heart froze at the thought that the casket, which contained his brother, might not even be in the warehouse. He vehemently shook his head and prayed that that was not the case. Because if that was true, then he had no idea on where he would look. His success demanded that the casket, containing his brother, was in this warehouse and that he got to his brother in time. He stopped looking at his watch, since it just seemed to mock him, as it reminded him how much time had passed and that he still had not found his brother. He knew that, right now, time was his and his brother's enemy. And while he had stopped looking at his watch, he could not help noticing that the sun had already risen and was working its way across the sky. His heart and stomach tightened as he realized how quickly time was running out and that there was still more of the warehouse to be checked.
He was nauseatingly surprised by how many caskets he was finding throughout the warehouse. A part of him wondered how and why the man had gathered up so many caskets. While the ghost controlling maniac had killed several people, he wondered how many more the guy had intended on killing? Had he and his brother managed to stop a serial killer, before he killed hundreds or thousands of people? His family had saved and protected people from the supernatural. And while the supernatural could be horrifying, there were times where a person could be even more horrifying than the supernatural.
Despite his aching body, he continued his search. Once again, he had found a room, which had caskets still in shipping boxes. Not wanting to inadvertently overlook anything, he continued opening up the shipping boxes and checking their contents. He had become almost robotic, in his search. While he still hoped that he would find his brother, he no longer thought "is my brother in this casket?", as he would open a casket. Instead, he just methodically opened each casket, looked inside and then, moved on to the next.
As he opened the casket before him, he was totally surprised when he found his brother in it. For a second he froze, as he looked down and wondered if his eyes were playing a trick on him. What he saw before him looked liked his brother; but, something was wrong. First, his brother had a bluish color around his lips and his face was on the pale side. Second, his brother's eyes were closed, instead of open and alert like they normally are during a hunt. As if waking himself from a dream, he shook his head, in attempt to clear his brain of the fog, which seemed to have developed up there. With one hand on the casket's lid, he reached his other hand inside and touched his brother's face. That's when he knew it was all real and that it really was his brother lying there in the casket… lying in a casket dead or very close to it. Dread gripped his heart in a vice-like grip. No, no, no. His brother couldn't be dead! He just found him. His brother has to live… there's still more time left in the deal.
"DEAN?!" No response came from his brother. Making certain that the casket lid wouldn't come down, Sam propped it open; so that, he could use both hands to help his brother. Quickly, he checked for a pulse and was overjoyed when he felt one, although it was rather weak. Using both hands to grip the front of his brother's shirt and jacket, Sam pulled Dean up into a sitting position. Leaning forward, Sam allowed Dean's head to fall onto Sam's shoulder and gave Dean an impromptu hug. It felt good to have his brother back. Not liking the fact that Dean was still in the casket, Sam began to stand up and as he did so, he hauled Dean out of the casket. Gently placing Dean on the floor near the casket, Sam began to take a better look at his brother. Dean was still blue around the lips and had made no signs of waking up.
"Dean… Dean? Can you hear me?" Sam questioned his brother. Sam saw that Dean was breathing, albeit it his breathes were few and far between. Dean lay relatively motionless on the ground. Sam put some rags under Dean's head, to act like a pillow. Sam gently shook his brother and prayed for some sort of reaction from him. Sam began to fear that Dean may have suffered some brain damage, due to a limited oxygen supply. NO! He couldn't think like that. He had to stay positive. Sam grasped one of Dean's hands with his own. Then, Sam lightly placed his other hand on the side of Dean's face.
"Dean, squeeze my hand, if he can hear me." Sam intently watched his brother's hand and was saddened when there was no response. He softly tapped his brother's face, with his hand. "Dean. I need you to wake up. Come on, man. I know you're in there, somewhere. Just open your eyes or squeeze my hand." Sam failed to notice that his tone had turned pleading. Sam felt as though the floor was giving out from below him, as he noticed no signs that he was getting through to his brother. All he had wanted was to find Dean. And now that Dean was found, all Sam wanted was for Dean to wake up and recognize Sam. There was still time left, before Dean's deal expired. Sam wanted Dean to be able to enjoy every last minute of that time and hopefully beyond that time. A part of Sam began to wonder if Dean was in a coma and began to worry that Dean may have suffered some physical repercussions, from being in the casket for so long. Sam's heart grew heavy at the thought that Dean might not wake up. Could he have already lost his brother? Was there really a chance that he would never see his brother smile again? Sam was glad that he was kneeling, on the ground next to Dean, since his legs suddenly felt very weak and would not have kept him up, had he been standing. He squeezed Dean's hand again.
/SN/
Dean felt content. He felt the kind of warmth that made everything seem ok. It was the kind of warmth that touched one's heart and had nothing to do with atmospheric temperature. It was the kind of feeling that he would never tell any one he actually felt, since that would be way to girly to admit to. No, this feeling was something he would keep to himself. It was something he would cherish. He would cherish it along with other fond memories that he had of his family.
He knew he was dying. He was dying even before the deal's year was up. And yet, oddly enough, he seemed alright with that. For some strange reason, things felt ok. This sudden change seemed out of place. Hadn't he been fighting to stay alive and now, he didn't feel the need to fight? Why was that? Ever since he had felt the warmth, he no longer felt like he was in danger. He felt safe. He felt at home. He rarely felt this way and yet now, that's exactly how he felt. He couldn't explain it. It was like his gut and heart had both decided that the situation wasn't threatening any more and he had no idea why that was.
He took a relaxing breath and noticed that the air wasn't stuffy any more. In fact, he caught a scent, which reminded him of his brother. He found that comforting. He would rather have pleasant thoughts and memories before he died, than unpleasant ones. And though he worried for and about Sam, deep down, he knew that Sam would be ok. Dean had done everything he could to prepare and train Sam. As heart wrenching as it had been, Dean had watched Sam go off to college and had also watched Sam leave on his own to go looking for their father. Sam had survived those lonely ventures, on his own. As these thoughts, which had been provoked by a familiar scent, went through his head, Dean felt himself feeling more peaceful and at ease.
As thoughts of Sam continued, Dean thought he heard his name being called, from somewhere far away. The sound seemed to come from so far away and yet, Dean knew that it had been his name. Despite the fact that the sound was muffled and hard to discern, Dean felt that the sound had been Sam's voice. His gut and his heart told him that it was Sam, who had called out Dean's name. Were his thoughts becoming so intense, that he was now suffering some weird auditory hallucination? Was he so desperate, to hear Sam's voice one last time, that his imagination was trying to grant his dying wish? Despite his doubt, a seed of hope had started to take root, within Dean. A part of him began to believe that he would still get to spend a little more time with his brother.
Dean noticed that his hand was being held and that his face was being touched. The touch felt so familiar. The Winchesters weren't a touch-feely kind of family. When they touched each other, it was down on purpose and with meaning. The touch he now felt was done out of concern and reassurance. The touch felt familiar and felt like hope. His gut and heart told him the touch belonged to Sam. Was something trying to grant his last wish to be with Sam, by causing him to have a tactile hallucination? Could all these thoughts and feelings of Sam be his mind's last attempt to offer Dean some sort of comfort, before he went to hell? A part of him hoped that wasn't true and yet another part hoped it was. He didn't want his last thoughts to be about what it felt like to be in a casket. He would prefer to have his last thoughts be about something more pleasant. He would really prefer to spend his last moments with his brother and not alone in a casket.
That little seed of hope, which had taken root in Dean, began to bloom. Everything, from the scent to the touch, made him think that Sam was nearby. Dean wanted so badly for it to be true and yet, he feared so deeply that none of it was. He preferred to put his faith in things that he knew and things that have been proven to work. Could he really put his faith in something that probably wasn't true? Did he really want to take that chance? Could he survive having this little bit of hope dispelled, before he went to hell? Did he want to risk proving that hope was useless and having hope only put one at risk for suffering a deeper and more painful loss? His gut and his heart told him to trust in hope. Experience had taught him to trust his gut. Family had taught him to trust his heart. All that was left to do was to open his eyes and see the truth for himself.
/SN/
Sam was intently watching Dean's face. When Dean's eyes opened, Sam was overwhelmed with joy. He could tell, by the look in his brother's eyes, that Dean was back and everything was going to be ok.