Based upon Lazarus Rising
Mah first fanfiction in like a long time, so sorries if it is like totally terrible… And I am sick.. So this is gonna stink like really bad..
Dean's View
Waking up in a coffin was a nightmare. The darkness, the limit of air, the small space inclosing him… He knew he was supposed to be dead. Memories swirled around his mind as he lit his lighter, looking around.
Hellhounds. Blood. Screaming. Ripping. Tearing. Sammy. Death.
He had to get out. Leave. Oxygen was limited, and so he pushed the hard surface above him. He stabbed upwards, breaking the material –wood- and in came dirt. So, he was buried. If he knew his brother, six feet under. His brother… Sam. His eyes lit slightly, a flutter in his heart as he began climbing up through the dirt, which clasped to his hair and clothing.
His mind drifting to horror movies he had seen in the past, especially the ones with the undead, his finally pushed his arm up through the dirt, feeling the air circulating around upon his skin. He pulled himself with great effort out of the ground, a whirl of sensations engulfing him. Thirst. Hunger. Awe. Confusion. Pain.
He looked around, his mind straining to try and piece the situation together. Nothing made sense… There were pieces of puzzles, but none of them fit together. His thoughts were jumbled, but one word kept shoving itself to the surface, giving him the strength to get up and set out on a journey of the unknown. Sammy.
Time and days and moments blended together for a while. He had tried calling the one person he longed most to hear their voice again, but when he realized that the number was out of service, he went for the second best thing. Bobby.
Of course, Dean knew what he was in for when he showed up on Bobby's doorstep. He knew that the whole thing seemed slightly fishy. Here Dean was, a person who had been dragged to hell four months previous in a storm of blood and tearing, by the hounds. Even if his soul been claimed from hell and placed back in his body, Dean should have been ribbons, with his innards seeping out; not a man without a single wound, besides a handprint on his shoulder. So of course Bobby would think Dean was an imposter, and would for a while. Dean was able to convince him otherwise, though he had holy water thrown at his face just in case. Bobby pulled him in a hug, and Dean was glad he was there, though a piece of Dean was still missing, a part of his heart empty.
When they tracked down Sam, Dean was… He was nervous. Why was he nervous? He wasn't sure.. All he knew was that a lot of things could happen in a very short time. He knew what his death had done to Bobby, drove him to more drinking than before. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what it had done to his Sammy.
When the door opened, his breath caught, but all he saw was a girl with limited clothing on. He thought it was the wrong room, but when he saw Sam in the background, nothing else mattered. He began to walk towards him, but of course, as Dean should have know, Sam would have been wary of who he was. He attacked him, but luckily Bobby chose that time to intervene. The two of them, Sam and Dean, the Wincesters, pulled each other into a crushing embrace and didn't let go for a long time.