The Awakening

He opened his eyes and hated the feeling he had in his gut. It took him a moment to realize where he was. He was no longer in Hell, no longer tortured by demons and no longer –, he was no longer there. So where was he?

Dean stretched out his hands and found he could barely move. He tried to stretch his legs and it was impossible. His hands felt a flat soft surface and soon realized, with horror, he was in a box. Oh, not just any box, a coffin.

He began to panic, eyes moving rapidly, his heart race as well. His breathing became shallow and flashes of Hell returned. It was all coming back to him.

He had to calm himself before he had an anxiety attack.

C'mon Dean, think straight. Don't panic, just try to stay calm.

Once his breathing and heart rate regulated, he could think of a plan of action. Luckily for him, the coffin wasn't much, so he could punch through the coffin. He kept punching and even though his knuckles were bleeding and pain shot through his hand, he continued. He wasn't going to die in a coffin.

Once he had his hand through, he tried to make the hole even bigger so he could climb out and then struggle with the dirt. It wasn't easy, he was exhausted but there was no way he was going to die in a coffin. He had to keep telling himself that, as a sort of motivation.

Once he was through, completely that is, the sun was so blinding, he couldn't open his eyes.

He pushed his way through and struggled to stand on his feet. His eyes were extremely sensitive to the sunlight, but it soon passed.

He walked down the road, wondering where he was. He also wondered how Sam and Bobby were doing, where they were and if they knew he was back. In the sun, his arms were burning. He stopped and rolled up his t-shirt. His biceps were burned indeed with what appeared to be hand prints. How the hell did those get there? Who did they come from?

Safe to say, it had Dean worried.

Up ahead, he saw a small store that seemed to be abandoned. Beside it was a pay phone. He could use it to call Sam and Bobby. He searched his pockets for change and cursed when he had none. He walked up to the phone and turned the phone upside down and punched in his brother's cell phone number, only to get voicemail. He tried Bobby, it was ringing.

"Hello."

"Bobby, its Dean."

"What kind of a sick son of a bitch are you?" The phone went dead. Bobby had hung up on him.

Should he really have been surprised? Someone dies and later, someone calls claiming to be the recently departed back to life? No hunter would believe that.

He hung up and went back into the store. He looked around for things he could use. He'd have to walk; go and prove to Bobby he wasn't any monster. He grabbed a bottle of water, and heard a sound and then it turned unbearably loud. His ears began to hurt and then, the windows shattered. Bottles broke and Dean fell to the ground, trying to block out the horrible sound. When the sound ended, he looked around and saw nothing, no demons, and he sure as hell wasn't staying to see if it was.

He left the store and kept walking, he'd have to show up at Bobby's door and prove he's back, back from the dead.

That should be fun.

Dean pressed the cloth against his wrist as hard as he could to get it to stop bleeding. He had to prove it to Bobby he really was Dean Winchester, even drink Holy water, like usual. Finally Bobby hugged him, a hug he never gave before.

"How'd you come back?" he asked Dean. He could hear the emotion in his voice. It was like a father glad to have his son come back home. It made Dean think of John; how that's what he should have been, but John Winchester was something else. Still, Dean wanted to be like him, but did he hope for a closer father-son bond? He never really asked himself.

Maybe now's the time to ask.

Dean wasn't certain if that was a thought he had in his head or if someone whispered it in his ear. Hell still had an impact on him and he brushed it off. He couldn't have that. He wouldn't.

Dean hugged Bobby in return and focused on the present, with Bobby, and not the past; his youth or his suffering in Hell.

"That's what I'd like to know. I tried calling Sam, but I got nothing." He replied.

Bobby pulled away and nodded. Dean had the feeling Bobby knew something, and it wasn't something good.

"Sam didn't want to burn your body. I feared he do like what you did." Bobby said and then had an awkward pause. His expression said it before his words. "You think he did make a deal or something?" Bobby asked him.

"He better not have."

"Pontiac, here we are." Bobby said as they stepped up to the hotel where Sam's cell phone account lead them to. Dean got the room number out of the clerk and both knocked on Sam's door.

The door opened and Sam sidestepped to let Bobby in. He was in complete shock when he saw Dean. The first thing he did was defend himself before the demons attacked. He should have known better.

"Sam, it's really Dean." Bobby said, watching Dean taking the blow and standing there, as if stunned. That wasn't Dean, but who can blame him? He just came back from Death.

Sam started at his brother and when he snapped back, he tried to be himself. However, Bobby and Sam saw right through it.

"Sammy must be eating spinach; I don't remember those punches being so powerful." Dean said as he wiped away blood from his lip as he gave a weak grin.

"Did you make a deal?" Bobby asked Sam after a moment of hesitation.

"No, did you?" he asked in return with the same hesitation.

"You think I'm stupid or something?" Bobby snapped.

All three stood there and stared at each other in an awkward silence. It was obvious: no one made a deal for Dean. So, the question was: who did and for what reason?

"What exactly have you been doing?" Dean asked his brother over a few beers.

"Tracking down Lilith, hunting demons." He replied.

There was a moment of silence, as each realized they had questions that needed answers. So far, the theory was that demons let him out and that couldn't have been for good reasons. Even if it wasn't a demon and they were wrong, they had to know what brought him back.

They couldn't take chances. They had to figure something out.

"I know a psychic who might help us." Bobby said. "Her name is Pamela Barnes." he added. He took out his cell phone and walked away to talk to her once the brothers nodded their approval.

Sam took out of his pocket the necklace Dean always wore. He gave it to him and when they just stared at each other, the look in Sam's eyes was as if he hadn't felt whole in months. Four months, to be exact.

Dean finally went to the bathroom to clean his lip. He closed the door and locked it. He was worried about why he was back. He was glad, don't get him wrong. But he couldn't shake the feeling that this was wrong.

He put the necklace around his neck and had a flash of Hell: blood, screams, pain, demonic laughter. Only one name was on his lips the whole time: Sam.

He snapped out of it and looked up at his reflection. In the mirror, beside him was a blond woman with green eyes. Her face was soft, as was her smile. He turned and thought he was seeing things, but when she was still there, he knew she wasn't a figment of his imagination.

She wore ripped jeans, tucked into black leather high heel boots, with a white tank top under a black leather jacket. There was only one word for this strange woman; hot. But Dean was in no mood for hot and after what he's been through, he wasn't sure he would anytime soon.

"Hi there Dean." She said softly. Her voice had a sort of echo to it. No, not an echo. It sounded like two of her speaking at the same time.

Dean looked at her and looked at the door. He opened it and looked into the room, only to see it was empty.

"Sam?" Dean asked softly.

"Glad to be back?" she asked him. He glanced back at her and was convinced this was a twisted sort of Hell torture after shock.

"How did you get in here?" he asked her, keeping his guard up and trying to figure out a plan. He felt the counter behind him and felt Sam's razor. He could try to use it. Maybe there was something else he could use.

"Door was opened." She replied, her voice still sounding like dual voices.

"Not this door, I locked it and there's no way you got past Sam and Bobby." He said to her, finger slipping over a comb where one end was very sharp, and with enough force, could be deadly.

"I picked this door and slipped past them as innocently as I can be." She replied. "Now, are we gonna answer with a question, Dean?" she asked him, her soft smile becoming a grin. Towards the end of her sentence, her voice became normal and it was just one voice Dean was hearing.

"How do you know my name?" he asked her.

"Who doesn't know your name? You're famous here and you're certainly famous in Hell." She said, her smile still so sweet. It made Dean's stomach twist.

"What are you?" he asked her.

"A hunter." She said, sitting down on the edge of the tub and crossing one leg over the other.

"Christo." He said, doubting her answer. She only rolled her eyes and grinned at him.

"I'm not a demon, nor am I a monster. Like I said, I'm a hunter. You need my help." She told him. "So drop the Comb of Death, will you?" she said with a sort of glimmer in her eyes.

Dean opened his mouth, about to reply, when Sam knocked at the door.

"Dean, we're ready to go." He said.

Dean looked back at the tub and the strange woman wasn't there. He continued to stare at that spot as if expecting her to reappear like the Cheshire Cat. He eventually opened the door and left to go see Pamela Barnes.

He couldn't get that woman's face out of his mind. Now that he thought of it, she seemed familiar, but he wasn't certain where he had seen her. Either way, he was certain she was connected to his resurrection.