Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke, and anything remotely Buffy-related belongs to Joss.
Author's Notes: I wrote this chapter yesterday and I just couldn't wait to put it up, so here it is! Haha. Again, enjoy, and please review.
Chapter 3: Fire and Stone
Sam returned to Dean's grave the next day, weary and broken. He had dedicated the past year to figuring out a way to revive his brother, and after everything—Sam stopped. The grave was empty. At first he was convinced that he had gone to the wrong location, but there was the candle from last night, the drops of blood spilt on the ground, the freshly overturned dirt…
The coffin was empty, broken at the top. Sam stopped short and knelt down in front of the grave, bewildered. Had the spell really worked? Or had someone dug Dean up?
A noise sounded from a fe w feet behind Sam, and he turned around quickly to see Dean sitting against a tree. Sam's eyes widened and he stared for a few minutes until he spoke.
"Dean?" His brother looked up with sunken eyes, not saying a word. "Dean." Sam rushed to his side and knelt in front of him. "Hey. Dean?" He reached to take his brother's hands in his, but he drew back, seeing that they were covered in blood and ripped at the tips of the fingers. Sam gasped quietly. He had brought his brother back to life—exactly where they had laid him to rest. "Oh, my God," he whispered softly. "You had to claw your way out of your coffin." Blank eyes provided no response to his statement. "I'm so sorry," said Sam. "I didn't think it worked. I didn't know, I didn't know…" Still no answer from Dean, and Sam pressed his hand to Dean's chest. A steady thump-de-thump-de-thump relieved his slightly irrational fear that his brother was still dead.
Dean looked up into Sam's soft brown eyes, his cracked lips attempting to form a word.
"Sammy?" he managed to croak. A smile wider than Sam had ever smiled crossed his face, and he put his hand on his brother's cheek.
"Yeah. Dean, it's me. It's me." Dean opened his mouth again, still trying to form words.
"Is this…" he whispered, and then he looked up. "Is this Hell?"
"What?" Sam asked, confused.
"Is this Hell?" Dean repeated, eyes fixed on his brother. Sam's eyebrows creased in an anguished frown.
"No, Dean, no! It's not Hell. You're here, with me. You're back now, you're safe. Whatever happened to you there, whatever you've been through… It's over now." He forced a smile. "Hey, man, you with me?" He put his other hand on Dean's other cheek, supporting his face.
"It was so clear," Dean mumbled. "I remember. Like a shiny white light, it was there and it was so clear and I just had to go…" He trailed off and looked up, surprised he had gotten the words out. He searched for some kind of praise in Sam's eyes, but all he saw was his brother's eyes filling with tears.
"Dean, listen to me," said Sam. "We're gonna get you back to the motel, okay? And you can rest and eat and sleep and it'll be fine." Dean closed his eyes and frowned, as if experiencing some sort of inner pain, and Sam tried to will the tears not to spill over from his own eyes. "Come on, let's go."
---
Dean wasn't sleeping, for which Sam was slightly relieved. He couldn't bear to see his brother lying down with his eyes closed, not after what Sam had gone through for the past week. Dean had calmed down a little, settled back into things, but he was still slightly tense and on-edge. Sam had bandaged up his hands, given him fresh clothes, and gotten him some food, and now he was sitting on the edge of Dean's bed.
"You okay?" he asked, for what was probably the hundredth time in an hour. Dean nodded. Sam gently ran his fingers through Dean's hair, understanding of his state of confusion. "I'm right here if you need anything."
"Sammy…" Dean hadn't said anything at all since they were in the woods, and Sam started.
"Yeah?"
"Wh' happened?"
"You went to Hell, Dean. And I brought you back."
"I thought…" He struggled to get the words out. "Told you not to?"
"You were in hell," said Sam. "I was supposed to just let you stay there?"
"What's dead…" Dean paused. "should stay dead."
"I couldn't," were the words that came out from Sam's mouth. His hand still lingered in Dean's hair, and Dean leaned into the touch. He didn't say anything else.
---
Sam fell asleep, and he dreamt of fire and stone and he thought he heard his brother screaming as he was tortured but he felt like he was imagining it because somewhere, somehow, there was a bright light that came down and bathed him in warmth and love.
Is this Hell?