Bring Me To Life
Chapter Two
As Lizzie drove, she thought about what Sam and Dean could have been doing this past year without her. She knew that Sam would never fully get over her being gone. She knew that. Did he become so depressed that he quit hunting altogether?
Did he keep his promise to her and learn how to play the violin? Did Dean keep his promise to her and look after him. If not….She couldn't face that possibility and took another sip of Diet Coke.
She knew that once she convinced Dean that she was alive, and that she wasn't a demon or any supernatural being, he would have questions for her: What do you remember? What was it like, etc.
More than anything, Lizzie wanted to see Sam, and why she got only his voicemail when she called.
But the most pressing question that she had was, who rescued her from Hell's fiery depths and why?
She immediately came up with a theory. It must have been Cas, she thought.
I mean, he rescued Dean, he rescued Sam, why would he not rescue me?
She would have to ask him herself to find out.
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Lizzie pulled into the driveway of Bobby Singer's Auto Salvage Yard, and turned off the ignition and sat back in her seat breathing anxiously. She knew that Dean wouldn't believe it when he saw her on the front porch. She sighed. Can't keep this off forever if you really wanna see Sam, she thought as she opened the car door, got out, and slammed it behind her.
She walked anxiously up the driveway, up the porch steps, and took a deep breath before knocking on the front door.
She didn't have to wait long. Barely a moment later there was a rattling sound as the door opened and Dean emerged.
The moment he saw Lizzie, an expression of shock and surprise, and suspicion crossed his face.
Lizzie shrugged. "Ta-da!" she said, smiling slightly.
Dean's expression didn't alter. "I – I don't…." he breathed. "That makes two of us," said Lizzie in a slight sarcastic tone. "But here I am,"
Little did Lizzie know it, but Dean was holding a silver daggar behind his back. All of a sudden he lunged at Lizzie in an attempt to stab her. Lizzie grabbed his arm and twisted it, but Dean broke her grip and punched her in the face.
"Dean, it's me!" Lizzie gasped. "Like hell you are!" Dean growled as he ran forward to stab her again. Lizzie pushed a chair in between them, with her hands held out. "Whoa! Wait! You're name is Dean Winchester, you were raised to be a hunter by your Dad who spent his whole life chasing after a yellow-eyed demon named Azazel who killed your mom when you were a kid, and…" she took a deep breath. "You're my best friend! You're like the brother I never had!"
Dean slowly lowered the dagger in his hand, as he stood there, thinking. Was it really her?
"Dean," said Lizzie apprehensively. "It's me!"
Dean walked over to Lizzie like a sleepwalker and gently placed a hand on Lizzie's shoulder.
But then he made a move to stab her again. This time, Lizzie was ready, as she subdued him and was able to wrestle the dagger out of his grip. "I'm not a shapeshifter either!" she said breathlessly as Dean stared up at her. "But if I was," she continued. "Could I do this, with a silver knife?"
She took off the jacket she had put on before entering the house, and carefully sliced her forearm without even blinking or flinching.
Dean got to his feet, staring at Lizzie, starting to believe her. "Liz?" he asked. Lizzie nodded. "That's what I was trying to tell you over the phone, Dean!" she said.
Dean sighed as he pulled Lizzie into a tight hug. "It's good to see you again, Lizzie!" he sighed as he sniffled, tears of happiness coming to his eyes. "It hasn't been the same without you!" "Damn straight," said Lizzie, smiling, looking relieved that Dean finally believed her. "What the Hell is goin' on here?" came a gruff voice as Bobby Singer came into the room and immediately spotted Lizzie, then looked to the dagger that Lizzie had dropped. He immediately grabbed it and lunged toward her, but it was Dean who held him back. "Bobby, no!" he yelled. "I've been through it already! It's really her!"
Bobby stared up at Lizzie who smiled, and shrugged. Bobby walked over to Lizzie and hugged her. "It's good to see you, Liz,'' he said as he too began to cry with happiness. Then he stared at her. "How did you bust out?" he asked, as he, Lizzie and Dean walked over to the kitchen and Bobby gave Lizzie a beer. "I have a theory," said Lizzie as she unscrewed the cap from her beer bottle and tossed it onto the tabletop and took a long drink.
"Oh, yeah?" asked Dean raising his eyebrows. "What's that?" Lizzie set her beer bottle down, choosing her words carefully. "I think it was Cas," she said.
Dean and Bobby were quiet for a moment as Lizzie took another drink. "Are you sure?" asked Dean a moment later. "What else?" asked Lizzie. "Liz, your chest was in ribbons, your insides were like ground beef, and you've been buried for at least a year!" said Bobby
Lizzie choked on her beer as Dean thumped her on the back.
"A year?'' she asked. Bobby nodded. "What do you remember?" he asked. Lizzie was silent for a moment. She couldn't bear to tell him or Dean the truth. The demons got a little creative with her when she was there.
"Not much,'' she lied. "One minute I was a Hellhound's NylaBone, then – nothing. Then all of a sudden I come to six feet under,"
Dean and Bobby stared at her, not speaking.
"Where's Sam?" asked Lizzie. "Oh, he's here," said Bobby. "Oh, praise Jesus!" sighed Lizzie, looking relieved. "I tried his number, but it's disconnected. "He did leave for a while," said Dean. Lizzie stared at him. "Where did he go?" she asked. "Your parent's place in Transylvania," said Dean. "But?'' asked Lizzie. "According to him, he couldn't stay long because there were too many memories of you there – he couldn't bear it, so he left and came here instead."
Lizzie was quiet. "This last year hasn't been easy you know," said Bobby. "For him, or us." Then a thought struck Lizzie. "Why did you bury me?" she asked. "Don't get me wrong! I'm flattered that you did – I noticed my tombstone was made of marble…"
Bobby shrugged. "I wanted you salted and burned – usual deal, but neither Sam or your family wouldn't hear of it."
Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "My family?" she asked. "Sammy told them almost immediately after you died," said Dean. "By the way, what was that stuff you told him to take to Hogwarts?"
Lizzie smiled slightly. "My memory," she said. "Of what?" asked Dean. "I wanted him to see my life – you know, before I became a hunter. I always knew he wouldn't cope very well once I was gone," Dean gave a little snort, and Lizzie ignored him. "I hoped that, if he had something to remember me by, it would, you know help him cope,"
There were faint footsteps as Sam walked into the room. He didn't look that much different then when Lizzie last saw him. His hair was a bit longer but other than that, he looked the same.
Lizzie smiled as she got up from where she was sitting. "Hi, Sam," she said happily. Sam stared at her as she walked toward him. But as she got close, Sam pulled out a knife from his pocket, and Lizzie couldn't help but think, Here we go again!
It took both Dean and Bobby to hold Sam back as he struggled. "Who are you?" Sam demanded. "What d'you mean?" Lizzie shouted back. "Sammy, Bobby and I have been through this already! It's her! It's really her!" said Dean breathlessly as he struggled to keep ahold of his younger brother. Sam stared at Lizzie as he slowly stopped struggling. "What?"
Lizzie shrugged. "I know," she said. "Not bad for someone who escaped Hell, eh?"
Sam walked toward Lizzie cautiously as he put a hand on Lizzie's cheek, gazing intensely into her eyes, before he grabbed her and thrust her into the wall, and began to make out with her. "Mm! I missed you so much!" said Sam as he continued to kiss Lizzie. "I missed you too!" said Lizzie. "I couldn't think of anyone else while you were gone!" "Me either!" said Lizzie.
Suddenly Lizzie felt her jacket slipping off her. Sam was pulling it off her. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I told you I wanted to wait until after we got married, remember?"
Sam smiled. "Sorry! I got carried away," he said. Lizzie smiled. "Happens to me all the time!" she said, as she continued to kiss Sam.
Then she broke apart from him a second time. "Wait! So you didn't go off with another woman while I was gone?"
Sam gazed perplexed at his fiancée. "No….Why would I?" Lizzie was quiet for a moment. Then she finally said, "nothing. Forget about it."
Then Lizzie noticed a reddish stain on Sam's plaid shirt. "Sam, you're bleeding," she commented. Sam looked down at his shirt sleeve, and smiled at Lizzie. "It's nothing," he said.
Lizzie stared suspiciously at her fiancée. "Really?" she asked. Sam nodded, but Lizzie noticed the look on Dean's face, and she turned back to Sam again. "Is there something I should know?" she asked. "No!" said Sam, but Dean said "Yes! Tell her, Sammy!" "Tell me what?" asked Lizzie, in a 'don't-keep-me-in-suspense' kind of tone.
"She'll just get angry!" said Sam, not looking at Lizzie. "What will I get mad at?" asked Lizzie harshly.
"Show her your arm, Sam," said Dean. "No!" said Sam. "Show me your arm, Sam," said Lizzie, in a much more gentler tone than Dean. "Please?" asked Lizzie, holding Sam's hand.
Sam nodded as Lizzie rolled up Sam's sleeve to reveal at least twenty self-inflicted cuts and what appeared to be cigarette burns on Sam's forearms (despite the fact that Sam didn't smoke).
Lizzie gasped. "I know," said Sam looking deeply ashamed. "I'm sorry Lizzie." And he truly did look it too. After a moment, Lizzie looked up at him. "Why?" she asked. "Because it made me feel better,'' said Sam. "It helped me cope with the fact that you were gone. But now…" he sighed. "Now I have a good reason to stop now that you're back," he said.
Lizzie smiled. "I'm glad you see it that way," she said. "Let's get these cleaned up and bandaged, eh?" she asked, as she led Sam out of the room, up the stairs, into the bathroom, and got a first aid kit out from underneath the sink, and cleaned the cuts and burns that Sam had on his forearms, before bandaging them up. She was just putting a bandage on one of Sam's last cuts, when he spoke up. "Lizzie? What's that on your shoulder?" he asked.
Lizzie stared up at him. "What?" she asked. But then, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror and noticed a handprint burned into the flesh of her right bicep – furthering her theory that it was indeed her friend, Castiel, an angel of God, who pulled her out.
"What the hell?" Lizzie whispered, as she scrutinized the handprint near her shoulder. A moment later, she turned back to Sam and finished bandaging his forearm before heading back downstairs
"What took you so long?" asked Dean as Sam and Lizzie walked back into the library. "Sorry," said Lizzie. "Check this out!"
She showed Dean and Bobby the handprint on her right bicep. "What the Hell?" asked Dean. "That's exactly what I said!" said Lizzie. "How did you get that?" asked Dean.
"It was me," said a gravelly voice as Lizzie turned around to see her friend Castiel, smiling at her. "Hello, Lizzie," he said. "Hi," said Lizzie. "I am sure you are wondering by now, why you're alive?" he asked. "Actually Cas," said Lizzie. "After all these years I just sort of go along with it," said Lizzie laughing slightly. Castiel smiled. "But yes, I am curious,"
"It was me," Castiel repeated. "I am the one who raised you from Perdition."
I knew it! Lizzie thought as she walked over to Castiel and gave him a hug. "Thank you," she said as Castiel responded by hugging her back, although he looked slightly uncomfortable.
"It was horrible," Lizzie whispered in his ear, as Castiel continued to hug her. "I know," he said soothingly. Lizzie smiled as she noticed the friendship bracelet she had given him just before her demise a year previously, tied around his wrist.
"I missed you so much!" Lizzie said to Castiel. "I prayed for you, I asked for you to rescue me."
Castiel smiled. "I know. I could hear you," he said. "Why did it take you a year?" asked Lizzie, trying not to sound demanding. "They knew I was coming to rescue you, so they hid you from me,"
Lizzie sniggered. "They didn't do a very good job in the end!" she said as she and Castiel laughed.
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Later that day, Lizzie and Sam, spend the time talking and catching up. "By the way," said Lizzie as she and Sam talked over a couple of beers. "Where's my wand?"
Sam's smile faltered and a nervous expression replaced it. "Where is my wand, Sam?" asked Lizzie, her voice gentle, yet worried.
Sam sighed as he walked over to his rucksack that he had left by the back door, took a small pouch out of the front pocket and took out two pieces of splintered, slightly charred wood – the remained of Lizzie's faithful, finally beaten wand.