I opened my eyes and all I could see was black. Where was I? I tried to move, to sit up but I confined in something. There was hardly any air and it was hard to breath, making me cough and gasp.
Getting out my zippo, I lit it so I could see where I was. A box. A coffin.
"Help!" I tried to shout, my dry throat making my voice raspy.
I started banging on the lid of the box with my hands and kicking it with my feet until I decided to try pulling the wood.
Dirt caved in, filling my mouth and suffocating me. I started to dig with me hands until I felt fresh air against my skin. I was free. I managed to put myself out and I rolled over onto my back taking huge gasps of the clean air I'd missed for so long.
When I got my breath back, I stood up and looked around, the sunlight burning my eyes; something weird had happened. The trees that circled the place I had been buried were all lying flat on the ground in a huge circle.
After turning in a curcle staring at them, I started walking, looking for civilisation.
Finally, after I don't know how long, I came across a run down gas station on an empty country road.
Pounding of the door, I called out "hello?" but there didn't seem to be anybody there, despite the vehicles outside.
The shirt I was wearing was wrapped around my waist, I couldn't wear it in the heat so I unwrapped it and rolled it round my fist to break the glass in the entrance door.
I headed straight to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, swigging it. Oh god, that tasted so good.
Looking around, I grabbed a newspaper and looked at the date.
Thursday, September 18th, 2008.
"September," I said, confused.
I had been in hell for four months, but it felt more like years.
I headed to the bathroom and stood in front of a dingy, dirty sink and started washing the dirt off my face. Ahh, clean.
Afterward drying my face on my shirt, I looked at my reflection and the black shirt I was wearing. The black shirt without the tears the hellhound made when it killed me. I lifted it up and looked at my chest, I didn't even have scars but someone I knew something was wrong. I checked my left shoulder next and there, on the top of my arm was a large, raw handprint. It looked like it a horrendous scar after a hand had been burnt into my skin.
I pulled my sleeve down and headed back into the store, grabbing snacks and cereal bars off the shelf, more bottles of water, and stashed them into a plastic bag. Walking, I stopped at a magazine rack and smiled. Busty Beauties. That's more like it. I flipped through it and added it to the bag.
I moved to the counter next, leaving my bag on the side. I pressed a button and the till popped open making me snap my fingers in satisfaction. It was kind of weird that someone would leave money here.
As I was getting the money out, the TV next to me flickered on, showing nothing but static. When I reached over and turned it off, the radio kicked into life playing country music with white noise over it. The TV turned itself on again.
Something wasn't right so to be safe I grabbed a carton of salt and started pouring it along the windowsill.
The white noise changed to a high-pitched whistling and started to hurt my ears so I used my free hand to cover my left ear, and carried on pouring the salt with my right. The noise kept getting louder and louder until I couldn't bear it and dropped the salt, covering both ears and groaning in agony. The sound going to the point where even the windows couldn't take it, shattering the glass and causing me to throw myself on the floor to avoid getting hit.
I leapt to my feet and ran to the exit, trying to escape but the glass in the door smashed inwards, towards me, making me hit the floor again and hen the noise stopped at suddenly as it had started. I pulled myself up, using the counter and walked to the windows, looking out while wondering what the hell had just happened
I headed outside to the phone booth and dialled Sam's number only to get an alert tone so I tried his other number; this time all I got was a recorded voice. "We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected."
I hung up for a second time, put another coin in and tried Bobby's number. It only rang once before it was answered.
"Yeah?"
"Bobby?" I asked.
"Yeah?" He answered.
"It's me."
"Who's me?" He asked. I couldn't believe he didn't recognise my voice. How many times had I spoken to him on the phone? Thousands.
"Dean," I said, only to get a dial tone. He hung up on me. I put in another quarter and rang him again.
"Who is this?" He sounded annoyed.
"Bobby, listen to me," I tried to make him listen.
"This ain't funny. Call again and I'll kill ya." Again, he hung up the phone.
I stared at the phone in shock and placed it back then turned round, my eyes settling on a beat up white car. Awesome.
I headed over to the car and tweaked the wires. When the engine started, climbed in and drove away. If Bobby wasn't going to talk to me then I was gonna make sure he saw me instead.
When I finally got there, I pounded on his door and waited for him, out of breath. When Bobby answered, he looked at me suspiciously and I smiled at him. "Surprise."
"I . . .I don't," he was speechless and looked totally shocked.
"Yeah, me neither," I agreed with him and walked into his house. "But here I am."
I didn't see Bobby grabbing the silver knife off the table beside him but I did see him lunge at me and moved just in time to grab his arm and twist it around but Bobby broke the grip and backhanded me across the face.
"Bobby! It's me!" I shouted, stumbling backwards, holding my face.
"My ass!" He shouted back and stormed toward me.
I moved backwards into the kitchen and put a chair between us, holding my hands out. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer You became a hunter after your wife got possessed and . . .you're about the closest thing I have to a father. Bobby, it's me." I tried to prove it to him by throwing facts at him.
Bobby lowered the knife stepped forward slowly. He pushed the chair out of the way and gently placed a hand on my shoulder, his mouth hanging open, then suddenly slashed again but I again managed to pull the same move on him, holding his arms behind his back and prising the knife out of his hand before pushing him away.
"I'm not a shapeshifter either!"
"Then you're a revenant!" He shouted.
With the knife I still had in my hand, I held it out in front of me, I said "alright, if I was either, could I do this with a silver knife."
I rolled up my sleeve, took a deep breath and cut across my arm
"Dean?" Bobby said, his voice faltering as he started to believe me.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," I whispered, walking toward him.
His will gave and, trying not to cry, he pulled me into a tight hug. With enthusiasm, I hugged him back, relieved.
"It's . . .it's good to see you boy."
"Yeah, you too," I agreed.
"But . . .how did you burst out?" He asked confused.
"I don't know. I just, uh . . .woke up in a pine bo-" I was cut off by water being thrown in my face. I paused, spat out the water, and said, "I'm not a demon either, you know."
"Sorry, can't be too careful," Bobby shrugged.
We left the kitchen, me following him, drying my face with a towel.
"That don't make a lick of sense."
"Yeah. Yeah, you're preaching to the choir," I said.
"Dean, your chest was in ribbons, your inside were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meatsuit-"
"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject," I cut Bobby off from his rant.
"What do you remember?" He asked me.
"Not much. I remember I was a hellhound's chew toy and then . . .lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it," I told him and watched him sit down. "Sam's number's not working. He's uh . . .he's not . . ."
I walked round his desk, rubbing my face.
"Oh he's alive. As far as I know," Bobby reassured me.
"Good," I said and then realised what he's just said. "Wait, what do you mean 'as far as you know'?"
"I haven't spoken to him in months."
"You're kidding? You just let him go off by himself?"
"He was dead set on it," Bobby defended himself, getting up and moving.
"Bobby, you should have been looking after him," I said, not being able to believe what I was hearing.
"I tried. These last months haven't exactly been easy, you know? For him or me. We had to bury you."
"Why did you bury me anyway?" I asked, knowing the rule was to cremate hunters.
"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But . . .Sam wouldn't have it," Bobby answered.
"Well, I'm glad he won that one."
"He said you'd need a body when he got you back somehow. That's about all he said."
"What do you mean?" We could both hear the suspicion in my voice.
"He was quiet, real quiet. Then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him but . . .he don't want to be found," Bobby explained.
"Oh, damnit Sammy," I said to myself, putting my hands on my forehead and walking around..
"What?" Bobby asked, now sitting on the edge of his desk.
"Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo."
"What makes you so sure?" Bobby asked.
"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this . . .this force, this presence, I don't know," I tried to explain. "But it-it-it blew past me at a fill-up point. And then this."
I pulled down my shirt on the left side and pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt to show him the branded handprint.
Bobby stood up again, gaping and walked toward me. "What in the hell?"
"It was a like demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out."
"But why?"
"To hold up their end of the bargain," I guessed.
"You think Sam made a deal," Bobby said rather than asked.
"It's what I would have done," I told him.
About a half hour later, I was on the phone, trying to track down my brother.
"Yeah hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys and I, uh, lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me." I paused while they asked me for my name. "Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles." I paused again. "Social is 2-4-7-4. Thank you."
I hung up and went over to the laptop on the table.
"How'd you know he'd use that name?" Bobby asked me.
"You kiddin' me, what don't I know about that kid?" I sighed.
I turned the laptop onto web browser and typed in the address for ARC MOBILE.
Picking up an empty whiskey bottle while waiting, I looked up at him. "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?"
"Like I said, last few months ain't been all that easy," he said, his eyes revealing the pain he had dealt with.
I held his gaze for a moment, replying with "right."
The laptop beeped, getting my attention and the screen showed a city map with a blue arrow pointing to a star. The locater read:
Phone Location:
263 Adams Road
Pontiac, Illinois
"Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois," I told Bobby.
"Right near where you were buried."
"Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?" I looked at him, seriously.
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That night, after me and Bobby had taken a road trip, we walked down a dingy hallway and stopped at the room with the number 207 in a heart on the door, and knocked.
The door was opened by a small woman with brown hair and man, was she hot, especially since she was only wearing a tank top and underwear.
She looked from me to Bobby, expectantly and then asked, "so where is it?"
I looked to Bobby confused. "Where's what?"
"The pizza . . .that takes two guys to deliver."
"I think we got the wrong room," I said but then saw Sam come out of a doorway behind her.
"Hey, is-" he started to asked the girl but stopped when he saw me, his eyes flickering from me to Bobby and back again.
"Hey there, Sammy," I said with a smile on my face.
When Sam said and did nothing but just stood there breathing hard, I moved forward and the hot young woman had no choice but to move aside and let me walk in.
As I got close to him, he pulled out a knife and launched himself at me, making the woman scream. I managed to block his attack and Bobby grabbed Sam by the arm that held the knife and held him back, his left arm round Sam's shoulders, but Sam continued to struggle and try and get to me.
"Who are you?!" Sam shouted at me.
"Like you didn't do this!" I shouted back at him.
"Do what?!"
"It's him, it's him. I've been through this already," Bobby said to Sam. "It's really him."
Sam stared at me and slowly stopped struggling. "What."
I carefully moved back towards him. "I know, I look fantastic, huh?"
Bobby let go of Sam when he saw Sam was on the verge of tears; he didn't need as much convincing as Bobby and stepped forward, pulling me into a desperate hug. I hugged him back, glad to back with him and Bobby stood to the side, watching us with tears in his eyes.
Sam pushed me back to arms length and the hot young woman, who was looking really confused, said "so are you two like . . .together?"
The look on Sam's face said that he had forgotten all about her.
"What? No, no. He's my brother."
I couldn't believe she thought we were gay. If this were any other situation, I would have laughed.
"Uh . . .got it. I . . .I guess. Look, I should probably go," she said, awkwardly.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Sorry," Sam apologised to her.
After the woman had got dressed, Sam walked her to the door.
"So, call me," she said.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure thing Kathy."
The look of disappointment flooded the woman's face. "Kristy."
"Right," Sam replied, looking guilty and the woman walked out without saying anything else.
When he came back into the room and sat down, I was leant back with my arms crossed and both me and Bobby glared at him suspiciously.
"So tell me, what'd it cost?" I asked in a no nonsense voice.
Sam smiled, getting completely the wrong idea. "The girl? I don't pay, Dean."
"That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul or was it something worse?"
"You think I made a deal?"
"That's exactly what we think," Bobby said.
"Well I didn't," Sam denied.
"Don't lie to me," I ordered, seriously.
"I'm not lying."
I got moved closer to Sam. "So, what now? I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this," I stressed.
Sam looked at him, his face angry. "Look Dean, I wish I had done it, alright?"
"There's no other way this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!" I shouted, grabbing the front of Sam's shirt.
"I tried everything. That's the truth," Sam pulled my hands off his shirt. "I tried to open the Devil's Gate, Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry it wasn't me, alright? I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you," I softened.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened Sam's soul remains intact but . . .it does raise a sticky question," Bobby pointed out.
"If he didn't pull me out, then what did?" I wondered and looked to Sam.
Me and Bobby walked to the sofa while Sam went to get us all a beer and when he came back, he handed them us and sat opposite me.
"So, what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out my grave?" I quizzed him.
"Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback," he answered.
"All by yourself? Who do you think you are, your old man?" Bobby accused.
I saw something out of the corner of my eye and crossed over to it.
"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry Bobby, I should have called," Sam apologised to Bobby. "I was pretty messed up."
I picked up what had caught my attention, a pink flowered bra. It didn't really seem that my brother had been grieving much.
"Oh yeah, I really feel your pain," I said, snidely, holding up the bra.
"Anyways, uh, I was checking these demons out of Tennessee and out of nowhere, they took a hard left, booked up here," Sam avoided explaining about the bra.
"When?" I asked.
"Yesterday morning."
"When I busted out," I said, looking from Sam to Bobby.
"You think these demons are here cause of you?" Bobby asked me.
"But why?" Sam was confused.
"Well, I don't know. Some bad ass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow," I said.
"How you feelin', anyway?"
"I'm a little hungry," I answered Bobby.
"No, I mean do you feel like yourself? Anything strange or different?"
"Or demonic? Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"
"Yeah, well listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They gotta have something nasty planned," Bobby huffed.
"Well, I feel fine," I told him.
"Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel," Sam stepped in. "We need help."
A look flashed over Bobby's face as he said, "I know a psychic. A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."
"Hell yeah, it's worth a shot," I agreed.
"I'll be right back," Bobby said and left.
As I stood up, Sam joined me.
"Hey wait, you probably want this back."
I watched as he pulled a cord out from under his collar and on the cord was my amulet. When he put it in my hand, I looked at it touched. "Thanks."
"Yeah, don't mention it," Sam said ad he watched me put the cord around my neck. "Hey Dean, what was it like?"
"What, hell? I don't know. I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing."
"Thank god for that," Sam smiled slightly, relieved.
"Yeah," was all I replied with.
In the bathroom, minutes later, I flicked on the light and looked at myself in the mirror. I ran a hand over my face and then leant them both on the sink as my mind went back to the place I have been trapped in for the past four months.
I could remember when I first got to hell, my face bloody and chains suspending me in mid-air, all around me screams of terror and eerie sounds.
I pulled myself out of the flashback and just stared into the mirror, blinking, confused.
About twenty minutes later, me and Sam followed Bobby down a set of steps.
"She's about four hours down the interstate. Try to keep up," Bobby told us and got in his car.
"I assume you'll want to drive," Sam said to me and pulled out a set of keys from right trouser pocket, he tossed them toward to me and I caught them with ease.
I laughed. "Oh, I almost forgot!"
I approached Baby and ran my hand over her, lovingly. Oh Baby. "Hey sweetheart, you miss me?"
I got in the drivers side and settled in but paused when I saw the iPod plugged into the stereo. I stared at it in disgust. What was this . . .thing doing in my car?
When Sam climbed in the passenger side, he gave me a smile which I returned with a glare.
"What the hell is that?"
"That's an iPod jack," he answered.
"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up," I moaned at him.
"Dean, I thought it was my car."
I sneered at him and sighed as I turned away, starting the ignition. When 'Vision' by Jason Manns began to play, I took an annoyed breath and looked at Sam, a glare on my face. "Really?"
Sam shrugged innocently and I ripped the iPod jack out, cutting off the music, and threw it into the backseat.
Driving down the road, me and Sam were back in our original places, having a heart to heart.
"There's still one thing that's bothering me," I thought aloud.
"Yeah?" Sam turned to look at me.
"The night I bit it . . .or got bit," I said and laughed at my own joke. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you."
"Well, she tried, she couldn't."
"What do you mean, 'she couldn't'?" He made absolutely no sense.
"She fired this, like, burning light at me and . . .didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something," Sam explained.
"Immune?"
"Yeah, I don't know who was more surprised, her or me. She left pretty fast after that."
"Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?" I asked.
"Dead. For now," he answered.
I but my lip, trying to think of what to ask him to fill the silence. It felt like years since I'd seen him; I wanted to talk to him, I just didn't know what to say.
"So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?"
"No."
I looked at him. "You sure about that? Well, I mean, now that you've got . . .immunity, whatever the hell that is . . .just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."
"Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish," Sam stressed.
"Yeah well, lets keep it that way," I said and for the rest of the way to the psychic's, Sam brooded and sulked.
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The next day, me and Sam stood behind Bobby when he knocked on the door and the psychic opened it; she must have been in her mid-thirties and looked like she was able to take care of herself. She was beautiful too.
She must have been expecting us because there was a smile already on her face when she opened the door.
"Bobby!"
The psychic grabbed him and briefly lifted him off the floor, causing both me and Sam to look at each other with our eyebrows raised.
"You're a sight for sore eyes," Bobby taunted her.
She stepped back and looked me and Sam up and down, approvingly.
"So these the boys?"
"Sam, Dean, this is Pamela Barnes. Best damn psychic in the state," Bobby introduced us.
"Hey," I turned on my charm for her but Sam being Sam only let out an awkward "hi."
"Mmm-mmm-mmm," Pamela looked me up and down again. "Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back into the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual."
"If you say so," I replied.
"Come on in," she said and ushered us in, first Bobby, then Sam and last me, then shut the door behind us.
"So, you hear anything?" Bobby got right to the point.
"Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out or why," Pamela answered.
"So, what's next?"
"A séance I think. See if we can see who did the deed," she said and Bobby looked at her, suspicious/.
"You're not gonna . . .summon the damn thing here."
"No, I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystals," Pamela put him at ease.
"I'm game," I said, following her to wherever she was going..
In the séance room, Pamela spread a black tablecloth, which was covered in symbols, over a small table and I looked at it wearily. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam doing the same.
When she bent down in front of a cupboard, I tilted my head and looked at the bottom of her back where the tattoo was and nudged Sam.
"Who's Jesse?" I asked.
Pamela laughed before replying. "Well, it wasn't forever."
"His loss," I flirted.
She stood with several candles in her hands and stopped in front of me, smirking. "Might be your gain."
As she walked past, I turned to Sam, lowering my voice. "Dude, I am so in."
"Yeah, she's gonna eat you alive," Sam replied, his voice also lowered.
"Hey, I just got outta jail, bring it," I challenged him.
Pamela passed by again and winked at Sam. "You're invited too, grumpy."
I looked from Sam and to the psychic, back again and pointed my finger at Sam.
"You are not invited."
When the table was fully prepared for the séance, with six candles around in a circle, we all sat down, around it.
"Right, take each others hands," Pamela instructed and we did what we were told. "And I need something our mystery monster touched."
Under the table, she slid her hand down the inside my thigh, and I jumped, bangin my knee on the table, when she reached my groin, causing her to laugh
"Whoa. Well, he didn't touch me there."
"My mistake," she smiled at me with a flurty look on her face.
I looked around at the other three, nervously, and knew what I had to do.
Taking a deep breath, I took off half my shirt and pulled up the left sleeve of my t-shirt to show them the branded handprint.
Sam stared at it shocked, then looked at Bobby while Pamela just put her right hand on it.
"Okay," she said, letting us know she was about to start.
We all closed our eyes and she began to chant.
"I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.
I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.
I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle."
The TV behind her flickered on, showing nothing but static, and I began to get déjà vu.
Pamela paid no attention to the TV and just continued.
"I invoke, conjure, and command . . .Castiel? No, sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."
"Castiel?" I repeated the name.
"It's name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back."
The white noise on the TV carried on and the table began to shake.
"I conjure and command you, show me your face.
I conjure and command you, show me your face
I conjure and command you, show me your face."
The table white noise and table shaking became more violent, worrying Bobby.
"Hey, we should stop."
"I almost got it," Pamela refused. "I command you, show me your face! Show me your face now!"
Suddenly, the candles flared up to at least three feet in the air and Pamela began to scream.
When her eyes opened, they were filled with a white-hot flame and she collapsed; at that same time, the table stopped rattling and the white noise and candles died out.
Bobby caught her before she hit the floor and yelled, "call 9-1-1!"
Sam jumped out of his chair and ran into the next room to get the phone, leaving me and Bobby to bend over Pamela. She was conscious but burned and bleeding, and when she opened her eyelids, there was nothing under them but burned, black empty sockets.
She started sobbing and crying. "I can't see! I can't see! Oh god!"
I just looked at Bobby in silence, not knowing what the hell to do.