The Whispers of the Devil

Lazarus Rising

Isabelle walked through the woods until she came to a passing, the trees surrounding the area were all flattened as if they were the epicenter of some explosion. Isabelle raised her head towards the sun, eyes closed as she relished in the silence, that is until she heard a muffled cry.

"Help!" The man called out.

"Shut up," Isabelle groaned as she covered her ears to block out the noise.

"Help! Help!"

Isabelle's eyes shot open as she realized that the voice was real and not an echo inside her head.

The man continued to pound on the wood above his head as Isabelle hurried closer to the noise.

"What the hell?" Isabelle looked down at the handmade grave where a wooden cross was planted to mark the location. She took a weary step closer to the grave only to gasp when a hand burst out of the dirt, followed by another.

After her moment of shock, Isabelle knelt next to the grave and worked to help the man back up to the land of the living.

Isabelle moved back as the man was able to crawl his way out of the ground, groaning and gasping.

The man lied on his back, panting.

Isabelle heard the whispers return as she watched the man regain his bearings.

The man's green eyes met Isabelle's own green eyes.

"You're Dean Winchester," Isabelle breathed.

"And who the hell are you?" Dean questioned.

***

Through hazy heat, Dean and Isabelle walked down an empty road.

"You walk all the way to those woods, and didn't think to bring a car?" Dean grunted as they approached an abandoned gas station.

Isabelle merely shrugged, not fully trusting the man she was walking with with her secret...quite yet.

Dean pounded on the door of the gas station "Hello?" he looked back at Isabelle "Stand back,"

Isabelle did as ordered as Dean rolled up his outer shirt over his right hand, breaking the glass on the door.

Inside, Dean grabbed a water bottle from a fridge and gulped at it, gasping.

Isabelle found a newspaper and saw the date, which read: Thursday, September 18th.

"September," Dean muttered from behind the girl causing her to jump slightly.

Isabelle glanced back at the man as he shook his head.

"Son of a bitch," Dean shook his head and headed into the bathroom.

Isabelle walked around the abandoned gas station and pulled snacks and energy bars from the shelves, along with several bottles of water, stashing them in her jacket pockets. She headed towards the front, stopping as she watched Dean look over Busty Asian Beauties. "Gross,"

Dean cleared his throat and tossed the magazine away. He moved towards the counter and hit a single button on the register, snapping his fingers in satisfaction when it popped open. "So...thanks for your help. But I think we should head our separate ways after this,"

"No!" Isabelle exclaimed, she shook her head "No...they'll come after me,"

Dean looked up at her as he continued looting the cash "They?"

"I don't know who they are...what they are. They change their appearance...except their eyes,"

"Black eyes?"

Isabelle nodded.

"What do they want from you?" Dean wondered.

Isabelle shrugged "The voices always warned me before I could figure that out,"

"Voices?"

Isabelle nodded "They're usually really chatty, but around you...silence,"

Isabelle and Dean held their glance until the TV to Dean's left flicked on, showing only static.

Dean shut it off; only to have a radio on his right turn on to white noise."Shit!" He grabbed a carton of salt, opening it, and began to pour it along the windowsill.

Isabelle remained unmoving "Is it them?"

"I don't know. Just stay there," Dean said as he continued to pour the salt. He clutched his left ear in pain.

"Dean?!" Isabelle called out.

Dean dropped the salt and crouched to the floor, groaning in agony.

The window above Dean's head shattered and Dean shoved Isabelle to the floor.

"What the hell is going on?" Isabelle breathed as Dean looked around cautiously.