Is This Even Possible?

Tracking Down The Monster

Chapter Seventeen

Tracking Down The Monster

March 10th, 2014 - Lawrence, Kansas - 2:30 AM

Dean opened his eyes and breathed in the the cold, dirt filled air in with a harsh gasp. He coughed a few times and rolled over only to be forced back into a laying position. Dean stared up confused at the object obscuring him from getting out before realizing what happened.

The claws of the the hell-hounds torn into Dean as he yelled and fell back.

Within seconds, Dean was a bloody mess and was torn up from the inside out. Dean raised his head and stabbed the demon knife upward into the oncoming hellhound that he could see now that they were attacking him and he was close to going to hell. The hell-hound whined and yelped as electricity flew through the demon dog and it fell to the floor, dead.

Dean smiled in pain.

"At least I take one of you bitches with me." Ten seconds later and Dean's eye were shut forever.

Dean jumped as he came out of thought and started to punch the box he was buried in. A pine box it seemed to be, which just happened to be his luck.

Around five to ten minutes later, Dean had made a crack in the wood and his hand was bloody. Dirt started to make its way into the casket and Dean took in one final big breathe before punching the box as hard as he could and watching as the dirt fell straight on his face.

Dean started to claw his way to the surface and once he was sure his oxygen supply was going to give out on him, his hand broke the surface and he grasped for the ground around it and pulled the rest of his body out of the ground.

Dean breathed in deeply with a gasp and desired the fresh air more than ever. Dean looked around at his surroundings as he sat down on the cold ground.

Where am I? Dean stumbled down the hill he was on and made his way to the house at the bottom. Once he got to the house, he knew exactly where he was at.

The Campbell Private Property.

Dean didn't want to think about if Samuel was alive here still or if he was dead but he didn't care. Dean stumbled away from the house and made his way to the main road, where he began to track down the nearest gas station.

Thirty minutes later and he found himself at a Gas-N-Sip. He walked inside, stuffed a bag of chips and a drink into his baggy jacket that someone had put on him and walked back out undetected.

What? He was hungry and had no money. Dean found two quarters on the ground beside the phone machine and picked them up and slid one into the slot for change.

He picked up the phone and called the first number that came to his head.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

C'mon. Pick up the damn phone. He thought to himself as he tapped on the side of the phone case.

"Hello. This is John Winchester speaking." The gruff voice said.

Dean almost sobbed with relief, He picked up.

"John?...It's Dean." He said quietly. There was silence on the other end of the phone and he heard a click and then he could hear background noise before it was shushed.

"Who is this? I swear to God, I'll hunt you down and kill you for making a joke out of this!" John's voice rang through the phone, clear with pain, sadness, and anger.