Guided {Dean Winchester 4}

Chapter 2

Lazarus Rising

Four Months Later

Dean's pov

My eyes shot open. I gasped for air, choking as flashes of hell came back strong and vivid. Reaching into my pocket, I found my lighter.

I flicked it on, finding myself in a small pine box.

"Help." I called, voice raspy and weak. I coughed. "Help. Help."

I beat my hand against the top of the coffin, dirt falling into my eyes. The wood creaked. It broke after a few minutes of pulling on it. Dirt rained down, covering me completely.

I wasn't sure how long it took me to break through. The sun was bright, blinding me as I pulled myself out of the ground, grunting.

I pant, rolling onto my back. It took me a few moments to pull myself to my feet. I was in Si's backyard. All around me, the trees were dead and broken. All except the willow I was buried under.

Si's house sat untouched in the distance.

___

I stumbled in the house, thinking and hoping she was home. The place was quiet. I remember spending some of my childhood here.

"Si? Sweetheart?" I called out.

Nothing.

All the lights were off. The house was silent.

I move toward the kitchen. I made a beeline for the fridge. I pulled open the door. Like usual, Saige kept it fully stocked with water. There was also milk, fresh vegetables and a few other thing  in there.

She was here.

I grabbed a bottle, twisting off the cap, and downing almost the whole thing.

Panting, I set the bottle down on the counter, letting the fridge snap shut.

The place was clean, not a speck of dust. She definitely was here recently. 

A newspaper sat in the island counter top. I grabbed it.

Thursday, September 18, 2008, it read at the top.

"September." I muttered. That means I've been in hell for four months.

I dropped the paper, moving toward the kitchen sink. I turned it on, letting cold water flow out before cupping my hands and splashing my face.

I use one of the hand towels that lay by the sink to dry my face.

Then I made my way to the large mirror that hung in the hall. I wasn't sure why. I didn't ask when Si asked me to hang it there years ago. I just did.

I pulled the hem of my black t shirt up, revealing my now un-scarred chest and abdomen. Flashes of the Hellhound tearing into me came back. But the two letters in my ribs grounded me again.

S.D

Saige Dawson.

The lotus flower right above my hip reminded me that it would be okay. She was out there somewhere.

Then I noticed on my ribs just by the initials was a mark. It looked like a bruise almost except it was shaped like a circle with a star inside of it. Similar to the birthmark on Si's thigh.

I dropped me shirt, turning slightly and lifting the sleeve. A bright red hand print rested in my bicep as if I has been branded.

___