A/N: Hi guys, I'm so sorry for the ver y very late update; I've been super busy with school :( Forgive me?
“Hi, what would you like to order?” The waitress looks at them expectantly, notepad in hand.
“Uh… salad for me please,” Sam smiles, and hands her the menu.
“PIE!” Dean grins at the waitress, and not so subtly checks her out as she went away.
“Well what are we gonna do Dean? How are going to find what brought you back from Hell?” Sam asks, instantly shutting up when the waitress comes back with their food. Dean shrugs, and eagerly dives into his cherry pie.
“Um…can I help you?” Sam asks the waitress when he realized she was just standing there. Dean glances up from his pie, slightly annoyed.
“What. You aiming for a tip?” Dean raises his eyebrows, a very irritated expression displayed across his face. Hot or not, pie comes first.
“I thought you were looking for us,” the waitress replies with a grin, before her pupils turned black. The two customers behind her in the diner flashed their eyes as well, and grin at the Winchester brothers. One burly looking man gets up and locks the door, before standing in front of it and crossing his arms, ensuring that there is no escape route.
“So….Dean Winchester… to hell and back. What makes you so special?” The demon waitress leans forward, and stares Dean in the eye.
“Well, I’d like to think its because of my perky n*pples” Dean smirked.
“I can throw your sorry ass back to hell if I wanted to. Or are you too dull to understand that?” The waitress sneered at him, leaning forward in her seat.
“Well I think you’re scared. You don’t know who or what pulled me out of hell, and I’m sure whatever was powerful enough to pull me out of hell, won’t be too pleased with you. Trust me; they’ll make sure I stay out.” Dean reached out and smacked the demon across the face, hiding his fear, and praying that he better f*cking be right or he’s screwed. When the waitress didn’t respond, Dean smirked. In your face b*tch!
“That’s what I thought.” Dean pushed his chair back as he stood up, and with Sammy trailing behind, walked out of the diner.
“Holy crap that was a close one!” Dean let out a breath of relief, grinning at Sammy as they got into the impala and drove back to their dingy motel. Dean quickly took a shower and flopped onto the stiff bed. Beats dirt any day, Dean thinks to himself.
“I’m wiped, l’m gon’ sleep now. Night Sam,” and then promptly falls asleep.
“What a good boy, Dean” Alistair cooed in Dean’s ear, purposely dragging at his words as Dean stabbed another soul. Dean shuddered, his hands faltering. “Aw Dean, Dean, Dean…don’t tell me you’re getting soft?” In a flash Dean was the one hanging off the hooks, the person he was torturing just a mere pile on the floor. Dean’s guts were hanging out of his stomach, with a huge gash across the left side of his face, bleeding profusely.
“No..please…” Dean groaned as Alistair took a scythe to carve his body, physically unable to make any other sound. Suddenly, the dream stopped, and all Dean could see was white. He was surrounded by a glow and something pulsing against him, and for some unknown reason, knew that he was safe.
“Dean…” he heard someone whisper, a deep voice, yet soft and soothing, that shot a shiver down his spine. “It’s okay…you’re okay…” Cas.
Dean woke up, gasping, his tears dried on his face. He needed to find this...thing. Dean leapt out of bed, and turned on the lamp.
“Sa-” His brother’s name died on his lips, and all he saw was an empty bed next to his, the bed untouched. Shit.
