And I Rise [1] (Supernatural)

Hᴏᴘᴇ Yᴏᴜʀ Aᴘᴘʟᴇ Pɪᴇ Is Fʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴ' Wᴏʀᴛʜ Iᴛ || Fᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

They shoved me down into the cellar. I missed the last step and fell, landing hard on my hands and knees. I turned and glared up at the townsfolk who was conducing all this brutality, and watched them with furious eyes as the wooden doors creaked and groaned to a close, and they covered the gaps between the wooden boards with a tarp.

Darkness set in, gobbling up all the light until there was nothing but complete blackness.

I hated the dark. I wasn't afraid of it in that sense. But it was unnerving. So black that I could see things take shape in the darkness. We were not friends. It had never been my friend. It was an enemy. Always had been, always would be.

I staggered to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dark. I shivered. The cellar was cold and damp—water leaking from the corners of the ceiling, dripping onto the stone floor, seeping into the wooden walls.

I stepped back, only for my heels to hitch on something and trip me. My hands felt for what unbalanced me. Material. Clothing. Jeans. A jacket; the back of it. A body. Someone else was down here with me.

I rolled them over. They weren't moving. They were breathing; I felt their breath pass my hovering hand. They were unconscious. 

I patted my hands up to their chest. My fingers grazed something around their neck. A necklace. Fingertips massaged the pendant, feeling for recognition. And I did. I knew what it was.

My hands reached up for his face. "Dean." I clapped his cheeks. "Dean, wake up." I slapped him. "Dean!"

He jerked upright and smacked his forehead into my own. I jumped back with a grunt.

"Sera?" he rasped.

"Thanks for that," I growled, massaging the bruise forming in the centre of my forehead.

His hands reached for my face, feeling to cup a cheek. "You okay? They didn't hurt you?"

I pulled away. "I'm fine. They found me at the library. I surrendered." I felt his face, looking for any cuts or bruises. He'd been unconscious, so they must've knocked him out. "What happened to you?"

He winced as my fingers brushed around his left eye. "Other than getting the butt of a shotgun slammed into my face, I'm peachy." He huffed. "The professor must've been in on it. The sheriff jumped me."

I pressed gentle fingers around his eye and brow again, and he winced once more. A welt was forming around there. "Feels like you're gonna get a nice bruise there, tough guy."

He chuckled. "It'll be good for my street cred."

I laughed and lay back. "What now? There's only one way out of this place." I pointed to the cellar doors. "And that's it. Looks like we're trapped down here."

I heard Dean dust off his hands and stand. "I guess we wait for those sons of bitches to come back and serve them some knuckle sandwiches."

I shot him a pointed look he couldn't see. "They're armed, genius."