Cursed Dawn [Supernatural Fanfiction)

Scarred

Dean opened his eyes, waking up from a heavy sleep. His eyes rolled back and his breath came out in a slow stutter. Closing his eyelids gently, he winced from the raw pain spreading over his body. He knew he had been in a fire, for the last thing he remembered was falling out of the driver's side into the arms of a dark figure and watching Baby burst into flames. Opening his eyes all the way, Dean looked around and saw himself sitting in a wooden rocker. And that was all in the room. He looked down at his hands and feet and saw they had not been bound-- something he was surprised to see. As he sniffed back the blood from his busted nose, which he received from accidentally hitting his face on the steering wheel, he caught the thick and overwhelming smell of pie lilting from the room outside his closed door.

Pushing himself up from the rocking chair, Dean walked up to the door and cracked it open. Peeking through the slit, he saw a lit room with a polished wooden table and four chairs situated around it as if his host was expecting guests. Cautiously, he stepped outside and meandered into the room. He looked about, but saw no one. Dean walked past the table to where he found the kitchen. Deciding he should do some sleuthing, he quickly walked into the kitchen and started rummaging through the pantries and cabinets. He found lots of empty jars, ladles, measuring cups, and potholders.

Dean wasn't sure the point of such basic culinary tools, and he wasn't quite sure who had set Baby on fire or who had dragged him out into a house that looked like it belonged to Three Bears. His ashen brows bent and a confused crease appeared in his cheek. He ran his fingers over the warm oven and peeked inside. He couldn't help but feel his heart expand at the sight of a beautifully baked pie. The crust was a soft gold and pastry strips crisscrossed over the plump cherry centre.

"It's a trap, I'm sure of it," Dean mumbled, pressing his fingers against his temples as he walked determinedly away from the oven. When he returned to the table, he spotted a small child sitting in one of the chairs-- her chin just inches above the table top. Stopping, Dean stared at the little girl curiously. Not knowing to say, Dean waved and grinned uncomfortably.

The little girl, her bright blue eyes sallow and lips parched, stared at Dean with a strange madness. Her disheveled blonde hair laid in curly mats and her Hello Kitty shirt was stained with chocolate. In a squeaky, but monotonous voice, she said softly, "What's your name?"

Dean stuttered nonsense while he see-sawed between saying an alias or the truth. As he decided whether or not it mattered if the girl knew his real name, his eyes found a bam embroidered on the girl's shirt. Ellie. The name was familiar. Dean walked up to the girl and knelt down beside the chair. "Ellie? Ellie Crissman from Little Rock?"

Ellie shook her head slowly. "No. We're all children here. We don't have names."

"Do you want to leave? I can get you out," Dean promised, already thinking of ways to get out. He figured if he pulled the stove out and worked the floorboards loose, or jerked the main plug out from the wall, he was sure to find a tunnel or basement that would lead them out.

"I don't want to leave. My family's here. They are all here." The little girl's face turned into an icy expression and she turned her gaze to a distance world.

Annoyed at this dramatic trance the girl had disappeared into, Dean clicked his fingers in front of her face and said casually, "Hey, listen, the son of a..." Dean cleared his throat and remembered he was in the presence of a young audience. "I know a way out...I think." Dean glanced around and started to pick her up before she shrieked in his ears. Frightened, Dean threw her back in the chair and began yelling at her to be quiet before a dark figure appeared before both of them. Dean quieted immediately while the girl, however, hopped down from her chair and ran behind the figure's tall legs.