Back to you | Dean Winchester [4]

Chapter 2: You came back

Lazarus Rising 1

4 months later

Alexis lay on her side, her knees pulled up. She sniffs, a tear slipping down her from the corner of her eye. It had been four months and she still hadn't saved Dean. He'd been through a lot, Alexis had seen some of it. She was scared she'd never get him back. He'd be condemned to an eternity of torture. 

Alexis was scared she'd never get to tell him that she loved him too. She wished she had. She wipes her eyes, rolling over and starring at the door. The sun would be up in a few hours. Her eyes wandered around the plain, boring motel room she'd paid for. Gray walls, carpeted floor, a TV.

She sighs, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and rest. Sleep had never come easy to Alexis, now it was even harder to sleep. She was convinced the nights were the worst. When there was nothing but her own thoughts. At least during the day she could distract herself with hunting.

She couldn't sleep at all now. Which was ironic seeing as when she and Dean had first gotten together Alexis was convinced that she'd never get used to sleeping next to someone. But now she's realized that she could never get used to sleeping alone again.

She missed, craved, waking up in the middle of the night, rolling over and seeing him beside her. Or waking up with the feel his back pressed to hers, the warmth he provided. Dean-- even when they'd fallen asleep not touching at all-- always made his way to Alexis. His hand would be in hers, or draped across her stomach as his head rested on her shoulder or chest.

Now, Alexis would sometimes wake and see Dean beside her. Momentarily, she'd forget what happened as he'd give her a tired smile and mumble something incoherent.

Then his face would contort in pain as blood seeped through his clothes. He scream in pain, calling out for help, begging her to save him.

Alexis took a deep breath as pain filled her. She had to figure this out.

~~~

After crawling out of a grave and walking down the road until he found a closed gas station, Dean broke in. He grabs a bottle of water, downing it all before grabbing a newspaper.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

"September." He mutters. He drops the paper, moving to the sink across the room. He turns on the water, splashing it onto his face. Dean dries his face with the coat he'd taken off. He then look up and right into a suspiciously clean mirror.

Dean lifts his shirt, expecting scars. Long, jagged scars from the hellhounds. Instead, he found there were no scars. Except one.

A singular jagged scar running down his side. Dean thought he was imagining things because it seemed to...glow. Or something underneath his skin did. He traces his fingers over it, shoving away the memories of the hellhounds.

The light seems to magnify, glowing brighter. One thing filled Deans mind. Lexi. Everything else disappeared. She was the only thing he could think of and that thought provided peace. He drops his shirt, turning to the side.

Dean lifts the short sleeve, revealing a handprint on his bicep. It was red and raised.

After that, Dean stole some protein bars and bottles of water. He moves to the register, opening the drawer. He took some money. Then the TV cut on.

Nothing but static. He turned it off. Then the radio. The TV cut back on shortly after the radio did.

Dean grabbed a bottle of salt, pouring at the door as high pitched humming filled the air. It got louder making Dean cover his ears. Then the glass of the door and windows shattered.