Supernatural (Sam Winchester x Female!Reader)

Lazarus Rising

I woke up in a dark pitch black place. Breathing heavily, I flick my lighter on, seeing I'm in wooden box... coffin? "Help! Help! Help!" I called out, extremely hoarse. It hurt too much to speak.

I pound on the wood above my head, until it broke open and drop a ton of dirt on top of me. I dug my way to the surface and felt my hand burst out of the dirt, follow by my another hand. I start to crawl my way out, when suddenly I felt someone grab my hands, helping me up out of the ground

I groan and gasp as my head reach the surface. The sun was so bright that my eyes immediately started to hurt and water up, forcing me to close them. I fell onto my back, laying in the grass exhausted and panting. "(Name)..." I heard a familiar voice, also hoarse.

I carefully open and closed my eyes a couple times, until they adjusted to the light. Once adjusted I open my eyes again and saw Dean sitting on the ground next to me, hunched over, panting. "Dean." I said quietly, lifting myself up and staring at him, stunned.

"Dean!" I exclaimed, leaping at the man, hugging him tightly. Dean fell back a bit and quickly steady himself, by placing his hand on the ground. He wrap his other arm around my waist, dropping his head onto my shoulder as we hugged.

I pull away from the hug to look at him. "Wha... How are we...?" I asked. "I ain't got a clue." He replied, standing up. Dean help me to my feet and we look around in the glaring sunlight. Around our crude headstones was a perfect circle of dead trees, laying on the ground as if an unearthly powerful blast had felled them.

Through hazy heat, Dean and I walk down an empty road and approach an abandoned gas station. Dean pounds on the door, calling out still with a hoarse voice. "Hello?" Getting no answer, Dean takes his jacket off from around his waist, He rolls it up over his right hand and breaks the glass on the door.

Inside, he grabs a water bottle from a fridge, handing it to me, then takes another for himself. We both hastily took the caps off and took a long big gulp, gasping as the intense dry feeling in our throat finally went away.

I found a newspaper next to me and pick it up, looking at the date: Thursday, September 18th. I narrow my eyes at the text and turn the newspaper for Dean to see, who stares at it a bit confused. "September." He muttered.

I enter the tiny, broom closet like bathroom that was only being lit by a single light bulb, flickering. Stepping up to the dingy sink, I washed my face. Then I look up, staring at my reflection. Frowning, I stand up straight and pull my shirt up to expose my chest.

I stare at my unblemished, unscarred chest in the dingy cracked mirror. I narrow my eyes at my reflection, seeing no marks or scars at all. Even the scar Yellow-Eyes gave me was gone. I was completely unscathed.

I drop my shirt in confusion, thinking back to the night that hellhound ripped me apart. Then another memory enter my mind. The one of that light placing a hand on my shoulder.

I turn my right shoulder to the mirror and pull up my sleeve to reveal a large, raw handprint brand burnt into the skin on my shoulder. I gasp, staring at the brand, astounded. "Dean!" I called out, quickly exiting the bathroom.

"What?" Dean asked, coming around a corner just as quickly. "You alright?" He asked, worried. "I-I don't I..." I stammered. Not sure how to explain it, I pull up my sleeve again, to show him the brand.

Dean looks at the brand, in shock. Then he turns and pulls up his sleeve on his left arm, reveling he has the same brand, burn into his shoulder as well. We each stared at each other's brands then look up at each other, speechless.

Why kind of being could leave a mark like this?

Dean and I raided the gas station, grabbing snacks and several bottles of water, stashes them in a plastic bag. I walk around the corner, seeing Dean was flipping through an adult magazine.