A.N.: So this just sort of came to me as per usual, expect short chapters and I'm going to switch back and forth between Dean POV and Sam's. Not sure what season this takes place in so I can't really warn you for spoilers. There will be a bit of Bobby and baby in here because I miss them a hell of a whole lot right now. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. :) God Bless all of you!
Disclaimer: I don't own this and for that Dean should be glad. *evil laughter*
Thoughts brief and fleeting whisper by in his mind as his consciousness skirts by.
He groans involuntarily, flexing his hands in response to the unpleasant sinking feeling that something is wrong.
They don't move very far, pinkies just skimming wood as he pulls his fingers back into fists.
And then he realizes that he is bound.
His eyes fly open almost simultaneously with the lurch in his stomach.
His head decides to join the party and a breathtaking pang of hurt spears across his vision as he gasps in a breath.
He chokes on the stale cloth flush up against his mouth and fights panic down.
Okay, so he's bound and gagged not like it hasn't happened before, usually under more pleasant circumstances, but…
He tries to take in his surroundings, squinting his tired eyes into the expanse around him.
He kicks out one of his feet, internally cursing when the only result is a lightning bolt of pain that shoots up to his knee.
He drags in a slow breath, trying to force the ache that has taken up residence in his bones to take a back seat to his quickly fading rationality.
He shifts and bangs his shoulder into more wood as he stretches his trapped hands out to grope for something useful.
Every digit is met with a barricade as his nails scrape wood. He turns to the other side and is met with a similar dilemma.
He blinks rapidly, hoping that will clear the ghastly vision that greets him from all sides.
Wood, plank after plank of rotting wood.
It can't be.
He kicks out in an act of desperation and almost sobs at the sight of a trickle of dirt falling to the ground.
Please, no.
He stretches his trembling restrained hands to touch the weeping soot that leaks from the crack he has caused.
He's in a coffin.
Buried alive.