Four months. It had been four months since Dean's deal had come due.

And it had. Sam had watched helplessly as the hell hounds ripped his brother to shreds, the demon leaving Sam with the body.

Well, why shouldn't she? She had what she wanted. Dean's precious soul.

Four months it, he, had been gone from Sam, instead burning and burning and burning……..

Sam was in a hell of his own, waking during the few times he did slip into exhaustion to the sound of Dean's anguished screams, his bloodied and twisted body begging Sam to help him.

"Just help me Sammy…I saved you, can't you save me? Why Sammy? Why would you leave me here?" The sound of what was his brother's voice begged from everywhere.

Four months had Dean laid buried, Sam unable to burn his body.

Four months had a crude wooden cross been his only marker.

Four months had he lain with death dwelling where his soul used to be.

Four months ago the blood had stilled, the heart laid resting, the breath gone, the warmth, free.

Four months was all it took……….

Deep underground, where the only life was that of worms and insects, something stirred. A man, long laid to rest, twitched, suddenly gasping at the stale air inside of a crude wooden coffin. He opened eyes that had not seen the sun for many days, and felt the growing strength of the heart, again beating inside him. He panicked, brining shaking hands up to the coffin lid, feeling how solid the dirt was packed. He still heard screams in his newly awakened ears, his screams. His shoulder and sides burned with wounds in his mind, and other wounds of body paled in comparison. He grew desperate and clawed the wood, a surge of adrenaline affording the strength he needed. He broke the lid, ducking his head and clawing his way up as the dirt caved in around him. He felt his hands break free, then he felt cool night air on his face. The breeze tussled his short, brown hair, and he gulped the fresh air into his newly working lungs. With a last effort he broke his shoulders free, crawling the rest of the way out of his own grave like some shadow of a man. He lifted exhausted eyes to the moon, throwing his head back in a desperate call-