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Thump…..Thump.....Thump…..Thump
Sam woke up to an odd thumping sound. Each thump seemed to get quieter and quieter. And it was dark, really dark. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got there. Where was Dean? Sam tried to wiggle around, but he found that there wasn’t much room on either side of him. In fact, both his shoulders were brushing up against the sides. Sam moved a hand to try and feel around, but he found that his hands were bound.
Sam paused then. He needed to figure out how the hell he ended up in this situation so he could figure out how to get out of this situation. He began searching his memories, what were he and Dean doing earlier today? Ow. Thinking made his head hurt. Why did his head hurt? Oh! They’d been hunting a shapeshifter! But why did his head hurt? It must have gotten the jump on him.
What had he been doing? That’s right! He had been at the library looking into town records and then…. Then…. Then what? He’d found something. Something that would be useful for the case, something about one of the missing persons. He tried calling Dean, but he hadn’t answered so he started walking back to the motel. Did he ever get back to the motel?
No. He didn’t. The shifter must have gotten to him somewhere in between the library and the motel. He remembered passing a big open field. Maybe the shifter had been hiding in the tall grasses? Either way, it didn’t matter. The shifter had gotten a hold of him and now he was in a dark confined space, with thumping sounds coming from above, and an aching head. The shifter must have hit him with something. That explained the headache at least.
Ok. Dark tight box. Thumping sounds that are getting softer and softer…. Oh shit! Sam realized at that moment exactly where he was. He was in a grave. He was being buried alive. Sam began to hyperventilate. Of all the ways he could die, this was seriously how he was gonna go? He’d killed hundreds of other monsters including other shifters and vampires and demons, even angels! But nope, he was gonna go out via suffocation in a box 6 feet under.
Maybe Dean would find him. Where had been Dean going while Sam was at the library? Think Sam Think! Right! He’d been going to pick up more silver rounds. They had realized they were almost out and they wanted to be prepared. Dean would notice that Sam hadn’t returned. And he’d try to call him and Sam wouldn’t have picked up. His phone!
Sam squirmed around, trying to feel if his phone was still in his pocket. It wasn’t there. Shit! Now what? Oh! He couldn’t call with a phone, but he could pray.
Hey Cas, I know you don’t have wings right now, but I’m being buried alive at the cemetery in Akron, Colorado. Can you please call Dean and tell him? I’d really like to not die like this. Thanks!
Ok. Ok. Cas has been called, Dean will be on his way and he’d be fine. He’s got this. He just has to hold on, Easy right? Right. Right…
Thump.....Thump…..Thump.....Thump
Nope. I’m dying here. And just like that, Sam is back to hyperventilating. It takes him a while to pull himself out of the spiral he’s created for himself and back to coherent thoughts. Just as he does, he realizes he can no longer hear the thumping of dirt being packed on top of him. The Shapeshifter must be done burying him. Dean will never find him. He’s trapped here for eternity. If Dean does find him he’s gonna have to salt and burn what’s left.
Sam swears he hears a gunshot, a very muffled gunshot, but a gunshot nonetheless. He must be hallucinating now. If he’s hallucinating that means he’s now running out of oxygen. Despite being counterproductive, Sam is thrown back into his hyperventilation cycle, which only uses his oxygen even faster.
Sam hears a weird scratching kind of noise above him and it startles him enough to stop breathing temporarily, a very rapid shift from too much breathing. The scratching sound continues, and is quite quick in pace.
“Sam!”
Was that Dean? It was really far away sounding, but it definitely sounded like Dean. Was his brother here to save him or was he still hallucinating. Probably still hallucinating. I mean the less oxygen he has the stronger the hallucinations are gonna get until eventually he loses consciousness and dies.
“Sam!”
Except that one was a little bit louder. And so is the scratching sound. In fact, that scratching sound is starting to sound more and more like a shovel. Like what they hear as they dig up a grave to salt and burn bones.
“Sam!”
“Dean!” he screams back. “Dean! I’m here. Get me out!”
It feels like an eternity later, but finally he hears the shovel over the coffin and Dean yelling at him to close his eyes so he can crack the lid. The cracking of a coffin never heard so damn good to Sam’s ears. As fresh air floods in, Sam begins gasping for air. He hadn’t realized how stale the air was and this air feels amazing. He can’t get enough of it. He feels hands on his shoulder, sitting him up.
“Slow your breathing down Sam. Like this.” Dean says. He exaggerates slow, deep breaths for Sam and Sam does his best to mimic Dean. Eventually, Sam is matching Dean’s perfectly and he doesn’t feel so lightheaded anymore.
“You’re ok little brother, I got you.”
Sam has never felt so relieved by those words in his life, and he’s certainly been in some awful situations with those calming words coming from Dean. Dean’s phone begins to vibrate and heavy guitar plays along with it.
“Hey, Cas. Yeah, I got him. He’s gonna be fine. We’ll get the shifter burned and make our way back to the motel. Let Sammy get some rest in a wide open motel room. Yeah. Thanks, Cas.”
Dean shoves the phone back into his pocket and helps Sam to stand up, gripping him tightly so he doesn’t fall over and so he feels a little more grounded and Sam couldn’t be more grateful for that grounding.
“Alright little brother, let’s get you out of here.”