Therewasdarkness,andthere was nothing. No sound. No movement. Dean felt weightless, no he wasn’t weightless, he couldn’t even feel his body at all. He was dreaming and his thoughts stretched out forever. He was nowhere and everywhere all at once.
Then he felt him. Silas. Silas was all around him, gathering up all his spooled out thoughts and pulling Dean towards him. Like Dean was a fish caught in a golden net, being dragged through formless dark waters, up to another world. A world of air and light. Another place. A place he used to belong to. As he drifted through the darkness, being pulled along, Dean felt peace. Felt calm. Like he was bathing in serenity. Wherever he was had its alluring, but wherever he was going had Silas and that would always be far better.
He reached the surface of the darkness, and slowly, existence reformed around him. Like water pouring into a cup, he flowed back into his body.
Taking in a breath and moving his lungs felt odd. His body enclosed him and felt heavy. Tentatively, he opened his eyes. He was on his back. In a narrow bed. In what looked like the cabin they had been approaching.
Silas’s dark eyes were peering down at him intently.
Dean smiled at him. It was so wonderful to see him, even though it had only been a few minutes since he had last set eyes on his mate. For some reason, looking at Silas felt magical, special. Even more than normal.
Suddenly the mate bond flared intensely and Dean had never been more aware of it. It reminded him of when it had eventually ignited back to life after the dagger had made Silas cut it off. But that didn’t make any sense. This time he had just been unconscious, their bond hadn’t been broken.
Whatever was going on, his mate’s emotions flooded the bond. Terror, grief, sheer determination and so much love it made Dean dizzy. Dean tried to puzzle it out, but then Silas was questioning him.
“What’s two plus two?” asked Silas sharply.
“Um… four?” stuttered Dean. Was Silas checking for concussion?
“What’s the capital of England?”
Dean blinked, “London?”
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Steak. What’s with all the questions?” It was starting to feel like an interrogation and Dean was still feeling far too disorientated to deal with it. Had he been knocked out? The last thing he remembered was walking up to the cabin.
“Zombies are dumb,” snapped Silas inexplicably before turning to Malachi. “What do you think?”
Dean had never seen Silas look so panicked. What was going on? Malachi placed his hand on Dean’s chest and peered anxiously at him too. Dean’s gaze flicked anxiously between the healer and his mate.
“I don’t think so,” said Malachi hesitantly. “Maybe because you called him back so soon?”
“What?” demanded Dean, growing increasingly alarmed.
Silas stared at him for a long moment, the pain, grief and concern in his dark eyes flipped Dean’s stomach over and filled him with uneasy bewilderment.
Eventually, Silas answered, “We are trying to figure out if you are a zombie.”
Dean blinked, his thoughts a hopeless tangled mess. “I’m not a zombie,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound very certain, even to his own ears.
“You were dead,” said Silas.
“No I wasn’t!” protested Dean in alarm as icy dread clutched at his guts. It had been very dark. He had felt his thoughts drift apart. He had felt Silas all around him, putting him back together like a scattered puzzle. Dean swallowed.
“I’m a necromancer, Dean. I know dead. You had a silver bullet through your heart.”
Dean looked down at his chest. His red plaid shirt had been ripped open. A patch of newly healed pink skin formed a ragged circle right over his heart. Dean stared at it. The skin looked very thin. It was pulsing. Dean realized it was his heart moving underneath. A wave of nausea rolled over him.
Dean reached out and grabbed his mate’s hand and clutched it tightly. Fear, shock and unease prickling all along his body and twisting in his mind.
“You came and got me,” Dean whispered in awe as dream-like memories flowed over him. He had been nowhere and everywhere and then Silas had been there, surrounding him with so much love, gathering him, embracing him, pouring him back into reality.
He had been dead. Silas had saved him. His mate’s necromancy powers had brought him back to life. He had felt Silas’s soul, and it had been as beautiful as the rest of him.
Suddenly, Silas threw his arms around him and all but climbed on top of him. Silas sobbed, great wracking sobs that shook his whole body. Alarmed, Dean put his arms around his mate and tried to comfort him. He was very aware that Malachi, Brendan, and Jasper were in the room. Silas would hate for them to see him like this.
“Don’t you ever leave me! You can’t leave me!” wailed Silas, sounding far more distressed than Dean had ever heard him. Hell, far more distressed than Dean had ever heard anyone ever sound.
