Dean gasps as the bright sun hits his sensitive eyes for the first time in four months…or forty years in Hell time. Crawling out of his own grave like some freak zombie. Dean coughs, spitting out some dirt with a disgusted wince, looking around confused. The trees were leveled all around him, like some kinda atomic bomb went off. He wipes his hands nervously on his jacket, coughing, Jesus, he was thirsty. Dean finds a convenience store down the road, completely abandoned and chugs a bottle of water, washing his hands on face with it in the bathroom. He had to see you. And like hell he was gonna be covered in dirt to see his baby girl. Dean grabs a plastic bag and shuffles around the store, grabbing a few more waters for the road and a magazine he knew you liked. He'd always buy them for you when he had extra money. Outside, he swallows nervously as he dials your cell at the run down telephone box outside, knowing you'd probably gotten a new one. Hell, he always told you to change it out every couple months.

"This number is no longer in service. To contact customer service, dial-"

Dean huffs and puts the receiver down, rubbing his eyes before dialing Bobby's house.

"Hello?"

Bobby's gruff voice filters in.

"Bobby."

Dean sighs heavily, relieved.

"It's me."

"Who?"

Bobby scoffs.

"It's me, Dean."

Dean repeats, opening his mouth to say more when Bobby cuts him off.

"This ain't funny, don't call this number again."

And then the line buzzes. He bites his lip, looking up and putting the phone down, checking his pockets for more quarters. He didn't have a penny left.

"Fuck, baby, how do I get to ya."

Dean murmurs weakly, glancing towards the lot. There was an old chevy convertible sitting there. Might as well try to hot wire it. A few minutes later, Dean is speeding recklessly down the roads and all the way to Sioux Falls.