Fic: Reminisce (10/16)
Title: Reminisce (10/16)
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Alistair
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural but some characters are original.
Spoilers: an AU from Season 4, picks up during the episode "On a Head of a Pin." This was written before the episodes of the Horsemen aired and now in Season 9/10 where Dean actually becomes a demon.
Chapter 10
Pale golden light flooded into the darkness pushing away the hunger growling at every turn. A stifled moan grinding past his rough throat, Sam weakly pushed himself up onto his elbows, the thin blanket falling away.
"D-Dean." The croak of a voice made the hunter cringe. How could he have been so careless with Adam? Blinking away black dots, he watched as a white fuzzy band shifted into the clarity of bandages.
Swallowing, Sam pulled his legs outwards, sliding the blanket away from him. He felt drained, his arms shaking slightly from the exertion. He didn't hear a single footstep till he saw a pair of small black boots fill his vision.
A hand touched his shoulder halting his moves. Eyes narrowing, Sam peeked upwards taking in the slim figure of a missing hunter. "Wh-what?"
Alexei smiled down at him, "Easy there tiger."
"W-where's?"
"Rick went to grab something to eat. We figured you might be starving when you woke up." Raising her hand, laying it gently against his forehead, Alexei pursed her lips. "How you are feeling? You're not running a fever, so that's a good thing."
Swatting her hand away as if she burned him, Sam glanced about the room searching for familiar bottles and a duffle bag. "Where's Dean?"
Grateful for the harsh tone, Sam fought back the rising fear in him. It scared him at how the pit in his stomach was already forming, pushing him back to that dark chasm that was summer. The empty bed, no sign of his brother…it was if Dean was dead. His brother's body rotting in some coffin six-feet underground while his soul was tortured for all eternity.
"Dean's on a hunt."
Sam bowed his head, hands lying limp on his lamp. Relief seeped into him. Dean was alive. Gratitude warmed his cold body.
"He said he'd be gone a few days and wanted us to watch over you." Tucking her hands into her pockets, Alexei rocked quietly on the balls of her feet, awkwardness filling the air. "Don't worry, he checked us already to make sure we're one hundred percent human."
She watched as Sam's brow narrowed in concentration. Why would Dean leave him like this? Never in all his life had had his brother left him like this intentionally, healing after some fight on his own. Tilting his head, Sam felt something coil in hurt at the thought of Dean abandoning him like this. It was like Dad all over again.
"But you're doing the same thing," hissed a voice, "You would leave Dean alone to battle his nightmares while you snuck out with Ruby."
"Something the matter?"
Alexei's concerned voice silenced the voice. Shaking his head, Sam licked his lips. "No. Did Dean say what he was hunting?"
"No, but whatever it was, he was itchin to leave."
Exhaling loudly, Sam carefully rose from the bed. His legs buckled underneath but Alexei's arms caught him, pushing him upright till he stood towering over her. Breathing heavily, Sam sent a small thank-you smile.
Alexei nodded in return. "No problem."
Breaking from her hold, he turned towards the door locking his eyes onto her. "Hey, could you maybe like leave me alone for a couple minutes." Smiling politely, his eyes sparkled with charm. "I kinda want to get cleaned up before I crash again on the bed."
Rolling her shoulders, Alexei nibbled on her lip. Yet the puppy-dog expression was hard to resist. Biting hard, the hunter walked quietly to the door. "Fine, but don't do anything stupid like sneaking out. If anything were to happen to you, your brother is gonna have my head on a plate."
Sam couldn't help but laugh as Alexei walked out, shutting the door softly behind her. Running a shaking hand through his sweat-drenched hair, Sam plopped back down on the bed. Bending over, he bit back a groan as his stomach clenched hard as if it was being stabbed by something. Hissing in pain, Sam reached out and grabbed his cell-phone off of the nightstand.
"You better have a good reason," Flipping open his phone, Sam hit number 1, hearing the dial tone ring up his brother, "Jerk."
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
A loud screeching guitar riff hammered a long metal spike into her mind blasting comforting numbness into blazing white pain. Inhaling deeply, Ruby coughed as dust filled her mouth. The annoying riff ended. The demon shifted her eyes underneath their lids, smiling mentally at the silence. As if sensing her joy, the guitar song began again.
"You've got to be kidding me," Ruby rasped quietly, her throat dry, tears of water welling her eyes at the discomfort.
Halfway through, the song was cut in half. "You ok? Good. I'm busy. Yeah, well I'll call you later. No, I can't, like I said busy. Look, don't get your panties in a twist. You're in no shape, so don't even try- Relax, will ya." The gruff whisper paused before affection finished off. "Bitch."
The click pulled Ruby's curiosity to crack open her eyes. She had to play this cool. Whatever idiot captured her still thought she was out cold. Twitching her wrists, Ruby felt cold metal of cuff pin her stretched out arms against some equally cold metal table. Shifting bare feet on the smooth ground, she felt the same was true with her feet.
"Rise and shine." The voice no longer whispered and was filled with playfulness and hatred at the same time. There was only one person that was capable of such a feat.
Cracking her eyes open, Ruby glowered at Dean who stood before her arms crossed over his chest with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Well," barked Ruby, "You just gonna stand there all day or are you gonna get me out of here?"
Dean tightened his grin. Uncrossing his arms, the hunter began to roll up the thin tee sweater's sleeves. In the thrumming bluish light, Ruby scanned the room, noticing the black devil's traps underneath and above her head. The long rectangular room was cold, and it wasn't just from the cement or the chains dangling from hooks on all four walls. Beyond the trap a few feet away, was a thick black circle sparkled with crystals that she felt in her gut was salt. By the single exit, there where a small set of stair rising upwards. Before the first step, she noticed a thick line of the white substance.
"Well ain't this Martha Stewart like-" the sarcastic remark died on her tongue when Ruby's eyes settled on red paint staining the walls. Numerous demonic wards were painted throughout, each from a different culture and time period. And intermingled with the wards were those of the angelic kind.
Then as if that wasn't enough, the wall off to her left was lined with shelves filled with more salt, silver and water. Rosaries dangled off of the caged metal lining. Underneath the shelves was a long table full of knives, iron rods and numerous items she did not want to know about. Was that blue canister a welding torch?
And before the table was Dean Winchester with a tiny bowl, picking up each blade and dunking them into the water.
Warning bells rang off in her mind. Struggling against her binds, Ruby tried to pry herself free from the metal cuffs. "You've got to be kidding me!"
Dean halted. "Oh," a dark voice purred towards her. "Sister, I'm far from kidding."
Ruby felt heat rise to her cheeks, "Don't you dare call me-"
Black eyes glared daggers at her over a worn-out shoulder. Panic took flight. Pulling herself together, Ruby realized that she was utterly and totally screwed. Dean Winchester was possessed. Not a good thing at all. Glancing at the devil traps, she would have singed with relief that they would be easy to break through. And from there she could squeeze out of the thin line that ran across the ceiling slightly outside of the trap.
Opening her mouth, Ruby flew out of her dead host. It was a nice body while it lasted. Thankfully, it wouldn't be too hard to find another comatose body to appease Sam. After that, Ruby mused as she roared out; she would find Sam and tell him about Dean. She couldn't wait till she watched Sam exorcise his own brother. Christmas had definitely came early this year.
The man himself grabbed a silver needle and pulled out a long black thread that had been soaking in holy water from the bowl. Walking over, he eyed the large black cloud forming overhead. He wasn't worried in the least, if anything he was amused.
Lacing the thread through the eye of the needle, Dean paused by Ruby's side watching as the smoke reached out to touch the devil's trap overhead while it continued to pour out of the body. Then the body twitched and like an elastic band, the smoke flung back with a mighty roar into the small female body.
Reaching out, Dean gently ran a hand through the black hair eying the burned binding lock he had sizzled into her neck back at the motel. The charcoal circle and line gleamed like a black diamond.
A pained gasp pulled Dean's attention back to the front. Dropping her hair, he stepped out in front of the demon.
Blinking, Ruby stared up at the hunter. "What do you want?"
"Well there's the usual stuff, like who you are truly working for, your end goal," Dean leaned up into Ruby's face till their noses almost touched, his black eyes sparking with uttermost rage. "What the hell you did to Sam?"
Tense silence solidified between the two as the captured demon realized with dread that Dean wasn't possessed. Nope. That over-protective brotherly rage was hundred percent Dean Winchester. Somehow once again, this Winchester defied the rules and became a demon. Hiding her apprehension, Ruby coughed out a laugh, "I'm not gonna talk you know. It doesn't matter how much you learned from Alastair, you're not him…you don't scare me."
Dean tsked softly, "Making you talk isn't my goal. Pleasure before business is the name of the game."
The demon felt the floor drop out from underneath her. "Yeah, well it doesn't matter." Mustering her faltering confidence, Ruby grinned into Dean's face. "You couldn't torture Alastair without breaking. You're weak and more importantly…I'm older than you making me stronger." Taking in a deep breath, Ruby let her eyes flutter shut as a Latin incantation to break the traps tying her body to the table began to spill out of her lips.
"Oh sweetheart," disappointment laced Dean's voice. Grabbing her jaw, his fingers dug into her pale cheeks silencing the incantation. Tight lips twisted to break open.
Cursing black eyes locked onto hungry ones. Licking his lips as if waiting to taste something exquisite, Dean tilted his head slightly. "Age doesn't make you stronger, it's all about experience."
With that, Dean drove the needle straight both her lips. "And as much as I love to hear you scream, I can't have you be the party pooper here." Tugging, Dean tilted the needle downwards for another pass.
Ruby's body bucked underneath him, strained screams fighting to break through found their outlet through the rivers of tears. Yet, Dean paid no attention, focused solely on sewing those pale, bleeding lips closed with perfect precision. He was a professional after all.
~~~~~ ****** ~~~~~
Deep in an enclosed space, Castiel lost himself from the world. Every time he blinked he saw Lilith's arms wrapped around Dean. It had been weeks since the incident, but something inside of him froze no matter how long ago it had been. Curling over the mint-condition wooden desk, Castiel tugged the coat closer to his body shielding himself from the blowing cold air.
Rolling his shoulders, the angel fought back a flinch as his healing wounds strained against the movement. The latest battle had involved a few more powerful demons and it didn't help that somehow they had knives that could kill angels. He only could pray that the rogue angels Uriel spoke of were not behind the act.
Bowing his head, Castiel gently turned the page of the ancient transcript. Behind these walls of glass in a controlled environment locked away from constant human touches, with the exception of a few granted personnel, the angel strained his eyes reading the dead language. Piles of books rested to the side, each containing sections dealing with demonic possession and tainted souls. Somewhere in these texts had to be a way to save Dean.
Words scribed in black upon golden inscribed papyrus uttered nothingness, Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, his body aching for rest. Since the rest stop, Zachariah had constantly sent him on mission upon mission making it impossible to research or even contact the Winchesters. It was as if his superior knew that something was afoot and was doing everything in his power to wear him down. And it was working.
"You look tired my son."
Blue eyes peered over the pale knuckles taking in the simple brown clothed man. The elder man has his tanned face wrinkled from many a days spent tending the monastery's garden. Warm brown eyes shone forth from white hair that hung wildly about his head. Lowering himself on a chair, the monk folded his hands upon the desk gazing down at the books.
A voice full of warmth and wisdom whispered to the angel, "You should take a break."
Castiel lowered his hand, shaking his head. Blue eyes fell back down on the book. "I can't." He barely had time to sneak off to do this research. He couldn't waste anymore time, for he feared that as the days passed by the less likely it would be to save his charge's soul.
Grief swelled in him. How did this happen? Why would Dean let himself get possessed? Where had he gone wrong?
"If you truly are desperate, it will do no one any good if you strain yourself to sickness." Tilting his head, the monk stared hard at the angel till those blue eyes lifted themselves up towards him. A silent plea shimmered behind the emotionless mask. "What bothers you?"
The curt tone was automatic. "Nothing."
A soft chuckle vibrated from the old man's chest. "I will not tell a soul, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."
Shoulders slumping, Castiel fixated his eyes onto his vessel's hands that once held a precious gift of a daughter to slaughtering demons a few hours ago. Hidden within him, he felt Jimmy cuddle deeper into the protective sleep Castiel held him in. "Do you know…of anything concerning the union of a demonic soul to its pure counterpart?"
The monk blinked the weathered face void for a second. Then a long smile tugged upwards crinkling his eyes. "That is not the question that bothers you, child."
Castiel glanced briefly at the monk whose eyes seemed to shine at him with a patient love he only knew from observations. It was strange for a mere mortal to pierce through his masks and strike at the heart. A musing thought tinkled through his mind at how Uriel might have reacted to such a man considering the dead angel only saw them as plumbing on two legs. Uriel's voice brimming with disgust echoed in his mind. "God isn't God anymore. He doesn't care what we do. I am proof of that."
Taking a deep breath, careful as always with his words, Castiel uttered questions, confiding a second time to a human instead of to his brethren. "Why would a father not be involved if something…wrong…happened to his family?"
"Hmm," leaning back, the monk gazed upwards through the glass ceiling taking in the old stone arches of the Vatican library. "The role of a father is a precarious one. Not only must he enforce the rules and deal out punishments in a just manner. But on the other hand, a father must love his children utterly with no favoritism."
"But why-" Conflict clashed within the angel, metaphors pouring out of him. "Why would a father love the youngest son over the eldest? Why when the eldest does something wrong, he is punished but other times are not?" Squeezing his eyes, Castiel muttered under his breath, "Where is a father when his children need him the most?"
"Those are questions no one has answers too," spoke the monk softly. "But I can tell you something, would you like to hear it?"
A feeble nod from the raven-haired man was his only answer. "A father knows that he must let go of his children even if he or they are not ready. There comes a time when he must put faith in his children that they know right from wrong without him being there constantly. If his children kept crying for help at every crisis and he came at each call, then when the true crisis arises they would not be prepared or be any wiser."
Pausing, the monk leaned forward watching for any reactions from his quiet companion. "And even if it might look that a father favors one child, it is not true. A father might spoil the youngest and make the eldest watch and protect the other. But, the inspiring trust a father has in the eldest to watch over something so precious to his own heart shows that there is an undying love towards the eldest as well. It is just a different form of love."
Blue eyes opened staring up at him. "What are you saying monk?"
Smiling still, the old man stood up and took a step forward. "I am saying that even if a father is not there physically, his presence is still there. His love resides in the faith he has in his children to find happiness, even if it means there must be some painful struggles along the way."
Reaching out, he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. Castiel arched minutely into the touch, feeling unbridled tenderness flow into his cold body warming and healing his tired soul. The old man's words seemed to wash away his worries. The monk had reminded him that while Castiel never met his father, he still stood up against Uriel and survived. In the end, the wicked was punished. His shaking belief stilled back to his utter conviction. These humans truly were his father's best creations and he would protect them with all his might, even if that meant dying for them.
"Three pages down." With a small pat, the hand withdrew.
For an instant, Castiel ached to return to the warmth. Instead, he flipped three pages forward in the old book. On the left page was a familiar image of an angel reaching into Hell to pull out a righteous soul. Yet, clasped to the man's leg was a demon wearing an identical face of the soul straining to keep a hold. Eyes flicking to the opposite page, Castiel felt a knot loosen in his chest.
Turning, Castiel spoke, "Thank you."
But the monk was already gone.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
"You've painted up your lips an rolled and curled your tinted hair."
A pained moan pounded against the sealed black and red lips. The ends of long hair were drenched, dripping red onto the cement ground.
The off-key voice sang on, grinding onto her ears with annoyance. "Ruby are you contemplating going out somewhere? The shadow on the wall tells me the sun is going down."
A splash of water sizzled onto her sliced up arm. Black eyes flickered in agony as her muffled voice stuttered. Reaching out, Ruby watched as Dean used a rag and wiped away the holy water spreading the stinging sensation all across her sliced up flesh. Her shirt and jeans still hung intact but was drenched in water. It seemed Dean was only interested in massacring her arms at the moment.
Fingernails gone, red was a bright contrast to the blossoming blue and black swelling of her broken fingers. Each bone was snapped in half from her fingers to her wrists. All down her forearms intricate scribbles were etched onto her flesh just deep enough to draw blood.
Humming as he cleaned, Dean glanced up feeling Ruby's intense glare. Once filled with charm, the smirk whispered hints of horror still left untouched. Pausing in his ministrations, Dean reached out to wipe away a bead of sweat from the trembling forehead.
"Hey now don't worry, I'll be gentle." He couldn't help but run a few fingers through the damp hair. "I know this ain't Hell, it's just too dang cold up here. Alastair always said that was one of the downsides to the topside. The other was it was just concrete up. Can't butcher someone up and make them whole."
Lowering his hand, Dean focused his attention on the red-stained left arm. Crouching, he dumped the pink rag into the bucket of holy water rinsing it till the blood ran free into the water. Satisfied, he raised the semi-white fabric back up, dripping holy water onto the exposed feet electing a small bang as Ruby's head jerked into the stand.
"But I'm an optimist. And where Alastair saw hindrance," Dean ran the rag roughly over the open wounds holding back the full-blown smile as he watched Ruby's body squirm to get away. As white smoke drifted into the air, Dean lost himself briefly, scrubbing at one gash trying to wipe away a tiny piece of salt that had been logged when he had given Ruby a risen down with salt water.
"Where was I? Oh, right. See, I realized something. I was never meant for Hell. Too much competition," Dean shrugged his shoulders as if the statement was a known fact. "But up here…I don't have to report to no authorities at all. That and dealing with the constraints of a human corpse is a challenge I intend to succeed in."
Something croaked from Ruby's throat. Pausing, Dean tilted backwards to stare unblinking demonic eyes down at her. "What?"
A single syllable vibrated from her pale throat. Yet, the hunter knew what she had said. "Sam."
Ruby nodded weakly, taking in a deep breath from the small break. Relief flooded her mind, strengthening her weakening walls. Then all work froze. Before her, she watched as a change filtered over Dean's face. The playfulness from earlier vanished, leaving behind an empty void on the chiseled face.
Terror spread like fire in her blood as Dean seemed to coil before her. His body trembled with barely suppressed rage. Swallowing, Ruby found herself pressing further into the table, afraid of what she was witnessing. Alastair already scared her to death with his sadistic love for everything pain related. Lilith frightened her with talks of blasting her out of existence. But this… This unnerved her and that scared the demon who loved to be in control and manipulative. If she said one thing wrong, the black hellish flames flickering before her hinted at Dean's unpredictable nature honed into a torturer's skill.
This Dean wasn't the over-bearing older brother that could be easily provoked. Heck, he wasn't even the one that had crawled out of his own grave creating an uneasy truce between them. Nope, this Dean was something else.
As if pleased that he made his point, Dean blinked, the tension dripping off of him. Grinning ear to ear, Dean chuckled. "Sam…he's none of your concern anymore."
Turning, he resumed his work with the eagerness of a child. Ruby twitched and hissed through her nose every second as the rag touched onto her open wounds. Fresh tears spilt down, dripping on his shoulder like rain. Twisted enjoyment rang through him, building through his chest till he could no longer hold it in. Opening his mouth, Dean sang the song in his usual big-mouth annoying manner.
"Oh Ruby, don't take your love to town."
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Hands broken: check.
Soles of feet burned: check.
Black hair hacked short due to annoyance: check.
Making his shoes dirty because of Ruby spilling her guts: just getting started.
Hours trickled by, mere grains in the hourglass as Dean meticulously tortured Ruby. It didn't take him long to find out some wounds were impervious to demonic healing. But somehow those burns and silver inflicted slices were the most beautiful against the white skin. Backing away, Dean eyed his work pondering where to mark next. The ribs would be an interesting obstacle to start with. Or even yet, he could simply go back to her feet and slice them into ribbons.
He had loved those coughed out shrieks and the thudding of her body against the metal table when the smell of flesh bubbling and burning filled the air. Nodding, Dean placed his hands on hips eyes falling down onto the feet. Yep, he would start there after he had lunch.
Smacking her cheeks, Dean waited for Ruby to stir from her blissful state. Cautious dark brown eyes peered under her lashes. "If you're nice, I might open your mouth a bit. Think about it."
With that he walked away, marching up the stairs and shutting off the lights leaving the demon to hang in total darkness. Locking the rap door underneath him, Dean eyed the large angelic and devil's wards painted onto the main floor of the hanger. They seemed to be in working order for no demons or Castiel had appeared to stop him.
Grinning, Dean gave himself a mental pat on the back. It paid off to be a bit paranoid. Stepping into an office, Dean pulled out a cold sandwich and a beer inhaling the food in record time. Torture wasn't an easy occupation. Glancing at his watch, Dean felt himself frown. He only had two more days left with Ruby then it was back to reality.
Crashing onto a swivel chair, he propped his legs on the desk, snuggling into the chair. A little nap wouldn't hurt him. Besides torturing Ruby for five hours straight would wear out anyone, even Alastair. Besides, he had to be careful with his new toy. It would take a few more hours till the most of the wounds were gone and he could begin again with the faint scars of before marking his path.
Down below, Ruby could feel herself slowly heal the corpse she now officially wore. Yet as each wound slowly healed up, she felt more and more the body slowly dying. She knew it wouldn't be long till even healing the smallest cuts would take too much power. After that, the body would reject her and she would be forever imprisoned in a zombie-like corpse.
Crying, Ruby screamed once more through her stitched lips into the pitch black. This was the only time she let the walls crumble. Screaming her throat raw, Ruby called out to her tainted, backstabbing brothers and sisters. She even cried out to Lilith. But no one came. In the desolate darkness that mirrored her soul, something cracked deep within Ruby. She realized that soon she would talk if it meant that she would be able to be free of this prison. It was in her nature to betray and preserve herself.
And it didn't help that Alastair's pupil was endless in his methods. What made it worse was that he was gently sometimes in administrating his pain like a lover. It was the same sickening technique Alastair prized but with Dean it was ten times worse because he knew he had to be careful with this human body. It meant he went extra slow, inching millimeter by millimeter every 30 seconds. She counted once to help keep her focused amongst the drowning agony. This was where, Ruby shuddered, Dean was an equal to Alastair. The patience at his movements was driving Ruby insane. Like he said, they weren't in Hell anymore. Topside was worse.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Sam paced back and forth in front of the vending machine. In his hands, a green bill was twisted tightly like a rope. Frustration was building in him and it was all due to one man: his brother. Dean had called a few times, checking in on him in brief ten minute phone calls. Sam had been tempted to trace the cell, but Dean had taken his laptop. He would have gone to the library and trace it from there, but his babysitters didn't like him wandering too far or calling anyone for that matter.
Pausing, Sam shivered, running his hands up and down his arms. His fingers crawled inside his jacket, caressing the silver flask. The blood lose had quicken his withdrawal. Soon, he would need to call Ruby up for another refill. Fingers tightening over the flask, Sam glanced around before turning his back to the parking lot. Moving closer to the vending machine, the young Winchester decided that one tiny hit wouldn't be too much to ask.
Licking his lips, he began to pull out the flask when the crunching of rocks halted his movements.. Jumping back, Sam glared at Alexei. The woman stood on the curb, her eyes staring straight into him.
Snarling, Sam fought the urge to punch her. "What the hell, Alexei?"
Amusement shimmered in her eyes. "I was getting a bit worried about you. Thought maybe you have fell into a hole or something. It sure does take you a long time to get a coke."
Huffing, Sam crossed his arms, glaring at anything as he turned to face the parking lot. "I'm fine, needed to get some fresh air. Didn't think that was so criminal."
"Look, I know you've been cooped up for two days, but you're just now getting better. Take it easy."
"I. Am." Kicking at a rock, Sam stuffed his hands into his pockets. That was it. When Dean came back, he was going to kill him. What type of brother would put his own brother under house arrest? Hazel eyes scanned the parking lot, locking onto an old gray Oldsmobile. That car shouldn't be too hard to hot-wire.
"No offense, but you look like some stressed out student about to present his thesis." Alexei walked up to Sam's side, following his gaze onto the car. "Wanna talk? I promise I won't tell Dean."
"There's nothing I want to talk about," hissed Sam.
"Really? Cause," shooting her gaze up to their room, Alexei lowered her voice. "I think I know what your brother is hunting."
Sam's head shot to face her, eyes narrowed with the demand to know. Alexei stretched out her arm, sliding the dollar bill free from Sam's hand. Smoothing out the bill, she stepped back, reading the vast but mundane selection. "It's something big and he doesn't want you getting hurt."
The tall shadow fell over her as she decided that lemon cream cookies sounded good about now. "What is it?"
Feeding the crinkled bill into the machine, Alexei kept her voice level. "Before your brother called, Rick and I found some clues on what was released from the seals."
Sam felt his face pale, "The horsemen."
"Yep. And from what I've been reading in the newspapers, there's one around here somewhere."
Fear shook through Sam. Crap, this wasn't good news at all. Like always, Dean was suicidal and went to hunt the thing alone. Usually, Dean was the sensible one, the one who liked to plan things ahead. Be prepared and well armed before jumping into a fight blind. So the fact that Dean would go off didn't fit his pattern. Then again, this Dean was different. Hell had changed Dean so much that sometimes Sam found himself questioning if behind the body, the soul in there was truly Dean or some other poor lad.
"Get your things, we're leaving. I'm not letting Dean to kill this creature without me." Sternness laced Sam's posture, but Alexei didn't move an inch.
Instead she bent down to collect her cookies. "And exactly how are you planning to kill a Horseman? By talking it to death? Cause, no offense, you sure do talk a lot."
Sam's face darkened as he focused on the concrete curve. "Yes."
Alexei shook her head, disbelief shining on her face. Playing along, her voice was peaked with curosity. "What are you going to say?"
She popped open the bag, sliding her hand inside to snag a round, pasty snack. Before her, Sam seemed to draw strength from somewhere. His once pale complexion turned slightly golden in the mid-afternoon sun. Tilting his head, he locked his darkening eyes down at her.
"That they don't need to work for someone like Lilith. She's merely using them for her own agenda in breaking the seals. If they join me, I'll give them immunity as long as they help me find Lilith and teach me how to kill her."
Alexei's lips tightened, not pleased at the blunt speech. "And if they don't."
Sam's lips twitched briefly into a grin, "I'll kill them…just like Alastair."
"With what again?"
Shaking his head, Sam sighed. He couldn't tell this hunter about his powers. He didn't need another fiasco like Gordon happening any time soon. "I can't tell you, let's just say these past few days I worked out the perfect solution."
Nodding, Alexei smacked her lips sarcasm lacing her tone. "Well, that was an awarding winning speech." Drawing her hand out of the bag, she brushed past Sam and tossed the entire bag into the trashcan.
Anger brightened his face. But Sam remembered his manners and glowering at her retreating back he changed the topic. "What's wrong with the cookies?"
Waving her hand, she marched forward. "They were moldy."
Walking up to the can, Sam peered down and flinched as he spotted the white fuzzy covered cookies. It seemed that someone hadn't been cleaning out the vending machine.
"You coming in or what? I'll help you out with that speech."
Sam sighed, his anger residing in the back of his mind. The speech did sound corny, but he was never the one for peep talks. That was Dean's skill. His brother could smooth talk his way out of anything. He even could get the most tight-lipped person blabbering out their most precious secrets. Shoulders' slumping, the Winchester made his way slowly back to the motel room where Rick was peering out of the doorway, listening to Alexei's quiet whispers. It was probably just an update on what was taking him so long.
"Fine."
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~Defiance shone through the massive bruise swelling over the small right eye. Not caring in the least, Dean smashed his fist across Ruby's face relishing the crack of bone as blood exploded against the pale skin. Pulling back, Dean continued to pound his fists into the woman's body enjoying the brute physical contact. Sometimes a knuckle sandwich was better than the slice and dice routine.
Panting, the hunter pulled back taking a few steps. He had been punching the demon for a good twenty minutes softening up the newly healed flesh. Licking his lips, he reached out and took a swig from the whiskey bottle he had brought down. Leaning against his table, his black eyes swept over his victim pondering where to do the next damage.
Ruby sucked in ragged breath through her swollen nose. Her face was blue and purple matching the rings around her neck when Dean had tied a chain around her neck and began to choke her till she lost consciousness.
Her fingers twitched, the bones beginning to slowly mend but every time Dean would reach out and break them all over again. Her toes scrapped against the floor, the flesh beneath shredded into fine ribbons before being cauterized by the flame torch. Like Dean said once through her whimpers, he couldn't have her bleeding to death.
Tilting his head back, Dean lost himself in the burn of the alcohol. Today was his last day, for tomorrow he would have to leave. Lowering the bottle, the protégé of Alastair pushed himself off the table leaving behind the bottle. His free hand grabbed his new favorite knife. He couldn't help but grin that it was Ruby's.
Walking up to her silently, he waited till those dull but blazing eyes looked up at him. Her lips remained stitched despite his earlier promise of cutting them off.
"I think the foreplay is pretty much done with."
A soft moan was his only reply.
Reaching out, he ran Ruby's knife the center of her chest. She still remained fully clothed, except for the large slash where he had sliced into her intestines. The knife nicked at her shirt where her navel was.
"You want to know something?"
A weak shake of the chopped up raven hair brushed against the table.
Dean ignored her, cutting a new slice into the shirt. "I didn't start to enjoy torturing souls till about my third year. It was a slow process really and a painful one at that. The first time, I was blubbering mess. After a few slices, I would be crying till Alastair said I was done. Then the moment he took away my razor, I would throw myself up onto the empty rack begging him to put me back on. I didn't want to torture anymore."
Dean carefully widened the cut making sure he didn't draw any blood from the newly exposed flesh. "But that white-eyed son of a bitch never listened to me. He'd drag me to the next soul forcing me to watch as he worked away. Sitting there; I realized what was hurting all of us damned souls: our emotions. So one day, I decided to stop feeling and it worked. Alastair was upset that I was becoming a robot. All actions but no reactions. It was worse than the crying and self-hatred from before.
And that's when he started…" Dean's eyes drifted away, pure terror melting the black into green. Ruby stared with horror as her torturer seemed to shrink before her.
Alastair had tortured her a few times and when she finally got off the rack, he paid her one or two visits to see her progress. And in those merger meetings, she witnessed first hand how brutal Alastair was. He had been the Chief Inquisitor for a reason and after those meetings, Ruby never wanted to have any associations with him at all. So, seeing how Dean had become the center of Alastair's life on and off the rack, a swell of pity went out to the hunter. It was amazing Dean had been functioning after his resurrection or that he lasted for 30 years on the rack.
Her own horrors from the past days flooded her mind. She underestimated Dean. To be in some sick bastard's life twenty-four seven, there was only way to survive and that was to appease Alastair in any manner. In turn, become the same twisted creature if anything for survival. She realized Dean did that on the rack by being a challenge, by not giving. He had hope that he might be saved and that was what made him special. Yet, once off the rack, with his hope being blasted into oblivion…
Dean's voice cracked, lowering so deep that Ruby strained to hear the rest of the story. She had a feeling that not even Sam knew about everything that happened. And for some odd reason, Dean decided to share this secret with her.
"At the end of every day, Alastair would bring me to his private rack. Tying me back up, he would carve me up teaching me where I went wrong on my own body. I didn't scream while I was on there, only infuriating him even more. If I thought the first time on the rack was bad, this was worse. Don't know how long that lasted, I only know I wanted off the rack permanently this time so I started to heed his words. Didn't help that Alastair was the only one I was allowed to have any conversations with. Nicor visited me still but merely to gloat, silencing me every time.
Then after one long night after months of being forced to learn my errors, as the first soul of the day was placed before me, I decided to put Alastair's lessons to practice and expand on them. When I was done, I can still remember that proud look. It was a look that my own father once gave me before Sam almost died. For the first time, what could be happiness burned me instead of all the pain and hatred. From then on, I did everything right excelling in torture, soaking up every tidbit just to appease Alastair and not be put back on his rack.
And as I let myself feel happiness, other emotions came forth. Pain and despair at the creature I was turning into. Rage at Alastair, Nicor, Lilith, God, even my own father, mother, and even Sam on occasions fueled my creativity. I began to realize that only in Hell was I finally letting go all my masks, letting my walls crumple and live my own life. I began to see my victims differently then. No longer did I force myself to see them as wicked or mindless creatures. I saw them as my past self, the broken down, weak, loud mouthed Dean that had failed his family and wasn't worth saving. He was just Daddy's broken, scuffed weapon. And that was when I began to enjoy torturing the souls; relishing the blinding pain as they screamed through non-existent throats for with each wound they were only tasting just a slice of my own suffering."
Blinking, Dean raised his head, blackness returning, and leaned into Ruby's vision. He stared deep into her as if seeing the smoky demon of her true form. "And now it's your turn. You talk big Ruby, you always did. But you never went what I went through. You're just some runt demon swindling her way through the ranks, anything to escape the pain. But me, I didn't run. I embraced it."
He watched as Ruby's scream shot through the stitched mouth, head tilted back, tears running once more. Dean pushed the knife till the hilt was flush with her stomach. Drinking in her screams and sobs, Dean twisted the blade inside, slicing upwards ever so slowly. Voice low and husky, he couldn't break his gaze off of the withering form before him. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this…how I constantly asked Alastair to find you and drag you to my rack…to watch you beg for mercy…"
Blood spilling out onto his hands, staining his shirt, Dean let himself drown in the rush that he had held back since this whole thing started. Red filled his vision, but he wasn't drowning this time. Instead he stood in the ocean and commanded the movements of the blade with deadly accuracy as he began to carve Ruby.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Castiel ran his hand down his forearms, watching as the deep cut mended together till nothing remained behind. Looking up, blue eyes swept over the cluttered storage facility. Special black candles were hidden in the four corners of the room. Along the windowsills and doorframes was a thin line of salt. He knew such a barrier would not work against Dean, but once the ritual was over, he needed to contain the demon. And in the center of the room was a red sigil he had painted with his own angel tinted blood.
The method stated it had to be the angel who raised the soul from Hell to spill his own blood. It had to be his mark on the soul's flesh to pierce through and rip the evilness that had weaved itself in. Sighing, Castiel raised his hand and muttered an ancient connotation vanishing the trap from human sight.
Squaring his shoulders, Castiel ran the incantation of the ritual through his head. He would need to be swift and sure, no pauses what so ever. Feeling a bit satisfied, despite the dread tugging at him, Castiel felt himself shudder as he thought of the next step. He would have to rely on Dean's trust, a trust that was only beginning to solidify.
The angel forced the thought of breaking that trust away and the consequences following it, when he felt the air shift. Swallowing, he turned slightly, eyes settling on the blue-clad business suit. "Sir."
Zachariah gave a curt nod, eyes sliding to where the invisible symbol lay. "May I ask what you are doing? You were given orders to aid your brothers and sisters in a battle over Junction, Colorado but I find you here instead."
"Something important came up," whispered Castiel, eyes darting to the floor as his superior walked with a confident glide over to him.
"This is a ritual for expelling evil from a mortal's soul. It is an ancient form of purifying." Zachariah locked his eyes. "Something beyond your rank, I might add."
Castiel's face tightened at the jab. "It's to help in preventing Lucifer from rising."
"Really?" Zachariah's voice rolled in accusation, "I thought it was about Dean."
Blue eyes shot up, fear of being caught flashing over the angel's face. Castiel stilled his body, keeping his voice calm. "How-"
Zachariah smirked, "I saw the little demon in him when I cleansed the remains of Alastair out."
Blue eyes narrowed into slits, "You knew, then why-"
Folding his hands behind his back, the older angel replied. "Everything has a reason Castiel and Dean becoming a demon is just another step in him fulfilling his role." With a small nod, two angels appeared, flanking Castiel. "Sadly, Castiel, I cannot have you interfering anymore. You're becoming too attached to these monkeys."
Indignation swelled in the angel and for the first time he allowed himself to express his outrage. Stepping forward, he glared daggers at his superior. "If you allow Dean to remain a demon, his soul will forever be damned. He won't be able to stop the Apocalypse."
"But he will be able to stop Lucifer."
Reality stopped the beating of his vessel's heart. His superior didn't want to stop the breaking seals. He wanted Lucifer out and was playing him and the Winchester brothers. The shock must have shown for Zachariah chuckled, eyes glinting otherworldly in the light. "You were always too smart for your own good."
And with that, Castiel felt hands grab onto his forearms. An electric pulse hummed deep in his bones. The foreign feeling pierced him, gnawing at his hold on the body. They were dragging him back to Heaven. Grinding his teeth in an explosion of swearing white heat, Castiel did something else for the very first time.
He fought back.
Chapter 11
Masterpost
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Alistair
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural but some characters are original.
Spoilers: an AU from Season 4, picks up during the episode "On a Head of a Pin." This was written before the episodes of the Horsemen aired and now in Season 9/10 where Dean actually becomes a demon.
Chapter 10
Pale golden light flooded into the darkness pushing away the hunger growling at every turn. A stifled moan grinding past his rough throat, Sam weakly pushed himself up onto his elbows, the thin blanket falling away.
"D-Dean." The croak of a voice made the hunter cringe. How could he have been so careless with Adam? Blinking away black dots, he watched as a white fuzzy band shifted into the clarity of bandages.
Swallowing, Sam pulled his legs outwards, sliding the blanket away from him. He felt drained, his arms shaking slightly from the exertion. He didn't hear a single footstep till he saw a pair of small black boots fill his vision.
A hand touched his shoulder halting his moves. Eyes narrowing, Sam peeked upwards taking in the slim figure of a missing hunter. "Wh-what?"
Alexei smiled down at him, "Easy there tiger."
"W-where's?"
"Rick went to grab something to eat. We figured you might be starving when you woke up." Raising her hand, laying it gently against his forehead, Alexei pursed her lips. "How you are feeling? You're not running a fever, so that's a good thing."
Swatting her hand away as if she burned him, Sam glanced about the room searching for familiar bottles and a duffle bag. "Where's Dean?"
Grateful for the harsh tone, Sam fought back the rising fear in him. It scared him at how the pit in his stomach was already forming, pushing him back to that dark chasm that was summer. The empty bed, no sign of his brother…it was if Dean was dead. His brother's body rotting in some coffin six-feet underground while his soul was tortured for all eternity.
"Dean's on a hunt."
Sam bowed his head, hands lying limp on his lamp. Relief seeped into him. Dean was alive. Gratitude warmed his cold body.
"He said he'd be gone a few days and wanted us to watch over you." Tucking her hands into her pockets, Alexei rocked quietly on the balls of her feet, awkwardness filling the air. "Don't worry, he checked us already to make sure we're one hundred percent human."
She watched as Sam's brow narrowed in concentration. Why would Dean leave him like this? Never in all his life had had his brother left him like this intentionally, healing after some fight on his own. Tilting his head, Sam felt something coil in hurt at the thought of Dean abandoning him like this. It was like Dad all over again.
"But you're doing the same thing," hissed a voice, "You would leave Dean alone to battle his nightmares while you snuck out with Ruby."
"Something the matter?"
Alexei's concerned voice silenced the voice. Shaking his head, Sam licked his lips. "No. Did Dean say what he was hunting?"
"No, but whatever it was, he was itchin to leave."
Exhaling loudly, Sam carefully rose from the bed. His legs buckled underneath but Alexei's arms caught him, pushing him upright till he stood towering over her. Breathing heavily, Sam sent a small thank-you smile.
Alexei nodded in return. "No problem."
Breaking from her hold, he turned towards the door locking his eyes onto her. "Hey, could you maybe like leave me alone for a couple minutes." Smiling politely, his eyes sparkled with charm. "I kinda want to get cleaned up before I crash again on the bed."
Rolling her shoulders, Alexei nibbled on her lip. Yet the puppy-dog expression was hard to resist. Biting hard, the hunter walked quietly to the door. "Fine, but don't do anything stupid like sneaking out. If anything were to happen to you, your brother is gonna have my head on a plate."
Sam couldn't help but laugh as Alexei walked out, shutting the door softly behind her. Running a shaking hand through his sweat-drenched hair, Sam plopped back down on the bed. Bending over, he bit back a groan as his stomach clenched hard as if it was being stabbed by something. Hissing in pain, Sam reached out and grabbed his cell-phone off of the nightstand.
"You better have a good reason," Flipping open his phone, Sam hit number 1, hearing the dial tone ring up his brother, "Jerk."
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
A loud screeching guitar riff hammered a long metal spike into her mind blasting comforting numbness into blazing white pain. Inhaling deeply, Ruby coughed as dust filled her mouth. The annoying riff ended. The demon shifted her eyes underneath their lids, smiling mentally at the silence. As if sensing her joy, the guitar song began again.
"You've got to be kidding me," Ruby rasped quietly, her throat dry, tears of water welling her eyes at the discomfort.
Halfway through, the song was cut in half. "You ok? Good. I'm busy. Yeah, well I'll call you later. No, I can't, like I said busy. Look, don't get your panties in a twist. You're in no shape, so don't even try- Relax, will ya." The gruff whisper paused before affection finished off. "Bitch."
The click pulled Ruby's curiosity to crack open her eyes. She had to play this cool. Whatever idiot captured her still thought she was out cold. Twitching her wrists, Ruby felt cold metal of cuff pin her stretched out arms against some equally cold metal table. Shifting bare feet on the smooth ground, she felt the same was true with her feet.
"Rise and shine." The voice no longer whispered and was filled with playfulness and hatred at the same time. There was only one person that was capable of such a feat.
Cracking her eyes open, Ruby glowered at Dean who stood before her arms crossed over his chest with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Well," barked Ruby, "You just gonna stand there all day or are you gonna get me out of here?"
Dean tightened his grin. Uncrossing his arms, the hunter began to roll up the thin tee sweater's sleeves. In the thrumming bluish light, Ruby scanned the room, noticing the black devil's traps underneath and above her head. The long rectangular room was cold, and it wasn't just from the cement or the chains dangling from hooks on all four walls. Beyond the trap a few feet away, was a thick black circle sparkled with crystals that she felt in her gut was salt. By the single exit, there where a small set of stair rising upwards. Before the first step, she noticed a thick line of the white substance.
"Well ain't this Martha Stewart like-" the sarcastic remark died on her tongue when Ruby's eyes settled on red paint staining the walls. Numerous demonic wards were painted throughout, each from a different culture and time period. And intermingled with the wards were those of the angelic kind.
Then as if that wasn't enough, the wall off to her left was lined with shelves filled with more salt, silver and water. Rosaries dangled off of the caged metal lining. Underneath the shelves was a long table full of knives, iron rods and numerous items she did not want to know about. Was that blue canister a welding torch?
And before the table was Dean Winchester with a tiny bowl, picking up each blade and dunking them into the water.
Warning bells rang off in her mind. Struggling against her binds, Ruby tried to pry herself free from the metal cuffs. "You've got to be kidding me!"
Dean halted. "Oh," a dark voice purred towards her. "Sister, I'm far from kidding."
Ruby felt heat rise to her cheeks, "Don't you dare call me-"
Black eyes glared daggers at her over a worn-out shoulder. Panic took flight. Pulling herself together, Ruby realized that she was utterly and totally screwed. Dean Winchester was possessed. Not a good thing at all. Glancing at the devil traps, she would have singed with relief that they would be easy to break through. And from there she could squeeze out of the thin line that ran across the ceiling slightly outside of the trap.
Opening her mouth, Ruby flew out of her dead host. It was a nice body while it lasted. Thankfully, it wouldn't be too hard to find another comatose body to appease Sam. After that, Ruby mused as she roared out; she would find Sam and tell him about Dean. She couldn't wait till she watched Sam exorcise his own brother. Christmas had definitely came early this year.
The man himself grabbed a silver needle and pulled out a long black thread that had been soaking in holy water from the bowl. Walking over, he eyed the large black cloud forming overhead. He wasn't worried in the least, if anything he was amused.
Lacing the thread through the eye of the needle, Dean paused by Ruby's side watching as the smoke reached out to touch the devil's trap overhead while it continued to pour out of the body. Then the body twitched and like an elastic band, the smoke flung back with a mighty roar into the small female body.
Reaching out, Dean gently ran a hand through the black hair eying the burned binding lock he had sizzled into her neck back at the motel. The charcoal circle and line gleamed like a black diamond.
A pained gasp pulled Dean's attention back to the front. Dropping her hair, he stepped out in front of the demon.
Blinking, Ruby stared up at the hunter. "What do you want?"
"Well there's the usual stuff, like who you are truly working for, your end goal," Dean leaned up into Ruby's face till their noses almost touched, his black eyes sparking with uttermost rage. "What the hell you did to Sam?"
Tense silence solidified between the two as the captured demon realized with dread that Dean wasn't possessed. Nope. That over-protective brotherly rage was hundred percent Dean Winchester. Somehow once again, this Winchester defied the rules and became a demon. Hiding her apprehension, Ruby coughed out a laugh, "I'm not gonna talk you know. It doesn't matter how much you learned from Alastair, you're not him…you don't scare me."
Dean tsked softly, "Making you talk isn't my goal. Pleasure before business is the name of the game."
The demon felt the floor drop out from underneath her. "Yeah, well it doesn't matter." Mustering her faltering confidence, Ruby grinned into Dean's face. "You couldn't torture Alastair without breaking. You're weak and more importantly…I'm older than you making me stronger." Taking in a deep breath, Ruby let her eyes flutter shut as a Latin incantation to break the traps tying her body to the table began to spill out of her lips.
"Oh sweetheart," disappointment laced Dean's voice. Grabbing her jaw, his fingers dug into her pale cheeks silencing the incantation. Tight lips twisted to break open.
Cursing black eyes locked onto hungry ones. Licking his lips as if waiting to taste something exquisite, Dean tilted his head slightly. "Age doesn't make you stronger, it's all about experience."
With that, Dean drove the needle straight both her lips. "And as much as I love to hear you scream, I can't have you be the party pooper here." Tugging, Dean tilted the needle downwards for another pass.
Ruby's body bucked underneath him, strained screams fighting to break through found their outlet through the rivers of tears. Yet, Dean paid no attention, focused solely on sewing those pale, bleeding lips closed with perfect precision. He was a professional after all.
~~~~~ ****** ~~~~~
Deep in an enclosed space, Castiel lost himself from the world. Every time he blinked he saw Lilith's arms wrapped around Dean. It had been weeks since the incident, but something inside of him froze no matter how long ago it had been. Curling over the mint-condition wooden desk, Castiel tugged the coat closer to his body shielding himself from the blowing cold air.
Rolling his shoulders, the angel fought back a flinch as his healing wounds strained against the movement. The latest battle had involved a few more powerful demons and it didn't help that somehow they had knives that could kill angels. He only could pray that the rogue angels Uriel spoke of were not behind the act.
Bowing his head, Castiel gently turned the page of the ancient transcript. Behind these walls of glass in a controlled environment locked away from constant human touches, with the exception of a few granted personnel, the angel strained his eyes reading the dead language. Piles of books rested to the side, each containing sections dealing with demonic possession and tainted souls. Somewhere in these texts had to be a way to save Dean.
Words scribed in black upon golden inscribed papyrus uttered nothingness, Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, his body aching for rest. Since the rest stop, Zachariah had constantly sent him on mission upon mission making it impossible to research or even contact the Winchesters. It was as if his superior knew that something was afoot and was doing everything in his power to wear him down. And it was working.
"You look tired my son."
Blue eyes peered over the pale knuckles taking in the simple brown clothed man. The elder man has his tanned face wrinkled from many a days spent tending the monastery's garden. Warm brown eyes shone forth from white hair that hung wildly about his head. Lowering himself on a chair, the monk folded his hands upon the desk gazing down at the books.
A voice full of warmth and wisdom whispered to the angel, "You should take a break."
Castiel lowered his hand, shaking his head. Blue eyes fell back down on the book. "I can't." He barely had time to sneak off to do this research. He couldn't waste anymore time, for he feared that as the days passed by the less likely it would be to save his charge's soul.
Grief swelled in him. How did this happen? Why would Dean let himself get possessed? Where had he gone wrong?
"If you truly are desperate, it will do no one any good if you strain yourself to sickness." Tilting his head, the monk stared hard at the angel till those blue eyes lifted themselves up towards him. A silent plea shimmered behind the emotionless mask. "What bothers you?"
The curt tone was automatic. "Nothing."
A soft chuckle vibrated from the old man's chest. "I will not tell a soul, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."
Shoulders slumping, Castiel fixated his eyes onto his vessel's hands that once held a precious gift of a daughter to slaughtering demons a few hours ago. Hidden within him, he felt Jimmy cuddle deeper into the protective sleep Castiel held him in. "Do you know…of anything concerning the union of a demonic soul to its pure counterpart?"
The monk blinked the weathered face void for a second. Then a long smile tugged upwards crinkling his eyes. "That is not the question that bothers you, child."
Castiel glanced briefly at the monk whose eyes seemed to shine at him with a patient love he only knew from observations. It was strange for a mere mortal to pierce through his masks and strike at the heart. A musing thought tinkled through his mind at how Uriel might have reacted to such a man considering the dead angel only saw them as plumbing on two legs. Uriel's voice brimming with disgust echoed in his mind. "God isn't God anymore. He doesn't care what we do. I am proof of that."
Taking a deep breath, careful as always with his words, Castiel uttered questions, confiding a second time to a human instead of to his brethren. "Why would a father not be involved if something…wrong…happened to his family?"
"Hmm," leaning back, the monk gazed upwards through the glass ceiling taking in the old stone arches of the Vatican library. "The role of a father is a precarious one. Not only must he enforce the rules and deal out punishments in a just manner. But on the other hand, a father must love his children utterly with no favoritism."
"But why-" Conflict clashed within the angel, metaphors pouring out of him. "Why would a father love the youngest son over the eldest? Why when the eldest does something wrong, he is punished but other times are not?" Squeezing his eyes, Castiel muttered under his breath, "Where is a father when his children need him the most?"
"Those are questions no one has answers too," spoke the monk softly. "But I can tell you something, would you like to hear it?"
A feeble nod from the raven-haired man was his only answer. "A father knows that he must let go of his children even if he or they are not ready. There comes a time when he must put faith in his children that they know right from wrong without him being there constantly. If his children kept crying for help at every crisis and he came at each call, then when the true crisis arises they would not be prepared or be any wiser."
Pausing, the monk leaned forward watching for any reactions from his quiet companion. "And even if it might look that a father favors one child, it is not true. A father might spoil the youngest and make the eldest watch and protect the other. But, the inspiring trust a father has in the eldest to watch over something so precious to his own heart shows that there is an undying love towards the eldest as well. It is just a different form of love."
Blue eyes opened staring up at him. "What are you saying monk?"
Smiling still, the old man stood up and took a step forward. "I am saying that even if a father is not there physically, his presence is still there. His love resides in the faith he has in his children to find happiness, even if it means there must be some painful struggles along the way."
Reaching out, he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. Castiel arched minutely into the touch, feeling unbridled tenderness flow into his cold body warming and healing his tired soul. The old man's words seemed to wash away his worries. The monk had reminded him that while Castiel never met his father, he still stood up against Uriel and survived. In the end, the wicked was punished. His shaking belief stilled back to his utter conviction. These humans truly were his father's best creations and he would protect them with all his might, even if that meant dying for them.
"Three pages down." With a small pat, the hand withdrew.
For an instant, Castiel ached to return to the warmth. Instead, he flipped three pages forward in the old book. On the left page was a familiar image of an angel reaching into Hell to pull out a righteous soul. Yet, clasped to the man's leg was a demon wearing an identical face of the soul straining to keep a hold. Eyes flicking to the opposite page, Castiel felt a knot loosen in his chest.
Turning, Castiel spoke, "Thank you."
But the monk was already gone.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
"You've painted up your lips an rolled and curled your tinted hair."
A pained moan pounded against the sealed black and red lips. The ends of long hair were drenched, dripping red onto the cement ground.
The off-key voice sang on, grinding onto her ears with annoyance. "Ruby are you contemplating going out somewhere? The shadow on the wall tells me the sun is going down."
A splash of water sizzled onto her sliced up arm. Black eyes flickered in agony as her muffled voice stuttered. Reaching out, Ruby watched as Dean used a rag and wiped away the holy water spreading the stinging sensation all across her sliced up flesh. Her shirt and jeans still hung intact but was drenched in water. It seemed Dean was only interested in massacring her arms at the moment.
Fingernails gone, red was a bright contrast to the blossoming blue and black swelling of her broken fingers. Each bone was snapped in half from her fingers to her wrists. All down her forearms intricate scribbles were etched onto her flesh just deep enough to draw blood.
Humming as he cleaned, Dean glanced up feeling Ruby's intense glare. Once filled with charm, the smirk whispered hints of horror still left untouched. Pausing in his ministrations, Dean reached out to wipe away a bead of sweat from the trembling forehead.
"Hey now don't worry, I'll be gentle." He couldn't help but run a few fingers through the damp hair. "I know this ain't Hell, it's just too dang cold up here. Alastair always said that was one of the downsides to the topside. The other was it was just concrete up. Can't butcher someone up and make them whole."
Lowering his hand, Dean focused his attention on the red-stained left arm. Crouching, he dumped the pink rag into the bucket of holy water rinsing it till the blood ran free into the water. Satisfied, he raised the semi-white fabric back up, dripping holy water onto the exposed feet electing a small bang as Ruby's head jerked into the stand.
"But I'm an optimist. And where Alastair saw hindrance," Dean ran the rag roughly over the open wounds holding back the full-blown smile as he watched Ruby's body squirm to get away. As white smoke drifted into the air, Dean lost himself briefly, scrubbing at one gash trying to wipe away a tiny piece of salt that had been logged when he had given Ruby a risen down with salt water.
"Where was I? Oh, right. See, I realized something. I was never meant for Hell. Too much competition," Dean shrugged his shoulders as if the statement was a known fact. "But up here…I don't have to report to no authorities at all. That and dealing with the constraints of a human corpse is a challenge I intend to succeed in."
Something croaked from Ruby's throat. Pausing, Dean tilted backwards to stare unblinking demonic eyes down at her. "What?"
A single syllable vibrated from her pale throat. Yet, the hunter knew what she had said. "Sam."
Ruby nodded weakly, taking in a deep breath from the small break. Relief flooded her mind, strengthening her weakening walls. Then all work froze. Before her, she watched as a change filtered over Dean's face. The playfulness from earlier vanished, leaving behind an empty void on the chiseled face.
Terror spread like fire in her blood as Dean seemed to coil before her. His body trembled with barely suppressed rage. Swallowing, Ruby found herself pressing further into the table, afraid of what she was witnessing. Alastair already scared her to death with his sadistic love for everything pain related. Lilith frightened her with talks of blasting her out of existence. But this… This unnerved her and that scared the demon who loved to be in control and manipulative. If she said one thing wrong, the black hellish flames flickering before her hinted at Dean's unpredictable nature honed into a torturer's skill.
This Dean wasn't the over-bearing older brother that could be easily provoked. Heck, he wasn't even the one that had crawled out of his own grave creating an uneasy truce between them. Nope, this Dean was something else.
As if pleased that he made his point, Dean blinked, the tension dripping off of him. Grinning ear to ear, Dean chuckled. "Sam…he's none of your concern anymore."
Turning, he resumed his work with the eagerness of a child. Ruby twitched and hissed through her nose every second as the rag touched onto her open wounds. Fresh tears spilt down, dripping on his shoulder like rain. Twisted enjoyment rang through him, building through his chest till he could no longer hold it in. Opening his mouth, Dean sang the song in his usual big-mouth annoying manner.
"Oh Ruby, don't take your love to town."
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Hands broken: check.
Soles of feet burned: check.
Black hair hacked short due to annoyance: check.
Making his shoes dirty because of Ruby spilling her guts: just getting started.
Hours trickled by, mere grains in the hourglass as Dean meticulously tortured Ruby. It didn't take him long to find out some wounds were impervious to demonic healing. But somehow those burns and silver inflicted slices were the most beautiful against the white skin. Backing away, Dean eyed his work pondering where to mark next. The ribs would be an interesting obstacle to start with. Or even yet, he could simply go back to her feet and slice them into ribbons.
He had loved those coughed out shrieks and the thudding of her body against the metal table when the smell of flesh bubbling and burning filled the air. Nodding, Dean placed his hands on hips eyes falling down onto the feet. Yep, he would start there after he had lunch.
Smacking her cheeks, Dean waited for Ruby to stir from her blissful state. Cautious dark brown eyes peered under her lashes. "If you're nice, I might open your mouth a bit. Think about it."
With that he walked away, marching up the stairs and shutting off the lights leaving the demon to hang in total darkness. Locking the rap door underneath him, Dean eyed the large angelic and devil's wards painted onto the main floor of the hanger. They seemed to be in working order for no demons or Castiel had appeared to stop him.
Grinning, Dean gave himself a mental pat on the back. It paid off to be a bit paranoid. Stepping into an office, Dean pulled out a cold sandwich and a beer inhaling the food in record time. Torture wasn't an easy occupation. Glancing at his watch, Dean felt himself frown. He only had two more days left with Ruby then it was back to reality.
Crashing onto a swivel chair, he propped his legs on the desk, snuggling into the chair. A little nap wouldn't hurt him. Besides torturing Ruby for five hours straight would wear out anyone, even Alastair. Besides, he had to be careful with his new toy. It would take a few more hours till the most of the wounds were gone and he could begin again with the faint scars of before marking his path.
Down below, Ruby could feel herself slowly heal the corpse she now officially wore. Yet as each wound slowly healed up, she felt more and more the body slowly dying. She knew it wouldn't be long till even healing the smallest cuts would take too much power. After that, the body would reject her and she would be forever imprisoned in a zombie-like corpse.
Crying, Ruby screamed once more through her stitched lips into the pitch black. This was the only time she let the walls crumble. Screaming her throat raw, Ruby called out to her tainted, backstabbing brothers and sisters. She even cried out to Lilith. But no one came. In the desolate darkness that mirrored her soul, something cracked deep within Ruby. She realized that soon she would talk if it meant that she would be able to be free of this prison. It was in her nature to betray and preserve herself.
And it didn't help that Alastair's pupil was endless in his methods. What made it worse was that he was gently sometimes in administrating his pain like a lover. It was the same sickening technique Alastair prized but with Dean it was ten times worse because he knew he had to be careful with this human body. It meant he went extra slow, inching millimeter by millimeter every 30 seconds. She counted once to help keep her focused amongst the drowning agony. This was where, Ruby shuddered, Dean was an equal to Alastair. The patience at his movements was driving Ruby insane. Like he said, they weren't in Hell anymore. Topside was worse.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Sam paced back and forth in front of the vending machine. In his hands, a green bill was twisted tightly like a rope. Frustration was building in him and it was all due to one man: his brother. Dean had called a few times, checking in on him in brief ten minute phone calls. Sam had been tempted to trace the cell, but Dean had taken his laptop. He would have gone to the library and trace it from there, but his babysitters didn't like him wandering too far or calling anyone for that matter.
Pausing, Sam shivered, running his hands up and down his arms. His fingers crawled inside his jacket, caressing the silver flask. The blood lose had quicken his withdrawal. Soon, he would need to call Ruby up for another refill. Fingers tightening over the flask, Sam glanced around before turning his back to the parking lot. Moving closer to the vending machine, the young Winchester decided that one tiny hit wouldn't be too much to ask.
Licking his lips, he began to pull out the flask when the crunching of rocks halted his movements.. Jumping back, Sam glared at Alexei. The woman stood on the curb, her eyes staring straight into him.
Snarling, Sam fought the urge to punch her. "What the hell, Alexei?"
Amusement shimmered in her eyes. "I was getting a bit worried about you. Thought maybe you have fell into a hole or something. It sure does take you a long time to get a coke."
Huffing, Sam crossed his arms, glaring at anything as he turned to face the parking lot. "I'm fine, needed to get some fresh air. Didn't think that was so criminal."
"Look, I know you've been cooped up for two days, but you're just now getting better. Take it easy."
"I. Am." Kicking at a rock, Sam stuffed his hands into his pockets. That was it. When Dean came back, he was going to kill him. What type of brother would put his own brother under house arrest? Hazel eyes scanned the parking lot, locking onto an old gray Oldsmobile. That car shouldn't be too hard to hot-wire.
"No offense, but you look like some stressed out student about to present his thesis." Alexei walked up to Sam's side, following his gaze onto the car. "Wanna talk? I promise I won't tell Dean."
"There's nothing I want to talk about," hissed Sam.
"Really? Cause," shooting her gaze up to their room, Alexei lowered her voice. "I think I know what your brother is hunting."
Sam's head shot to face her, eyes narrowed with the demand to know. Alexei stretched out her arm, sliding the dollar bill free from Sam's hand. Smoothing out the bill, she stepped back, reading the vast but mundane selection. "It's something big and he doesn't want you getting hurt."
The tall shadow fell over her as she decided that lemon cream cookies sounded good about now. "What is it?"
Feeding the crinkled bill into the machine, Alexei kept her voice level. "Before your brother called, Rick and I found some clues on what was released from the seals."
Sam felt his face pale, "The horsemen."
"Yep. And from what I've been reading in the newspapers, there's one around here somewhere."
Fear shook through Sam. Crap, this wasn't good news at all. Like always, Dean was suicidal and went to hunt the thing alone. Usually, Dean was the sensible one, the one who liked to plan things ahead. Be prepared and well armed before jumping into a fight blind. So the fact that Dean would go off didn't fit his pattern. Then again, this Dean was different. Hell had changed Dean so much that sometimes Sam found himself questioning if behind the body, the soul in there was truly Dean or some other poor lad.
"Get your things, we're leaving. I'm not letting Dean to kill this creature without me." Sternness laced Sam's posture, but Alexei didn't move an inch.
Instead she bent down to collect her cookies. "And exactly how are you planning to kill a Horseman? By talking it to death? Cause, no offense, you sure do talk a lot."
Sam's face darkened as he focused on the concrete curve. "Yes."
Alexei shook her head, disbelief shining on her face. Playing along, her voice was peaked with curosity. "What are you going to say?"
She popped open the bag, sliding her hand inside to snag a round, pasty snack. Before her, Sam seemed to draw strength from somewhere. His once pale complexion turned slightly golden in the mid-afternoon sun. Tilting his head, he locked his darkening eyes down at her.
"That they don't need to work for someone like Lilith. She's merely using them for her own agenda in breaking the seals. If they join me, I'll give them immunity as long as they help me find Lilith and teach me how to kill her."
Alexei's lips tightened, not pleased at the blunt speech. "And if they don't."
Sam's lips twitched briefly into a grin, "I'll kill them…just like Alastair."
"With what again?"
Shaking his head, Sam sighed. He couldn't tell this hunter about his powers. He didn't need another fiasco like Gordon happening any time soon. "I can't tell you, let's just say these past few days I worked out the perfect solution."
Nodding, Alexei smacked her lips sarcasm lacing her tone. "Well, that was an awarding winning speech." Drawing her hand out of the bag, she brushed past Sam and tossed the entire bag into the trashcan.
Anger brightened his face. But Sam remembered his manners and glowering at her retreating back he changed the topic. "What's wrong with the cookies?"
Waving her hand, she marched forward. "They were moldy."
Walking up to the can, Sam peered down and flinched as he spotted the white fuzzy covered cookies. It seemed that someone hadn't been cleaning out the vending machine.
"You coming in or what? I'll help you out with that speech."
Sam sighed, his anger residing in the back of his mind. The speech did sound corny, but he was never the one for peep talks. That was Dean's skill. His brother could smooth talk his way out of anything. He even could get the most tight-lipped person blabbering out their most precious secrets. Shoulders' slumping, the Winchester made his way slowly back to the motel room where Rick was peering out of the doorway, listening to Alexei's quiet whispers. It was probably just an update on what was taking him so long.
"Fine."
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~Defiance shone through the massive bruise swelling over the small right eye. Not caring in the least, Dean smashed his fist across Ruby's face relishing the crack of bone as blood exploded against the pale skin. Pulling back, Dean continued to pound his fists into the woman's body enjoying the brute physical contact. Sometimes a knuckle sandwich was better than the slice and dice routine.
Panting, the hunter pulled back taking a few steps. He had been punching the demon for a good twenty minutes softening up the newly healed flesh. Licking his lips, he reached out and took a swig from the whiskey bottle he had brought down. Leaning against his table, his black eyes swept over his victim pondering where to do the next damage.
Ruby sucked in ragged breath through her swollen nose. Her face was blue and purple matching the rings around her neck when Dean had tied a chain around her neck and began to choke her till she lost consciousness.
Her fingers twitched, the bones beginning to slowly mend but every time Dean would reach out and break them all over again. Her toes scrapped against the floor, the flesh beneath shredded into fine ribbons before being cauterized by the flame torch. Like Dean said once through her whimpers, he couldn't have her bleeding to death.
Tilting his head back, Dean lost himself in the burn of the alcohol. Today was his last day, for tomorrow he would have to leave. Lowering the bottle, the protégé of Alastair pushed himself off the table leaving behind the bottle. His free hand grabbed his new favorite knife. He couldn't help but grin that it was Ruby's.
Walking up to her silently, he waited till those dull but blazing eyes looked up at him. Her lips remained stitched despite his earlier promise of cutting them off.
"I think the foreplay is pretty much done with."
A soft moan was his only reply.
Reaching out, he ran Ruby's knife the center of her chest. She still remained fully clothed, except for the large slash where he had sliced into her intestines. The knife nicked at her shirt where her navel was.
"You want to know something?"
A weak shake of the chopped up raven hair brushed against the table.
Dean ignored her, cutting a new slice into the shirt. "I didn't start to enjoy torturing souls till about my third year. It was a slow process really and a painful one at that. The first time, I was blubbering mess. After a few slices, I would be crying till Alastair said I was done. Then the moment he took away my razor, I would throw myself up onto the empty rack begging him to put me back on. I didn't want to torture anymore."
Dean carefully widened the cut making sure he didn't draw any blood from the newly exposed flesh. "But that white-eyed son of a bitch never listened to me. He'd drag me to the next soul forcing me to watch as he worked away. Sitting there; I realized what was hurting all of us damned souls: our emotions. So one day, I decided to stop feeling and it worked. Alastair was upset that I was becoming a robot. All actions but no reactions. It was worse than the crying and self-hatred from before.
And that's when he started…" Dean's eyes drifted away, pure terror melting the black into green. Ruby stared with horror as her torturer seemed to shrink before her.
Alastair had tortured her a few times and when she finally got off the rack, he paid her one or two visits to see her progress. And in those merger meetings, she witnessed first hand how brutal Alastair was. He had been the Chief Inquisitor for a reason and after those meetings, Ruby never wanted to have any associations with him at all. So, seeing how Dean had become the center of Alastair's life on and off the rack, a swell of pity went out to the hunter. It was amazing Dean had been functioning after his resurrection or that he lasted for 30 years on the rack.
Her own horrors from the past days flooded her mind. She underestimated Dean. To be in some sick bastard's life twenty-four seven, there was only way to survive and that was to appease Alastair in any manner. In turn, become the same twisted creature if anything for survival. She realized Dean did that on the rack by being a challenge, by not giving. He had hope that he might be saved and that was what made him special. Yet, once off the rack, with his hope being blasted into oblivion…
Dean's voice cracked, lowering so deep that Ruby strained to hear the rest of the story. She had a feeling that not even Sam knew about everything that happened. And for some odd reason, Dean decided to share this secret with her.
"At the end of every day, Alastair would bring me to his private rack. Tying me back up, he would carve me up teaching me where I went wrong on my own body. I didn't scream while I was on there, only infuriating him even more. If I thought the first time on the rack was bad, this was worse. Don't know how long that lasted, I only know I wanted off the rack permanently this time so I started to heed his words. Didn't help that Alastair was the only one I was allowed to have any conversations with. Nicor visited me still but merely to gloat, silencing me every time.
Then after one long night after months of being forced to learn my errors, as the first soul of the day was placed before me, I decided to put Alastair's lessons to practice and expand on them. When I was done, I can still remember that proud look. It was a look that my own father once gave me before Sam almost died. For the first time, what could be happiness burned me instead of all the pain and hatred. From then on, I did everything right excelling in torture, soaking up every tidbit just to appease Alastair and not be put back on his rack.
And as I let myself feel happiness, other emotions came forth. Pain and despair at the creature I was turning into. Rage at Alastair, Nicor, Lilith, God, even my own father, mother, and even Sam on occasions fueled my creativity. I began to realize that only in Hell was I finally letting go all my masks, letting my walls crumple and live my own life. I began to see my victims differently then. No longer did I force myself to see them as wicked or mindless creatures. I saw them as my past self, the broken down, weak, loud mouthed Dean that had failed his family and wasn't worth saving. He was just Daddy's broken, scuffed weapon. And that was when I began to enjoy torturing the souls; relishing the blinding pain as they screamed through non-existent throats for with each wound they were only tasting just a slice of my own suffering."
Blinking, Dean raised his head, blackness returning, and leaned into Ruby's vision. He stared deep into her as if seeing the smoky demon of her true form. "And now it's your turn. You talk big Ruby, you always did. But you never went what I went through. You're just some runt demon swindling her way through the ranks, anything to escape the pain. But me, I didn't run. I embraced it."
He watched as Ruby's scream shot through the stitched mouth, head tilted back, tears running once more. Dean pushed the knife till the hilt was flush with her stomach. Drinking in her screams and sobs, Dean twisted the blade inside, slicing upwards ever so slowly. Voice low and husky, he couldn't break his gaze off of the withering form before him. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this…how I constantly asked Alastair to find you and drag you to my rack…to watch you beg for mercy…"
Blood spilling out onto his hands, staining his shirt, Dean let himself drown in the rush that he had held back since this whole thing started. Red filled his vision, but he wasn't drowning this time. Instead he stood in the ocean and commanded the movements of the blade with deadly accuracy as he began to carve Ruby.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Castiel ran his hand down his forearms, watching as the deep cut mended together till nothing remained behind. Looking up, blue eyes swept over the cluttered storage facility. Special black candles were hidden in the four corners of the room. Along the windowsills and doorframes was a thin line of salt. He knew such a barrier would not work against Dean, but once the ritual was over, he needed to contain the demon. And in the center of the room was a red sigil he had painted with his own angel tinted blood.
The method stated it had to be the angel who raised the soul from Hell to spill his own blood. It had to be his mark on the soul's flesh to pierce through and rip the evilness that had weaved itself in. Sighing, Castiel raised his hand and muttered an ancient connotation vanishing the trap from human sight.
Squaring his shoulders, Castiel ran the incantation of the ritual through his head. He would need to be swift and sure, no pauses what so ever. Feeling a bit satisfied, despite the dread tugging at him, Castiel felt himself shudder as he thought of the next step. He would have to rely on Dean's trust, a trust that was only beginning to solidify.
The angel forced the thought of breaking that trust away and the consequences following it, when he felt the air shift. Swallowing, he turned slightly, eyes settling on the blue-clad business suit. "Sir."
Zachariah gave a curt nod, eyes sliding to where the invisible symbol lay. "May I ask what you are doing? You were given orders to aid your brothers and sisters in a battle over Junction, Colorado but I find you here instead."
"Something important came up," whispered Castiel, eyes darting to the floor as his superior walked with a confident glide over to him.
"This is a ritual for expelling evil from a mortal's soul. It is an ancient form of purifying." Zachariah locked his eyes. "Something beyond your rank, I might add."
Castiel's face tightened at the jab. "It's to help in preventing Lucifer from rising."
"Really?" Zachariah's voice rolled in accusation, "I thought it was about Dean."
Blue eyes shot up, fear of being caught flashing over the angel's face. Castiel stilled his body, keeping his voice calm. "How-"
Zachariah smirked, "I saw the little demon in him when I cleansed the remains of Alastair out."
Blue eyes narrowed into slits, "You knew, then why-"
Folding his hands behind his back, the older angel replied. "Everything has a reason Castiel and Dean becoming a demon is just another step in him fulfilling his role." With a small nod, two angels appeared, flanking Castiel. "Sadly, Castiel, I cannot have you interfering anymore. You're becoming too attached to these monkeys."
Indignation swelled in the angel and for the first time he allowed himself to express his outrage. Stepping forward, he glared daggers at his superior. "If you allow Dean to remain a demon, his soul will forever be damned. He won't be able to stop the Apocalypse."
"But he will be able to stop Lucifer."
Reality stopped the beating of his vessel's heart. His superior didn't want to stop the breaking seals. He wanted Lucifer out and was playing him and the Winchester brothers. The shock must have shown for Zachariah chuckled, eyes glinting otherworldly in the light. "You were always too smart for your own good."
And with that, Castiel felt hands grab onto his forearms. An electric pulse hummed deep in his bones. The foreign feeling pierced him, gnawing at his hold on the body. They were dragging him back to Heaven. Grinding his teeth in an explosion of swearing white heat, Castiel did something else for the very first time.
He fought back.
Chapter 11
Masterpost