Reminisce (13/16)
Title: Reminisce (13/16)
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 13
The scuffing of thick heels against gravel trickled into the hanger. The cold night air permeated the open hanger, yet inside he was an inferno. The raspy snarling of Rick rumbled loudly with no context. The Horseman was talking about something with no pauses or faltering over words. Famine remained quiet for once.
Rolling his shoulders, Dean closed his tired eyes. Instinct screamed at him to go outside and find out what they were planning now. But his gut cringed tightly as the after effects of killing Ruby held sway over him. The world seemed different now. He breathed in sulfur, the Pit's flames warmed him and everywhere was blood. Upon looking at the two creatures outside, he saw their true horrific faces.
Famine's hollowed out face with never ending hunger, empty eyes framed by deep black purple circles as faux frailty flickered off of Alexei's body. War was a mess. Hair drenched with red liquid; face streaked and splattered all the while holding a wolfish grin that shouldn't belong on Rick's grandfather face. Dean couldn't even begin to imagine what the others looked like.
Swallowing, he rubbed gentle at his temples, the pounding headache slowly easing away. Dean was too tired to move. The blinding wave of murdering rage left an empty husk behind for the time being. If a whole army of demons came pouring into the hanger, Dean realized he wouldn't even put up a fight. Because really, what the point of living anymore? What was the goal anymore to continue when the reason he walked this path to damnation was running right along side him?
A moan as familiar as his own pulled his normal green eyes upward. Sam's distorted face when he had peered over at his struggling brother pulsed before him for a split second. Thankfully, the broad, chiseled face focused into view. Perched on edge of a desk, Dean watched with a dead gaze as Sam painfully woke up. Tied to a chair, the younger Winchester was in an open area where it would be easy for Dean to keep an eye on him. The door leading to the basement remained open behind Sam, a quiet warning and reminder of what Dean was capable of now.
"D-Dean," coughed out Sam, his blurry eyes shadowed by long bangs.
Gentleness whispered into the still air. "Sam."
Relief spilled onto Sam's face washing away his numb mind. For a brief second everything was back to the good old days where trust was permanent and there was no need to hide secrets. Back when... Reality burned away the bright expression on Sam's face leaving behind a scorched hurt-filled glare.
"Ruby?"
Dean shifted on the desk, flicking tiny specks of dirt off his jeans. Flashes of a six-foot grave and laying the plant stakes on one of the shelves near the door fast forwarded before him. "Out back with the rest of the trash," he replied in a factual tone.
Lips tight, Sam's body shook with barely repressed grief and anger. He should have known it would come to this. Dean and Ruby were always butting heads, but he had hoped that maybe it would have stopped. Ruby had saved him, been there at his darkest hours. She made him feel powerful when every day he could only remember how he had failed his brother. Eyes narrowing to hold back the flood of tears as Ruby's final screams blared loudly in his mind, Sam found himself snarling. "Dean, you gotta stop this. Now."
Dean's face remained impassive. "How'd you find me?"
Sam pursed his lips. He couldn't say anything about Bobby. Shifting in the chair, feeling the rope scratch against his chest and arms, a dark thought sprouted in his mind. Eyes falling down, he took in the tight bindings as he moved his pinned arms behind the chair. Even his legs were tied securely to the chair. He heard an abrupt thump lightly against the beaten wooden surface of the desk. Gazing upwards, calculated eyes took in the tip of a knife as it twisted into the grain. Traveling upwards, Sam found himself locked underneath Dean's penetrating gaze as his brother absentmindedly played with the weapon. It was so Dean, minus the coldness emitting from across the small gap.
He had to be careful, for all he knew this Dean would hurt him. Sam already lost more than he could count to the demons. Like hell was he going to lose Bobby just because he couldn't handle a bit of pain. "Rick. We followed a trail of bodies." There, he should be safe for now with the partial truth.
A dead smile ghosted across Dean's face. "I was wonderin about that."
Dread trickled through Sam's arms, as he twisted his wrists against the tight rope binds. "How long have you-" he paused, not sure if this was safe ground, "been like this?"
Breaking contact, Dean stared at the bone handle, fingers twitching as they seemed to count off days. "For awhile, but if it means anything, I didn't start torturing till after Iron River."
Shock must have radiated off of Sam remembering the teenage boy he left with Dean back in the bathroom. Dean snorted quietly. Running a hand down his face, the older Winchester's hollowed eyes bore once more into Sam. "How long you been drinking demon blood?"
Sam turned his head to the side to look out into the vast hanger, rolling his shoulders in discomfort to mask his attempt at loosening the bonds. He hated this glacier calmness coming from Dean. It was unnerving not to see his brother yelling at him. Clearing his throat, Sam felt his mind being to drift towards the demon blood, trying to find ways of how to replenish his supply now that Ruby was gone.
Then a small glint caught his eye. Turning, Sam watched as the golden amulet swayed from Dean's chest. Disgust hardened within him. No. He would worry about the demon blood later; right now Dean was his number one issue. "Whatever this demon-"
A tired look befell Dean's face as he tucked the knife away. "I thought you saw."
The emphasis on the word halted all thoughts in Sam's mind. "You said…"
"I know what I said, that I would never become this..." Dean swallowed, sniffing as he fought to remain disinterested. "monster again. But things change."
"Oh really?" Hidden beneath the resentment, Sam trembled in anguish waiting for those familiar eyes now aged beyond their years to fade back into murderous black.
Gazing down at the open pit with disturbed longing, Dean ran a finger over the smooth silver ring. "I had to protect you Sam. It's my job and I couldn't do it being all broken and grieving." Eyes darted up to meet his brother's face. "You-"
Sam let his face tighten. Resentment laced his words. "What? Wouldn't understand? Come on Dean, what do you think I'm doing! Why I keep using my powers?"
"That's not the same," hissed out Dean, his anger flashing to the surface. Pushing himself off the desk, the older hunter stalked his way to the tied up figure. "I'm beyond saving, Sam, the moment I got off the rack. But you, you never were, even with the demon blood."
Shaking his head, Sam tried to reason with his lost brother. "It's not about me anymore Dean, with Lilith-"
In an explosion, Sam watched as something flipped inside Dean at the mention of the white-eyed demon's name. Throwing himself an inch from Sam's face, black smoldering eyes shimmered briefly white. "Lilith isn't your problem, Sam. She's out of your league."
Meeting the heated glare with his own, Sam matched Dean's growl with an even tone. "Not if I-"
"What? Drink more demon blood like it was Gatorade?" A hand clawed upwards curling itself on Sam's dark blue jacket. A murderous glint bore down on him. "Then let me guess, you gonna burn her out of existence like you did Alastiar?"
Hazel eyes blew wide open. "How-"
A twisted smirk curled on Dean's face. "A little bird told me." Peering endlessly into Sam's eyes, recognition pierced through the blood-rage curtain. Uncurling his fingers, Dean pushed himself away as if Sam burned him. Green swelled with guilt at the mere thought that he was an inch away from wanting to make his little brother bleed. Taking a deep breath, Dean turned his back and stared with tormented eyes out onto the hanger. "You can't take on Lilith, Sam."
"Yes I can! You just have to faith in me."
"Trust me, she's not like your average demon." Memories of a small little blond haired girl danced before him.
Sam watched as broad shoulders slumped downwards in a gesture eerily similar to when Dean would when he gave into something. Realizing his chance, Sam let sympathy fill the air. Ruby always said he had a knack for winning people over and now this was the big one here. He had to convince Dean to let him go and more importantly get rid of the demon in him. But how was he going to do that when Dean seemed immune and didn't want to be saved? Sam's throat tightened at the thought at how broken Dean truly was.
Fighting to keep his voice calm, Sam whispered softly. "I know Dean. Lilith is different but she's not invincible. Ever since Alastair, I know that I can take her down. Ruby was helping me."
"No she wasn't," rasped out Dean, the tension building on his back. "Cause guess what Sam," turning to face him, demonic eyes were back, locking themselves on Sam. It made the younger Winchester tremble in concern at how fast and easy the transition was. How far gone was Dean? "Ruby was working for Lilith."
Disbelief flashed on Sam's face. "You're lying."
Amusement trickled lightly out of Dean's mouth. "Oh, no, you see Ruby spilled her guts literally, telling me how Lilith had plans for you to break the final seal."
"Ruby wouldn't do that, she hates Lilith!"
Dean launched himself at Sam, the rage shimmering once more off of him like a heat wave. "You'd believe a demon."
"Look whose talking!"
Boiling rage settled into icy detachment. "Got me there, Sammy. But at least I'm not addicted to demon blood. She was poison and one day you'll thank me for ripping her apart."
"No I won't because you're not my brother anymore. Dean…wouldn't become this." He didn't know where those words came from. They just spilled out of him without hesitation. Pain flared within him. It was as if he had taken a butter knife and carved out his heart.
"And Sammy wouldn't trust a demon over his own kin."
Sam wanted to retort when quiet coughing pierced the tense silence. Dean peered over his shoulder, snapping out his irritation at being interrupted. "What?"
Standing quietly, Alexei flashed a thin smile. "Rick wants to talk to you."
"It can wait."
"No it can't."
Sam watched as Dean's left hand inched its way to the belt where the knife was stored. "I'm still itchin here for some screams, Famine."
"Well, that little knife won't do you any justice." Alexei rolled her eyes. "Listen, War just wants to show you a new toy. Maybe then we can finally call it even."
Sam felt his throat dry up not liking this interaction between his brother and the Horsemen. Dean straightened up, his face lightening in interest. Sam had seen the look on more than one occasion whenever Dad showed Dean a new gun. It seemed being a demon only enhanced Dean's curiosity. Gazing down, the harsh light sent shards across the black surface. "Don't do anything stupid."
Walking in full stride, Dean knocked his shoulder with Alexei's before making his way to where War was leaning in the doorway. Shaking her head, Alexei walked up to Sam the smile plastered on her face. "Finally. I've been meaning to talk to you."
Huffing out his own frustration, Sam sniffed his nose smugness warming him further. "You and Rick have been possessed this whole time."
"Actually," Alexei shrugged her shoulders, "We don't technically possess anyone considering the original souls of Alexei and Rick were obliterated during the whole process."
"You sick-"
"Na ah," crouching down, Famine eyed Sam with a hungry stare. "You listen while I talk. See, what Ruby didn't know was that you never needed to convince us with a speech."
"No?" Bracing himself, Sam could have sworn he smell the stench of decay around her.
"Nope, you were there with your brother to prevent Alastair from killing Death. Thus that makes me indebted to you as well. Sadly, your brother is being a pain and not telling us his one desire." Annoyance frowned down on Alexei's face as she peered over her shoulder quickly at the brisk walk of the other hunter.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Dean ran a hand through his cropped hair. Grimacing at the clumps, he couldn't but think about how refreshing a shower would be. Walking up to War, he let out a loud snap filled tone. In the Pit, he had grown a reputation of being not only very professional but if interrupted, he tended to be a bit pissed. "What the hell do you want?"
"Personally, I came to pick up a certain magically sword to see if I could drown some souls in the blood of their loved ones, but that's just me."
A joking voice jerked Dean's attention to the outside, his body freezing in mid-halt. The melted face of a demon pulsated beneath the façade of spiky blond hair and clear blue eyes. Lighting up a cigarette, Nicor stood in his old meat-suit hating the freezing night air. The deep gashes of where Lilith's hellhound had slashed into him still stung but he had not given in using every method to slay one of the blasted creatures. Realizing that upsetting Lilith might not have been a good thing, Nicor sought War out. To his somewhat surprise, the very Horseman had contacted him. He arrived mere seconds later.
And while he merely wanted the sword to defend himself, Nicor couldn't help but grin widely as Dean gazed upon him with familiar black eyes. To his surprise, the new Grand Inquisitor couldn't believe to see tiny hints of white. It seemed Alastair was right. Dean had potential and whatever was happening topside was fueling that wrath and self-loathing onto a whole new level.
Jealousy swelled in him. His old mentor had to put Dean on the fast tracked didn't he. Always the favorite getting everything, spoiled rotten everyday with Alastair asking Dean if he wanted to get off. Hell, when Nicor was on the rack, Alastair never once gave him the option. It wasn't until centuries later when the old man realized that Nicor's advice on making the torture on himself more painful while on the rack was he finally released.
"Nicor."
"Dean-o."
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~Back inside, realization dawned on Sam. "Dean's the left field Rick warned me about."
"Yep. We, well me, like your brother, especially with what he's doing ever since he was rejoined with his missing self. War's a bit partial to you, what with your blood addiction and all. Yet, we're growing a bit tired of waiting and now we're giving you a chance."
"Oh really. I feel so loved."
"I can give you anything you want Sam in order to fulfill this debt. I can give you a limitless supply of demon blood, cure Dean of his demonic nature…kill Lilith for you."
Suspicion flashed in Sam's eyes. "Why would you kill Lilith, ain't she your boss?"
"No, Lucifer is…was." Alexei's eyes twinkled with anticipation. "Think about it Sam, I know you want to kill Lilith but Dean's losing himself fast. Give or take a few days and I don't think even he could stop himself from torturing you."
Murderous black eyes on a familiar face stole Sam's breath away. Stuttering to regain his composure, he blinked slowly at Famine. "So you want me to wish to cure Dean?"
"No silly. I'm just laying out the situation to you."
And like that a plan unfolded in Sam's mind. He could focus on killing Lilith while Alexei cured Dean. She was Famine; technically she could make it so Dean would never 'starve' for another torture session. But the thing was Dean wasn't like other demons. If anything he was like Sam now. And curing him might lead to his death or insanity or some hollow mask of his former self. No. There were too many variables on what could go wrong. But there was one certain thing. If Lilith was out of the picture, then Sam would focus solely on Dean.
No more self-sacrificing themselves to become monsters.
But the ultimate question was if he should listen to Famine's proposition. The fact that Dean kept saying no meant there was a hidden agenda somewhere. It seemed despite this fall; Dean had kept his skill at reading people.
Now it was up to Sam to figure out the bigger picture. However, the edges of the picture were getting fuzzy as the high from Ruby's blood was slowly disappearing. A new image of Lilith's head raw and bloody on a plate flickered in the background, appearing all that appetizing.
In the background, a pair of voices, one clearly Dean, rose higher and higher in a heated argument.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Curling his hands into fists, Dean slid into a defensive stance. "You get the hell out of here."
Nicor flicked the dead bud onto Dean's chest, grinning wide as a small patch of ash blossomed onto the shirt. "What? You think just because you got to torture Alastair, you can give me orders?" The playful nature dissipated as he took solid step after step forward.
On instinct, Dean backed away slightly. Terror at seeing this taunting demon ran wildly within. Smelling the intoxicating fear, Nicor flashed his pearl white teeth. "You crying?" A chuckle flew by his lips, "Baby gonna cry?"
The old goad froze Dean in mid-step. Memories of what the first student did to him, all the taunts and experiments and the laughter bleed his vision red. Straightening his shoulders, Dean snapped back. "You're the whiny brat. Boohoo on not torturing Alastair. Grow a pair, Nicor."
It was a death wish, but Dean didn't care. He did what he always did when confronted by pure evil: smirked and wise-cracked his way home.
Nicor lunged forward, relishing the full blown contact as he body slammed into Dean sending them flying into the hanger. Gripping onto the shirt, his fists flew with accuracy onto Dean's smooth face. By the third impact, the flesh cracked slightly seeping blood down onto his knuckles. The sweet smell made him laugh. "I have missed this," Leaning down, he hissed into Dean's straining head. "Little brother."
They might not be related by blood, but the pain and suffering and all those one-on-one interactions made up for it. Nicor never acknowledged it but watching Dean stand up, those eyes so close to his own made him see for the first time the true beauty of the darkness within the hunter.
Snarling, Dean raised his left hand onto Nicor's slim shoulder, eyes staring heatedly into Nicor's white ones. "Don't." Slam with a knee to the ribs. "Ever." Right hand twisted the body sideways. "Call." Head butt broke their close proximity. "Me." A powerful shove gave the two opponents a moment of air to breath. "That."
Each hunched and panting, Alastair's two pupils stared darkly at each other the blood lust to inflict pain on one another spilling out into the room.
"I'm gonna enjoy drowning you in liquid nitrogen."
"I'm gonna enjoy ripping your lungs out."
Nothing more to say, they flew at each other fists flying in a deadly all out wrestling match. War moved into the middle of the hanger doorframe, entranced at the fight. He couldn't help but applaud himself. He didn't have to anything except get the two in the same room before stepping back and watching it all unfold. He flashed a dark joyful gaze at Alexei who was watching the fight as well.
She in turn nodded, happiness shining off her eyes. Behind her, strapped to the chair, Sam watched with alarm at the brute hostility of the two men. "Dean!"
Alexei chuckled as she watched Sam struggle against his bindings. "Easy there, tiger. Alastair's students are only getting reacquainted."
Furious words exploded out of Sam's mouth. "Reacquainted? That demon is going to kill Dean!"
"Yes he will." Stepping backwards, Famine draped her arm around Sam's broad shoulders. Face flinching in mock sympathy, Alexei flashed another cold grin. "Just think about it Sam, that could be you and Dean fighting right at this moment."
Inhaling a sharp breath, Sam glanced up at the woman before eyes falling back onto the vicious fight. He had to do something.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Nicor twisted Dean to the side, but the light-brown haired hunter hung on and used the momentum to push Nicor towards the devil's trap. Skidding on his heels, Nicor halted himself mere inches away. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he snarled relinquishing his right hand and drove the fist hard and fast into Dean's stomach. Dean doubled-over before flying backwards as an uppercut slammed under his chin.
Falling hard on his back, Dean fought to blink back stars. Yet as the bright flashes of light faded away Nicor was above him. Straddling his chest, Nicor bent down wrapping long fingers around Dean's neck.
Licking his lips, Nicor's white eyes blazed in rapture as he squeezed down onto Dean's throat. Beneath him, Dean's wide black eyes burned in retaliation as his hands scraped, clawed and tried to push Nicor off of him.
"Now, now, Dean-o, don't fret." Leaning down till, his breath ghosted over Dean's face, the stench of sulfur burning Dean's oxygen deprived lungs. The demon's face was bruised and battered, his once kept clothes ripped and stained with blood. Below, Dean growled past a busted pair of lips, his own clothing in the same condition.
"I'm not gonna put you back on the rack, no sir-ee." Pulling away, he tightened his grip, chuckling as a gasp fell out Dean. "Nope, I'm gonna tie you to a metal post and we're going to have so much fun together, just you and me. Cause trust me, you smart pain in the rear brat, I'm going to make you own up for taking away Alastair's pain from me."
As he tightened his hold for the final time, Nicor didn't see the flash of lights till it was too late. Only when he heard the loud screeching of tires did his head jerk upwards. Before him, the demon watched with surprise as a multi-rusted car drove through the hanger slamming hard into War. The Horseman's body flew over the hood, slamming hard on the windowshield before flying off to the side.
Bright lights blinded him as the stench of burnt rubber screeched loudly in the hanger. He found himself entranced as the lights came closer and closer, barely making out the face of an old man with a baseball cap in the driver's seat. Nicor didn't even realize it when Dean took advantage. Knocking away his hands, Dean took in a deep lungful of air before grabbing Nicor's shirt and tossed them both towards the wall just as the car's zoomed by him. The sound of metal crashing lightly into a pile of boxes signaled the death of an engine pushed past her prime. The final breath of the car huffing out in a final dark cloud of fumes swept over him and Nicor as the screams of Alexei and Sam rang in the air.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Bobby Singer was a practical hunter. He prided himself on always preparing ahead, knowing every weakness and incantation to bring down the next big baddie. So when the pair zoomed down towards the hanger and Castiel told him to plow straight into the hanger and his friend Rick, the ball cap wearing hunter was tempted to smack the angel so hard that his halo would be spinning.
"Rick and Alexei, they are no longer your friends."
And for some odd reason, Bobby's gut instinct agreed with the winged-freak as he took in Rick's still form watching over some fight inside. Rick wouldn't condone such action. He was an honorable hunter. Rick hated to see 'youngesters' waste their energy on something as idiotic as fighting. All human-on-human fights could be won over a game of chess as far as he was concerned. Heart aching in grief, Bobby floored it once more as Castiel disappeared from the seat.
"Castiel. Right." Brain trobbing from whiplash, the hunter grabbed his gun taking a deep breath before plunging into battle. Flinging the door open, Bobby staggered out into the hanger. Bracing himself as the world swayed before him, the hunter shook his head clear. A few feet away, Dean and some guy were sprawled on the ground. Further ahead, he saw Sam bound to a chair as Alexei was staring wide-eyed at War's broken prone form.
Grunting, he pushed himself forward ignoring the moans of the two men closest to him. Unsheathing his knife, Bobby walked up to the two massive traps, eyes falling immediately on the intersection. Bending down, he scraped the metal blade against concrete watching as the black paint flakes piled up. It was all anti-climatic really, breaking two massive traps and all that was the result was broken lines and flakes. No lightening or sonic booms. Kinda like those shirt's that said 'I did this and all I got was this lousy shirt'.
The thudding of boots jerked Bobby's concentration upwards. Sprinting at him, Alexei's eyes blazed with black flames. Teeth grinding hard, a bony hand clawed into a fist as she pulled it back.
"You humans never know when to leave well enough alone," hissed a trembling voice cracking with power.
Bobby crouched, ready to slam the knife deep into Alexei's gut. Yet in a blink everything changed. A rush of wind, a faint hint of flapping wings and there was Castiel standing between Bobby and Famine. Grabbing her fist, the angel twisted, throwing the woman to the left sending her flying into the wall. Bobby bounced onto his feet, taking in the huge dent as Alexei rose from the small crater.
"Get Sam," ordered Castiel in his usual gruff voice.
"What about Dean?" snapped back Bobby.
Blue eyes squinted slightly, "He's my problem. Now go."
Huffing in irritation, Bobby lunged for Sam. Movement to his right and he spotted a blond hair man staggering onto his feet, white eyes glaring up at him. Automatically, the hunter reached behind his back as the demon took a step forward. With a twist of his thumb and forefinger, he unscrewed the silver flask. With a flick, holy water flew into the air, baptizing the demon full in the face. Nicor staggered backwards, howling in pain as he clenched his face, smoke steaming off of him. Bobby kept his face stoic, waiting for counterattack when Dean appeared, tackling the demon back onto the ground.
"Really, Dean!" snapped the white-eyed demon.
Dean's voice rang back with murderous intent despite the cocky comeback. "It ain't midnight yet, Cinderella."
A shiver ran down Bobby's spine. He never heard Dean talk like that before. Shaking his head, Bobby pushed onwards, skidding to a stop before Sam. "Better start explaining boy."
"Dean's a demon." The blunt tone radiating off of Sam halted Bobby in his slicing through the ropes.
"The tattoo…"
"He let it happen."
Bobby was about to shout back when the hanger rumbled sending dirt raining down on the pair. Dark eyes snapped upwards in time to watch Castiel skidding hard on the ground. Rolling to a stop, the angel gripped his right arm a flash of agony flooding his face. Peeking through the torn sleeve, the arm shone with a sick color, bony knuckles flexing underneath tight skin.
Alexei rolled her shoulders as she semi-skipped up to Castiel, almost vulture like in nature. Licking her lips, she hummed in pleasure. "I love tasting an angel's grace. And yours is so exquisite. So much doubting and longing, I'm amazed you haven't fallen yet."
Castiel pushed himself back onto his feet, locking dark blue eyes on the advancing woman. "Leave now."
Giggling, Famine paused amusement shining forth. "Hell no, not when the party is just getting started." Her cold gaze shifted over his shoulder. Castiel tilted his own head face tightening at the sight behind him.
Popping his shoulders into place, War rose off the ground. Bones cracking as they slid back into their proper places, red eyes peered out through the blood and scraps littering the face. With a quick snap of his neck, War grinned with a mouth full of red stained teeth. "It's been too long since I've fought an angel. I forgot how sneaky you little buggers can be."
His twisted left foot snapped into place as War lunged towards Castiel pulling out a long silver dagger from behind his back. Staring straight ahead of him, the angel watched as Famine sprinted towards him, flanking him from his back. Taking in a deep breath, the angel pivoted suddenly slamming a fist into War's temple, making the horseman stumble slightly. Not waiting, he shifted back just in time to knock away one of Famine's punches.
Her fingers skimmed over his own sending ice-cold electricity sizzling down his arms. Flinching away, he gasped trying to push away the pain aching in his very existence. Blindly, he kicked out making contact with Famine's backside. Quickly, he bended barely dodged the long thin knife slashing over his stomach. War chuckled and with a fast punch slammed the angel into the wall.
Struggling hard against his bindings, Sam glared down at Bobby continued to cut endlessly at the rope. "Hurry up!"
"I'm going as fast as I can boy," muttered back the older hunter. "You're damn brother used knots I've never seen before and laced it in water so it would tighten up as it dried."
The loud crashing yanked Sam's attention back to the fight before him. Castiel dodged another skull crushing fist. But as he staggered away from War, his hand cupped his left arm. The tan sleeve was blossoming red, the thick liquid dripping between his fingers. Castiel barely had time to raise his arms as War kicked him squarely into the chest. Flying into another cluster of crates, the angel crouched on the ground.
Coughing out a mouthful of blood, cracked ribs straining with each breath, Castiel fought to keep his vision focused. The sulfur tinted wound from the blade seared with agony each time he moved as poison trickled through him. Holding the bleeding arm closer to his chest, Castiel remained hunched but poised as War and Famine made their way to him.
Sparing a quick glance to his left, he quickly assessed the situation. Bobby was continuing to free Sam, whose face shone with urgency. Swallowing, blue eyes traveled downwards where the scuffling between Dean and Nicor continued onwards. Both were oblivious to the outside, intent to destroy one another fueling their punches and kicks.
Nicor slammed Dean's bruised face into a wall, staggering backwards. His breaths were haggard as he spat out a tooth. Dean fell onto his butt, eyes staring blankly forward, left arm pinned behind him. "You were always a pain in the butt," rasped out the white-eyed demon.
Coughing racked his body as his broken rib tickled across his lung. Shakily, he raised a stained hand outwards to Dean. "It's been fun, Dean-o."
Blinking slowly, life returned to Dean's eyes. A guttered laugh passing before him, the hunter smiled painfully. "Right back at cha." Without warning, Dean sprung forward, his left hand flying outwards driving home the rusting plant spike.
Nicor's mouth filled with blood, white eyes widening as they fell downwards. The spike ran clean and true through his lower right chest. A tiny shift and he could feel the rod peeking out behind his back. A gurgle conveyed his shock as Nicor watched Dean's face fall impassive once more. Sliding back, the hunter drew up his right hand and with a powerful strike, drove the fist into his face.
Castiel's lips thinned as he watched Nicor fall onto his back, Dean pouncing on the demon a second later. Without relieve, Dean rained punches down left and right with no regard or restraint.
"Dean! Stop! You're killing him!" Sam's voice echoed loudly yet it fell on deaf ears.
All Dean could hear was the thundering of his heart against his chest. His lungs burned, arm shaking as his body ached from wounds. Somewhere outside of this world, he smelled ozone. Now that he thought about it, Dean thought he heard the gruff voice of a certain angel, could have sworn he felt a searing white flash of light blaze before him so peaceful and wrathful at the same time. It was like before...
Then Nicor gurgled with what might have been a chuckle. Dean's face hardened as his lips twitched with the urge to grin as his fist made impatct once again. He didn't care anymore that this demon was Nicor or that Bobby was out there somewhere. That the world was on the verge of implosion. That Sam was drinking blood. That Sam didn't believe him, his own brother, about Ruby. That the brother he raised from a baby to a grown man...didn't pick a demon...That... Hands slid down, fingers interlocking behind the bloody sweaty neck. He began to press down.
Taking in a deep breath, Castiel rolled onto his feet fixing a stern gaze on the Horsemen. It was time to end this. War flipped his dagger in his hand, eagerness radiating off of him. Famine stood slightly off to the side, a vulture in waiting. Black eyes simmered in glee as she took in the battered form of the angel. To see him crouched there, trying to be all defianent. The smug expression faded away as Alexei narrowed her eyes taking in a red design on the floor peeking underneath the trenchcoat.
Sensing Dean's bloodlust, the clever, insightful angel knew what the Horsemen truly wanted from the boys. And to his suprise, it sickened him. Castiel locked eyes with Famine, certainty hardening his low voice. "You cannot have him."
Realization blew open her eyes. Sprinting forward, Alexei stretched out her arm, screaming. "No!"
It was too late; Castiel's hand slammed on the sigil a blast of pure white light cracking the very foundations of the hanger. Powerful gusts of wind ripped through the farthest side of the hanger barreling into the Horsemen. War roared. Famine screeched. Their bodies twisted and flung towards the ceiling where they disappeared in a crackle of lightening.
Heaving in a deep breath, Castiel staggered onto his feet. He barely won one battle but there were two others to win. Drawing upon his remaining strength, he flashed behind Dean. The hunter was bowed over Nicor, ancient words falling from his lips as he chocked the demon. "Nivo cal leti fra ko si…"
Nicor's white-eyes bulged open, his borrowed body seizing underneath the onslaught of the exorcism. However, this was no ordinary exorcism to send the demon back to the Pit. No, it was a rare ritual that would send the demon into the darkest, pitch black level where no one ever returned from.
"Gro nomi hu…" The heat rose higher and higher within Dean, searing red pain burning him alive. The tortured screams replaced the thundering of his heart as a loud crack vibrated deep within. Something was happening to him, more than when he had killed Ruby. A part of him was singing in joy, knowing that at the death of Nicor he would become Grand Inquistor. Then finally, he could rip apart every demon and creature that ever hurt him or his family. Yet, a small part screamed in fear. Dean didn't want Hell to rise in him. He hadn't agreed for things to go this far. This was wrong.
A small hand rested itself on his shoudler, pefectly on the brand. The white light from earlier sparked over the inflamed skin, the smell of ozone filling the air. Tilting his head upwards, Dean stared into the saddest pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. "Let go," hissed the demon.
"No." replied the angel. With a speed not present before, Dean launched onto the one creature he hated more than Nicor or Alastair. Hated the creature because he ripped his soul apart, even if by accident. Hated because the angel was proof that there was another side out there. Hated because Castiel forgave him.
A fist slamming onto his face, Castiel took a step backwards not letting go of his charge. Before him, Dean curled slightly cradling his broken hand to his chest. Graying eyes glared hotly up at him. "You winged-"
Dean yanked himself free, raising his other hand to punch the angel. But the angel was ready this time. Raising his left hand to block, Castiel raised two fingers and touched Dean's forehead gently. Whiteness flooded Dean's very existence, roaring like a tidal wave over the smoldering smoke. The black faded away revealing wide green eyes. Déjà vu swept over the pair as they stared deeply at each other.
History repeated once more. An angel sent and retrieved the chosen one from darkness. Only there was no fire and brimstone. And this time, salvation had not yet occurred. Time moved forward, Dean's eyes rolling in the back of his head as he slumped forward. Castiel reached out, his arm searing once more as his wound made contact with his charge. Slowly, he bent down lying Dean gently on the ground. The young man's face was smooth and seemed to radiate innocence. It was a stark contrast to the monster a few seconds ago.
The sound of shuffling pulled Castiel's attention back to the present. Eyes shifted as something stirred inside, bubbling and boiling as he took in each cut, scrape and bruise. Flickering upwards, he gazed up on Nicor's standing gloating form. In two seconds, he slammed the white-eyed demon into the wall hand tight around the bruised neck.
Nicor gasped, the toes of his shoes scrapping at the floor. "Dean won't be happy."
Straightening his shoulders, Castiel stared with blue flamed eyes. "I won't let Dean kill you."
A laugh fell from the busted lips. A wet snort from the broken nose carried on the dark mocking. "Cause we both know he'd fall completely and there would be no saving him this time around right."
"Enough," growled out Castiel. Taking in a deep breath, he slammed his palm onto the forehead. Foreign wrath and his remaining vestiges of strength rained pure light onto the demon. Nicor's mouth fell open in a silent scream the orange and black flashing out of existence.
Panting, Castiel stepped back as the corpse fell in a boneless heap. Swaying slightly, the angel felt totally drained from the battle. But he couldn't rest, not now.
A yelp sounded off to his right and soon two thunderous pairs of footsteps bolted towards him. Turning, he watched as Sam flew to Dean's side, eyes only for his brother. He didn't notice Bobby reaching him, till a hand touched his arm gently. Flinching, he stared at the older hunter.
"Your arm," whispered Bobby, hidden concern flashing on his face.
"I'm fine." Fixating back on Sam and Dean, he urged his vessel to remain standing. He couldn't let Sam see him weak. "The Impala is parked outside, go now."
Sam stared incredulously at Castiel as maneuvered Dean into his arms. "What about you?"
"Don't worry about me." Taking in a deep breath, he slid his eyes downwards onto Dean's prone form. Concern for Dean's state and its importance on the angel was not lost onto the two humans.
Staggering up onto his feet, Sam shuffled Dean's body into a better position. Bobby took a step back, his disagreement shining on his face despite what he said. "Alright then."
Sam shot Castiel one more look, eyes full of gratitude and worry. "Take care of yourself."
Then they were gone. Castiel waited till the rumbling of the Impala disappeared over the horizon. With one glance around at the utter destruction of the hanger, he collapsed onto his knees. Head bowed, wings stretched out to their fullest span, Castiel closed his vessel's eyes as he leaned downwards. Body spent beyond repair and his grace tainted, Castiel drew upon his faith as he began concentrating on healing himself.
He could only hope that he would be gone before Zacheriah showed up.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Sam sat quietly in the passenger seat as Bobby drove the Impala down the lonely stretch of highway. The moment he settled Dean's unconscious form in the backseat, handcuffing his brother's hands behind him, the will to do anything much less drive drained out of him. Collapsing in the familiar seat, he stared blankly into the dark fields.
In the peaceful drive, his mind strained to make sense of the past few hours. Everything was a blur, missing pieces and wide gaps. But there was one constant. Turning, his eyes fall on Dean. Amongst Rick and Alexei being the Horsemen, Ruby dying and then Castiel and Bobby's appearance, Dean's cold black eyes remain fixated in his mind. Out of everything, Sam always believed that he would be the one to go demonic. Not once did he think that it would be his older brother. Dean was too good a hunter, too street-smart…too good-natured. Hell, Dean had angels watching over him.
"Sam." Bobby's warm voice pulled his stricken face upwards. The man who was an uncle to him looked aged beyond his years. "Keep an eye out for an abandoned house."
"Bobby?"
"I've been driving all day long, boy. I'm tired and like hell am I drivin' back to my house."
Sam nodded in numb understanding. Gratitude made itself known in the small smile. Bobby always knew what was best for him and his brother. Rolling over, he rested his head lightly against the window focusing on finding a house. Confidence slowly filled him, knowing he could fullfill this simple request. And if he could succeed in something like this then maybe he could succeed in fixing his brother.
Chapter 14
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 13
The scuffing of thick heels against gravel trickled into the hanger. The cold night air permeated the open hanger, yet inside he was an inferno. The raspy snarling of Rick rumbled loudly with no context. The Horseman was talking about something with no pauses or faltering over words. Famine remained quiet for once.
Rolling his shoulders, Dean closed his tired eyes. Instinct screamed at him to go outside and find out what they were planning now. But his gut cringed tightly as the after effects of killing Ruby held sway over him. The world seemed different now. He breathed in sulfur, the Pit's flames warmed him and everywhere was blood. Upon looking at the two creatures outside, he saw their true horrific faces.
Famine's hollowed out face with never ending hunger, empty eyes framed by deep black purple circles as faux frailty flickered off of Alexei's body. War was a mess. Hair drenched with red liquid; face streaked and splattered all the while holding a wolfish grin that shouldn't belong on Rick's grandfather face. Dean couldn't even begin to imagine what the others looked like.
Swallowing, he rubbed gentle at his temples, the pounding headache slowly easing away. Dean was too tired to move. The blinding wave of murdering rage left an empty husk behind for the time being. If a whole army of demons came pouring into the hanger, Dean realized he wouldn't even put up a fight. Because really, what the point of living anymore? What was the goal anymore to continue when the reason he walked this path to damnation was running right along side him?
A moan as familiar as his own pulled his normal green eyes upward. Sam's distorted face when he had peered over at his struggling brother pulsed before him for a split second. Thankfully, the broad, chiseled face focused into view. Perched on edge of a desk, Dean watched with a dead gaze as Sam painfully woke up. Tied to a chair, the younger Winchester was in an open area where it would be easy for Dean to keep an eye on him. The door leading to the basement remained open behind Sam, a quiet warning and reminder of what Dean was capable of now.
"D-Dean," coughed out Sam, his blurry eyes shadowed by long bangs.
Gentleness whispered into the still air. "Sam."
Relief spilled onto Sam's face washing away his numb mind. For a brief second everything was back to the good old days where trust was permanent and there was no need to hide secrets. Back when... Reality burned away the bright expression on Sam's face leaving behind a scorched hurt-filled glare.
"Ruby?"
Dean shifted on the desk, flicking tiny specks of dirt off his jeans. Flashes of a six-foot grave and laying the plant stakes on one of the shelves near the door fast forwarded before him. "Out back with the rest of the trash," he replied in a factual tone.
Lips tight, Sam's body shook with barely repressed grief and anger. He should have known it would come to this. Dean and Ruby were always butting heads, but he had hoped that maybe it would have stopped. Ruby had saved him, been there at his darkest hours. She made him feel powerful when every day he could only remember how he had failed his brother. Eyes narrowing to hold back the flood of tears as Ruby's final screams blared loudly in his mind, Sam found himself snarling. "Dean, you gotta stop this. Now."
Dean's face remained impassive. "How'd you find me?"
Sam pursed his lips. He couldn't say anything about Bobby. Shifting in the chair, feeling the rope scratch against his chest and arms, a dark thought sprouted in his mind. Eyes falling down, he took in the tight bindings as he moved his pinned arms behind the chair. Even his legs were tied securely to the chair. He heard an abrupt thump lightly against the beaten wooden surface of the desk. Gazing upwards, calculated eyes took in the tip of a knife as it twisted into the grain. Traveling upwards, Sam found himself locked underneath Dean's penetrating gaze as his brother absentmindedly played with the weapon. It was so Dean, minus the coldness emitting from across the small gap.
He had to be careful, for all he knew this Dean would hurt him. Sam already lost more than he could count to the demons. Like hell was he going to lose Bobby just because he couldn't handle a bit of pain. "Rick. We followed a trail of bodies." There, he should be safe for now with the partial truth.
A dead smile ghosted across Dean's face. "I was wonderin about that."
Dread trickled through Sam's arms, as he twisted his wrists against the tight rope binds. "How long have you-" he paused, not sure if this was safe ground, "been like this?"
Breaking contact, Dean stared at the bone handle, fingers twitching as they seemed to count off days. "For awhile, but if it means anything, I didn't start torturing till after Iron River."
Shock must have radiated off of Sam remembering the teenage boy he left with Dean back in the bathroom. Dean snorted quietly. Running a hand down his face, the older Winchester's hollowed eyes bore once more into Sam. "How long you been drinking demon blood?"
Sam turned his head to the side to look out into the vast hanger, rolling his shoulders in discomfort to mask his attempt at loosening the bonds. He hated this glacier calmness coming from Dean. It was unnerving not to see his brother yelling at him. Clearing his throat, Sam felt his mind being to drift towards the demon blood, trying to find ways of how to replenish his supply now that Ruby was gone.
Then a small glint caught his eye. Turning, Sam watched as the golden amulet swayed from Dean's chest. Disgust hardened within him. No. He would worry about the demon blood later; right now Dean was his number one issue. "Whatever this demon-"
A tired look befell Dean's face as he tucked the knife away. "I thought you saw."
The emphasis on the word halted all thoughts in Sam's mind. "You said…"
"I know what I said, that I would never become this..." Dean swallowed, sniffing as he fought to remain disinterested. "monster again. But things change."
"Oh really?" Hidden beneath the resentment, Sam trembled in anguish waiting for those familiar eyes now aged beyond their years to fade back into murderous black.
Gazing down at the open pit with disturbed longing, Dean ran a finger over the smooth silver ring. "I had to protect you Sam. It's my job and I couldn't do it being all broken and grieving." Eyes darted up to meet his brother's face. "You-"
Sam let his face tighten. Resentment laced his words. "What? Wouldn't understand? Come on Dean, what do you think I'm doing! Why I keep using my powers?"
"That's not the same," hissed out Dean, his anger flashing to the surface. Pushing himself off the desk, the older hunter stalked his way to the tied up figure. "I'm beyond saving, Sam, the moment I got off the rack. But you, you never were, even with the demon blood."
Shaking his head, Sam tried to reason with his lost brother. "It's not about me anymore Dean, with Lilith-"
In an explosion, Sam watched as something flipped inside Dean at the mention of the white-eyed demon's name. Throwing himself an inch from Sam's face, black smoldering eyes shimmered briefly white. "Lilith isn't your problem, Sam. She's out of your league."
Meeting the heated glare with his own, Sam matched Dean's growl with an even tone. "Not if I-"
"What? Drink more demon blood like it was Gatorade?" A hand clawed upwards curling itself on Sam's dark blue jacket. A murderous glint bore down on him. "Then let me guess, you gonna burn her out of existence like you did Alastiar?"
Hazel eyes blew wide open. "How-"
A twisted smirk curled on Dean's face. "A little bird told me." Peering endlessly into Sam's eyes, recognition pierced through the blood-rage curtain. Uncurling his fingers, Dean pushed himself away as if Sam burned him. Green swelled with guilt at the mere thought that he was an inch away from wanting to make his little brother bleed. Taking a deep breath, Dean turned his back and stared with tormented eyes out onto the hanger. "You can't take on Lilith, Sam."
"Yes I can! You just have to faith in me."
"Trust me, she's not like your average demon." Memories of a small little blond haired girl danced before him.
Sam watched as broad shoulders slumped downwards in a gesture eerily similar to when Dean would when he gave into something. Realizing his chance, Sam let sympathy fill the air. Ruby always said he had a knack for winning people over and now this was the big one here. He had to convince Dean to let him go and more importantly get rid of the demon in him. But how was he going to do that when Dean seemed immune and didn't want to be saved? Sam's throat tightened at the thought at how broken Dean truly was.
Fighting to keep his voice calm, Sam whispered softly. "I know Dean. Lilith is different but she's not invincible. Ever since Alastair, I know that I can take her down. Ruby was helping me."
"No she wasn't," rasped out Dean, the tension building on his back. "Cause guess what Sam," turning to face him, demonic eyes were back, locking themselves on Sam. It made the younger Winchester tremble in concern at how fast and easy the transition was. How far gone was Dean? "Ruby was working for Lilith."
Disbelief flashed on Sam's face. "You're lying."
Amusement trickled lightly out of Dean's mouth. "Oh, no, you see Ruby spilled her guts literally, telling me how Lilith had plans for you to break the final seal."
"Ruby wouldn't do that, she hates Lilith!"
Dean launched himself at Sam, the rage shimmering once more off of him like a heat wave. "You'd believe a demon."
"Look whose talking!"
Boiling rage settled into icy detachment. "Got me there, Sammy. But at least I'm not addicted to demon blood. She was poison and one day you'll thank me for ripping her apart."
"No I won't because you're not my brother anymore. Dean…wouldn't become this." He didn't know where those words came from. They just spilled out of him without hesitation. Pain flared within him. It was as if he had taken a butter knife and carved out his heart.
"And Sammy wouldn't trust a demon over his own kin."
Sam wanted to retort when quiet coughing pierced the tense silence. Dean peered over his shoulder, snapping out his irritation at being interrupted. "What?"
Standing quietly, Alexei flashed a thin smile. "Rick wants to talk to you."
"It can wait."
"No it can't."
Sam watched as Dean's left hand inched its way to the belt where the knife was stored. "I'm still itchin here for some screams, Famine."
"Well, that little knife won't do you any justice." Alexei rolled her eyes. "Listen, War just wants to show you a new toy. Maybe then we can finally call it even."
Sam felt his throat dry up not liking this interaction between his brother and the Horsemen. Dean straightened up, his face lightening in interest. Sam had seen the look on more than one occasion whenever Dad showed Dean a new gun. It seemed being a demon only enhanced Dean's curiosity. Gazing down, the harsh light sent shards across the black surface. "Don't do anything stupid."
Walking in full stride, Dean knocked his shoulder with Alexei's before making his way to where War was leaning in the doorway. Shaking her head, Alexei walked up to Sam the smile plastered on her face. "Finally. I've been meaning to talk to you."
Huffing out his own frustration, Sam sniffed his nose smugness warming him further. "You and Rick have been possessed this whole time."
"Actually," Alexei shrugged her shoulders, "We don't technically possess anyone considering the original souls of Alexei and Rick were obliterated during the whole process."
"You sick-"
"Na ah," crouching down, Famine eyed Sam with a hungry stare. "You listen while I talk. See, what Ruby didn't know was that you never needed to convince us with a speech."
"No?" Bracing himself, Sam could have sworn he smell the stench of decay around her.
"Nope, you were there with your brother to prevent Alastair from killing Death. Thus that makes me indebted to you as well. Sadly, your brother is being a pain and not telling us his one desire." Annoyance frowned down on Alexei's face as she peered over her shoulder quickly at the brisk walk of the other hunter.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Dean ran a hand through his cropped hair. Grimacing at the clumps, he couldn't but think about how refreshing a shower would be. Walking up to War, he let out a loud snap filled tone. In the Pit, he had grown a reputation of being not only very professional but if interrupted, he tended to be a bit pissed. "What the hell do you want?"
"Personally, I came to pick up a certain magically sword to see if I could drown some souls in the blood of their loved ones, but that's just me."
A joking voice jerked Dean's attention to the outside, his body freezing in mid-halt. The melted face of a demon pulsated beneath the façade of spiky blond hair and clear blue eyes. Lighting up a cigarette, Nicor stood in his old meat-suit hating the freezing night air. The deep gashes of where Lilith's hellhound had slashed into him still stung but he had not given in using every method to slay one of the blasted creatures. Realizing that upsetting Lilith might not have been a good thing, Nicor sought War out. To his somewhat surprise, the very Horseman had contacted him. He arrived mere seconds later.
And while he merely wanted the sword to defend himself, Nicor couldn't help but grin widely as Dean gazed upon him with familiar black eyes. To his surprise, the new Grand Inquisitor couldn't believe to see tiny hints of white. It seemed Alastair was right. Dean had potential and whatever was happening topside was fueling that wrath and self-loathing onto a whole new level.
Jealousy swelled in him. His old mentor had to put Dean on the fast tracked didn't he. Always the favorite getting everything, spoiled rotten everyday with Alastair asking Dean if he wanted to get off. Hell, when Nicor was on the rack, Alastair never once gave him the option. It wasn't until centuries later when the old man realized that Nicor's advice on making the torture on himself more painful while on the rack was he finally released.
"Nicor."
"Dean-o."
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~Back inside, realization dawned on Sam. "Dean's the left field Rick warned me about."
"Yep. We, well me, like your brother, especially with what he's doing ever since he was rejoined with his missing self. War's a bit partial to you, what with your blood addiction and all. Yet, we're growing a bit tired of waiting and now we're giving you a chance."
"Oh really. I feel so loved."
"I can give you anything you want Sam in order to fulfill this debt. I can give you a limitless supply of demon blood, cure Dean of his demonic nature…kill Lilith for you."
Suspicion flashed in Sam's eyes. "Why would you kill Lilith, ain't she your boss?"
"No, Lucifer is…was." Alexei's eyes twinkled with anticipation. "Think about it Sam, I know you want to kill Lilith but Dean's losing himself fast. Give or take a few days and I don't think even he could stop himself from torturing you."
Murderous black eyes on a familiar face stole Sam's breath away. Stuttering to regain his composure, he blinked slowly at Famine. "So you want me to wish to cure Dean?"
"No silly. I'm just laying out the situation to you."
And like that a plan unfolded in Sam's mind. He could focus on killing Lilith while Alexei cured Dean. She was Famine; technically she could make it so Dean would never 'starve' for another torture session. But the thing was Dean wasn't like other demons. If anything he was like Sam now. And curing him might lead to his death or insanity or some hollow mask of his former self. No. There were too many variables on what could go wrong. But there was one certain thing. If Lilith was out of the picture, then Sam would focus solely on Dean.
No more self-sacrificing themselves to become monsters.
But the ultimate question was if he should listen to Famine's proposition. The fact that Dean kept saying no meant there was a hidden agenda somewhere. It seemed despite this fall; Dean had kept his skill at reading people.
Now it was up to Sam to figure out the bigger picture. However, the edges of the picture were getting fuzzy as the high from Ruby's blood was slowly disappearing. A new image of Lilith's head raw and bloody on a plate flickered in the background, appearing all that appetizing.
In the background, a pair of voices, one clearly Dean, rose higher and higher in a heated argument.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Curling his hands into fists, Dean slid into a defensive stance. "You get the hell out of here."
Nicor flicked the dead bud onto Dean's chest, grinning wide as a small patch of ash blossomed onto the shirt. "What? You think just because you got to torture Alastair, you can give me orders?" The playful nature dissipated as he took solid step after step forward.
On instinct, Dean backed away slightly. Terror at seeing this taunting demon ran wildly within. Smelling the intoxicating fear, Nicor flashed his pearl white teeth. "You crying?" A chuckle flew by his lips, "Baby gonna cry?"
The old goad froze Dean in mid-step. Memories of what the first student did to him, all the taunts and experiments and the laughter bleed his vision red. Straightening his shoulders, Dean snapped back. "You're the whiny brat. Boohoo on not torturing Alastair. Grow a pair, Nicor."
It was a death wish, but Dean didn't care. He did what he always did when confronted by pure evil: smirked and wise-cracked his way home.
Nicor lunged forward, relishing the full blown contact as he body slammed into Dean sending them flying into the hanger. Gripping onto the shirt, his fists flew with accuracy onto Dean's smooth face. By the third impact, the flesh cracked slightly seeping blood down onto his knuckles. The sweet smell made him laugh. "I have missed this," Leaning down, he hissed into Dean's straining head. "Little brother."
They might not be related by blood, but the pain and suffering and all those one-on-one interactions made up for it. Nicor never acknowledged it but watching Dean stand up, those eyes so close to his own made him see for the first time the true beauty of the darkness within the hunter.
Snarling, Dean raised his left hand onto Nicor's slim shoulder, eyes staring heatedly into Nicor's white ones. "Don't." Slam with a knee to the ribs. "Ever." Right hand twisted the body sideways. "Call." Head butt broke their close proximity. "Me." A powerful shove gave the two opponents a moment of air to breath. "That."
Each hunched and panting, Alastair's two pupils stared darkly at each other the blood lust to inflict pain on one another spilling out into the room.
"I'm gonna enjoy drowning you in liquid nitrogen."
"I'm gonna enjoy ripping your lungs out."
Nothing more to say, they flew at each other fists flying in a deadly all out wrestling match. War moved into the middle of the hanger doorframe, entranced at the fight. He couldn't help but applaud himself. He didn't have to anything except get the two in the same room before stepping back and watching it all unfold. He flashed a dark joyful gaze at Alexei who was watching the fight as well.
She in turn nodded, happiness shining off her eyes. Behind her, strapped to the chair, Sam watched with alarm at the brute hostility of the two men. "Dean!"
Alexei chuckled as she watched Sam struggle against his bindings. "Easy there, tiger. Alastair's students are only getting reacquainted."
Furious words exploded out of Sam's mouth. "Reacquainted? That demon is going to kill Dean!"
"Yes he will." Stepping backwards, Famine draped her arm around Sam's broad shoulders. Face flinching in mock sympathy, Alexei flashed another cold grin. "Just think about it Sam, that could be you and Dean fighting right at this moment."
Inhaling a sharp breath, Sam glanced up at the woman before eyes falling back onto the vicious fight. He had to do something.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Nicor twisted Dean to the side, but the light-brown haired hunter hung on and used the momentum to push Nicor towards the devil's trap. Skidding on his heels, Nicor halted himself mere inches away. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he snarled relinquishing his right hand and drove the fist hard and fast into Dean's stomach. Dean doubled-over before flying backwards as an uppercut slammed under his chin.
Falling hard on his back, Dean fought to blink back stars. Yet as the bright flashes of light faded away Nicor was above him. Straddling his chest, Nicor bent down wrapping long fingers around Dean's neck.
Licking his lips, Nicor's white eyes blazed in rapture as he squeezed down onto Dean's throat. Beneath him, Dean's wide black eyes burned in retaliation as his hands scraped, clawed and tried to push Nicor off of him.
"Now, now, Dean-o, don't fret." Leaning down till, his breath ghosted over Dean's face, the stench of sulfur burning Dean's oxygen deprived lungs. The demon's face was bruised and battered, his once kept clothes ripped and stained with blood. Below, Dean growled past a busted pair of lips, his own clothing in the same condition.
"I'm not gonna put you back on the rack, no sir-ee." Pulling away, he tightened his grip, chuckling as a gasp fell out Dean. "Nope, I'm gonna tie you to a metal post and we're going to have so much fun together, just you and me. Cause trust me, you smart pain in the rear brat, I'm going to make you own up for taking away Alastair's pain from me."
As he tightened his hold for the final time, Nicor didn't see the flash of lights till it was too late. Only when he heard the loud screeching of tires did his head jerk upwards. Before him, the demon watched with surprise as a multi-rusted car drove through the hanger slamming hard into War. The Horseman's body flew over the hood, slamming hard on the windowshield before flying off to the side.
Bright lights blinded him as the stench of burnt rubber screeched loudly in the hanger. He found himself entranced as the lights came closer and closer, barely making out the face of an old man with a baseball cap in the driver's seat. Nicor didn't even realize it when Dean took advantage. Knocking away his hands, Dean took in a deep lungful of air before grabbing Nicor's shirt and tossed them both towards the wall just as the car's zoomed by him. The sound of metal crashing lightly into a pile of boxes signaled the death of an engine pushed past her prime. The final breath of the car huffing out in a final dark cloud of fumes swept over him and Nicor as the screams of Alexei and Sam rang in the air.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Bobby Singer was a practical hunter. He prided himself on always preparing ahead, knowing every weakness and incantation to bring down the next big baddie. So when the pair zoomed down towards the hanger and Castiel told him to plow straight into the hanger and his friend Rick, the ball cap wearing hunter was tempted to smack the angel so hard that his halo would be spinning.
"Rick and Alexei, they are no longer your friends."
And for some odd reason, Bobby's gut instinct agreed with the winged-freak as he took in Rick's still form watching over some fight inside. Rick wouldn't condone such action. He was an honorable hunter. Rick hated to see 'youngesters' waste their energy on something as idiotic as fighting. All human-on-human fights could be won over a game of chess as far as he was concerned. Heart aching in grief, Bobby floored it once more as Castiel disappeared from the seat.
"Castiel. Right." Brain trobbing from whiplash, the hunter grabbed his gun taking a deep breath before plunging into battle. Flinging the door open, Bobby staggered out into the hanger. Bracing himself as the world swayed before him, the hunter shook his head clear. A few feet away, Dean and some guy were sprawled on the ground. Further ahead, he saw Sam bound to a chair as Alexei was staring wide-eyed at War's broken prone form.
Grunting, he pushed himself forward ignoring the moans of the two men closest to him. Unsheathing his knife, Bobby walked up to the two massive traps, eyes falling immediately on the intersection. Bending down, he scraped the metal blade against concrete watching as the black paint flakes piled up. It was all anti-climatic really, breaking two massive traps and all that was the result was broken lines and flakes. No lightening or sonic booms. Kinda like those shirt's that said 'I did this and all I got was this lousy shirt'.
The thudding of boots jerked Bobby's concentration upwards. Sprinting at him, Alexei's eyes blazed with black flames. Teeth grinding hard, a bony hand clawed into a fist as she pulled it back.
"You humans never know when to leave well enough alone," hissed a trembling voice cracking with power.
Bobby crouched, ready to slam the knife deep into Alexei's gut. Yet in a blink everything changed. A rush of wind, a faint hint of flapping wings and there was Castiel standing between Bobby and Famine. Grabbing her fist, the angel twisted, throwing the woman to the left sending her flying into the wall. Bobby bounced onto his feet, taking in the huge dent as Alexei rose from the small crater.
"Get Sam," ordered Castiel in his usual gruff voice.
"What about Dean?" snapped back Bobby.
Blue eyes squinted slightly, "He's my problem. Now go."
Huffing in irritation, Bobby lunged for Sam. Movement to his right and he spotted a blond hair man staggering onto his feet, white eyes glaring up at him. Automatically, the hunter reached behind his back as the demon took a step forward. With a twist of his thumb and forefinger, he unscrewed the silver flask. With a flick, holy water flew into the air, baptizing the demon full in the face. Nicor staggered backwards, howling in pain as he clenched his face, smoke steaming off of him. Bobby kept his face stoic, waiting for counterattack when Dean appeared, tackling the demon back onto the ground.
"Really, Dean!" snapped the white-eyed demon.
Dean's voice rang back with murderous intent despite the cocky comeback. "It ain't midnight yet, Cinderella."
A shiver ran down Bobby's spine. He never heard Dean talk like that before. Shaking his head, Bobby pushed onwards, skidding to a stop before Sam. "Better start explaining boy."
"Dean's a demon." The blunt tone radiating off of Sam halted Bobby in his slicing through the ropes.
"The tattoo…"
"He let it happen."
Bobby was about to shout back when the hanger rumbled sending dirt raining down on the pair. Dark eyes snapped upwards in time to watch Castiel skidding hard on the ground. Rolling to a stop, the angel gripped his right arm a flash of agony flooding his face. Peeking through the torn sleeve, the arm shone with a sick color, bony knuckles flexing underneath tight skin.
Alexei rolled her shoulders as she semi-skipped up to Castiel, almost vulture like in nature. Licking her lips, she hummed in pleasure. "I love tasting an angel's grace. And yours is so exquisite. So much doubting and longing, I'm amazed you haven't fallen yet."
Castiel pushed himself back onto his feet, locking dark blue eyes on the advancing woman. "Leave now."
Giggling, Famine paused amusement shining forth. "Hell no, not when the party is just getting started." Her cold gaze shifted over his shoulder. Castiel tilted his own head face tightening at the sight behind him.
Popping his shoulders into place, War rose off the ground. Bones cracking as they slid back into their proper places, red eyes peered out through the blood and scraps littering the face. With a quick snap of his neck, War grinned with a mouth full of red stained teeth. "It's been too long since I've fought an angel. I forgot how sneaky you little buggers can be."
His twisted left foot snapped into place as War lunged towards Castiel pulling out a long silver dagger from behind his back. Staring straight ahead of him, the angel watched as Famine sprinted towards him, flanking him from his back. Taking in a deep breath, the angel pivoted suddenly slamming a fist into War's temple, making the horseman stumble slightly. Not waiting, he shifted back just in time to knock away one of Famine's punches.
Her fingers skimmed over his own sending ice-cold electricity sizzling down his arms. Flinching away, he gasped trying to push away the pain aching in his very existence. Blindly, he kicked out making contact with Famine's backside. Quickly, he bended barely dodged the long thin knife slashing over his stomach. War chuckled and with a fast punch slammed the angel into the wall.
Struggling hard against his bindings, Sam glared down at Bobby continued to cut endlessly at the rope. "Hurry up!"
"I'm going as fast as I can boy," muttered back the older hunter. "You're damn brother used knots I've never seen before and laced it in water so it would tighten up as it dried."
The loud crashing yanked Sam's attention back to the fight before him. Castiel dodged another skull crushing fist. But as he staggered away from War, his hand cupped his left arm. The tan sleeve was blossoming red, the thick liquid dripping between his fingers. Castiel barely had time to raise his arms as War kicked him squarely into the chest. Flying into another cluster of crates, the angel crouched on the ground.
Coughing out a mouthful of blood, cracked ribs straining with each breath, Castiel fought to keep his vision focused. The sulfur tinted wound from the blade seared with agony each time he moved as poison trickled through him. Holding the bleeding arm closer to his chest, Castiel remained hunched but poised as War and Famine made their way to him.
Sparing a quick glance to his left, he quickly assessed the situation. Bobby was continuing to free Sam, whose face shone with urgency. Swallowing, blue eyes traveled downwards where the scuffling between Dean and Nicor continued onwards. Both were oblivious to the outside, intent to destroy one another fueling their punches and kicks.
Nicor slammed Dean's bruised face into a wall, staggering backwards. His breaths were haggard as he spat out a tooth. Dean fell onto his butt, eyes staring blankly forward, left arm pinned behind him. "You were always a pain in the butt," rasped out the white-eyed demon.
Coughing racked his body as his broken rib tickled across his lung. Shakily, he raised a stained hand outwards to Dean. "It's been fun, Dean-o."
Blinking slowly, life returned to Dean's eyes. A guttered laugh passing before him, the hunter smiled painfully. "Right back at cha." Without warning, Dean sprung forward, his left hand flying outwards driving home the rusting plant spike.
Nicor's mouth filled with blood, white eyes widening as they fell downwards. The spike ran clean and true through his lower right chest. A tiny shift and he could feel the rod peeking out behind his back. A gurgle conveyed his shock as Nicor watched Dean's face fall impassive once more. Sliding back, the hunter drew up his right hand and with a powerful strike, drove the fist into his face.
Castiel's lips thinned as he watched Nicor fall onto his back, Dean pouncing on the demon a second later. Without relieve, Dean rained punches down left and right with no regard or restraint.
"Dean! Stop! You're killing him!" Sam's voice echoed loudly yet it fell on deaf ears.
All Dean could hear was the thundering of his heart against his chest. His lungs burned, arm shaking as his body ached from wounds. Somewhere outside of this world, he smelled ozone. Now that he thought about it, Dean thought he heard the gruff voice of a certain angel, could have sworn he felt a searing white flash of light blaze before him so peaceful and wrathful at the same time. It was like before...
Then Nicor gurgled with what might have been a chuckle. Dean's face hardened as his lips twitched with the urge to grin as his fist made impatct once again. He didn't care anymore that this demon was Nicor or that Bobby was out there somewhere. That the world was on the verge of implosion. That Sam was drinking blood. That Sam didn't believe him, his own brother, about Ruby. That the brother he raised from a baby to a grown man...didn't pick a demon...That... Hands slid down, fingers interlocking behind the bloody sweaty neck. He began to press down.
Taking in a deep breath, Castiel rolled onto his feet fixing a stern gaze on the Horsemen. It was time to end this. War flipped his dagger in his hand, eagerness radiating off of him. Famine stood slightly off to the side, a vulture in waiting. Black eyes simmered in glee as she took in the battered form of the angel. To see him crouched there, trying to be all defianent. The smug expression faded away as Alexei narrowed her eyes taking in a red design on the floor peeking underneath the trenchcoat.
Sensing Dean's bloodlust, the clever, insightful angel knew what the Horsemen truly wanted from the boys. And to his suprise, it sickened him. Castiel locked eyes with Famine, certainty hardening his low voice. "You cannot have him."
Realization blew open her eyes. Sprinting forward, Alexei stretched out her arm, screaming. "No!"
It was too late; Castiel's hand slammed on the sigil a blast of pure white light cracking the very foundations of the hanger. Powerful gusts of wind ripped through the farthest side of the hanger barreling into the Horsemen. War roared. Famine screeched. Their bodies twisted and flung towards the ceiling where they disappeared in a crackle of lightening.
Heaving in a deep breath, Castiel staggered onto his feet. He barely won one battle but there were two others to win. Drawing upon his remaining strength, he flashed behind Dean. The hunter was bowed over Nicor, ancient words falling from his lips as he chocked the demon. "Nivo cal leti fra ko si…"
Nicor's white-eyes bulged open, his borrowed body seizing underneath the onslaught of the exorcism. However, this was no ordinary exorcism to send the demon back to the Pit. No, it was a rare ritual that would send the demon into the darkest, pitch black level where no one ever returned from.
"Gro nomi hu…" The heat rose higher and higher within Dean, searing red pain burning him alive. The tortured screams replaced the thundering of his heart as a loud crack vibrated deep within. Something was happening to him, more than when he had killed Ruby. A part of him was singing in joy, knowing that at the death of Nicor he would become Grand Inquistor. Then finally, he could rip apart every demon and creature that ever hurt him or his family. Yet, a small part screamed in fear. Dean didn't want Hell to rise in him. He hadn't agreed for things to go this far. This was wrong.
A small hand rested itself on his shoudler, pefectly on the brand. The white light from earlier sparked over the inflamed skin, the smell of ozone filling the air. Tilting his head upwards, Dean stared into the saddest pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. "Let go," hissed the demon.
"No." replied the angel. With a speed not present before, Dean launched onto the one creature he hated more than Nicor or Alastair. Hated the creature because he ripped his soul apart, even if by accident. Hated because the angel was proof that there was another side out there. Hated because Castiel forgave him.
A fist slamming onto his face, Castiel took a step backwards not letting go of his charge. Before him, Dean curled slightly cradling his broken hand to his chest. Graying eyes glared hotly up at him. "You winged-"
Dean yanked himself free, raising his other hand to punch the angel. But the angel was ready this time. Raising his left hand to block, Castiel raised two fingers and touched Dean's forehead gently. Whiteness flooded Dean's very existence, roaring like a tidal wave over the smoldering smoke. The black faded away revealing wide green eyes. Déjà vu swept over the pair as they stared deeply at each other.
History repeated once more. An angel sent and retrieved the chosen one from darkness. Only there was no fire and brimstone. And this time, salvation had not yet occurred. Time moved forward, Dean's eyes rolling in the back of his head as he slumped forward. Castiel reached out, his arm searing once more as his wound made contact with his charge. Slowly, he bent down lying Dean gently on the ground. The young man's face was smooth and seemed to radiate innocence. It was a stark contrast to the monster a few seconds ago.
The sound of shuffling pulled Castiel's attention back to the present. Eyes shifted as something stirred inside, bubbling and boiling as he took in each cut, scrape and bruise. Flickering upwards, he gazed up on Nicor's standing gloating form. In two seconds, he slammed the white-eyed demon into the wall hand tight around the bruised neck.
Nicor gasped, the toes of his shoes scrapping at the floor. "Dean won't be happy."
Straightening his shoulders, Castiel stared with blue flamed eyes. "I won't let Dean kill you."
A laugh fell from the busted lips. A wet snort from the broken nose carried on the dark mocking. "Cause we both know he'd fall completely and there would be no saving him this time around right."
"Enough," growled out Castiel. Taking in a deep breath, he slammed his palm onto the forehead. Foreign wrath and his remaining vestiges of strength rained pure light onto the demon. Nicor's mouth fell open in a silent scream the orange and black flashing out of existence.
Panting, Castiel stepped back as the corpse fell in a boneless heap. Swaying slightly, the angel felt totally drained from the battle. But he couldn't rest, not now.
A yelp sounded off to his right and soon two thunderous pairs of footsteps bolted towards him. Turning, he watched as Sam flew to Dean's side, eyes only for his brother. He didn't notice Bobby reaching him, till a hand touched his arm gently. Flinching, he stared at the older hunter.
"Your arm," whispered Bobby, hidden concern flashing on his face.
"I'm fine." Fixating back on Sam and Dean, he urged his vessel to remain standing. He couldn't let Sam see him weak. "The Impala is parked outside, go now."
Sam stared incredulously at Castiel as maneuvered Dean into his arms. "What about you?"
"Don't worry about me." Taking in a deep breath, he slid his eyes downwards onto Dean's prone form. Concern for Dean's state and its importance on the angel was not lost onto the two humans.
Staggering up onto his feet, Sam shuffled Dean's body into a better position. Bobby took a step back, his disagreement shining on his face despite what he said. "Alright then."
Sam shot Castiel one more look, eyes full of gratitude and worry. "Take care of yourself."
Then they were gone. Castiel waited till the rumbling of the Impala disappeared over the horizon. With one glance around at the utter destruction of the hanger, he collapsed onto his knees. Head bowed, wings stretched out to their fullest span, Castiel closed his vessel's eyes as he leaned downwards. Body spent beyond repair and his grace tainted, Castiel drew upon his faith as he began concentrating on healing himself.
He could only hope that he would be gone before Zacheriah showed up.
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
Sam sat quietly in the passenger seat as Bobby drove the Impala down the lonely stretch of highway. The moment he settled Dean's unconscious form in the backseat, handcuffing his brother's hands behind him, the will to do anything much less drive drained out of him. Collapsing in the familiar seat, he stared blankly into the dark fields.
In the peaceful drive, his mind strained to make sense of the past few hours. Everything was a blur, missing pieces and wide gaps. But there was one constant. Turning, his eyes fall on Dean. Amongst Rick and Alexei being the Horsemen, Ruby dying and then Castiel and Bobby's appearance, Dean's cold black eyes remain fixated in his mind. Out of everything, Sam always believed that he would be the one to go demonic. Not once did he think that it would be his older brother. Dean was too good a hunter, too street-smart…too good-natured. Hell, Dean had angels watching over him.
"Sam." Bobby's warm voice pulled his stricken face upwards. The man who was an uncle to him looked aged beyond his years. "Keep an eye out for an abandoned house."
"Bobby?"
"I've been driving all day long, boy. I'm tired and like hell am I drivin' back to my house."
Sam nodded in numb understanding. Gratitude made itself known in the small smile. Bobby always knew what was best for him and his brother. Rolling over, he rested his head lightly against the window focusing on finding a house. Confidence slowly filled him, knowing he could fullfill this simple request. And if he could succeed in something like this then maybe he could succeed in fixing his brother.
Chapter 14
Masterpost