Erase Myself - Chapter 1
Title: Erase Myself - Chapter 1
Author: Hevyyd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: none past 5x22
Themes: Suicidal thoughts/actions, demon!Dean
Word Count: 2,192
Summary: In the wake of the Apocalypse, Dean decides to kill himself, Crowley offers to help.
A/N: Another experimental verse, would you like to see where this leads? Feedback is appreciated.
( Prologue )
When Dean's vision stopped twisting, he and Crowley were in a high-class flat smack dab in the middle of Chicago. The floors were hardwood, paintings hung from the wall, and the entire place reeked of high-class and lots of money. "You like it?" Crowley asked Dean as the demon deposited a set of keys in the fruit bowl on a nearby counter.
"Not really." Dean replied, fisting his hand in his pockets.
"Good, it's yours."
"What?"
"While your busy killing yourself off you'll need a place to crash, right?" Crowley poured a glass of scotch for himself and Dean, sauntering back to the Hunter with a casual grin. "You can't kill your soul in one night boy, you gotta make deals. Deals take time, and until then might as well live the high life, right?" Seeing that Dean clearly wasn't getting the picture, Crowley continued. "This place reminds you my darling Bella's old pad a bit, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, now that you mention it." Thinking of her caused a roil of emotions to stir within Dean, old infatuation, the slightest hint of jealousy, rage, and a deep empathy. She didn't deserve her fate no matter how much a colossal bitch she was.
"And what did you think about Bella?"
"She was rich, snobby bitch." Dean replied, nonplussed.
"And that's exactly what your going to be." Crowley said with an amused grin. "You want to act in opposition of everything that's Dean? Well lets start by taking you from a sick cross between lumberjack and trucker and turn you into a high class, high powered dealer of damnation. Savvy?" If there was any doubt in Dean's mind about this inane plan working, it was gone now. Crowley new his shit. He new that Dean hated people who lived like this, in excess and extravagance. Dean was always a simple man, but Dean needed to die, so it was time to move up a few financial brackets.
"So where am I going to get the money to live like this?" Dean asked. Before he could blink Crowley had produced a jet black credit card with his name on it.
"This is for you darling. No limit and with all the money in your account? It wouldn't matter anyway. The flat's paid in full and signed under your name, and it's already outfitted with the works. Also there's new clothes for you in the wardrobe."
"I need new clothes?" Dean asked.
"Obviously. So strip and leave everything out here so I can go and burn it. I'll meet you back here when I'm done."
--
When Crowley returned he was far more impressed with Dean than he had ever been. Bella had been right, the Winchester cleaned up damn good. Who knew all it took to make him this attractive were some new boots, designer jeans that clung in all the right places, and a tight black tee which left nothing to the imagination. "Feeling better now?" Crowley asked with a smirk.
"Besides incredibly sexy?" Dean asked, trying to feign sarcasm. "What's the point of this Crowley?"
"Ever notice how every Crossroads Demon you've ever met has been incredibly attractive?" When Dean nodded in agreement he continued. "Well that's because we only take the most fit, attractive of hosts. I'm an exception because I rather like this body and I prefer the older, business minded crowd, but most of us? We are dealers of desire, Dean. We make people jealous of us, our good looks, infinite wallets, our perfection."
"Make them crave it, crave you. The first part of closing a Crossroads deal is psychological warfare. Sweep them off their feet with big muscles, nice tits and ass, and just the right cologne and that soul is as good as yours."
Dean had to admit that Crowley was right. The first Crossroads Demon Dean had met had been so damn fine, they all were now that he thought of it. But he had been desperate to make his deal, if he was just some greedy sap who wanted to get rich quick it probably would have been even easier. "So do I have to act a certain way? Is there protocol to follow?" Dean asked, this all made too much sense, and despite himself he found his blood pumping fast at the prospect of putting all the people who had used him through the torment he had to suffer.
"Normally I would instruct you in business etiquette." Crowley said, crossing his legs. "But you've got this smug, sexy, all-American appeal going on that will cater nicely to a specific clientele, so I think we'll keep things just the way they are. The actual process in very simple, you show up, engage in small talk, and get the client to spill their deep blacks."
"Deep blacks?" Dean asked with raised eyebrow.
"Their wish." Crowley clarified. "It's very important to be specific with a Crossroads Demon, a soul is expensive and often times humans don't ask for nearly as much as they can get for it. But see, that's the beauty of it, humans don't need to know that."
"Like what you did for Bobby?" Dean asked. Bobby had never thought to ask for use of his legs back in addition for Death's location. Just how much could a person bargain for?
"Exactly. The trick is to be specific. That's why step two of a Crossroads Deal is to close it quick. The moment a person spills their guts to you they'll be in an emotionally weakened state. Offer to fulfill their one, single wish in exchange for their soul, and pressure them hard with body language. Move in close, act lustful, just keep control in your corner."
"That's sick." Dean said with a smirk.
"It's an art form Dean, we've been doing this for a very long time." Crowley grinned. "The typical time allotted until payment comes due is ten years, and it's best to keep it to ten years. You were an exception to this rule for obvious reasons. Finally, you seal the deal with a kiss, and you have to use tongue, by the way. If you take them to bed that's fine but it doesn't give them anything extra."
"Okay." Dean said slowly. "I think I got the hang of this, but when do I actually become, y'know, a demon?"
"You already are." Crowley replied with another wicked grin. Dean immediately bolted to the nearest mirror, and stared in wonder at his reflection. He had been in the flat for thirty minutes, how could he have not caught it? His eyes were jet black. Slowly, Dean made his way back to the couch and sat down, shaken.
"When did you...?" Dean asked, bewildered.
"When you first shook my hand." Crowley replied, cleaning his nails. "Your a probationary demon right now, you can close deals but don't have any real power yet. That comes when you've gathered your first soul."
"And what kind of powers are we talking here?"
"Everything you've seen demons do and much, much more."
Dean exhaled deeply and tried to gather his thoughts. This was it, he was doing it, he could do this. Dean was going to condemn people, innocent people, to hell for his own selfish desires. He was going to burn, stab, crush, and maim Dean Winchester's identity until it was broken on the floor like so much glass. It made him feel powerful, knowing that he was going to be the one taking, receiving, anything that he wanted. I'm going to die, Dean thought, sudden elation swelling inside of him, I'm going to die and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me, but I want them to try. I want Bobby and Cas to try and stop me, I want to laugh at them when they fail, I want them to cry, I want, I want....
I want them to love me. Deans entire being quivered with the thought, and he quickly banished it from his mind. He brought all of his focus to Crowley, to his unholy goal, to the oblivion at the end of the tunnel.
"Lets get started."
--
The summoning ritual ripped Dean through space and time and he found himself underneath the bleachers of a football stadium, in each of the cardinal directions was a walkway, forming a rather effective crossroads. nifty, Dean thought. Before him stood a handsome young football player, couldn't have been older than Dean, twenty seven tops. Dean cast his consciousness into the ritual box, just as Crowley had taught him. Thad Dunning was this dude's name. Dean looked over at the jock with an easy green and flicked the filter back off of his green eyes, leaning against a nearby pillar. "What's up man?"
Thad looked at Dean in a mix of terror and wonder. "That old, I mean, it worked? Your a...?"
"A Crossroads Demon?" Dean asked, flicking his filter back down, "Yeah, and since I'm here it means you've got something you want. Which is good, because I'm here to please bro." Dean gave the young jock another stunning Winchester smile and then walked over next to the man, his stance easy and casual.
"Tomorrow is the biggest game of my career." The young man said, "I need to win, I have to win. For my dad, he just died of cancer and I dedicated this game to him." He tried to blink away the tears, obviously the pain of loss was still fresh in his heart. Dean placed a hand on the young mans shoulder, he knew what it was like to lose a father.
Dean idolized John, he based his entire identity on John. His fathers old clothes, his jacket, his music, his car, but John had left Dean. He left him to go chase Yellow Eyes and protect Sammy, leaving Dean to worry and fret over the father who had abandoned him, betrayed him and his love. So yeah, Dean knew all about the pain of losing a father, but rather than sorrow, Dean felt empowered. I'm dedicating this deal to you dad. Dean thought, his skin tingling. "I can make you win that game bro, you'll win tomorrow and make your old man proud."
The young jocks eyes snapped up to Dean, relief in his eyes. "You can? I'll pay any price, anything! I just need to win for my dad!"
"I only want something small man." Dean said casually, "and you don't even have to pay right now, I'll give you ten years until you make the payment. Sound good?" When Thad nodded Dean moved in for the kill, only to be pushed back with sudden force.
"What the hell man?! I'm not gay!"
"Neither am I," said Dean, shrugging. He lowered his voice to a soft whisper as he walked over to the young jock again, putting an arm around him in a tight, masculine hug, "this isn't about being gay or not, and really I don't care. This is for your dad, this wont make you any less of a man, this," Dean whispered against Thad's lips, "this is just business." The mans will gave out and he pulled Dean into a passionate kiss, and Dean reciprocated in full force, pushing the jock against a nearby pillar and grinding into him hard.
He only stopped when he realized he had been thinking about Cas the entire time.
Across from him Thad was touching his lips in horror, probably scared out of his bun that he had just kissed Dean and loved every second of it. "Is, is that it?" He asked warily.
"Yeah man, deals done." Dean rasped out, his voice rough and low. "Enjoy your game." He turned and walked away, willing his body back to his flat. The moment he materialized Dean's body convulsed, sending him crashing to his knees, only steadying himself by grabbing the bathroom sink at the last possible moment. He coughed dark red blood into the sink while he felt a terrible rip coming from the center of his chest, from inside his chest, his very soul.
He was dying.
Dean looked at his reflection in the mirror with wonder, eyes filtered black and blood dripping from his mouth. He loved the sight, broken and damned. His mind soared back into the past, into dreams as he opened his mouth to speak. "Your going to die Dean, and this? This is what your going to become."
Help me Cas. Dean's reflection pleaded, his eyes suddenly green again.
"NO!" The demon yelled into the mirror, "Your going to die you weak little bitch!"
Cas please, please help me. His reflection said again. Green eyes shimmering.
Dean's head felt light as he started to laugh at himself, at the situation he found himself in, arguing with himself as blood dribbled down his chin. One soul and he was already going bonkers, one card short of a flush. This was fantastic, he could feel his soul splitting, he just needed to keep going...
*
Castiel stood silently in Stull cemetery, slowly enacting the spell to raise Sam Winchester from perdition.