Endings and Beginnings

[winchester_lost]

It had been completely by accident that he'd found the first note.  He'd been sitting in the Impala with Sam and Bobby, reeling from what had happened.  Cass was a God.  He'd snapped his fingers and Raphy, one of the archangels, had exploded like an over-ripe grapefruit dropped from the top of a ten story building.  He and Sam had been arguing

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[winchester_lost]

That sound, the anguish, it hurt, it ached even as he knew he had to do this. It was their only chance: stopping this before it go too far, before Cass became a creature so remote and alien that there was no chance of stopping him. Cruel and terrible. He might be doing this to avert disaster, to save Cass, but he was still hurting him. At least when he'd thrown Sammy in the panic room, he hadn't been the one hurting him, and drinking himself into near-senselessness was a totally viable option.

He'd been drinking before he'd left, but, two long drives and having wrestled a God into the backseat, he couldn't even feel it anymore. Which, he decided was a good thing. The last thing that he likely needed while trying to wrestle thirty million souls or so was to be inebriated. It was one thing to be killing monsters under the influence, this was different.

Dean took out a knife, setting it on the table. He took a deep breath, giving Cass one last look. The former-deity was ignoring him completely. Dean forced himself to focus on the task at had. He could do this. But he couldn't afford to be distracted, either. It had taken long, painstaking lessons with Bobby for Dean to even be able to voice the spell. The language was in Ancient Aramaic, and Dean hadn't even been good with Latin. But, it was amazing what desperation and need could do to speed up the learning curve. Bobby had wanted to be the one to do it, but Dean had fought and argued and insisted until the old man had finally agreed to teach him.

He opened the book to the last page, setting it down on the table next to the trunk, the electric light glinting off the metal. He picked up the knife, then took a deep breath and started to read the spell out loud. The words were awkward, but they rolled off his tongue. He cut one palm, and then the other, letting the blood drip as he set down the knife and continued speaking.

For a moment, there was a subtle light in his hands, soft and warm, and tingling along his palms as the flesh knit back together. Dean could feel it, the change, something different that he couldn't have explained in words. It just was.

He turned, looking down at Cass, honey-hazels intent, determined. He slowly let his hands touch against the former-God's chest, and it was like he could feel the souls inside of him, feel the power on a level he hadn't quite comprehended before.

"I'm going to save you."