Not too long ago Dean had wanted to die. The mark on his arm left him with no desire to live knowing full well that he could turn into the very monster he hunted. However, if he had known that death was the path to that cursed fate he wouldn't have been as eager to die as he was or use it as a way to cure himself before the mark took over his senses.

As time passed by however, Dean found that he cared less and less about the fact that he had just died and that he was morphing into a monster.

He started to forget the last image he had engrained into his mind:

Sam looking down at him with sorrow filled eyes with a glint of disbelief at the fact that his big brother would die. The realisation that no one could save his brother had hit Sam pretty hard which was apparent by his desperation- no one could or would save Dean now, no angel, god or even demon. Cas was out of the question, he was already being weakened with the stolen grace in him and even if he had his own grace, Dean was surely heading to heaven so why would anyone prevent him from going there?

Dean was never one for deep thoughts or feelings but he was dead and that was all that was echoing in his head. He found he cared less and less as memories of the past started to drift in and out of his mind. Well, he cared less for the people in them and cared more for himself and his shitty excuse for a life.

All Dean ever wanted was a happy life, maybe not even the sickeningly sweet apple pie life that most hunters desired, he just wanted to be with his brother or at least know he was out of harms way. Heck, now that he thought about it, Dean knew he could never be happy as long as Sam was around. All that went through Dean's mind day in and day out was "Protect Sammy", "Make sure Sammy's safe", "Don't let Sammy get hurt" but when had Sammy ever thought to do the same for him?

Anger started to swell inside of him and Dean slightly noticed the way his surroundings turned from a pure white, darkening with each despair filled thought.

But Dean couldn't give two shits right now which would have scared his live self especially at the fact that he knew he was letting himself be turned into a demon by thinking of all the crappy events which took place in his life.

His mother dying, Sam being infected with that demon blood, Sam being killed, Dean selling his soul, going to hell, dealing with dick angels, dealing with Leviathans, going to purgatory.

Purgatory. Sam hadn't even bothered to look for him when he was in Purgatory. He didn't even care that his brother was possibly being ripped to shreds by hungry ass vampires. Dean's anger towards Sam at this moment was slowly building up and any rational thought was thrown out of his mind including the fact that Sam never knew he was in Purgatory.

Well he should've known and he should've gotten him and Cas out instead of taking care of a damn dog and falling for a girl.

And that was just IT. Sam never actually cared for Dean, he would rather care for a dog rather than his brother. All his despair was caused because of Sam and did Sam even once feel grateful? No.

At this point Dean was overcome by a strong, overwhelming force of resentment and hatred. Why did his mother have to die? Why did his father have to die? Why did Dean have to bear the responsibility of saving the world time and time again? Of saving Sam time and time again?

Dean was in pitch black. Then he realised: he had allowed himself to fall into the arms of evil. And that, for some reason, was quite humorous to Dean.

A cold breeze rolled over him and he felt the familiar presence of the mark as he always did whenever touching the First Blade.

Then he woke up. And boy was he thrilled.