A/n: I was going to wait and post this after I finished one of my many stories, but I'm just too excited for this one.
This is part of a plot bunny suggested to me by miXiZ and part my own. I will share what the suggestion was once the story is over, I don't want to ruin anything.
This is rated T due to violence and possibly language.
I would like to thank miXiZ for giving me a plot bunny as well as for your friendship and support. As well of course to LilyBolt for your support and friendship. Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites this story and/or any of my other ones.
WARNING: This one is a bit dark (not quite as dark maybe as "Just Close Your Eyes," but still).
Please let me know what you think so far
Spoilers for season 10 up to "The Executioner' s Song."
Chapter 1
Dean's eyes flew open at the sound of a thud. He bolted up in his seat, quickly wiping away the little bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrowed as they darted around his surroundings. His brow furrowed. He appeared to be sitting at the table in the Men of Letters study room, but he could swear that he and Sam had been on a case. A dream about a case? It wasn't so uncommon for someone to dream about their job, especially a job like theirs.
"Sam?" Dean called out turning in his seat to look behind him. He sat completely still, listening for his brother to respond or for a sound to indicate he was there. He didn't get either. Maybe Sam had zonked out in his bed. Or maybe, and more likely, he was locked in his room doing research. The younger brother was well aware of how little sleep Dean had been getting as well as how restless the sleep he did get was. If Sam had seen him passed out in the study room, it was highly probable that he had collected whatever he needed as quietly as he could, and slipped back to his room careful not to wake him. Dean waited a second longer, then pushed himself from the table and set off towards Sam's room. As he rounded the corner that led down the hall, his brother appeared. The younger Winchester jumped back slightly so as to avoid a collision, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Hey," he greeted. Dean hadn't heard him. The instant his green eyes fell on his little brother, something dark crept into his gaze. He had a sudden urge to take hold of his brother's head and run it repeatedly into the nearest wall until blood was visibly dripping from his ears and pouring from his nose. He could feel his body tense at the image of his brother's eyes rolling in the back of his head as he continued to pound it into the wall nonstop. His heart was racing, his adrenaline uncanny, pure euphoria rushing over him and consuming every other emotion. The sound of his brother pleading, begging him to stop filling his ears and only feeding his excitement. "D'n?" Sam's hazel eyes searched his big brother's fixated stare on him. It looked vacant but at the same time, the way he stared at him made Sam uneasy. It was like Dean's body was with him, but his mind was miles and miles away. "Dean?" He tried again. Sam knew better than to touch his brother when he zoned out, the Mark of Cain was usually the one in control during those times and he knew what that could mean for him; even though he also knew that it wasn't really Dean who was responsible. An unsettling grin twisted his face, causing Sam to wince slightly. "DEAN!"
The smile slid from the oldest Winchester and he blinked rapidly, staring at his brother muddled.
"What?" He asked.
"Dean...You alright?" Sam asked gradually, eyes never faltering from his brother's.
"Uh yeah...yeah. I'm good," he responded throwing Sam what he had hoped was a reassuring smile. The younger brother gave a small nod playing along, but his guard was never down. "I'm going to hit the shower," he informed Sam rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, ok. Sounds good," he responded. Dean gave his brother a nod and then disappeared down the hall towards his room.
Once he was locked away from his brother in the restroom, Dean was able to reflect on what had happened back in the hall. His body was shaking visibly, his breath heavy, his eyes wide as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Sam had gotten onto Dean's bad side before, it wasn't unnatural for siblings, especially when the siblings were brothers who were both stubborn and self righteous. What hadn't been natural had been what Dean had felt while the scene of him beating his brother to death played out in his mind. Bliss, exhilaration, power. Sam hadn't done anything or said anything lately that would even warrant such a thought to materialize, nothing he did ever could. Or, rather, should. His eyes fell from his reflection onto the red mark that was located on his forearm. He ran his left index finger and middle finger over it. It didn't feel any different, it wasn't burning or glowing. The mark simply sat acting docile, as though it were nothing more then a tattoo. A dark awareness took hold of him. The desire wasn't coming from the mark, it was coming from within himself.
