A new kind of life. He said it would be a new kind of life. Resentment suddenly swelled within Dean, catching him off guard. He balled his hands into fists. If this is my new kind of life, I want a friggin' refund!
His words echoed within his mind, each syllable like a knife at his skull. He tried groping for words, but his tongue failed him. Every part of his body ached with pain, each muscle strained in tension.
The clothes he wore felt like metal weights, his jeans and jacket caked with dirt and blood. And that was what Dean Winchester often built his life on: dirt and blood.
At that moment, Dean couldn't decide which part sucked more: the waking up, or the waking up to seeing Crowley standing over him. He wanted to scream, shout, do anything to alleviate the rage bubbling inside of him, yet he couldn't grasp a single breath.
Dean tried to sitting up, but immediately a knife of pain ran up the length of his back. Crowley rushed forward. "Woah, easy there tiger. Wouldn't want to… break a leg."
Smug son uva' bitch thought Dean. He rested down, yet still felt odd. Almost… disembodied, different. He wanted to unleash wrath, yet rest all the same. What is happening to me?
And then he knew. He saw his eyes reflected in Crowley's. Black as night.
He would have gasped or maybe even cried, but his body wouldn't allow it. He was sharing it with something… less human. The less human thing seemed to have a mind of it's own, shouting at him to wreak horror, yet his own mind fought back, screaming something. A name maybe? It was hard to make out the words… and then he heard.
Sammy.
Then the tears came, a man's tears, and the less human thing laughed within him, cackling at the salty tears that strolled down his cheeks. Crowley watched Dean with queer fascination.
"I must say, Dean, I've never seen a demon cry before," he said. Dean gave Crowley a hateful look. "I'm… I'm not…"
"A demon?" Crowley finished for him. "Well, read the news pal. Your a black-eyed fiend, just… like… me."
Once the less human thing's laughter somewhat resided, Dean's tears stopped, until he heard his own mind whisper Sammy softer. Sammy. Sammy. Sammy.
It was like an anthem in his head. The less human thing was at bay for now, Dean knew, yet would return later, and return less friendly as well.
So as long as it was at bay, Dean closed his eyes and listen. He hoped. He prayed. He loved. Will I be able to love anymore? He didn't know. All he heard now was Sammy.
Sammy. Sammy. Sammy.