"You're lying."
Dean's voice was low and angry, teeth bared in a snarl at the man in front of him. No, not man – the thing in front of him. Blue eyes glinted happily, chapped lips quirking up into a smile, a smile almost identical to the one Dean knew so well. But it was the laugh that sent shivers of terror down Dean's spine. This laugh wasn't the soft chuckle of his angel. This laugh was cold and maniac, the laugh of a madman.
"Dean… Dean Dean Dean." The man played with the name, seeing how it felt coming from these new lips. "I told you, Cas is dead. He's dead, and nothing you say is going to change that." The Leviathan giggled, amused at his own statement. "Dead and gone. And it was so easy Dean, he didn't even put up a fight." Blue eyes found green as the Leviathan's posture straightened up, black rivulets coiling up his neck.
"He practically rolled over and died. Some angel, huh?"
"You shut your goddamn mouth!" Dean snarled, hand reaching back for something, his gun, a knife, a fucking glass shard if he could get his hands around it, but he barely managed to lift his arm before he was bodily thrown against the wall. Pain shot up his spine, vision white hot at the impact as he fell heavily onto the floor. His head was throbbing, and he was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated, but all he could focus on was that laughter.
And then the Leviathan was standing over Dean, head tilted curiously as he watched Dean struggle to get up. Dean was tempted to just give into the pain and pass out, to let his mind convince him that the questioning man looking down at him was his Cas. His naïve little angel, looking at Dean like he was something infuriating and awe inspiring at the same time.
But then fingers closed around his throat, lifting him up and pinning him against the wall. The Leviathan leaned in close against his ear, stubbled cheek scratching against Dean's own.
"You know what the last thing you're little angel said before I disposed of him?" The question was eager, as if the monster really expected Dean to answer, but the fingers tightening around his neck made that impossible. He giggled again in anticipation of answering his own question.
"Don't hurt Dean." The Leviathan's voice was a mock imitation of Castiel's own, pleading and broken, and it made Dean's eyes sting with tears, struggling against the hand around his neck – kicking, scratching, pushing, anything to fight. Not just for himself, but for Cas.
"This is going to be so much fun."