"I killed a man." Dean said it simply; words sliding off his tongue like a snake in the grass. A smirk played on his lips, staring his partner in the eye. Castiel, who sat across the table from him, stared wide eyed, nearly choking on the tea he drank.
"You—you what?" he asked, bewildered. "I—I don't know what to say. Ex-excuse me…" Castiel stood, ready to leave, when Dean chuckled.
"I'm only joking, Castiel. Would I really do that?" Dean batted his dark eyelashes, staring up at his partner like a bird and a worm. Without ease, Castiel lowered himself back into the booth.
"You, uh… you really got me there." An uneasy chuckle. Perhaps he could see through Dean—see the boiling rage or the sadism deep within. Or perhaps his insight was merely capable of distinguishing the truth. Perhaps Dean really was telling the truth; he was only joking.
Blood boiling rage; caught red handed; shaking hands; temptation, temptation… Another bitter anecdote screaming in his ears.
Blood. Everywhere. Caking every surface with its crimson shine. A clock ticked idly in the background, echoing through the desolate halls.
Tick,
tick,
tick…Muffled crying in the distance,
bleeding out,
bleeding out…Silence.
One thousand little thoughts died one thousand little deaths inside of Dean's head. His mind raced like a runaway freight without breaks. His heart thumped beneath his ribcage, threatening to beat right out of its casing.
Adrenaline.
"Hello, Castiel." A genuine grin spread across Dean's face. "I hope you're well."
"Oh… hey, Dean," Castiel replied, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm alright. You?" His voice trembled. He imagined Dean, his ever changing blue eyes burrowing into him; into his mind, infecting him like a plague.
Dean merely nodded in approval, insinuating he was alright as well.
"Are you doing anything tonight?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Dean leaned against the railing of Castiel's apartment complex, outside of the fire escape. Oh, the odd places they meet.
"Oh, uh… not really, no. Why?"
"Want to get a coffee with me?" Dean proposed. His voice was laced with sly malice; too kind, too suave.
Hesitation.
Castiel sighed.
"Fine."
"Dean." Castiel's voice broke the silence between them.
"You know," Dean began, ignoring Castiel's initial statement. "If looks could kill, you'd be well on your way to the morgue." A smirk; seduction;
temptation,
temptation...
Castiel glanced down at his coffee, unsure of a reply.
"Stop that." Castiel's face hardened. "You're not being funny." His small, pink lips formed a thin line that stretched across his pale face, and rosy cheeks. The snow fell idly outside, filling the silence that followed after.
Dean leaned forward, capturing Castiel's hand in his. "I wasn't joking."Castiel jumped, tearing his hand from his business partner.
Only joking,
only joking,
only joking…The memories of that peculiar and uneasy night at this very coffee shop flooded back into Castiel's mind.
I killed a man,
I killed a man,
I killed a man…Dean leaned back in the booth, cocking his head to the side. "What's wrong, Castiel?"
"Y-you…damn it, Dean. I can't take the suspense. Did you kill a man or not?" Castiel whispered, straining his voice. The dark haired man merely chuckled.
"Heavens, no; I told you I was only joking." Dean's deep sliver eyes glistened innocently. "Now sit back down." Lies, seduction,
temptation,
temptation… Mind racing;
hands shaking
temptation,
temptation…A new target—a man; short, thin, blond—homeless, loveless, friendless,
alone…
Hushed voices; longing stares; coming closer; closer…
A name never uttered—merely muttered; merely muttered. A promise never spoken—only broken; only broken.
Soft moaning turned to muffled cries; blood trickling… Another lamb in the lion's den.
"Hey Castiel," a low whisper said at the window sill. A drowsy Castiel rose from his desk, peeking out the window through soft blue eyes.
"What the hell, Dean!" he hissed as he opened the window. Dean was swift, taking his partner's hands in his. His eyes were devious and sly; untrustworthy and unnerving as a snake's. Castiel wanted to scream, break away; do something other than stand there in shock.
"De—"Castiel was silenced by the lips of a mad man. It was shock; bewilderment—euphoria. Castiel pulled Dean into the room, and was immediately pushed into the wall; skin to skin, rough kisses, hands roaming, hearts racing
temptation,
temptation.Castiel hadn't the foggiest idea what he was doing, but he found himself pushing Dean onto his bed, falling with him in a heap. Clothes remained, yet adrenaline was pumping through them like a wildfire.
"Castiel," Dean whispered into the man's chocolate brown hair as Castiel trailed kisses down his collar bone.
Dean slid his snake eyes shut, his mind racing in a euphoric panic. He felt the blade in his back pocket through his loose blue jeans. Turning tables, Dean flipped over on top of Castiel, looking into his pale blue eyes like a bird and a worm. A wry smile stretched across his face, as he pinned Castiel to the bed.
Hands shaking, shaking; heart racing faster, faster
temptation,
temptation…Castiel's eyes went wild when he saw the blade. Every off memory of Dean came flooding into his mind; every grin, word, strange occurrence—I killed a man. He struggled; tried to scream, but found himself at loss of vocals as Dean wrapped his left hand around his throat.
Dean slid the blade against the delicate skin of Castiel's face, drawing blood. The blond whimpered and hot tears boiled in his eyes.
"Shhh…" Dean slid his hand up to Castiel's cheek, leaning down to tenderly kiss his forehead.
The knife crept down and down, sliding its way to Castiel's chest. Tears rolled down his flushed face, and yet he didn't fight. And Dean knew why.
"I know…" he whispered into Castiel's ear. "I know how you feel. I know about the control He has on you and how you cry. Because being an angel is a kind of torture, really; to be up each dreaded night with every thought that's ever crossed anybody's mind—buzzing through your head like a firefly without a light. Because it is about this time, when it's only you—that you realize that it really is only you. For no matter how many people surround you, suffocating you, the hollow emptiness remains. You know that you're alone." Dean's voice was hushed; his face inches from Castiel's. Soft whimpers and sobs came from his end; a hurt look of betrayal penetrating his eyes.
One last longing kiss was given to Castiel for his final memory—sentimental, perhaps; to know that he would no longer be alone. The knife was plunged into his chest cavity, causing blood to seep through his shirt, onto the bed. It rose in his throat; oozed out his nose. Dean watched the light leave his frightened eyes, and his body go limp. He stepped back, sliding off the bed; pulling the sheets over his former business partner. Black smoke surrounding Dean as his now black eyes watched the angel dissapear, leaving only the imprint of a winged body behind.
"Sweet dreams,"