Title: Severed Hand
Summary: Dean's beatings replay in his head. S8 x Ep17. One shot
*O*
Dean didn't usually beg for his life. Any fight he was involved in, where he was the victim, usually played out the same way. Every fist was followed by a smart comment, cheeky grin or a twisted laugh. If their faces got angrier, it thrilled him. Never with a broken face, cracked ribs or internal bleeding, did he ever beg for them to stop. Defeat meant death and on no certain terms was he prepared to willingly shake Death's hand.
"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in."
The angry words rattled around in his dreams. Standing in the kitchen on that faithful night, his life changed forever. It was the first time he was actually frightened of another man. But time passed, people changed, hearts grew softer and friendships grew.
Even when he literally sided with the demon from Hell, Dean still believed his friend was in there somewhere. Watching him stand in the circle of fire asking for forgiveness, Dean was always tempted to quench the flames.
"Ever since Purgatory…" he told his little brother again but thinking about it now, Cas hadn't been himself long before that. Dean tossed in his bed as memories flashed back of every time his friend let him down. Making that deal with Crowley, swallowing all those souls from Purgatory, tearing down that wall in Sam's head… every one of them broke Dean's heart a little.
His eyes were cold and his face dead like a stone as he towered over his victim. He was like a man who had killed thousands of times before. Or was it just Dean he had killed a thousand times before. He was methodical and disciplined like someone had trained him to kill anyone who got in his way.
His fist hit Dean's jaw knocking him backwards as he knelt. His teeth shattered under the force of what felt like a hurricane. The vibrations forced his jaw closed clasping his tongue in between. He tasted metal in his mouth and knew his tongue has been cut. He had tasted it before. It wasn't unusual. He tried to pull away but Cas was tightly holding onto his wrist forcing him to stay on his knees. There's no point in fighting back anymore. He's a celestial being after all.
A thundering fist on his cheek bone vibrated an intense pain all the way through his body.
Still, he held on to Dean's wrist.
"Cas, this isn't you. This isn't you," the words escaped his mouth before his brain knew what was happening.
"Cas," Dean wheezed through broken ribs as the angel raised the silver knife over him. "I know you're in there. I know you can hear me," Dean raised his free hand in defense. "Cas, it's me… we're family. We need you… I need you."
He didn't usually beg the bully to stop but on this occassion he looked up to a man he hoped was still his friend… his best friend… his brother… family.
*O*
