Where Would He Go?
In this chaptered fic, I explored what might happen after the end of 10x09. Lots of Sam/Dean brotp and, most importantly, MOC!Dean.
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters blah blah blah.
Castiel carried Claire back to the Impala, told her to wait for him there, and then returned to the house where he found Dean and Sam in similar positions as to when he had left.
"Dean, we need to get out of here." Sam patted Dean's shoulder protectively before unceremoniously hoisting him off the floor, carefully taking the bloodied blade from his right hand.
Dean nodded mutely, watching the blade possessively as Sam took it from his grasp. His fingers latched around it briefly before Sam finally took it.
Sam immediately handed it to Castiel.
"I didn't mean to." Dean's eyes came up to meet Sam's.
"I know." Sam said, a promising look behind his eyes. "We're going to get rid of that. I promise." He grabbed Dean's arm and motioned to the Mark of Cain.
Dean's eyes fluttered back to the blade in the angel's hand.
"Dean…" Sam began, but Dean's muffled thoughts had already made a plan.
He lunged for the blade, snatching it from Castiel's limp hand before he realized what Dean was doing.
"Dean, don't. This isn't you." Sam grabbed his brother's arm, causing the blade to fly toward the far wall.
Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's struggling ones, creating a pair of highly effective angel-handcuffs.
Dean's eyes refocused on the floor after a moment, his real expressions coming back to him, then fled back to Sam's, who pulled the knife out of the wall and tossed it out the broken window and into the backyard, where it'd be out of Dean's reach.
"I can't stop, Cas. You promised. You do what I asked." Dean's eyes were wet with tears and his arms continued to claw helplessly at the angel's.
Castiel seemed to be at a lose for what to do next, so he pressed his index and middle fingers onto Dean's temple. Dean immediately lost consciousness and collapsed into the angel's arms like a small child.
Castiel and Sam started toward the car, they tossed worried and distraught looks between each other as they carried an unconscious Dean in between the two of them.
Back in the bunker…
"I told you we should've dealt with this sooner." Castiel threw his arms up in exasperation.
"What were we supposed to do, Cas? We can't get rid of the Mark unless someone's willing, and you'll never find anyone who is." Sam hissed back, hoping not to raise his voice loudly enough that Dean would be able to hear him from the dungeon.
"Well what are we going to do now?" Cas demanded, folding his arms across his chest.
"Find someone who's willing." Sam replied, with a devilish pair of eyes that cared only about Dean and giving the Mark to someone else.
"Then what? It's not as if we could let them go with that mark, you've seen what it does." Castiel shook his head.
"Yes, Cas, I have!" Sam hollered back, beyond trying to be quiet. "Sorry. I know, you're trying to help."
"Where am I supposed to put Claire while we're… out?" Castiel interrupted their current conversation.
"She'll be safe here." Sam told him, turning to head down the hallway.
Castiel nodded.
When Sam arrived in the doorway he immediately sensed that something was wrong. For one, the door was wide open, and two, there was no Dean in the dungeon.
"He's gone." Sam yelled to Castiel from the hall, earning the angel's full attention.
"Where would he go?" Castiel inquired, rising to his feet.
"I don't know." Sam said, inside his brain trying to think of every place Dean would go, but comes up with only one. A bar, I always find that jerk in a bar.
"I think I have an idea." Sam told Castiel, before turning and running out of the bunker and into the impala with such force that he was worried it was dented in the process, which would definitely get Dean to kill him.
"I'll try the bar on Main street, you check the one on First." Sam hollered out the impala's driver seat's window.
He felt so weird to be sitting in the driver's seat. I'll get him back, Sam promised himself.
Castiel left in a flash, no doubt scaring someone in the bar's parking lot to death.
Sam sped down the road at a speed at least twice the speed limit, but not caring much. When he arrived at the bar, there was a loud crashing coming from the inside, followed by Dean's voice.
"Get the hell away from me you sons of bitches or I swear I'll kill every single one of you!" The voice undoubtedly belonged to Dean, which didn't exactly comfort Sam in this situation.
When Sam pushed the door opened, he realized that he was a second too late. As the door creaked opened, Dean's head turned to meet Sam's eyes for a moment. Then one of the bigger looking men slammed a metal barstool into Dean's head, knocking him into the bar and breaking countless glasses.
For a moment he didn't move, and Sam hoped he could quietly apologize for whatever Dean had done or said and take his unconscious form back to the bunker for the second time that week. No such luck, Dean stirred as the men had started to turn away.
He grabbed his pocket knife, which Sam knew he shouldn't have left lying outside the dungeon.
"You asked for it." Dean attacked the big man, slitting his throat in one fowl move as the other four men converged on him.
One or two of them had knives of their own, occasionally meeting Dean's skin, but never distracting him.
Sam got between Dean and the men, holding his hands up to the men, hoping Dean wouldn't go after him too.
"Just leave. We never saw you." Sam said forcefully, earning an agreeing? grunt from his brother.
"I didn't ask you to follow me, Sammy." Dean said accusingly, once the men were gone.
"You didn't give me a choice, Dean." Sam replied, turning around to face Dean, who still held his bloody pocket knife with a shaky hand.
"Sam, I can't stop. You can't be around me." Dean's eyes glared at the floor, taking steps away from Sam.
"We can fix this. All you have to do is come back to the bunker with me." Sam finally said, after looking between the pocket knife and his brother's face many times. "Cas is probably worried- and you've scared Claire. Come back and fix this, show them who you really are."
"Who I really am? I'm a murderer, Sam!" Dean yelled back angrily, an edge coming to his voice.
"No you're not. Dean, this isn't your fault." Sam took a few steps closer.
"Stay away from me." Dean growled after a short silence. Then he kicked his way past broken seats and fallen tables until he got to the back door, which he briskly pushed opened. "Don't follow me. It's not safe." Even with the Mark, there was still Dean's big brother instincts. Instincts that told him to do whatever was necessary to keep Sam alive.
"Dean!" Sam cried as the door slammed shut.
He didn't get a reply.