Dean held the blade in his hand. Felling its power course through his veins. Felling his new strength he had acquired just recently. He had fun when he first held the blade remembering it like it was just yesterday. But never mind. He needed to concentrate .he needed to get his head straight. He couldn't help it though. He looked at his helpless little brother standing infrount of him. What was he saying? He couldn't make it out. He was to busy trying to get over the power he held in his hand. Trying to get it under control.
"Dean!" Sam shouted.
"Dean, Drop the blade!" he ordered
Dean just stared looking at him with those empty eyes. What was going on through that mind of his? He just wanted his brother back. The real dean who would cook and care for him when he was ill and the dean that would ask him constantly if he was alright … but no he gets the thing that is taking over dean's mind and body controlling it. But what if this is the real dean though. What if this was DEAN. A psychopath that has an over obsession over killing things.
"DEAN!" Sam repeated just wanting a response from his brother standing in the bunker. But all he got was those blank eyes with no love or care in them like they use to.
Sam reached out to shake dean and suddenly dean raised the blade and slashed Sam's arm where he tried to make contact with him. The colourful red stream of blood staining his arm and dripping onto the floor.
Sam didn't even care about dean cutting his arm pretty deep. His attention only on dean now. He was swaying side to side moaning. The mark burning through his long sleeve shirt he had been recently been wearing. He looked like he had just got a sudden fever or a dizzy spell. But there wasn't any time to ask dean if he was alright or what was wrong with him. Dean was falling and Sam had raced towards him like he normally would in this moment of time. But it was so sudden that Sam had just missed him. And dean fell. Collapsed on the floor. The mark still visible through his shirt.
Dean couldn't see a dam thing all he wanted to say was he was sorry to Sam. Sorry for everything he has done. Sorry for getting him possessed by an angel. Sorry for pulling him back into this life. For Jessica. Sorry for cutting him there and then. He was sorry for it all. But his vision just blurred. Dean moaned. He tried his best to speak but all that came out was moans. Dean didn't even notice the burning sensation in his arm where the mark was. All he saw was his bother running towards him. He looked sacred. Why would Sam look sacred? But that didn't matter. His mind was starring to go black the last thing he saw was the floor racing up to greet him right before the darkness. I'm sorry Sammy. And all was black….
