Dean wasn't known to run. He was known to stand and fight, no matter the situation.
But when he woke up in the bunker with eyes black as night and the king of Hell staring back at him, the only thing he did was run.
He was scared and confused. He should have been dead, he knew that. He had heard what Crowley said: that the Mark wouldn't let him go. "Maybe miracles do come true," Crowley had said. But this was no miracle. He had become the one thing he hates most in this world: the thing that killed his mother, made a deal with his father and murdered him too, and taken so many godforsaken things he cared about. He was a monster, and all he wanted was death. But he knew it wouldn't be that easy.
So he ran. He ran far away from Sam, from Cas, from anyone he cared about and could possibly hurt. But he didn't know where to run to, so he ended up hot-wiring a car and driving, just driving, to wherever the roads took him. With no need for sleep, food, water, or even oxygen, he drove and drove and drove without stopping, except a few times for gas. He didn't know why, but now he stood - leaning against the hood of the stolen car - staring at the house in Lawrence, Kansas he had once called home.
Back at the bunker, Sam was having a breakdown. One minute Dean's dead body had been lying on the bed in the other room, and now Dean was gone, with the smell of sulfur left in the room. Crowley hadn't come when Sam had summoned him. That was one possibility. Maybe Crowley had come and taken Dean.
But that didn't add up. Why would Crowley do something like that? With Dean being dead, the Mark and the Blade were useless, right? Even if they weren't, what use would Crowley have for them?
There was also another possibility that was stuck in Sam's mind. What if Dean wasn't dead? Could the sulfur mean that Dean himself had turned into a demon? Sam had dismissed that out of his mind as quickly as it had appeared. That was impossible, he had thought. But little did Sam know, he was exactly right.
Sam was sitting at the table in the main room of the bunker nursing a beer, when he heard a noise behind him. He stood up and turned to see a familiar angel standing before him. "How did you get here?" he asked him.
"Uh, through the front door," he replied, pulling one of his "innocent, clueless angel" looks. "Where's Dean?"
"Oh..." Sam said. He had forgotten Cas didn't know. "Uh, Cas.. I don't quite don't know how to tell you this, but-"
"You believed Dean's dead, I know," Cas said, much to Sam's surprise. "But I believe he isn't. And you do as well."
Sam stared at him. "How… how could he still be alive?"
Cas told him the story Crowley had told Dean. When he finished, Sam was shocked. It just seemed too… unreal. Even for him.
"So… he's a demon?" Sam asked.
"Yes. Now, I came here to ask you where he might have gone. Do you have any ideas?"
Sam shook his head. Cas sighed and looked at his feet. "I am… very worried about Dean. I am guessing that, right now, he's lost and extremely confused. He has many new powers he cannot yet control... and that most likely scares him. He probably thinks he is an abomination. I need to find him before he does anything to hurt himself," Cas explained.
Sam nodded. They needed to find Dean fast. And soon.