Dean walked into the archive then the dungeon area and set his things down on the floor in front of the chair. He then walked out and picked up the recorder, kicking the door closed behind him. He stopped to take the knife from his pocket and place it on the shelf to the side. He then walked into the dungeon area of the archive and leaned down to place it on the floor just outside the shelf doors, too far to reach from inside. He put in an old cassette of his and pressed record and play at the same time. He stood, walked towards the chair in the middle of the room and sat down, facing the doorway.
"Cas, are you there? Listen man, don't pop up. Just listen. I need you to do that, okay? Just listen. I don't even know if you can pop up any more, I haven't seen you do it since the fall but I've seen you die and then walk again so I'm not going to risk it. So, just listen to me. Man, I hope you can hear me. Got angel radio in range or even some psychic longing thing." Dean exhaled and shifted. "I'm glad that you can't pop any more 'cause you can't stop me. I need you to make sure Sam doesn't try to undo it, or you. Promise me that. I have to do this, man. That whole thing with Cain, you don't understand what happened in that room, well it wasn't so much what happened as it was what he said. I can't-I can't explain and I don't want to. But I won't let this mark take me over, not like that." He laughed bitterly. "I knew that it was gonna be hell, that I was going to become a murderer. Not that I'm very far from that as it is – I mean, we sugar-coat it but we are, we're murderers. And we've convinced ourselves that it's for good but what gives us that right? Who gave us licenses to kill? My dad? Azazel?" Dean shook his head, biting his bottom lip. "Nah," he let it slip out again, "it doesn't work like that and we need to stop pretending that it does. I knew I would become a cold-blooded murderer consumed by the mark but I didn't realize Cas, I didn't think about it – the things he said would happen – I mean, maybe I did know and I just refused to believe it. I'm good at that sorta thing." He nodded. "Yeah, sounds like me."
He looked to the floor and nodded. "So, I need you to know that I'm doing this for me. I can sit here and say I'm doing it for Sam or for you – or even for Crowley for God's sake. For every single person I could cut down. I could, I could say that. But I'm not going to because it would be a lie and I don't want to go out like that. I'm doing this for me, you tell Sam that, Cas – I mean it, you tell him that I would rather be stuck in Hell or Purgatory or wherever I'm gonna end up than turn into that monster. I would rather do this-" Dean sniffed and wiped his eyes. "-than do the things Cain said I would. So, I need you to do something for me, Cas. First, I need you to tell Sam that. And then, I need you to do what I asked you to. I need to do this and when I do you know what'll happen. Then I need you to take that knife," Dean looked to it on the shelf, "beside the door, and I need you to finish this." Dean nodded to himself. "No human version of me and then no demon version of me. No me at all. It's the only way to stop this." Dean swallowed and wiped his eyes again, steeling himself. "I need you to do that for me."
Dean exhaled. "I know you're not an angel any more, which is why I'm recording this but you always seemed to know when I needed you. Even when I didn't know. I'm just glad you can't stop me, Cas. Because I know you would. Don't do that and don't try to bring me back. And don't blame yourself. I know Sam will and I know that there's hardly much point in begging him otherwise but just in case…" He bit his lip. "Sam, this is all me, you hear me, bitch? All me. I know you and Sam tried, Cas, you two did beyond what anyone else would do, even trusting me in that room with the blade and that's the only reason I came back out. I just can't-" He paused to catch himself. "I guess you both deserve to know."
He closed his eyes and took a second. "He told me I'd kill Crowley, then you and then Sam. I tell you, he's an asshat and I've wanted to a hundred times but-I don't know, actually killing Crowley, after all this time? It shouldn't bother me, I've had plenty of opportunity where I've had every intention of carrying it but now, it just seems like we've all been through too much. Like it'd be wrong and that's just…" He exhaled. "Crazy."
He shuddered then shook himself right. "And Sam." He shook his head. "I will never, never kill him. I refuse. There's not even a word strong enough for it." Dean's face went hard and his movements became sharp and precise as he spoke. "It's not even a question; screw dad, screw Michael, screw Lucifer, screw the lot of them. I don't care about anything else: Sam's my brother, in blood and beyond. There's nothing more to even say on the subject. I love him. Nothing else matters."
Dean chuckled softly and wiped his hand down his face. "Jesus. You know it's funny, there were plenty of times that I would have considered you the same, Cas – my brother. And we were – brothers in arms. Too many times. But not-not any more…" He bit his lip again and leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his hands together, looking at the cassette player. "I don't know when it changed but I guess… I guess around the time that Zach sent me to the future. You were-you were ridiculously different, man. I didn't like it, I liked you how you were. How you are. But you know, the methen, I didn't even recognize that guy. He looked like me but not, as well. It was like looking in a weird distorted mirror, like it was just off. Evenyou then could see it, I think. Me then, I used you and the others like the guys at the start of a battle, like pawns. Lead you like lambs to the slaughter so I could have a distraction and get to Lucifer. A damn decoy, Cas! And when I came back to the right time, I felt like if you became that version of you then I would become that version of me too. So, I figured as long as you stayed you I wouldn't turn into that and then I would be okay. But, I'm not okay, Cas." He shook his head again. "I won't do it. I won't kill you and I won't kill Sam. He's more than my brother and he knows that but you're more than my friend and maybe you don't. Normally I'd tell Sam to stop this chick flick moment or say something stupid to make myself seem more like a dude but…" He shifted his feet and moved his eyes to the floor just before the tape. "I don't care any more," he shrugged, "I really don't because I'm not coming back from this, I'm not. So I need to say it, before I go. Here it is." He exhaled again and swallowed. "Cas, I-"
The tape finished and clicked off. Dean's tongue stayed on the roof of his mouth, just about to say the next word. He paused and exhaled air that sounded like an unhappy laugh. He smiled a little as he lowered his head to look at the devil's trap on the floor under his feet and ignored the sting behind his eyes. He rubbed his hands together and nodded. "Yeah, seems about right."
Dean leaned forward and grabbed the handcuffs from the floor. He looked to the devil's traps on them as he clicked them in place. He sniffed and leaned to pick up the gun in front of him. It was his trusty 45. Colt 1911 and he knew in that moment that he would miss the ivory of the handle and the engraving that had dusted over his skin as he held it over the years. He pulled the clip out to look at the one bullet, engraved with the same trap. He wasn't about to take any chances.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered his own words about the fact that if he was going out, it would be because of a gun or a knife. He never thought it'd be both.
"Wow, okay." Dean cracked his neck and turned the gun towards his forehead. It wasn't the best way to do it but with the handcuffs it was the only one that didn't have a chance of slipping and missing. He felt the cool steel press to his hot forehead and closed his eyes. "Now I will just say goodbye."