Everything was different, darker, it seems. The room wasn't literally dark, just it seemed more sinister. The scent of rotting eggs was heavy in the air. Crowley was standing at the foot of Dean's bed and he stood quickly, the First Blade clutched tightly in his hand. The pain that Dean was feeling just a few hours ago was completely gone, replaced by a feeling of power. Crowley was standing there, a smug smile plastered on his face. "Nearly done seething there, Squirrel?" Crowley took a step forward, his hands hung casually by his sides. Dean growled at him, actually growled, and Dean's grip on the First Blade tightened, the Mark of Cain on his arm surged with heat and glowed brightly against his skin.
"What the hell, Crowley? I was dead! I know Sam and I have a tendency to come back, but this is different. Metatron killed me." Dean tried to speak calmly, but something had him nearly screaming, his anger swelling. Something was definitely wrong in this situation; the smell of sulfur on Crowley has never been this strong before.
"And now you're not. Just be thankful your brother didn't have to make a deal this time. This summoning he's been doing for the past two hours is just pathetic," Crowley said with exasperation heavy in his voice. At the mention of Sam Dean visibly relaxed. Sammy is alive and that's all that matters, Dean thought. An audible 'click' was heard and Dean's eyes turned back to show their normal vibrant green, but there was a look of horror on his face, while Crowley had the same smug grin.
"What. The hell. Is going. On?" Dean reiterated, growing even more annoyed with the demon in front of him.
"You're a demon, Dean. And not just any demon either. You're the newest, and only, since you killed Abbadon, Knight of Hell," Crowley stood there, expression dangerously blank now. Dean stood, frozen for a moment as he waited for his heart to start beating again, but noticed it didn't after a whole minute. Recognition flashed over Dean's face as he put two and two together. The sulfur was not coming from Crowley, but himself.
"What is this, Harry Potter?" Dean scoffed, as if trying to play it all off as a joke. "So why'd you do it? Hm? Why'd you bring me back just to make me a demon?" He asked angrily, wondering why Crowley would need him as a Knight of Hell. Another audible 'click' was heard his eyes shifted to complete black again. "And how the hell do I control this?" He gestured to his eyes.
Crowley approached Dean slowly, taking the blade out of his hand gently and setting it on the bed. He stood for a moment before slapping him hard across the face, making his head jerk to the side. "Don't." Another harsh slap. "Get." An even more brutal backhand caused Dean's lip to split and blood dripped down onto his chin. Crowley leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Mad." He took a few steps back and stuck his hands into his pockets. It took the new demon a few minutes of deep breathing and thoughts about Sam and Cas before another 'click' was heard and his eyes went back to their usual green.
Unable to hold it back, he growled again. "Real easy to do when you're backhanding me."
"Shut up, Squirrel. Now, let's talk about-"Crowley was interrupted when Sam barged in and stood staring at Dean with his mouth gaping open.
"Hey Sammy," the older brother said quietly as he took in his brother's haggard appearance. It was obvious he had been drinking from the stench of whiskey coming from him. Even without Dean's new demonic powers he could smell it easily.
Sam was still staring at Dean and he started to fidget. What if he knows? Can he tell? Dean's thoughts were interrupted when Sam ran over and gripped him in a tight hug, silent sobs wracking his body. His head was leaning on Dean's shoulder and he could feel his tears leaking onto his shirt, soaking it down to his skin. It was a few moments later when Sam finally pulled away, trying to compose himself and then turned to Crowley. "T-Thank you. I-I know I didn't get to make the deal, so why did you-?" Sam left the question hanging in the air and it found both brothers wondering the same thing. Dean also turned to Crowley to see him shaking his head.
"I'm telling you this once, Moose. I didn't bring Dean back. He came back on his own terms." Dean shook his head, confused about how he came back on his own terms. Sam looked at Dean, fully expecting an explanation.
"I don't remember anything besides," Dean paused, a little uncomfortable remembering that moment. "I don't remember anything after Sammy helping me to the car. Everything else is blank. So no, Crowley. I did not come back 'on my own terms,' so why don't you enlighten us?" Dean felt his anger rising at the demon in front of him and took a few deep breaths to calm himself before his eyes changed again.
"The mark, it's changed you. Forever. There's no changing you back. Not even I, the King of Hell, can help you. Once you go black, you never go back. Maybe go and get your little angel boyfriend to help you." And with a snap of his fingers, he was gone. The brothers both sighed, both thinking about all this is going to change. Dean will have to leave and give up hunting. Sam will have to research nonstop to find a way to save his brother. Sam turned, looking at Dean expectantly. This is what I always hate, the chick flick moments, the telling of secrets like teenage girls, and the disappointed look I'll get from one of the only two guys that matter, Dean thought.
Dean focused for a moment while Sam was looking until he heard the 'click' and a gasp. Dean thought he could just feel the betrayal from Sam and sighed. "I'm a demon. A Knight of Hell. And I have to leave because-" Suddenly the air was knocked out of him when Sam hugged him.
"I don't care, Dean. It's not your fault the Mark did this to you. We'll find a way. We can get Cas to-" It was Dean's turn to interrupt him with an abrupt shove.
"We can't help it, Sam. You heard Crowley. There's no changing me now. That's why we can't tell Cas anything. If he shows, I died. I'm leaving because I can't hurt you or him." He said with emotion thick in his voice and stared at Sam as he began to cry even more and try to make his own argument. Dean closed his eyes and kept thinking of home back in Lawrence, Kansas; where his mom was alive and where he used to be a normal kid, trying to calm himself. Suddenly, he was in the yard of the old house. Sam was gone, Cas was gone, and now so was he.
Sam sunk onto the bed slowly, staring at the wall with a blank expression. After a moment he reached into the nightstand and pulled out the bottle of bourbon Dean kept. Sam was never really the heavy drinker, Dean always was, but he learned from his brother how to drown out the pain.
Half the bottle gone, Sam stumbled throughout the bunker, ending up back in the dungeon. The supplies to summon Crowley were still strewn about, just taunting Sam to use them. Sam threw the bottle across the room, shattered pieces flew across the floor as he kneeled. Fumbling with the match for a few seconds, it finally lit and he dropped it into the bowl with a bright flash of light. Sam out his arm up, shielding his eyes from the burning light and coughed. Crowley was standing about five feet away when Sam finally looked up.
Sam stumbled while standing, bracing himself against the wall. "Been hitting the bottle?" Crowley asked, amusement lacing his voice. Sam glared, or at least tried. He managed to narrow his eyes for a few seconds before blinking them rapidly. Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers. Immediately Sam stood up straight, all signs of intoxication gone. "What do you want, boy?" The demon asked, obviously tired.
"I want my brother back, I know there has to be a way to turn him back. I need you to bring him back here while I figure something out," Sam said, all seriousness now. "Maybe I can find something in the archives to help."
Crowley stood for a moment with a raw, away look on his face, "You don't know where he is?" He asked with something close to astonishment on his face.
Sam shook his head, "No. No, he just left after he told me." He gulped and looked around again, not wanting to look at Crowley.
Crowley nodded. "He's home," he said simply with a faraway look. Sam shook his head, confused.
"What the hell do you mean, 'home'? If you're talking about Hell, I swear, I'll kill you right now," Sam hissed. This got Crowley's attention and he focused on Sam.
"Pray tell, how do you think you're going to kill me? You haven't got any weapons on you right now, I'm not in that little devil's trap, and you haven't got your brother with the First Blade either," Crowley waved a hand and Sam was up against the wall, choking against an invisible force, struggling to get free. Crowley approached and leaned up close to Sam's face. "I could rip you to pieces with just a few simple words, so don't go around trying to boss me!" Spit flew from the demon's mouth, landing on Sam's face in disgusting little drops.
Crowley stepped back and Sam fell into a heap on the floor, gasping for air. "I see we have an understanding, hm? You do as I say, I'll bring back your brother to you, you find a way to change him back and I'll help when I can. Deal?" Crowley ask with a spark in his eye.
"I am not kissing you, Crowley. Besides, I'm not going to sell my soul just for you to bring Dean back here and I have to do whatever you say. Not gonna happen," he crossed his arms in defiance.
Crowley smirked, "No kissing, Moose. I don't trust you boys after that Singer man slipped me some tongue. And this isn't a regular deal, call it a, a favor. I scratch your back, and when I need you, you scratch mine," he stated simply. He stared at the Winchester boy with something strange gleaming in his eye.
Sam uncrossed his arms, giving Crowley a skeptical look. "Fine. Deal." He put his hand out, "I need to sign something, don't I?"
Crowley smiled, "Ah, you Winchester boys understand these deals perfectly," he said as he brought out a sheet of paper. "I've condensed it after the last time you boys wanted to actually read it all."
Sam scanned the contract quickly, finding nothing strange, and signed it with a deep breath. "Go find him. Now," Sam demanded, and now Crowley was gone too.
Dean found it impossibly easy to just appear wherever he wanted. He found himself at many different locations over the past few hours. First Dean went to a bakery and stole a pie, eating it quickly, but with no satisfaction. The pie was practically tasteless in his mouth, leaving him with half a cherry pie.
Dean found himself outside the bunker, staring longingly at the impala. A part of Dean, somewhere deep, wished he could take her with him, but he had no use for her anymore. Dean's eyes opened in shock at the thought of how he was willing to leave his baby behind. Dean glared murderously at the bunker's entrance and left without a sound, leaving him in a nameless bar in a nameless city.
It was twenty minutes later when Dean found out that he couldn't get drunk, even after a dozen shots of whiskey. The almost bartender seemed to be concerned. Almost. The bartender, Sydney, her name-tag read, was leaning over much more necessary to fill his glass. Each time her hand brushed against his and lingered longer than what would be deemed as "friendly."
After Sydney left, satisfied that Dean accepted her phone number, Crowley showed up, drink in hand. The younger mad didn't flinch, just felt the urge to beat Crowley senseless. The man sat there for another moment, sipping his drink, before setting it down and putting an arm on Dean's shoulder so quickly he didn't have time to react before he was back in the dungeon of the bunker. Sam was standing there; the handcuffs once used on Crowley now approached Dean as he stood hopelessly in the devil's trap. "We're going to help you, Dean." Came the guilt-filled reply from Sam.
Dean scoffed and got in a defensive crouch, ready to fight his brother. His eyes turned black and growled as Sam approached.
Crowley approached before Sam could, grabbing Dean's left arm and twisting it out of socket. Groaning, Dean threw Crowley off, slamming him into the edge of the devil's trap. Dean turned, walking over to where Crowley lay. A swift kick to the stomach had the King of Hell groaning in pain and clutching his stomach. "Get your bloody brother away!"
Sam nodded and ran to grab the shotgun. Picking it up, he pointed it at his brother's back. He hesitated for just a moment, but shot a round of rock salt into his back when Dean kicked Crowley again. It seemed like the blast lasted for minutes when Dean turned around slowly. Sam gulped and ran in front of Crowley, using his height to his advantage to tower over his brother. "Stop this. Now. This isn't you, Dean. You can stop," he said slowly as Crowley slowly stood behind him.
Dean took a small step forward, "You're protecting him? Just a few days ago we were planning to kill him!" Sam cringed slightly and Dean almost looked offended. Almost.
Crowley tapped Sam on the back as a signal and he nodded. Before Dean could react, Crowley disappeared from sight and reappeared behind him, clamping the chain around his neck and grabbing his arms behind his back, effectively holding him back. Sam rushed and finished chaining him up. Crowley looked at Sam with an expectant look and, for a moment, Sam was confused. Crowley just pointed to the paint on the floor and Sam scraped a line away quickly. Sam tossed him a can of spray paint from his duffel and started repainting.
Crowley stood and wiped his hands together, dusting off dirt. "Well, somebody's going to have to keep an eye on him at all times, and judging by how he's a demon and you are a human, I'll be the one for the job. Plus a few of my pets to help, of course." Crowley smirked and suddenly a foul odor filled the room. It was a smell Sam could never forget. It was the smell of Crowley's hellhounds. "You go on and hit the books while Juliet and I keep watch over your brother." Sam just nodded and walked out silently, sparing a quick glance back at Dean.
It had been three days since Dean was first chained back up. Three days filled with constant reading, constant research, and constant praying. Dean finally stopped screaming threats and thrashing around after his eyes turned green again. So far he has yet to stop apologizing and asking to be let go. Sam only goes in the room to ask Crowley an occasional question, but to no avail.
It had been three days of nothing.
Sam had been researching nonstop and had slept for only four hours each night. Crowley ended up having to spike Sam's coffee to make him sleep. Three days later and there is no more information on healing a demon. Nothing more about the Mark of Cain has been found. Nothing on Cain, Abel, and Colette has been found other than the basic information.
Three days later and Castiel still has not showed up. Sam has been begging Castiel in his prayers to come, to help, but he will not come. Sam is worried that Castiel has fallen, that he is no longer an angel, or that Metatron killed him too.
It has been three days of nothing but constant worry, coffee-chugging, and researching. Sam is about to lose his mind.
Castiel has been in Heaven ever since he was first imprisoned with Gadreel.
Heaven is in shambles, angels fighting to get their hands on Metatron. Some angels want to kill him, others want to set him free. And Castiel is the one to decide which goes. Hannah has been by his side ever since Gadreel's sacrifice, helping him lead the angels again, which he still doesn't want to do.
Yet Castiel is still so tired. Some part of him thinks it's because of his diminishing grace, but another part of him knows it's because of Dean's situation. Castiel knows that Dean is a demon, all of the angels know, and not from Sam's loud, hopeless prayers.
Just hours after Castiel was told of Dean's death all angels heard the screaming of demons. Chanting non-stop for hours that "Dean Winchester is dead! Dean Winchester is ours!" That hurt him the most, knowing that now Dean was damned to either walk on earth for eternity or torture more souls in Hell, knowing that Dean is a demon didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. It was the fact that no matter what he did, he couldn't save him. All that Castiel did was for nothing.
Castiel hears the pleading prayers from the younger Winchester, but cannot help him. He fears that if he sees Dean's dark, empty void where his once bright, vibrant soul used to be, he might die.