The Demons Among Us. 06/29/2014
Crowley stood in the door way, feeling the light tug of a summoning spell trying to pull him down stairs. He knew that it was Moose, and he knew the arrangement. Maybe it was a deal to sell Sam's soul for Dean, maybe it was to just try to threaten. At the moment, Crowley couldn't care. He could only focus on the one thing in front of him, the one miracle that he hoped would truly happen.
Crowley walked into the room, and sat down in the chair. He stared at Dean, and sighed. "Your brother, bless his soul is summoning me as I speak," He said, rubbing his face, "Make a deal. Bring you back. It's exactly what I was talking about wasn't it? It's all become so... expected." He sat back in the chair, thinking for a moment. "You have to believe me, when I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain I didn't know this was going to happen," he continued, taking out loud to the unconscious hunter, "Not really. I mean I might not have told you the entire truth."
"But I never lied, I never lied Dean. That's important." Crowley said, stressing his words. He was a demon, and yes, that meant that he didn't have to tell the truth, but as a business man, it was an important aspect.
"It's fundamental." He took a deep breath, "But, there is one story about Cain that I might have forgotten to tell you. Apparently he too was willing to accept death rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the Blade. He died."
Crowley pulled the first blade out, holding it in speculation. He stared at it, turning it over and contemplating the sheer power this blade had. The control it could hold over one individual, who, quite honestly, was full of sheer power himself.
"Except as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this." Crowley stood, and crossed the room, still looking at the blade. As he continued to talk, he placed the blade in Dean's hand, placing both on his chest, right where the hunter had been stabbed. "Why set hearts aflutter with mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me, no it wasn't truly 'til you left the cheeseburger uneaten... and I began to let myself believe, maybe miracles do come true."
He let go, and began to talk quicker. Sam's spell was picking up strength, beginning to pull him to the younger hunter. "Listen to me Dean Winchester, what you're feeling right now is not death, it's life. A new kind of life. Open your eyes Dean, see what I see, feel what I feel. Let's go take a howl at that moon." Crowley's anticipation grew, his hope flooding him. What if the stories were true? Dean would come back as a..
The Hunter opened his eyes.
They were pitch black.
Crowley smiled, and set a piece of paper onto the side table. "See you soon." Crowley said as he vanished, going to meet his Moose. Maybe he would get a Moose's soul out of the miracle too.
Dean's eyes flickered open, a dull headache forming. He moaned, placing his hand up to his forehead. He sighed, trying to forget the nightmare he had just had, something containing a moon and howling.
Dean looked down, and noticed the blade, staring at him from his left hand. The entire dream came back, which now was a haunting reality. He gasped. He had died. He was sure of it. He was stabbed in the chest by metadouche, and Sam had rushed in.
I'm proud of us.
The phrase kept repeating, and he soon realized that those were the last words he said. The last words he was ever suppose to say. Dean thought back to his death, and knew it had happened. That meant that there was three ways that he could have been back.
Cas had saved him, Crowley had revived him out of the goodness of his heart, or the worst option he could imagine. He prayed to God that Sam had not sold his soul. He would rather die then let his brother go through with that.
Deam pushed himself out of bed, and rushed into the bathroom. He turned on the facet and stared in the mirror. Other than cuts and bruises, he seemed okay. The water dripped into the drain slowly, and Dean splashed some on his face. He glanced into the mirror, and the knife flew to his side. Dean held the knife up, threatening the demon. Dean narrowed his eyes at the man in the mirror, until he realized that the demon did the same. Dean blinked, and he was the only one in the room. Dean relaxed, then blinked again. The eyes were back. The pitch black, soulless eyes reflected in the mirror, replacing the bright green ones that were there a moment ago.
Dean finally understood.
The vision he had years back had came true.
He was an abomination. It was as clear as glass. Dean glanced at the blade, and recalled something he heard as he was unconscious.
"the Mark never quite let go….."
Dean laughed at the sick, twisted joke the universe was playing. The hunter had become the thing that he hunted all of this time. The blade brought him back, and at a terrible price.
Dean was a demon.
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~The Lost Writers Soul