A/N: Oh my CHUCK! Thank you so much for the reviews, guys. It's awesome that you think my idea is awesome so, here's chapter 2 and it's... idk, you decide how it is. Sorry if it isn't long enough. Sadly, I had a bit of a struggle writing the ending and my mum nattering in the background didn't help matters *sigh* Anyway please read and let me know what you think!
P.S. First part of the conversation between Cain and Dean is Canon.
Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, if you're a fan then I'm a fan too! Eric Kripke, the WB and CW own Supernatural. Oh but I'm obsessed so I'll play it natural.
Chapter Synopsis: Cain is interrupted in the middle of transferring the Mark when a disheveled looking Castiel appears between them. Dean is not amused, Crowley runs away with his tail between his legs. AU from 09x11 – First Born.
Chapter 2 – Dancing With Demons
Dean was getting irritated by the second. The King of Hell breathing down his neck and a swarm of bloodthirsty demons eager to rip them all to pieces outside weren't helping the situation either. He paced around Cain's kitchen, grumbling under his breath and adrenaline making him want to punch something. Preferably Crowley's face... or Abaddon's, whichever came at him first. He looked around for a moment and was relieved to see Cain coming back from whatever hellhole he went to.
"What the hell, man? You in or out? I'm getting head spins," Dean demanded.
The demon ignored his brashness, wanting nothing more than to change the subject and give the Winchester what he needed. "I can give you the Mark, Dean. If that's what you truly want."
Mark? What mark? Did Cain mean the blood red thing on his arm? Whatever, Dean wasn't up for games right now and he thought the Father of Murder was just being annoyingly cryptic. He scowled at him, "What are you talking about?"
"The Mark can be transferred to someone who's worthy."
A beat, then, "You mean a killer like you?"
"Yes."
Dean didn't know how to react to that. Should he feel bad about it? Maybe insulted? "Can I use it to kill the bitch?"
"Yes. But you have to know, with the Mark comes a great burden. Some would call it a great cost."
"Yeah, well, spare me the warning label. You had me at 'kill the bitch'." There wasn't enough time to mull things over so as usual, Dean used the Winchester way to decide things - rush in blindly.
Cain sighed. Dean wasn't thinking straight but if he really did had a chance to kill the Knight of Hell, maybe Cain had his own chance at revenge... So be it.
May Fate have mercy on Dean Winchester. "Good luck, Dean. You're gonna need it."
"Yeah, I get it a lot. Let's dance."
Dean was just finished saying the last word in when the air suddenly rippled, crackling with electricity. There was the familiar fluttering of wings. The occupants of the room turned their heads to look at the source - a disheveled looking Castiel. The angel hurriedly took stock of the situation, eyes immediately scanning the smooth unblemished skin of Dean's arm. There was a flash of relief, then determination and finally rage on his face. Before the Winchester could spit out a stunned 'Cas?', Castiel was touching his shoulder and transported him inside the safety of the Impala. Dean cursed.
In the kitchen with Cain and Crowley, the angel Castiel steeled himself before facing the Father of Murder. He held out his right hand to him and stared resolutely into Cain's eyes. The demon never made a move to take it.
"Why is an angel here? Who are you?"
"My name is Castiel and I'm here to take Dean's place," Cas growled. There was no time, he had to take the Mark now.
Cain looked as if he was about to say something when Crowley made a choking noise in the background. He gave the angel a hysterical snort of laughter, "Castiel? What - are you mad?"
His voice grated on Cas' nerves but the angel couldn't afford getting distracted and decided it was best to ignore him- until he remembered, that is. It was Crowley's fault that Dean had the Mark of Cain in the first place. It was his all damn fault that Dean became a demon and their desperate act of taking off the Mark. Castiel's eyes narrowed at him and all he could see was red.
"You!" The angel shot out an arm, pinning the King of Hell in place with his new Grace and squeezing the life out of him. Crowley went down on one knee."If it wasn't for you-"
"Wait," Cain called out, confidently approaching Castiel's form. "Are you worthy, Castiel? Are you a murderer?"
Cas sharply flinched but schooled his expression anyway. He was a murderer. He murdered countless humans. He murdered countless friends. He murdered countless brothers and sisters. Castiel's eyes have gone dark and his hold on Crowley's neck was loosening. But that didn't mean the sniveling demon wasn't quaking in his boots.
"Yes," came the angel's stunted reply.
He closed the gap between him and Cain, entirely freeing the King of Hell from his hold. Crowley took big gulps of air and looked up at the scene before him. The two men grasped each other's forearms, Castiel grunting at the invasion of the Mark, its evil tainting his holy Grace. The curse spiraled bright red under his pale skin then stopped, forming a red angry scar. It was done. The Mark had found it's new master.
Cain spared the King of Hell a measured glance, "I think you should go." With the newly tainted angel trembling slightly in power, anger or both, Crowley surmised that was the best idea. Who knew why the featherbrain wanted to bite his head off but he'd rather take his chances than stay with the madman. "Bollocks," he cursed then disappeared into thin air.
The Father of Murder turned his attention to the angel. "I don't have the First Blade in my possession."
"I know," Cas said, straightening up. "I also know where it is."
Cain furrowed his brows, "I see." However, there was something else bothering him other than an angel taking up the Mark. "There's something different about you. You're much more powerful than a fallen angel... You're not fallen, aren't you?"
Castiel looked at him straight in the eye, "I'm not," he agreed.
Their conversation was suddenly cut short when a loud crash of glass and debris rained on them from a broken window. The swarm of demons were getting more agitated by the minute and Castiel had to take Dean out of there. He looked at Cain knowingly.
"One day, I will call you, Castiel. And you will use the First Blade to end my life. That is the deal."
The angel gave him a brisk nod, and then flew away to where his human friend was currently imprisoned inside his own car. He partly registered the battle cries of many demons as they were given purchase to enter the house. Beams of scarlet light and guttural screams painted the vicinity.
Castiel appeared beside Dean on the passenger's seat and ignored the hunter's bitter scowl. Their conversation had to wait. "Drive, Dean!"
The Winchester grudgingly obeyed, turning his keys into ignition, tires squeaking and crunching down dirt and stones as they sped away from the horror show. Things just got fucked up six ways to Sunday.
"What the hell, Cas?" Dean's voice went up a few octaves high as he drove down the road, speed limits be damned. "What the fuck happened back there? You locked me inside my own car!"
His friend pursed his lips into a thin line before answering, "I saved your ass, Dean. That's what happened."
The hunter was a bit taken aback by the angel's choice of vocabulary. Something was seriously wrong here. Dean carefully inspected Castiel from his grave expression to his rolled up sleeve, the Mark of Cain settling comfortably below the inside of his elbow. The thing already gave the Winchester Goosebumps but seeing it on his angelic friend made it so much more disturbing.
Not to mention how in the world could Castiel teleport - or fly for that matter- if he was as much of a fallen angel like all the other ones on earth? And how exactly did he know where Dean and Crowley were, or their business with the Father of Murder? So many goddamn questions without a single stupid answer.
The frustration was evident on Dean's face but Cas knew this wasn't the right time or place to straight things out. "I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel murmured while closing his eyes. He felt tired. "I can't explain things right now. We need to get to Sam first."
"What? But Sam's-"
"Your childish fight with your brother is nothing compared to this."
Sheesh, someone's acting snappy. Okay, maybe he was a bit concerned with his fight with Sammy but it wasn't fair that Cas would always assume Dean had his head in his ass. He opened his mouth for a sarcastic retort but closed it when he saw the slump of Castiel's shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes. Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah, of course. I know, Cas. It's just... we're in the middle of nowhere and Sammy's probably days away."
The angel blew out a breath then gestured for the hunter to stop driving. Again, Dean didn't argue and obediently pulled the Impala on the side and turned the engine off. He waited for Cas to speak.
Castiel grabbed Dean's right arm and held onto his seat. His human friend quirked a curious eyebrow at him and Cas felt he had to at least forewarn the hunter, "Brace yourself, Dean. We're teleporting to the Bunker."
Dean was just able to suck some air before Baby and its occupants disappeared from Hell's Highway.
"Oof!" Dean yelped when his head painfully bumped on the roof of the Impala. The car bounced twice on the ground upon arrival, rattling its passengers inside. A heavy cloud of dust surrounded them and tickled the hunter's nose. He sneezed. "The hell, man? Give a guy a better warning!" Achoo! "Dammit."
"My apologies, I'll make sure we land gentler next time," Cas muttered, already getting out and slamming the car door on Dean's offended face. The hunter scrunched up his nose, "'Next time'? There ain't no next time, buddy!" Achoo!
Thankfully, the dust was clearing up and the moon overhead provided enough lighting to distinguish the Bunker's entrance. Castiel moved towards the metal door and Dean wasted no time to follow his feathered friend. The angel raised a hand to knock but stopped, looking at the limb like it's the first time he's seen it. He dropped his hand and motioned for the hunter to come closer. Dean didn't want to admit it but this odd behavior with Cas was seriously giving him the heebie-jeebies.
"Cas? What's the hold up?"
There was a flash of guilt on his face but then the emotion was gone in an instant. "Sam's probably resting; I don't want to disturb him. So, hold on."
For the second time that day, the elder Winchester found himself getting teleported somewhere. He realized this would mean he won't be pooping till next week. Dean didn't know what scared him more - that Castiel somehow got his real mojo back and was acting all shifty, or the part where he could zap him anytime, dysfunctional bowels and all?
The said angel groaned in irritation next to him, "You don't have to worry, Dean. You're bowel movement is safe and sound."
"What the - are you reading my mind, Castiel?" The hunter snapped at him. He made sure to put Cas' full name in to make his point home. The featherhead was acting like a dick all of a sudden.
Cas sighed heavily, noticing his mistake. He stared apologetically at Dean, "I'm sorry. It's - it's been a long day." He had been too careless, using his old powers just to feel like a real angel again, even making up a bad lie about Sam. But even with the new Grace pulsing within him, the Mark was steadily creeping under his defenses. He could feel it's darkness. He didn't know if it was pure frustration or the curse was starting to taint his mind. Before his thoughts could stray any further, he felt the weight of Dean's hand on his shoulder. The Winchester had his eyebrows furrowed and wearing a worried frown. Castiel really looked at him then and was surprised to once again see the brightness of his soul.
It's been such a long time since the angel had seen that pureness inside his friend. Maybe taking up the Mark himself gave Dean's soul a chance to remain pure. With that knowledge in mind, Castiel let himself relax and felt very grateful that he took the mission. The world was saved, Dean was saved, and some of their friends were still alive. Like Charlie. Oh how he missed Charlie.
"Dean? What're you doing here?" Sam's sharp tone cut through the silence. He noticed his older brother lurking by the entrance door and another person beside him, hidden a little by the dark. But the silhouette of a trench coat could only mean... "Cas! You friggin' disappeared!" Sam exclaimed, jerking his arms in front of him to convey his concern. Their angelic friend stepped out of Dean's shadow and graced the younger Winchester with a sheepish look.
"I… I brought Dean," Cas said, awkwardly shuffling his hands and pocketing them somewhere in his coat. The older Winchester gave a slight scoff at that.
Sam snorted. Yeah right, as if that little tidbit explained everything. He waved at them to come down. Might as well talk things out while the whole family was there. The two men glanced at each other before going down the stairs single file, Dean purposefully avoiding eye contact with him, and Cas moving sluggishly as if his body weighed a ton. Whatever happened on their little escapade, it looked like nothing good came out of it. And knowing the pair… the hunter sighed. This was going to give him a major headache.
Nobody spoke for a long time after they were all comfortably situated in the library. Maybe 'comfortable' was stretching it a bit thin. Dean sat in his place on the other side, directly facing his little brother, while Cas slumped on his chair between the Winchesters. Sam ignored their depressed sighing.
He clapped his hands in mock cheer, "So. Who wants to go first?" Predictably, no one raised a hand. Though Sam did spot Castiel fidgeting with his shirtsleeve. "Cas?"
"I'm afraid my version is... complicated. It'll take a while," the angel replied, not even lifting his head to look at the younger Winchester. Castiel kept picking at something on his right forearm.
"Okay. Dean?" Sam didn't know if Cas forgot about their plan to track Gadreel with the resonating Grace inside him, or that there was something much bigger that warranted the angel's attention. He seemed stronger too - strong enough to teleport and last time Sam checked, it was something no angel out of Heaven could do. Either way, Castiel was acting very, very suspicious. And things like that never ended well for any of them.
Dean groaned, "You don't wanna know, Sammy. I don't recommend it for bedtime stories." Sam made sure to give him his biggest bitch face.
"Try me."
The older Winchester wearily scrubbed his face. "Fine." To hell with it. No more keeping secrets. "So I was in a bar, okay? Then Crowley was there -"
"Crowley? Dean, you should know better than hang out with demons!" Sam yelled, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence.
Dean yelled back angrily, "I wasn't! Dammit Sammy, just let me finish!" He fixed his brother with a stink-eye before continuing, "He was there and he looked human... ish. I don't know if he's still getting his fix but Crowley seemed non-threatening. Anyway, I was half sober and moping when he started yapping about Abaddon."
"Abaddon?"
Dean shrugged, "Yeah, we didn't really think much about her these days, right?" Sam reluctantly nodded. "So Crowley, being the old gossipy lady that he is, knew something that could kill her. The First Blade..."
The brothers' conversation started to blur to Castiel. Some of their words dissolved to static and background noise. All he could hear, feel and touch in that moment was the Mark, pumping poison and evil into his veins. He was entranced just by looking at it, his fingers delicately tracing the red scar. If the angel could simply just... tune everything out, he could swear the Mark of Cain was singing. Sweet, sweet, melody of blood and death. Castiel could almost taste it on his tongue. Then the peculiar sensation left as fast as it came, leaving the angel disoriented and out of sorts. Cas could still somewhat hear his friends' voices but they were too far away...
Suddenly, there was an explosion of light and sound, his senses all drowned out by a chorus of ghostly whispers and bloodcurdling screams. It was too bright and too loud altogether. He was having a vision.
Castiel watched as familiar but unfamiliar hands soaked in red and foul gore, tearing bodies left and right. Wing prints seared onto the ground, a tall form splayed broken and bloody, green lifeless eyes. Maniacal laughter was echoing and bouncing inside his head. It sounded so much like his voice, enjoying the sick thrill of the hunt. He screamed then, screamed for all he's worth. The Mark of Cain glowed and it grinned at him.
"Open your eyes, Castiel. Open them to a whole new world you're about to create. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Ahhh what is that? who is that? too creepy? not graphic enough? ugh please Read/Review/Fav/Follow. See ya next time!