Also Bobby is not in a wheelchair.
[RIP JO HARVELLE.]
It had been two months now, since Dean and I where reunited. I had missed him so much, the constant searching and the uncertainty I went through in that month long separation was agony. All I wanted was to find Dean again and have everything go back to normal, so I could finally feel whole again. Family was everything, and Dean was all I had. That's why upon finding my brother I was overwhelmed with so many emotions I felt like my psyche was going to explode! But in the two months that followed, since the night I'd found him in Waldo. The uncertainty that I thought would've left me, only grew. In those passing months I was even more apprehensive and questioning. It wasn't like he was different, well he was, just not in the big way, but in little ways. Things he'd say or do something It just made me uncomfortable, like something wasn't right, there was something I just couldn't put my finger on it, it was like searching for the right word to say in conversation – it's always on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't say it.
Well I couldn't figure out what exactly was different, but there was a difference. It was small enough to make you wrack your brain over it and never figure out what it is, but big enough to stop you dead in your tracks and question the situation.
He emptied the remnants of the silver flask into his mouth, cringing slightly at the warm burning sensation creeping down his throat and into his stomach. He deposited the empty container back within the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Sam stared at him with a cocked eyebrow. "I though we don't drink before 10?" Sam asked mockingly as he pulled on his pair of pumas. Dean glanced over at him as he ran his hands through his light brown hair, making sure none of it was flattened to his head. "It is past ten." The right side of his hair was flat, due to his sleeping position the night before. He then ran his hand back and forth fast on the side to stick it up like the other side, it worked, a little. He shrugged a little, seemingly satisfied.
"Ten at night Dean, not after 10 am." Sam was walking out the motel door with Dean, pulling on his brown zip up.
"Hey, you're the one who didn't go on the Coffee run Sammy, had to get my 'pick me up' else where." Dean pulled the gear out of park and into drive, backing up and heading down the road. Leaving Houston far behind them.
"So where are we headed now?" Dean leaned back into his seat, turning slightly to look at Sammy, a boyish grin split across his face. "Las Vegas?" Sam responded with a scoff and a "You wish."
The Dialogue between the two was muted, Dean continuing down the straightaway, his speakers blaring some un-identifiable mullet rock. Sam was staring out the window at the dehydrated plains of the Texan wilderness. He pulled from his thoughts by his Cell phone ringing; he pulled it from his pocket. "This is Sam," He waited for a response.
"Hey Sam, this is Ellen. Look, I could really use some help on a case, I think we got a lead on the Colt."
Sam responded quickly, suddenly sitting up straight, letting her know he and Dean had just left Houston an where headed toward the west coast.
"Well turn around sweetie, I need you up here in South Dakota." Sam smiled; it had been so long since he'd heard the motherly southern twang of Ellen Harvelle.
"Yeah, Dean and I will be up there, definitely. But, Ellen, who tipped you off about it?" Sam's eyebrows crinkled together, frowning slightly.
"Well Jo and I ran into a guy who knows a guy who knew a crossroads demon who wants Lucifer out of the picture permanently. Said the demon was looking for the Winchesters."
"Wait that doesn't make any sense, why would he want Lucifer dead, Isn't he like the god to all demons?" Sam asked in disbelief.
"Hell if I know, Jo has a plan though, so head on up here and hopefully we'll have the colt by midnight tomorrow."
Sam hung up shortly after that, Dean turned down the music, glancing at Sam as he continued down the vacant road. "Hey we're going to want to turn off at the next exit and head for South Dakota."
"Why?"
"Because we just found the Colt."
Dean closed the bathroom door behind him; once more he and Sam had found their selves in another shitty trucker motel. Dean splashed water onto his face, he was still breathing rough. He felt like he was on fire, like he was overheating. It was sudden like early on set menopause, except he wasn't a woman. He grabbed the back of the muscle snug black shirt and pulled it over his head. He gripped the sides of the sink, glaring at his reflection, soon finding himself lost in his dark green eyes, he'd been staring at them so long now, they looked black.
"You can't escape me, Dean. You're gonna die. And this. This is what you are going to become!"
He blinked fast, rubbing his eyes; he stared back at himself, at tired red-rimmed green eyes. He sighed, and sat on the edge of the linoleum tub, running a hand slowly over his face. He'd heard that voice, his voice; constantly say that at him in his dreams, it was unnerving.
"Hey Dean, I'm going out to meet Ellen and Jo, get the skinny on this case, you coming?"
Dean mumbled something about feeling sick, told Sam to go on without him and he'd catch up later, he didn't remember what Sam said in response. Now his head was killing him, he rubbed his temples. He'd been feeling weird all day, since he'd woken up this morning, like he was experiencing a bad hangover mixed with the early stages of the Flu.
He slipped his jeans off, only in his black boxers he stepped into the shower, turning on the water ice cold and letting it run over him. He leaned against the wall, eyes closed, letting the cold cool him.
He felt his consciousness slipping. And just as he was about to slip down and into the bowl of the tub and just sit up against the wall, he then felt a hand, scolding hot burn against his face. His breath hitched, green eyes florescent in wide-eyed surprise. He pulled away and then clumsily pushed the shower curtain back and stepped out of the shower. "Go away." He said in a dry monotone. He wanted a towel but his head was in such a fog he couldn't remember where they were at and it just seemed everything was moving too fast for him to understand. He grabbed the side of the sink.
What the fuck is going on?The small hand held out of black towel, he took is and dried his face and neck, now looking at her. She gave him one of those pissy looks Ruby used to give him, her arms crossed over her chest and her blonde hair falling just bellow the elbow.
"What?" He pushed past her, back into the room.
"I told you that we have something we need you to do, Dean." She followed him from the bathroom, standing to the side of the doorway. Dean shoved through his duffel for some clean clothes, changing right in front of her. She rolled her eyes as he buttoned his jeans, she was at him in seconds, hand on his neck, he just stared down at her with emotionless eyes. They stared at each other for a long time, then her frown broke into an evil smirk.
"It's happening isn't it?"
"Excuse me?" He shoved her off him, she let go of his neck and stepped back again, still smirking. He glanced at her as he pulled a gray shirt, pulling the necklace out from underneath the gray.
"You need more, I'm sorry I haven't been around in a while to dose you." She pulled a knife from her pocket and cut at the middle of her arm, holding it out to him. He pulled away from her in disgust. "What the fuck are you talking about you twisted bitch?"
She narrowed her eyes, once more she was in his face in seconds, arm at her side now, and he looked at her face, but could see the crimson slithering down her arm. She smirked again, putting a hand against his face, and letting her fingers linger at his lips as she leaned forward. He inhaled deeply, leaning towards her, she stopped him.
"Why do you think you've been stronger, that you've been able to go so long without sleep or had any real needs for anything other than that gun, and that knife in your duffel you've been favoring lately for your commitments of mass carnage?"
This time his eyes narrowed. "What're you saying?"
"What I'm saying shortbus is that you've been drinking demon blood for over two months now and reaping the rewards. Sure you don't have special psychic powers like team Xavier but your definitely pulling through on the team wolverine."
He pushed her away by her shoulders, considering the analogy she just represented to him. He didn't know whether to be mad or what, his head hurt too bad and the temperature fluctuations in his body were to overwhelming for any real thinking, he leaned against the wall, wanting to strip down again, his hand compressing against his forehead. He didn't hear her move, he rarely did, but he could feel her presence inch from his, a finger touched his lip, it was wet, he pushed her hand away – about to tell her how much of an annoying whore she was when he tasted it. His head was clear and when he saw the room now it was like someone turned on the lights and he was watching HD video quality through his eyes.
"See?"
She cut again, this time at her wrist, she stepped forward holding her wrist an inch or two from his mouth. He swallowed and stared at her in pensive disgust, clenching and unclenching his hands. She huffed slightly, annoyed with Dean's indecisiveness her pressed her wrist to his lips.
He was suddenly biting her, drinking in the red liquid, sucking deeply, his hands madly gripping her wrist to his lips.
All his flu and hangover like symptoms where gone, he was clean despite the small smear of blood on one lip.
Dean pushed her wrist way, with all his self-control, he wouldn't look at her and he wanted to hurl. His hands in his hair, on his head in seconds, he slid down the wall and sat broken on the ground. His eyes where everywhere, but looking at nothing.
She knelt down in front of him.
"Your going to need more than that, your going threw withdrawal Dean."
She said this, like he was just some common drug addict, like what he was doing wasn't the most shameful act on the face of the earth. That he wasn't doing what Sam was doing just last year with Ruby. He felt like he should be crying or angry or something, anything.
Why can't I feel anything?He was overcome with anxiety over his lack of humanity. His lips quivering, the space between his eyebrows crinkled together.
The demon touched his face, pulling it up to look at her's; she looked stern and slightly annoyed at this display of weakness.
"Whatever, that should hold you for a while longer anyway." She then let go of his face, pulled his up by his arms and pressed him against the wall. Now wearing a sensuous smile, she leaned into him. Cocking her head to one side she stared up at him, pulling his face towards her's. "Now, remember Dean you belong to us, to Lucifer now." He looked subdued; he didn't try and move because he knew If he was this close to her, it was a wasted effort. "Now you have to kill her. If you don't Sammy will be the first to go," Dean started to protest, but it was a weak effort, regardless of how much he wanted to – she had to much power of him.
When she didn't have about any effect over me when she first appeared…"Jo Harvelle, Dean."
She gave him a weighted stare. His lips parted in surprise.
No.
"Yes, Dean. Its either her or Sam."
She ended the conversation with a kiss, lingering on him longer than needed afterwards, only to make him even hungrier. His hands rested on her waist, holding her to him, they were lying on the carpet, and her blonde hair tossed over one shoulder. Dean up, lips connecting in a lustful kiss. His hands ran up her back, pushing her completely against his chest, gripping her shoulders.
"What the Hell is going on here?"
Dean sat up quickly, arm still around her waist, she sat across him, smirking, and Dean looked and just now realized her eyes where black. He pushed her off him quickly to get up, grab the pistol off the nearby table. Bobby's gun shifted from her to Dean quickly. "Don't you move either you evil son of a bitch!"
"Bobby chill, I'm just grabbing the gun."
"I know that you idjiat." His rough southern voice boomed. He cocked the hammer of his gun.
"Now if you don't sit down right now you black eyed bitch ass body stealing scum, I'll tear you a new one."
Dean froze.
"Excuse me?" Dean said, his voice was rough, his face in angry confusion.
"Bobby I wasn't –"
Bobby threw salt at him. Dean just frowned, nothing happened. Dean crossed his arms and stood still, deciding to let Bobby go through the motions of checking him out.
"Here let me just do it for you."
He pulled a silver knife out of his duffel, cutting his arms.
"See I'm fine."
"Far from fine if you got black eyes, son." Bobby glared at him from under his tattered baseball cap. Gun still aimed at Dean.
"Okay, last thing then." He pulled out a flask of Holy water. Dean sighed, at the pointlessness of this test.
"Bobby, the silver knife is killing two birds with one stone. The Holy water unnecessary."
"Just do it."
By now the Blonde stood up. "Don't you move I'll blow that pretty little head off."
Dean glanced at her, she raised an eyebrow towards dean. "Don't forget Dean."
Dean blinked, she was gone.
He looked back at Bobby who looked about as confused as him.
"Who was that?" Bobby asked in accusing curiousness.
"The biggest pain in the ass since judgment day."
Dean un-screwed the top of the flask, he held out his arm and poured the water over his arm. He screamed in pain, dropping the flask and pulling back his burning arm.
Dean pulled back the smoking arm, his eyes went black and he grimaced. Bobby's grip tightened on the gun. Dean sat on the motel bed, teeth barred, his gaze moved unhumanly fast towards bobby.
"Bobby I don't know what the hell is going on."
Dean's eyes pleaded, and faded back to a humanly hazel color. Sam couldn't know.
And neither could Bobby…