Again, I'm still following 9x18 with this chapter so there's some dialogue from the show thrown in, but I tried to mix it up a little. Enjoy!
"He's not gonna crack that fast," Dean insisted. He had only allowed his brother one good punch before dragging him away from Gadreel, who was currently strapped to a chair in a nearby abandoned factory, hands cuffed and body immobilized by the symbols drawn on the floor beneath his feet.
"I know," Sam ground out. "Maybe you can hack him like Crowley did with me."
Dean shook his head. "Nah only Crowley can do that, and I'm not in the mood to call that dickbag. We need Cas."
"Any word from him?" Sam asked.
"No. I tried him again, he hasn't called or texted. And look..." Dean held up the screen of his cellphone. "I turned on the GPS on his phone. He's still in the same town from when we talked to him last."
"What the hell?"
"I don't know, but you gotta go find him." Dean shook his head, cutting off Sam's argument. "You're too close to this, man."
"Oh what, and you're not?" Sam seethed, attention torn between his brother and Gadreel. Sam had never been one for torture, but he longed to tear into the angel sitting just a few feet away. Waiting calmly, like he hadn't completely screwed them over. Like he hadn't used Sam's own body to kill Kevin, to wreak havoc on countless others that Sam was sure had suffered, but that he hadn't had the guts to unearth from his own muddled memories. It terrified him to think about all the things Gadreel may have done while possessing him. It made him furious.
But he could also see the logic in going to find Cas. Dean was right, he would probably end up killing Gadreel before they got any information out of him, and as much as Sam hated to admit it, Dean had far more experience when it came to procuring answers. It was just another fact that Sam never wanted to think about. It still made him ache to know of everything his brother had done for him, even all these years later. And it made it harder to stay as stoic and detached as he had been when it came to Dean lately. Not that Sam wanted it that way, but ever since finding out about Gadreel, he had been creating a distance between them, trying to push just enough so that his brother could begin to see how toxic their relationship had become, how much they ended up hurting each other in their attempts at keeping each other alive. Especially when he hadn't wanted to live in the first place...
Sam shook his head to clear it of his dark train of thought and handed the angel blade he had been holding over to Dean, giving his brother one last reluctant look before making his way out of the factory and back towards the Impala.
Dean waited until his brother had left before striding over to Gadreel, back turned to the angel as he contemplated the best way to go about his interrogation. Whether he wanted it to or not, ten years of training flooded swiftly into his mind, filling it with a sharp, distinct, droning voice he had never wanted to hear again. The voice began taking him through all the basics, like some kind of sick lecture: Basic anatomy and pressure points, remember all that Dean? How about how many nerves are located at each part of the body? Name the most sensitive areas. Come on, I know you know them. And where are all the major arteries? Gotta make the right cuts if you want your victim to last. You always lasted a good long time didn't you? Always screaming. You know which bones snap easiest don't you? Don't you remember how you screamed...?
Dean's thoughts were cut short by Gadreel's inquiry.
"So, he acts tough and you show kindness. Is that how this works?"
Dean smirked, Alistair's voice fading from his mind, a red haze slowly replacing it, climbing its way into the corners of his vision as he thought about exactly who it was that was now sitting in front of him. This was the angel he had trusted to heal his brother, the one he had relied on time and time again to save his friends. The one who had betrayed him in the end. Killed Kevin. Taken over Sam's body and gone on a killing spree with it. This was the angel that had ruined it all.
"No," Dean replied, words dripping venom. "See I don't care if you talk. You're gonna pay for what you did to Sam. And Kevin."
The first few slices into Gadreel's flesh were pure bliss. Dean didn't even bother with the questioning yet. He just needed to hear the unhindered screams that tore from the angel's mouth as he alternated seamlessly between punches and cuts with the angel blade. Dean examined the slivers of grace that shone through the angel's skin each time with vague fascination, a thin blue light that shimmered beneath the skin for a few seconds after each cut was made.
"Word around the campfire is, you let the snake into the garden. Ruined it for all humanity," he prodded, intent on inflicting more than just the physical pain. The hunter barely listened to Gadreel's rebuttal, already ready to move on to the good stuff. He couldn't let himself forget the actual purpose of this little session, no matter how much he longed to just keep cutting.
"Look, tell me about this getting back into Heaven crap, and I'll end this quick," Dean said, circling the chair where Gadreel sat. "Otherwise, you can sit here and rot in those chains. Forever. Up to you."
"All your talk," Gadreel leered. "You think you are invincible. The two of you against the world."
"Damn straight," Dean said, not really sure if he believed that anymore, but not willing to give Gadreel anything to work with. Judging by the angel's next words, Gadreel already had quite enough to work with.
"You really think Sam would do anything for you?" Gadreel taunted. "I've been in your brother's body Dean. He would not trade his life for yours."
Dean took the taunts, smiling maliciously as he continued to circle Gadreel's chair. And he tried to find the words that would've come to him easily less than a year ago. Of course Sam cares. Of course he would die for me.
Dean would've loved nothing more than to throw it all back in the angel's face, to tell Gadreel that he had absolutely no idea who Sam was. But nowadays, Dean felt as if he barely knew his little brother himself. He could understand the anger of course. Dean could understand Sam hating him for the way he had saved him. But he had expected that it would pass, just like all the other times, because eventually Sam would see that Dean couldn't do this without him. Sam would see that Dean's only reason for still fighting was the fact that his little brother was fighting beside him, ready to take on any enemy. Together. That was always how it was supposed to be.
Dean lost control sometime after his father was mentioned and sometime before the word "needy" made it fully past the angel's lips. But Gadreel didn't stop, his insults hurled fast and ruthless, and the whistle of the angel blade only stopped when Dean caught the calm expression on the now-bloody angel's face right before he drove it through Gadreel's heart.
"No," Gadreel pleaded, his tone shifting rapidly to one of pure desperation as Dean paused. "No. Do it. Kill me. KILL ME!"
Dean took a step back and regarded his prisoner curiously. "Yeah I don't think so. See, you're not afraid to die," he said, quickly putting the pieces together. "You're afraid to be left in these chains forever. So how about I just let you sit here and rot, you son of a bitch."
And with that, Dean strode from the room, trying not to let the blade shake too much in his unsteady hand as he made his way into the moldy bathroom of the factory, throwing it quickly into one of the sinks. He bent over the next one, taking a moment to be grateful that the water was still turned on before splashing some across his face. He hadn't meant to, but he caught his own reflection in the mirror, pausing to regard the stranger before him. The man staring back had more wrinkles than Dean remembered, the jagged bones of his cheeks pushing forcefully against his skin, hardening his expression to one of ferocity. He examined the dark eyes, the even darker circles beneath them, smearing a hand across the glass to make sure it wasn't just the dust distorting his image.
It wasn't.
Dean wondered what Sam thought when he looked at his big brother now. He wondered if Sam knew exactly when Dean had started to lose himself, when the lines of his face had begun to hollow out and die. And then he figured that seeing as Sam barely looked at him anymore, the answer was probably 'no.' That same unreasonable fury started to rise inside Dean's chest, the Mark on his arm pounding in rhythm with his hammering heart. All he knew in that moment was that he needed to destroy something.
He needed to forget.
I may post the next chapter early just because I want to get on to the good stuff as soon as possible and there' still some 'copycat' stuff from the show thrown in there. So I'm thinking I can post chapter 10 on Saturday or something and then go back to the Monday/Thursday postings. Anyways, I'll stop talking now. Until next time =).
P.S. I lied about not talking anymore. This is super random, but I've been listening to the song "Coward" by Hayden Calnin a lot while I'm writing this. The lyrics have literally nothing to do with the story but whatever. On that same note, I'm always looking for new music so feel free to message me with suggestions! (yes I know, random)
