Exams finished (finally!), back to business! Here we go:
- If you don't stop hurting my brother I swear I'll...- Dean started to say when the demon, ignoring his threats, opened another gash in Sam's already injured chest. At that point, Dean did shoot him but the fiend simply laughed as the salt made contact with its skin.
"What the hell is he made of?" wondered the little part of Dean's brain that could still think rationally; unfortunately, its biggest part was listening to the demon's words.
- Come on, Deano, you don't need to get so worked up: I have nothing against your brother, I just used him to get your attention. If you do one little thing for me, he's free to go and no harm don... well, no more harm done. What do you say?-.
Dean didn't even stop to consider: Sam had just looked at him with eyes full of unshed tears; his instinct took control.
- All right! What do you want me to do?-.
The last thing he expected at that point was a glass full of some unidentified liquid appearing in his hand: somehow he felt that hellhounds should be involved.
- Drink it- the demon told him – and your brother is free to go-.
Sam tried feebly to protest; Dean hesitated; the fiend lost its patience: - DRINK IT RIGHT NOW DEAN OR YOUR BROTHER DIES!-.
Dean wasted no time and poured the content of the glass down his throat. He then tossed the glass away, paying no attention as it went to crash on the floor.
- Are you satisfied?- he snarled, looking murderously at his brother's captor – I drank it! Now let him go!-.
- Sure thing, Deano! Here he comes!- the demon smirked and launched Sam towards Dean like a discarded doll. Both brothers crashed on the floor near the broken glass; Dean frantically pulled him-self up, Sam's limp body in his arms.
- Sam? Sammy! Are you alright man?- he shouted, voice edging on panic as he received no answer.
- Sammy, please! Answer me!-.
Sam whimpered and forced his eyes opened: he took in his brother's relieved face and directed towards it a well-aimed punch. Dean fell downwards, completely unconscious.
Sam stood up, brushing him-self.
- That went well- he commented.
- Huhu- nodded the demon – How much time before the change manifests?-.
- Just a few minutes. When the potion starts working, nobody will be able to tell them apart-.
- Let's go report, then-.
- Let's-.
Back at the warehouse, Alistair was completely immersed in his work, as the desperate screams of his prisoner hinted. Said screams also happened to be the reason why Crowley and Castiel couldn't hear a thing of what Lilith was frantically trying to explain to them.
- Dammit Alistair! Cut it off!- Crowley snapped in the end, losing his patience.
The Torturer arched an eyebrow, uncertain of what to do.
- Just stop what you're doing for a second- Crowley elaborated.
Alistair sighed, unwillingly removing his favorite razor from his victim's sternum.
Crowley refocused his attention on Lilith: - Sorry, sweetheart, were you saying?-.
- I can't find Dean anywhere!- she burst out, clinging at Crowley's coat with her little pink hands – I have no idea of where he could be, he's simply gone!-.
Castiel looked horrified and Crowley swore loudly, mostly because John Winchester chose that very moment to come back from his inspection tour.
- What?- John exclaimed, taking in Castiel's and Lilith's distressed expressions.
Crowley was looking for the right choice of words that would soften the human, when Castiel simply had to open his mouth and make it worse.
- We must hurry- urged the angel – Dean is probably in great danger right now. It could be already too late!-.
It took a bit for his words to sink in John's mind but, when they did, he metamorphosed in what monsters all around the world fear to find hiding into their closets: an Angry Winchester.
As predictable, aforementioned Winchester chose to take his anger out on a demon.
- YOU!- he yelled, pointing at Crowley – WHAT DID YOU DO?-.
Crowley sighed: yeah, right, always his fault wasn't it?
- Thank you, feathers- he hissed, glaring at the angel – I didn't do anything- he then said, raising his voice – there was a bit of commotion, that's all-.
- What is the angel talking about, then?- John retorted angrily.
- Oh, he is probably just guessing...-.
- No Crowley, I can't allow that, there will be no more lies- Castiel intervined with passion – Mr. Winchester, there's something we ought to tell you regarding Dean-.
Those words gained Castiel the human's (and the demons') undivided attention; he regretted it.
- Where. Is. My. Son?- John growled, emanating a dark aurea of menace.
- Well- the angel gulped – when I told you about my inquiries in Heaven to find out what was happening I may have... left out a thing or two-.
- Such as?-.
- Ehrm, an angel of my Garrison, while spying on those demons, reported that he had heard them saying that they were looking for somebody called Dean and that that somebody was a hunter...-.
Castiel trailed off, waiting for the explosion. It never came. John Winchester remained silent, as if in deep thought.
- It makes no sense- he mused eventually – I mean, why would demons ask him back? Who are they working for?-.
Everybody turned towards Alistair, who was innocently licking away some blood from the back of his hand.
- Yes?- asked the Torturer, a little surprised from all that attention.
- Did you make our prisoner confess who is he working for?- inquiried Crowley suspiciously.
- How?- snapped Alistair – You told me to stop torturing him!-.
- Yes, but...-.
- Boys-.
All the attention was caught by Lilith, whose eyes had turned white.
- Something's in there and it isn't good news- she stated calmly – I think we'd better find Dean as soon as possible-.
Dean's conscience swum up from the abyss of unconsciousness and hit the surface after what felt like hours: it immediately regretted it. Its whole body was screaming out at it in pain and it was like its insides were burning, lit by an inner fire.
After all, Dean's conscience mused, unconsciousness was probably preferable right now.
It was merging again, when it thought it could hear voices in the background.
- Thanks Hell, I found him! Hey guys, he's here!- a woman was calling. It sounded familiar...
- Is he hurt?- asked another voice, dripping concern.
- I... I don't think so. Dean, sweety, can you hear me?-.
- I think he's unconscious-.
"Damn sure I am!" declared Dean Winchester's conscience, receding once again into the dark.
- Don't worry, baby, it's all over. Now we'll bring you home...-.
Let me know what you think of this! Thanks for reading!
