AUTHOR'S NOTE: I AM SO SORRY IT'S BEEN TOO LONG. Okay update, The last chapter opened with Bobby catching Dean with Karen and his eyes all black, I made a time lapse in the story and skipped ahead – Sam never hears from Bobby and so he and Dean go to Bobby's House to see what's up. They run into Bela, she has an INTENSE conversation with Dean, so if you forgot what was said go back and read the last chapter it has pertinent information to where this plot will be heading. Then Jo, Ellen, and Castiel show up at the end. Now for the continuation…
"Kerosene."
Within moments what Dean had then done, he wanted to forget, but that would be a impossible task, given the severity of the situation.
He didn't want to remember Bobby's terrified look as he came at him, eyes black as coal, when he pulled out the gun and shot him point-blank in the head, with a sociopath like coolness. Or the sound of the plastic tarp he laid across the ground as he dismembered his life-long friend, carried him out back and burned the remains in an empty dumpster.
Most of all Dean wanted to forget the void of emotion he'd felt, the lack of response – he'd killed Bobby Singer, as if he was just taking out the trash. How somber he'd been throughout the entire act, he couldn't stop himself – it was like watching a movie and screaming at the person "Don't go in! Don't go in" but of course they never hear you. The only deference was that this wasn't a movie, he should've been able to stop.
That is when he knew, something was very, very wrong…
Dean laid on the small bed in the Singer house, the gray tones of the small bedroom paralleling his mood. He was to be blunt – depressed. He thought of his confrontation with Bobby, his hands over his stomach – trying to suppress the gag reflex. He could hear the sound of the bones cracking and the slow ripping of muscles and tendons.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut.
"No." he muttered, rolling over to his side and grimacing.
After what seemed like hours his hazel eyes slowly opened, his eyebrows contracted together to form a look of hopelessness. Bela was right he was fucked up, over the past few hours he'd ignored his desire to kill himself.
After Bela had left and Sam and the rest of the scoobies had discussed…well whatever the hell they'd been talking about, he'd been within his own head trying to remember…and having successfully done so now, he laid in the small bed wishing he hadn't.
Even through his whole self-thrown pity party dean could fell the effects of the demon blood warring away, his body was beginning to ache – desperate for another hit. His throat was dry and he needed water but t do that it would require him to move and his body was aching all over. He looked at his arms in front of him, willing them to move – but nothing happened – of course he didn't want to move, but he tried.
Pain shot through him red hot and he let out a small moan as he tightened his lips, biting the lower one till it began to bleed. He finally let out a breath slowly, his vision was double…
Dean was a crumpled mess, he lay vulnerable on the small bed, curled up. Karen tipped her head to the side as she stepped from the doorway towards him, smiling slightly at her handy work. His eyes where open, staring blankly at the wall across from him, there heavy black underneath them and his skin had no color – his brow was sweaty and he was shivering, or muscle spasms. Either way it was obvious Dean was in need of the 'juice'.
As she began to step closer to him her smile grew, seeing Dean Winchester, infamously known demon hunter, balled up in pain – weak, defenseless, vulnerable, and completely ready to say yes to Lucifer if it mean another hit. It hit Karen, she had done her job well, unlike Ruby who'd screwed around with false friendship and love – Karen was abrupt and had no façade of her true nature. Her black boots clicked on the wooden floor, she was inches from his bed when he realized she couldn't move, for a moment her face registered pure shock, then she glared at Dean.
"You."
She said with pure distaste.
Slowly his body unfolded, he sat up and turned to her – smiling.
Her hands in tight balls against her sides, eyes black and she began to mutter, what was undoubtedly a counter curse of some sort.
Dean just laughed. His shaking had stopped and he whipped the sweat of his forehead, then pointed up – slowly she looked up.
"Devil's Trap. Sorry Bitch look like your passport's expired."
She studied him, he was composed and he looked unfazed by her presence.
"You are immune to me. Why?"
Dean let out a chuckled and flashed a smart-ass smirk. "Because I woke up this morning and realized I was tired of being your bitch-boy, you high and mighty Skank. Plus, having Bela lecture me on morals was the cherry on the top of my ice-cream." He walked around her, obviously enjoying her completely hopeless situation.
"So I decided to do a little research, found a anti-venom, you could call it, to your blood. And I did a little research on you, Karen. You're a crossroad's demon. Now why are you working directly for the president downstairs?" His eyes darkened, the hazel becoming a solid dark, dark green. He stopped, standing back where he'd originally been.
"If I kill you, Bobby will come back."
Now it was Karen's turn to laugh. "What ever gave you THAT idea?" He ran a perfectly manicured hand through her blonde locks.
"Because your on a contract."
Her smile faded.
"Before you ask, Bela told me. She can ouija about anything out of the spirit world."
But Dean was tired of talking, and the longer she was alive – the longer she'd have to think of a way to weasel herself out of her current predicament, and the way she'd been moving her body since she walked in- made it obvious to Dean that he'd still like to hit that. So then he yelled - "SAM!"
She turned quickly to the door behind her, it slammed open and Sam Winchester stood in the doorway. Dean had told Sam, she couldn't believe it, now all of what he'd told Sam, Karen didn't know. But he'd planned this and then she accepted what would happen, it was inevitable now.
Dean nodded at Sam, and then Sam began to recite not an exorcism but a cleansing, about the equivalent of his black eyed demon killing he'd been doing last year, except done with traditional, mortal magic.
Dean's jaw clenched as Karen decided to ignore Sam's presence, she turned to Dean and smiled. She stood defiantly with her hand's on her hips, the black leather form fitting outfit, letting his eyes rake over her one last time, she noticed this and her smirk just widened, he was just giving her final confirmation of her accomplishment.
"Bye Bitch."
She laughed; he knew that she knew that it was over. But she seemed un-effected.
"Oh go fuck yourself, Winchester."
Then her body jerked, and black smoke drippled out of her mouth, soon followed by larger quantities of it and then, finally her body crumbled onto the ground, surrounded by a circular burn mark.
Karen was gone.
Sam closed the book he was holding and Dean sat back onto the bed, after a few moments he realized Sam was still standing there – he looked up at him. But there was no smile, it was a somber and pitying look – then Sam turned, saying "you have an hour to disappear." And then closed the door behind him. Leaving Dean to wallow in his own misery, as he grabbed his small duffel, throwing his gun in it then putting on a gray flannel over the white V-neck.
When he left the house no one said goodbye to him.
He had told Sam everything, the Impala was gone along with the Harvelle truck – they must've gone to get Bobby back from that motel. He'd be alive now.
There was a 1974 black Nova parked out front for him, keys in the ignition. Dean threw the duffel through the glassless passenger window, and walked around the car to the driver's side. He stopped when he saw his reflection in the glass, his hair was longer and he was thinner, making him younger looking but also unhealthy. He saw his bitten lower lip, partially swollen – then he saw the note –pulled away from his own self-loathing.
His eyebrows rose in question, he opened the door and grabbed it out of the driver's seat, sitting down and slamming the door he opened the paper with his name on it.
It's Sam's writing... Dean thought as he opened it, the note was small and what it said was not surprising, hell if Dean were in Sam's position he'd say the same thing. Hell, he'd BEEN in Sam position just last year – crazy how things can turn on a person in such a small amount of time. But still, the words burned, and that small flicker of hope Dean clinged to, for Sam's forgiveness for all he'd done, was now extinguished as he took in Sam's harsh words: "If I ever see you again, I will kill you. You are no better than the things we've hunted. Dean, you're a monster. And monsters need to be killed, but your also my brother so I'm giving you this warning. But if I ever see your face again I will kill you, unquestioningly."