I stood in heaven, waiting for Metatron to give the command. The true blade was sitting on the floor in front of me, waiting patiently. I had no idea how he got it, but I didn't care at the moment. All I cared about was a moment at hand. Gadreel sat chained to the wall in front of me, staring at the floor beneath his feet. His wings hung off his body, visible to the eye. They were black with whites and greys speckled across them, reminding Dean of a crow dusted with snow in the winter.
"Torture him, Dean," Metatron ordered by my side. I stiffened slightly and glanced at Metatron in the corner of my eye.
"Why torture him? He's killing angels for you." Metatron walked over to a rose resting in a vase on one of the tables stacked with books. There were barely any petals on the thing. Why the angel didn't just toss the thing Dean didn't know.
"He's too soft. He hesitates when I give him orders. At least you will kill without hesitation." I gritted my teeth, wanting to walk away, but I knew that I couldn't. Cas was alive and any wrong move could cause my angel to drop dead. "Just think of all the things Gadreel's done to you. He lied, took Sammy, killed Kevin…" A smile spread farther across Metatron's lips. "This is a gift." I sucked in a breath, approaching the angel and the blade. When nearing the blade I kneeled down and scooped it up from the floor. I didn't feel anything when I picked it up except for something sparking in my brain. I then approached Gadreel and stared at the pitiful sight before me. Gadreel met my eyes and I saw a replay of him smiting Kevin. Anger built up inside and I closed my eyes, letting the blade slice down against the angel's flesh. Gadreel screamed in agony and blood oozed from his wound. My fingers started to shake and without my control dipped into the bleeding wound. The smell struck me instantly and I raised the blood coated fingers to my lips. My eyes darkened and my hand forced down the blade again, skinning the flesh off of Gadreel's left cheek. The angel screamed again and I smiled at the sound. Tears started to roll down my eyes. I couldn't stop. It was happening. It was coming back. My viens began to burn and I looked down to see my veins burn black and ember red as the mark began to re-burn itself into me. I felt the Mark's consciousness, pushing me into the far corners of my mind. I tried to push back, but with each scream and slice of the blade in my hand he grew stronger and stronger.
"Please, stop," Gadreel pleaded. I grinned, leaning close to him.
"Stop? What for?" I questioned, slicing deeper into the angel's skin. Blood began to cover my body and memories of Castiel's blood covering my body came forward. I longed for it to happen again, but this time by my own hand. Death had recreated the death I had shown Dean in a dream to drive the hunter insane, but I longed for the real thing. I wanted to feel the angel die by my hands. Dean screamed in the far corners of my mind as I finally took him over and I stopped my tortures on the shivering angel on the floor and brought my attention to Metatron. The ruler of Heaven smiled at my bloodied form, eyes watching as the last petal of the rose dried up and fell to the pile around the vase.
"Welcome back…Mark of…" Metaron trailed off. "Can we just call you Mark or something? Mark of Cain is too long," he sighed. I smiled, bowing.
"Whatever you command, although why I bow to you I do not know. You stole my prey from me. Because of that damn deal you made with that blasted Winchester I will not get to bathe in the blood of Samuel and Castiel Winchester."
"A small sacrifice for something far grander," Metatron stated, before walking over to Gadreel and unchaining the angel. I smirked as Gadreel collapsed, gasping and shaking in pain. Oh, how I missed the feeling of watching such pain. Metatron folded a yellow paper with a name scrawled on it. "You may kill this angel that held you prisoner in payment for your troubles today," was all Metatron said. Gadreel muttered a soft thank you before vanishing and leaving me and Metatron alone.
"No, yellow paper for me?" I questioned. Metatron smiled at me.
"Oh, Mark, the world is your paper…" The grin on the new ruler of heaven grew "…and I order you to stain it red." I grinned and was beamed back to earth in only a blink of an eye. I twirled the blade in my hand, freezing when I felt something pulse against my chest. I glared down at the vile hanging on a cord around my neck. Damn Metatron must have put it there as a reminder. Fuck him. I began to walk down the streets of the world of man, sniffing out the souls I hungered most for.
"Penny for the poor?" an old man asked from a soiled, stinking box. I lifted the blade and swiped it across the old man's body, tearing him in half. I grinned at the mess of blood and guts and walked into a gun shop filled to the brim with people.
"What type of gun can I help you find, Sir?" A large beefy man covered in tattoos questioned. I tilted my head back, laughing loudly, and startling everyone in the shop. I lifted the blood soaked knife in my hand and smirked at the man.
"I'm more of a knife man," I stated, before slicing the blade down and spilling the man's intestines across the floor boards. Those in the shop screamed and ran for the door, but I shot from my spot, using the powers of the Mark of Cain to speed up my moves. A balding fellow lifted a gun to my head, but I just through the blade, splitting his skull in half.
"What are you?!" a woman screamed. I smiled at her before taking back my blade and smelling the sweet blood dripping from it.
"I am the Mark of Cain," I chuckled, letting my blade glide across the many people still left in the room. People screamed and cried as I attacked, some even prayed, but those prayers would go unanswered.