Thanks so much for reading and for the awesome reviews!! bambers;)
Chapter Ten
Killeon paced back and forth restlessly, his anger mounting with each passing moment. Every now and again he would stop, eye the door to the room where he was holding Jax hostage, and curse under his breath. Two days of forcing his blood on the younger man, and yet Jax hadn't turned into a vampire. Lucifer had sworn if Killeon bit Rowan, he would be able to turn Jax, but so far it seemed as if the younger man's blood was just too damn pure to be tainted by his own.
Sure, Jax was weakened by the whole ordeal, but Killeon just wasn't certain his considerable efforts would pay off in the long run, and if he was ever going to even the score with Rowan, he needed Jax. Rowan had controlled him, mind, body and soul for far too many years to count, and Killeon was bound and determined to make the older vampire suffer for it. To exact his revenge on Rowan, he needed Jax to give in to him completely, and once he did, Killeon knew exactly who Jax's first kill would be.
From the pocket of his leather trench coat, Killeon yanked out an old worn and faded photo, and studied it carefully, trailing his fingers along the image of the young green-eyed child in the picture. The little boy in the picture was no more than five years old at the time the picture had been taken, but was now probably a year older than Jax, by Killeon's best estimation. Beside the boy stood a woman with long, wavy chestnut-colored tresses, smoky gray eyes, and a radiantly beautiful smile that could make even the hardest and coldest of hearts, melt instantaneously.
For as much as he hated Rowan, he worshiped Genevieve. He loved her in a way that he'd never believed he was capable of, and his soul still ached for her to this day. With her death, Killeon's need for revenge grew, until it was the only thing left to sustain him. Rowan had taken her from him, and in turn, he would take from Rowan until there was nothing left. If he couldn't kill the older vampire, he would make certain the people he cared most for in all the world, suffered in the cruelest ways possible, and Jax was first on that very small list.
Damn it, you weren't supposed to die, Gen . . . I would've protected you with my life . . . would've died for you. In his anger and sorrow, Killeon had inadvertently crumpled the photo in his powerful grip, and another slew of curse words ripped from his lips as he desperately tried to work out the deep creases in the picture. When he was finished fixing the photo to the best of his ability, he carefully placed it back in his pocket, and then headed for Jax's room.
The door creaked open, light spilling into the darkened room, and Jax immediately began to squirm and writhe against his shackles. The blinds had all been drawn tightly shut, and even though it was only just getting dark outside, the room was now black as pitch. Killeon flipped on the light switch, and suppressed a chuckle when he saw Jax blink rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to the light.
"Wh-where's Sam, you sonuvabitch," Jax croaked, licking his dried, parched lips.
"He not coming for you, Jax," Killeon chuckled, knowing that Lucifer was keeping the other hunter occupied for the time being. "He told you to get out, didn't he? So why the hell do you think he would come looking for you now?"
"Cause whether or n-not he likes me," Jax drew in a shaky breath, wincing at the burning pain in his throat, "h-he knows I can help him."
With that one simple statement, Killeon realized that as long as Jax believed Sam would eventually come for him, he would never be able to turn him. He needed to crush whatever hope the younger man had left in him, and also knew he was quickly running out of time. Long strides carried him across the room, to stand hovering over the bed Jax was chained to.
"What if he's dead? Can't come to rescue your sorry ass if he's dead."
"He can't be dead," Jax adamantly shook his head, weakly straining against his restraints, "I would . . . ." his voice trailed off as he lowered his head, and turned away from Killeon.
"You would what?" Killeon quirked a brow in sudden interest. Lucifer had said the young man had certain abilities, but he hadn't considered the possibility that Jax could sense the death of someone close to him. A smile slowly spread across his face as he reached out and cupped a hold of Jax's chin, forcing the hunter to look him in the eyes. "You can sense if a person you care about dies, can't you?"
"Never said that," Jax mumbled, jerking away from Killeon's grasp.
"What else can you do, Jax . . . what other secrets are you hiding from the world?"
"I D-don't know what yer talkin' about." Jax shifted restlessly, then began thrashing from side to side, yanking hard on the cuffs around his wrists.
Killeon watched him for a minute or so, knowing that the more he struggled the weaker he would become, and the weaker he was, the easier it would be for the vampire to accomplish his goals. When Jax's strength finally gave out, and he began to settle down, Killeon taunted, "Did you sense the moment your brother died? Did it rip your heart out knowing there was nothing you could do to help him as he screamed and begged for his life?"
"He not dead!"
"As good as dead, is dead just the same, Jax, thought you would have learned that by now." From the look on Jax's face that bordered on utter desolation, Killeon knew he had struck a nerve. "For all those times you tried your damnedest to protect him, you weren't even around when he needed you the most. Really hope stealing a few pairs of jeans was worth your brother's life."
"Didn't go ta jail for stealing any damn jeans," Jax muttered, "an' Nick knew if I'd thought he was in some kinda trouble, nothin' would have kept me from tryin' ta get ta him."
"Trying? Don't you mean failing, cause that's exactly what you did, Jax." Killeon hesitated for a moment, weighing his words, and choosing the ones that would cripple Jax's spirit the most. "Just like you failed to save your mother from shooting herself in the head. Or like how you failed to protect Nick from your father's drunken wrath. Admit it, Jax, you're weak and pathetic. Hell, you can't even save yourself let alone help anyone else. No wonder Sam doesn't want you around. You would have gotten him killed as well." Killeon knew the moment his cruel taunts had hit their mark. Jax's shoulders slumped wearily, all fight leaving him as his eyes filled such immense sorrow that it would have been impossible to miss.
"Would never do anything ta get Sam killed," Jax mumbled dejectedly, his voice thick with emotion.
"He's better off without you . . . everyone is better off without you," Killeon cruelly taunted as he removed his knife from the sheath at his side, and once again sliced into Jax's forearm. "When you come right down to it, it really would've been better for everyone if you had never been born." A hiss escaped Killeon's lips as he cut through his own arm and smeared his blood into Jax's.
Jax immediately began to convulse, his body thrashing wildly, arms and legs pulling hard against his restraints. Killeon smiled, understanding that the younger man was finally beginning to succumb to the inevitable.
"Shhhh . . . relax, Jax," Killeon pressed his hand down hard against Jax's chest, "don't fight it, it'll make things a lot easier for you, if you just give in an' let it happen."
Jax struggled for a few more minutes as Killeon continued to hold him down, and then with a deep gasp, he slipped into unconsciousness. Killeon carefully lifted Jax's upper lip, pressed down on his gums, and swore under his breath when he still saw no signs of any fangs.
"Has he turned yet," came a cold and calculating voice from somewhere near the doorway, and Killeon inwardly cringed. "Cause if he hasn't, I need his blood."
Killeon plastered a smile to his face as he turned to look at Lucifer. "He's close. Course he's fighting it, but it's really only a matter of time now."
Lucifer swaggered into the room and stopped short when he was towering over Killeon. "Give me your knife," he ordered and held out his hand expectantly.
"What are you planning on doing?" Killeon asked as he gave Lucifer the knife, not really expecting an answer, but was still curious.
"Need me an amulet," Lucifer smirked as he cut deep into arm, "so I'm going hunting."
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
After Dean and Rowan left from getting Dean's make-over, Rowan drove the rest of the way to Las Vegas and pulled into a rundown no-tell motel. As Rowan parked the Chevelle, Dean threw a questioning look in the vampire's direction, surprised that his friend would choose a dumpy motel to stay at when he had made it perfectly clear that he only stayed in five-star hotels.
"Well, it's really got to be said, this is the worst damn five-star hotel I've ever seen," Dean mocked as he grabbed his duffel from the trunk and then headed for the front office.
Rowan hefted his own duffel over his shoulder and followed Dean. "Killeon knows me too well, he'll be having vamps watch for any signs of us."
The sounds of snickering met Dean's ears as he entered the motel office, and noticed two young men standing behind the counter, pointing at him and Rowan. The taller of the two, made a subtle gesture toward them, leaned over, and whispered very loudly into his friend's ear. "Betcha five bucks they're into S and M. They've gotta have whips an' chains in those duffels."
"Naww . . . ," Dean casually replied with a smirk as he eyed both men, "but I've got a real wicked looking knife in my bag, so maybe you should just shut your freakin' piehole, an' get us a room." His hand slipped to the zipper on his duffel, a gesture that was not lost on either of the two men, and they both practically fell over themselves to get Rowan and Dean a room key. "Make sure it has two beds," he added, certain by their facial expressions a few moments before that they would give them a room with only one king size bed in it.
"Last room on the left," the shorter, greasy-haired man smirked, handing the key to Dean.
Dean snatched it from the man's hand, and waited as Rowan pulled out his wallet to pay for their room. Rowan threw a hundred dollar bill down on the dirty counter, and then strode out the door without waiting for change. Following close behind, Dean heard the vampire chuckling and mumbling under his breath.
"What's so damn funny?" Dean asked as lengthened his stride to match Rowan's.
"That they actually thought you were my type." Rowan cast a sidelong glance in Dean's direction, and teasingly winked at him. "Guess some vamps might find that whole eyeliner thing ya got goin' on pretty damn sexy, but to me you sort of look like a side show freak."
"That freakin' does it, I'm takin' all this crap off," Dean grumbled as he opened the door to their room. His anger increased exponentially as he entered the room and flipped on the light switch. Mouth dropping wide open, he gaped around the room they had been given to spend the night in, and a slew of curses escaped him. Although he'd clearly asked for two beds, only one king size bed sat in the center of the room with a large gilded mirror hanging above it on the ceiling. The room was decorated entirely with gaudy golden cherubs statues and deep burgundy hearts. On top of the satin bedcover, that was several shades darker than the dusky rose-colored rug, was a pile of heart-shaped burgundy pillows.
"Huh," Rowan said as he glanced around the room in utter amazement, "kind of makes you wonder if the tub's heart-shaped, too." He shrugged as he dropped his bag on the ground. "Think we should go an' check?"
"Ummm . . . I'm thinkin' not," Dean snapped as he turned on his heel to leave the room.
"Awww . . . Dean, think they gave us the honeymoon suite," Rowan chuckled, clearly amused with the whole situation. "Wonder if they thought you made a for a lovely bride."
"So not seein' the humor here." Dean kicked Rowan's bag out of the way and headed outside. "An' why the hell do you think I would be the bride anyway? You look more like a freakin' girl than I do."
"Well," Rowan shrugged as he gestured toward Dean's ear, "you have an earring, an' girls wear earrings."
Dean pulled on his earlobe, felt the stud piercing through his flesh, and grimaced at Rowan. "Only have a freakin' earring cause you had that guy pierce my ear before I even knew what was happening."
Rowan grabbed his duffel and followed Dean outside. "Alright, so that was my fault," he snickered, "but I never told them to put makeup on you, an' girls wear makeup, so you are so definitely the bride."
"Said I was takin' it all off," Dean grumbled under his breath, and heard Rowan laugh even harder.
"No, you're not," he finally responded as his laughter died away. "If Sam sees you from any distance, dressed like this," he gestured to Dean's clothes, "and looking like this," he made a sweeping motion over Dean's face, "he'll never know it's you."
"You really suck, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, but at least I'm not the bride."
As they headed back toward the office, an old beat up truck, driven by Bobby, pulled into the parking lot, and he parked beside the Chevelle. Within a matter of moments, Joshua flung the door open and leapt out of the vehicle, raced to Dean and jumped into his open arms. After giving Joshua a quick hug, Dean glanced up at Bobby and saw the incredulous expression that had settled on his craggy features. Dean peered down at his new clothes once again, and cursed under his breath, knowing Bobby was going to rib him about his appearance.
Bobby grabbed his gear, got out of the truck and strode to where Dean and Rowan were standing. A deep frown creased his brow as he nudged his head toward Joshua and then looked to Dean. "So ya stuck me with little Eddy Munster so you ladies could go an' get make-overs?"
"Wasn't like that, Bobby," Dean grumbled, raking his hand through his mohawk. "Did this so Sam wouldn't recognize me."
"Da Grizzly yelled at me, Chipmunk." Joshua pointed toward Bobby, and stuck out his tongue at the older hunter, clearly thinking Dean was going to holler at his friend for yelling at him.
"Damn near tried to bite my hand off," Bobby was quick to defend his actions. "Not like I could take care of him like I do with most vamps. So I hollered at him."
"Hey, whatever works for ya, Grizzly." Dean chuckled, glad to know he wasn't the only one stuck with a new nickname.
"Shut yer trap, boy, an' go get us a couple of rooms." Bobby nudged his head toward the motel office as he set his duffel down.
Dean gave a nod and did as Bobby had asked with Rowan following closely behind him. At the door, Rowan grabbed hold of Dean's arm to stop him.
"When are you planning on telling Bobby what you did?" Rowan asked as he eyed Dean, and then turned to look in Bobby's direction. "Think he has the right to know."
"Not lookin' to get my head lobbed off while I'm sleepin', Rowan."
"Well, I'm sure he's not lookin' to be your late night snack either, so if you don't tell him then I'm gonna have to."
"I wouldn't do that," Dean argued, although deep down he wasn't sure he could stop himself if he was hungry enough and Rowan wasn't around to stop him. For a moment, he hesitated and focused in on Bobby's heartbeat, listening as the older hunter's blood coursed through his veins, and a sharp, staggering pang of hunger nearly overwhelmed him. A muffled cry escaped him as his fangs pierced through his gums, and the taste of his own blood on his lips further elicited his growing hunger.
"You're playin' with fire, Dean, and sooner or later, whether you like it or not you're gonna get burned," Rowan warned as he gripped hold of Dean's arm. "An' the best you can hope for is that when that time does comes, it's not someone you care about that ends up dead because of it."
"So you're sayin' that I won't be able to control it like you do?"
"I'm sayin' that you'll try, but I've been doing this for well over two thousand years, an' still can't completely control myself." Rowan hesitated for a moment as if reflecting on his past, and a pained expression crossed his features before he quickly hid it behind a rakish grin. "Course I never actually killed anyone, but every damn person I ever fed off of, is now a walking, talking, killing example of my lack of self-control." He fell silent again as he looked to Dean, and all traces of a smile disappeared. "Guess I should say I've never killed anyone until you, Dean, cause I drained you bone dry."
"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean asked, throughly confused. He'd always thought that vampires were the walking dead, and now Rowan was telling him differently. Everything his family and Bobby had ever researched supported this theory, and he highly doubted there was anything Rowan could say that would convince him otherwise. He also didn't like the dire sound of what Rowan had said about draining him of all his blood, and a shiver of fear worked its way up his spine as he worried that because of it, he might never be human again. "I mean, they're all dead, right?"
"It's more like a sickness, Dean," Rowan began to explain, scratching his head as he tried to figure out the best way in which to describe what he meant. "If every person who was ever bitten by a vampire turned into one, it would probably support the general theory about my race of people. Those who are drained of all their blood do die, but those who have their blood mingled with a vampire's turn. It taints their blood and becomes like a rabid disease, an' the only way to cure it is if I die. An' seeing as I can't die, the only other way to get rid of my kind is to cut off their freakin' heads."
"An' where does that leave me?" Dean asked, not understanding why he would've become a vampire if Rowan had said he drained him of all his blood. "I'm mean, you said you drained all my blood, so why am I still alive?"
Rowan gave a quick shrug and then shook his head, seemingly just as confused as Dean. "Been tryin' to figure that one out myself, but I dunno, by all rights, you should be dead." A deep frown furrowed Rowan's brow, his features darkening as he contemplated what he'd just said. "Unless you're becoming a whole new breed of vampire, which would definitely not be a good thing."
"So what does that mean?"
"It means that you're probably more like me than any other vampire out there. You bite someone they will turn. Which also means that to turn them back into humans, you would have to die just like me."
"So, I don't bite anyone then, gotcha." Dean tried to smile, but found it almost impossible to do so. His hunger was growing by the moment, and he could now clearly hear the heartbeats of both men inside the motel office, along with Bobby's and every other person renting a room in the crappy motel. The constant thrumming was drowning out any other thought but the need to feed, and Dean was beginning to wonder if he was going to be strong enough to fight off the urge.
Rowan must have realized this, and as Dean went to open the door to the office, he gripped a hold of Dean's hand, and gave a firm shake of his head. "You stay here, I'll get us some rooms."
And clearly not trusting the fact that Dean wouldn't attack Bobby while he was inside the office, Rowan called over to the older man, "Bobby, why don't you take Joshua, an' go an' get us some dinner. Then we can start lookin' for Killeon and Jax once you get back."
The older hunter grumbled for a few minutes, but did as Rowan had asked, leaving Dean alone as Rowan went inside to pay for another room. Rowan strode up to the desk and slammed the key down on the counter. "Need two rooms with two beds in each of them. An' this time you better get it right, cause you really won't like it if I have to come back here again."
"So," the taller of the two clerks said with a smirking grin on his face, "you didn't like the honeymoon suite? Thought the mirrors on the ceiling would be the perfect touch for you and your friend."
"Yeah, we like to call it the sexcapade suite," the shorter, greasy-haired man chimed in. "An' for an extra twenty bucks, we can even rent you a camcorder to capture those special moments."
"Just get me the room keys," Rowan ordered as he cast a glance over his shoulder, starting to worry that he had left Dean alone outside with so many people around.
"Okay, princess, don't get your panties in a bunch," the taller man said as he grabbed two keys off the rack, and handed them to Rowan. As he went to draw away from Rowan, the vampire's hand shot outward, gripped hold of him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off the ground with the slightest of easy.
"Let me make this very clear to you and your dim-witted friend," Rowan hissed as he dragged the helpless man over the counter, and held him aloft within mere inches of his face. "If you ever think to call me princess again, it will be the last freakin' thing you ever do. I'll snap your scrawny neck as if it were nothing more than the weakest of twigs, an' then rip your head off your damn body. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"P-perfectly," the man stuttered, shaking uncontrollably as Rowan's grip tightened around his collar.
"It's called having respect for others," Rowan grinned, although it looked more like a menacing sneer. "Learn it or you might just find yourself dead one of these days." With that said, Rowan heaved the man into the wall, and watched as he crumpled to the ground in a heap. He pivoted to look at the man cowering behind the counter, and couldn't help but laugh when the younger man flinched and pushed back as close to the wall as possible. "Damn, you really should've probably camcorded this special moment we just shared so you could remember it always."
Without another word, Rowan strode out the door, only to stop short when he noticed that Dean was no where to be found. A quick look toward the parking lot told him that wherever Dean had went, he traveled on foot as the Chevelle was still parked where they had left it. Closing his eyes, he listened intently, trying to detect if the hearts of any of the patrons at the motel were beating abnormally fast with fear, but the only two that were doing that were coming from directly behind him, and he knew he was the cause of that.
"Damn it, Dean, where the hell did you go?" He held his head aloft and sniffed the air, trying to pick up his friend's scent, and caught the faint aroma of Dean's musky cologne, and another scent that was vaguely familiar, but didn't belong to Dean.
Dropping his duffel on the ground, Rowan followed the scent of Dean's cologne, traveling around the motel and into the woods surrounding the backside of the building. Mouth watering, his fangs descended from his gumline and he realized the other scent for what it was. Jax's blood. He wasn't exactly sure how or why he knew it was Jax's blood as he could recall nothing of the time they had spent together, but knew he was right nonetheless.
"Dean!" he shouted, a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing that Killeon was somehow involved in his friend's disappearance. Following the trail left behind by Dean's scent, Rowan traveled further into the woods, and the smell of Jax's blood grew stronger, nearly staggering him. "Dean! Where the hell are you?" he called out again, praying for all he was worth that Dean had been able to control his hunger, but all-the-while knowing that the lure of Jax's blood was just too strong to deny. "Damn it, Dean, why the hell did I leave you alone? Should've known Killeon would sense my presence here."
Another pang of fear ripped through Rowan's heart, knowing that he'd left Joshua and Bobby alone and unprotected. Killeon might not have detected Joshua's presence before, but now that he had vampire blood flowing through his veins there was no way in hell that Killeon would not know of him, and the threat he represented. But by that same token, Rowan also understood that it hadn't been Killeon who lured Dean away. He would have sense him the moment he was near, and that only left one other creature powerful enough to go undetected by Rowan. Lucifer. That thought had him racing back toward the motel at full speed.
Rowan rounded the corner of the motel just as Bobby was pulling back into the parking lot, and he rushed over to the truck. "Get back in your truck an' get the hell out of here. Now!" he ordered as Bobby exited his vehicle.
"What the hell's the matter with you, an' where's Dean?" Bobby hollered back, looking around for Dean and when he couldn't find him, he eyed Rowan suspiciously.
"Take Joshua an' go," Rowan roughly pushed Bobby back toward the cab of his truck. "He's not safe here. If they find him now then all that Dean's done to protect him will be for nothing."
"Who's after him, an' where the hell is Dean?" Bobby crossed his arms, clearly determined not to go anywhere until he had the answers he was looking for.
"Lucifer's after Joshua, an' I'm pretty much guessin' that he has Dean. So if we're done with the whole twenty questions thing, I'm strongly suggesting that you get back in that truck an' get the hell out of here, before I'm forced to make you go. An' believe me when I say, I can make you go." The warning was clearly evident in his voice and menacing expression, but to his credit, Bobby still refused to budge from his spot. "Seriously, don't force me to hurt you just to get you to leave. Cause Dean would probably be really pissed at me, an' eventually I might even start to regret it myself. Although I highly doubt it as you're being such a pain in my ass at the moment, but hey, ya never know . . . so please just go."
"If Lucifer's really got Dean, you need my help."
"Really?" Rowan chuckled as he gestured toward Bobby's duffel full of weapons. "An' which one of those toys do you really think is gonna be able to stop Lucifer? The Colt certainly won't. Already tried that one myself. Worked on him about as well as it worked on me."
"Sam has the Colt," Bobby muttered as he looked to his bag of weapons, and seemed to be reconsidering his position on the matter.
"Huh, too bad, it probably would've slowed Lucifer up for a moment or two."
"Thought the Colt could kill anything."
Rowan ripped back the collar of his shirt, popping the buttons on his flannel to expose his chest, and the scar left behind by the Colt. "If it could kill anything, I'd be freakin' dead right now," he snapped, at the end of his patience with the older hunter. He needed to find Dean, and standing there arguing with Bobby was only taking time away from him that he couldn't afford to lose. "Look, I understand you're a hunter, but this legend of the Colt isn't all it's cracked up to be. There are just some things out there that can't be killed no matter what. No magic gun, little hex or Latin mumbo-jumbo is gonna change that, an' you'll more than likely piss Lucifer off even more if you do try an' stop him. An' the only freakin' thing that I know of that might just have a chance of stopping him is sitting right there," he jabbed his finger in Joshua's direction, "so I'm beggin' you to take him, an' get the hell out of here as fast as you can before they find him."
"Where do I take him to?" Bobby finally conceded after a very long pause.
Rowan thought about the safest place he knew of, and his home in North Carolina came to mind. He quickly jotted down directions and handed them to Bobby. "It's set way back in the woods, an' has every possible charm and protection I could think of to guard it from evil." He hesitated a moment before handing Bobby the keys to his home, and then warned, "It probably won't keep Lucifer out for long, but you're safe from pretty much anything else."
"An' what about Dean?"
"Don't worry about Dean," Rowan flashed him a quick smile, "he's got the strongest protection possible as long as they don't trick him into taking it off."
"An' how do you plan on finding him?"
"Let me worry about that," Rowan said as he gestured toward the road. "Now get going before it's too late." For a moment, it looked as if Bobby was building speed to argue some more, but must have decided against it and got back inside his truck. "Take care of Joshua, Bobby, guard him as though your life depends upon it . . . because it does."
As Bobby drove away, Rowan reached down into his boot and pulled out a long knife he had concealed there for protection. Slowly he turned and entered his motel room and took a seat on the bed. Taking a deep calming breath, he prepared himself to do what was necessary to bring Killeon to him. The blade caught a glint of light as he sliced through the veins in his wrists, blood quickly spurting from his arteries. Not yet finished, he sliced through his jeans, cutting through the femoral artery on his right leg, followed quickly by the left. Blood pooled between his legs and dripped onto the floor as he quickly began to lose consciousness.
He knew it wouldn't kill him, and was counting on the fact the Killeon wouldn't be able to resist finding him in such a weakened condition. The only thing he was worried about was that when he'd done this once before, it had taken him several days to regain his full strength. The last time, however, the threat had come from Azazel, and one of Dean's forefathers had been there to help him. This time he knew he was on his own, and no matter how much he wanted to believe Dean could help him, he just wasn't sure he could afford to put that much faith in his new friend.
Rowan's last lucid thoughts were of Dean, his fears growing to overshadow the pain he was suffering from, and prayed that his young friend was strong enough to withstand whatever plans Lucifer and Killeon had in store for him. Dean, whatever you do, don't take that damn amulet off. If you do, there's nothing I can do to prevent what's about to happen.
As he slipped into unconsciousness, he caught the faint musky scent of Killeon close by, and grinned, knowing he hadn't been wrong.