Howdy folks! I know I said I was going to post this chapter as soon as possible, but this is soon. I was busy with AP's and the like, and my final days as a senior (I'm graduating!) But I also wanted to get this chapter done, and it was hard since there are a lot of paths converging to one place.

I am using an episode from the season as a base and I am incorporating my story around it because I thought the story was good and it had beautiful effects (and a beautiful director !)

Please enjoy and remember that I own nothing and that you should review!

The Mark of Cain: Chapter 11

Tiny beads of sweat fall from their resting place on Dean's forehead as he thrashes about under his covers. After passing out in the kitchen Sam and Castiel brought him to his room, and ever since Castiel has been keeping vigil while Sam interrogated their new "guest". He couldn't stand to see his hunter so broken, so hurt, just lying there. He takes a rag he found in the room from its resting place on Dean's nightstand and moves closer to the hunter. Castiel slowly inches closer to wipe the sweat from his brow, but the minute the cool fabric touches Dean's hot, flushed skin, he recoils: turning from his angel and into the shadows. From there Castiel can make out the bright, red glow of the Mark. It has been glowing for a while now, and has been worrying Castiel as well. Now that he knows about it, he cannot believe Dean was stupid enough to agree to the curse; as well as keep it from not only Sam, but him, for a long time. Instead of confining in either of them he kept to himself, this time drowning his sorrow in pain medication instead of liquor. The anger and hurt boils over, and he tosses the rag forcefully from his hand and knocks the lamp over, casting the room in total darkness. The Mark of Cain now the only source of light.

"You can't really blame him," a person speaks up, startling Castiel. He turns around and his blue eyes lock with those of the former Mark of Cain bearer, the passer of the torch, the man who started it all. How did he not sense he was there? A strangled gasp from behind reminds him, and he turns around to continue his watch.

Cain stands there, waiting for the angel to say something. When it feels like his presence is being ignored, and he's about to leave, the trench coat wearing warrior starts to talk. "What do you mean?" he asks, piercing cerulean eyes boring into his very being, what's left of his soul, "How is this not his fault?"

For a second, Cain is stunned into silence. The eyes draw him in like whirlpools of memory, so familiar yet not at all…

Castiel clears his throat and tilts his head, signs of urging him to continue. Cain shakes his head, breaking from his thoughts, and gets back to the matter at hand.

"Well…" he starts, "I've not known Dean for long, but his possession of the Mark has allowed a link to form between us. I can peer into his thoughts and, if he ever tried hard enough, he could see into mine. Now if I was a therapist, I would say all his problems stem from his father-"

Castiel snorts, interrupting Cain while also agreeing with him. He's seen Dean's memories of his father, and while they were cloaked in childlike reverence for the elder Castiel could see the truth behind the innocence and how horribly Dean was treated.

"But it's not like the Mark does not come with burdens of its own. I can honestly tell you that this… scar is not only skin deep. It poisons your soul. The powers are only an illusion to mask the horrifying effect it has on your mind. For years I was tormented until I finally gave in…"

"Dean's going through the same process. And he's been taught to keep his problems to himself, so as not to be a burden to others. But unlike me, he has a support system already in place. Whereas I was fostered to bring the demon in me out, he has Sam and you to help him. It wasn't until…" he grows quiet at this point, "I was able to overcome the evil inside of me. And with the love that is provided throughout this base, I am sure he can overcome it too."

Castiel stares in awe at the man, his figure bathed in the outside light, making him seem the more ethereal. The spell is broken by the increasing amount of groans coming from the bed, and Castiel returns to his charge. Cain comes closer, towards the other side of the bed, and turns on the other lamp. Dean's eyes react under his lids and he turns more towards Castiel.

"Has he been like this the entire time?" Cain asks, gesturing to the glow-in-the-dark Mark.

"Yes," Castiel glumly states, eyebrows creased in consternation.

"Hold him down for me."

"What?" Castiel's eyebrows jump to his hairline, but he complies under the soft stare Cain casts his way.

The minute Castiel puts his arms on the prone figure he starts to thrash again, with each passing second increasing in intensity. Castiel has to use some of his angelic strength to make sure Dean doesn't break his hold. The Mark starts to glow even brighter, and smoke emits from its resting place.

"It's burning him!" Castiel exclaims.

"Focus, Castiel," Cain hushes, "I'll deal with it."

With Castiel holding Dean down, Cain grabs the arm with the throbbing scar. He touches it, and recoils with pain. But he doesn't let that stop him. He returns his fingers onto the Mark and presses down hard, fighting against instinct, and sends comfort through the bond. He takes some of the pain away, and Dean's will to fight ebbs away. Soon, the Mark is glowing dimly, and he's stopped moving about. Both Castiel and Cain are trying to catch their breath, standing over Dean's body.

"He should be fine for now," Cain says, "I took some of the pain away, hopefully for a while."

"Thank you," Castiel says, and he means it. He lowers his gaze towards the hunter and moves his hand closer to his unshaven cheek. Dean leans in unconsciously, and for the first time in a while a healthy, easy, small smile graces his features. This starts a chain reaction where Castiel then smiles, and Cain follows suit. After a long moment of silence, Cain cannot help but break it.

"He's very lucky to have you, Castiel," Cain says. Castiel looks up at the former First Knight, and can sense the hidden meaning behind his words. His smile grows wider. "I'm lucky to have him."

"Uhh… Castiel?"

Both heads swivel to greet the new member of their party, Sam. He's staring at the two men, too many questions to ask but not enough time.

"Yes, Sam?" Castiel asks, moving away from Dean. Dean's smile dims a little, but only Cain notices.

"I need to speak to you about something, if you don't mind?" Sam asks, stressing the unspoken word alone.

Castiel looks towards Dean, then to Cain, silently asking him to watch over the young hunter. Cain nods his head, and sits in the space vacated by the angel.

"Lead the way, Sam."

The two exit towards the study, leaving the former and current bearer of the Mark alone. Cain just stares at Dean, thinking about how lucky Dean is to have found his "Colette". If only he had found her sooner…

But then another thought hits him. When he first looked at Castiel he paused at the familiarity of the eyes. The crystal blue he is sure he has seen before. But the only question being… where?

"What is it you wish to speak to me about, Sam?" Castiel asks once they are far enough away from Dean's room. He sends a small tendril of grace out towards the open door, still keeping an eye out for Dean but focusing his attention on Sam. The moose-man stands next to his laptop and turns it to show his friend.

"I've been checking on some stuff, and I think I got a hit on something."

"You are going on a hunt?" Castiel asks incredulously, "Dean is dangerously unwell and you are looking for your next kill? Are you in your right state of mind?"

Sam scoffs, "Dean's going to be fine. He has all he needs, his pain meds and himself."

"Sam!" Castiel gasps, shocked at how cold that sounded, "what Dean needs now is support-"

"What he needs is a swift kick in the ass!"

The two glare at each other, neither backing down. The tension is thick in the air, and both men have taken their stance. Castiel can see the unwavering flame of determination in Sam's eyes, but then he feels a slight tug of the grace as Dean shifts in his sleep. He shuts his eyes for a moment and sighs. "What is the hunt?"

Sam smiles smugly, and brings up the reports he found on the internet. "Well I was doing some research and there seems to be these weird reports going on in this town. Certain individuals have been acting strangely, with comments on their violent and reckless behavior. It's like… they don't care what happens to them. I'm going to this town to investigate."

"What is the name of this town?" Castiel asks, curious about the odd behavior.

"It's really far out in Illinois. It's this little place called…"

"Milton?"

A young woman with brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, and a slender yet strong build stares at the sign in front of her. Her round face creases in confusion, dark pink lips scrunched, brows pulled together and up. She looks down at the piece of paper she printed from that road stop a few miles back and then back at the sign.

"This has to be the right place."

She pulls the knapsack strap in her hand tight as she walks into the city limits.

The town seems quiet… but all this neighborly cover hides the dark secrets she's here to expel. If her information is right, and it usually is, then this little slice of suburbia is hiding an evil very dark.

And she wouldn't be a hunter if she didn't kill it before it killed anyone else.

"Do you think you are able to handle this on your own?" Castiel asks, laying a hand on the taller man's shoulder.

Sam scoffs and brushes the angel off of him. "Please, I've been doing this longer than I've been a child."

The comment hits both their stomachs hard, and Castiel casts a sympathetic gaze on Sam. Sam turns away from the burning eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be doing this to your favorite?"

Castiel is taken aback. "Sam, I like both you and Dean-

"Not in the same way!"

Sam swirls onto Castiel, letting him know that he knows the relationship between the pair.

"You two have had a 'profound bond' since day one. I've watched how you two act around each other. Only a blind person, or someone with the combined ignorance of the two of you, would not know how much you love each other. Now can you please get your heads out of your asses and do something about this while I go out and hunt. I'm not expecting to walk in here and you two to be having sex on the table, I'm just expecting someone to say something. And just be clean about it, we still have a guest."

Sam closes his laptop and heads to his room to grab his stuff, the keys, and then to hit the road. He leaves Castiel there, to process the information that was grumbled to him. He knows the place the words come from is one of anger, but it doesn't lessen the sting of their truth. Apparently Sam has been able to discern his intentions… even Cain, and he has only been there for two hours… Dean must know!

'But… Sam also said Dean did not know himself.'

Castiel turns his attention from the one brother's door to the other, and sends a pulse through the grace. Dean is still sleeping peacefully, still calm, still unaware. Castiel collapses on the couch, taking one of the pillows in his grip and hugging it close to his body. He would love nothing more than to act on his feelings for the elder Winchester, but this is neither the time nor the place. But Castiel knows these reasons are there as cover for the real reason: he is scared.

Sam may say that Dean feels the same way for him… but how can he be sure? Dean's never been one to share his feelings, so how can any of them be sure. He knows in his heart that his feelings are true… but Dean's?

And then he feels this weird surge. A pulse through the tether he sent towards Dean… and he knows. He knows that Dean feels the same for him that he does for Dean. Through that little pulse that Dean was able to send through the connection. Castiel smiles at how he was able to do this, and this smile is pure.

But then Sam slams his door and makes his way towards the entrance.

"Sam!" Castiel starts, but is interrupted by Sam holding his hand up.

"I'll be back when I'm back."

And with that, he slams the door shut, ending any chance of a conversation.

Cain sticks his head out of Dean's room: "Did Sam leave?"

"Yes… yes he did." And he returns to the room to keep watchful eyes over Dean.

Sam's grip on the steering wheel is tight as he lets the pent-up frustration from his conversation be released on the road. He's never been like Dean, where a simple drive could relieve the tension of a good argument. Then he gets even angrier thinking of Dean and the stupid decisions he's famous for.

"Big, dumb jerk," he mutters, "keeping everything bottled up until it explodes in his face."

Sam is angry at Dean. He's angry at Dean for not telling him about the Mark of Cain. He's angry at Dean for drowning his trouble in prescription pills. He's angry at Dean for making not only him, but Castiel worry about the idiot.

Sam isn't angry with Castiel. He just took his frustrations out on the angel. It's not fair that Dean can make these dumb decisions and still have someone who will love him unconditionally no matter what. It reminds him of Jess… of Sarah… and this pain in his chest grows.

He deserves someone like that. He deserves someone who will be willing to support him through anything he does, someone who will be there to tell him that what he's doing is stupid, but still stick by him if he is too stubborn to change his mind. Hasn't he done as much as Dean. His body might have been tainted by demon blood but does he not deserve salvation?

Doesn't he deserve someone in general?

They don't have to be a literal one, like Castiel, but they could be his personal-

"Angel."

"Yes, that is what it looked like," the woman says, "the priest just jumped down like an angel, but acted like a devil. He started snarling and clawing at the ground. He was snapping his teeth in the direction of the congregation. If it wasn't for animal control pumping him full of tranquilizers… I don't think anyone would have escaped with their life!"

The middle-aged woman sits on her couch speaking to a woman in a pinstripe pantsuit and her hair pulled into a bun. She has this flippant look on her face, but is dutifully taking notes.

"Is this a local thing or a federal case?" she inquires. "Are there more like Father Priestly, or is this a one-time thing? This isn't some weird, government conspiracy is it-?"

"Ma'am," the agent says semi-forcefully, "this case is classified. I thank you for your time, and I'll contact you if I have any more questions."

Just as the young woman is about to leave, the plump fingers of the older woman grabs her slender wrist. "Just one more question," the lady says, "I don't think I've ever gotten your name."

A small smile appears on her lips. "Agent Prince. Diana Prince."

In a dilapidated convent, an old man is seen tending the hedges. A couple of passer-bys wave to him, and he waves back. He finishes up his yard work, and heads inside the old place of God. The outside may seem reverent, but the inside is sadistic. Upon the walls that used to hold beautiful icons of our Lord and Savior, now hold metal torture tools, hung by simple wires. Black spray paint is spritzed across Jesus's face, crossing him out. The man smirks at the collection he's built up as his eyes bleed darkness. He makes his way down the stairs and towards the center of his operation. There sits a young boy of twenty, tied to a chair, with a bag over his head. The old man gets closer to him.

"Hello dearie," he says, whispering into the sack, causing the young man to shiver at the sheer creepiness of the situation.

"Hello, handsome."

The man turns quickly despite his age, and he comes face to face with a young woman of British descent.

"Who dares barge into-"

"Bela," she interrupts, "Bela Talbot. Hired hunter for our queen Abbadon."

The mention of the red-headed fury stops the other demon in his tracks as he sees her eyes darken considerably as well.

"W-what does Abbadon need of me?" the demon hangs his head.

"Well, it's not what she needs of you," Bela starts, moving closer, "it's what she needs me to do."

"And that is?" the other asks, curious.

"Take over."

Bela takes her demon blade in her hands and plunges it deep into the man's chest, twisting it slowly before pulling it out. Lightning flashes through the man's veins before he collapses in a pile of sulfur and ooze. Bela wipes her knife on the discarded fabric of his hat and steps over the corpse to talk to the captured victim.

"You have a new master, sweetie," she purrs, "too bad my bite is worse than my bark."

She then starts her new job.

"I made dinner."

Castiel pulls his head up from where it was on his chest, seeing Cain holding a tray with two bowls of soup. He smiles wearily, and motions for Cain to join him. The former demon sits on the chair opposite Castiel and notices how still Dean has been and places the tray on his unmoving chest. He smirks in Castiel's direction, and Castiel cannot help but chuckle at the sight.

"Let's hope he does not wake up," Castiel says, taking the proffered soup in his hands, the hot ceramic warming his cool skin.

"Trust me he won't be awake in a long time," Cain shrugs offhandedly. Castiel's smile dims a little, but Cain sees. "He needs it, it's good for him. Don't worry." Cain smiles again in Castiel's direction, and Castiel returns it with his own.

They sit in comfortable silence, Castiel enjoying the soup while Cain tries to find the right words to ask his question. When they are both nearly finished with their meal, Cain puts the bowl down.

"Something on your mind?" Castiel asks.

"Yes," Cain starts, "I have a question for you. You need a vessel to talk to humans… and when you were an angel, you had to take a human's… so I was wondering-"

Castiel sighs. "Jimmy Novak is no longer in my body. He had moved onto Heaven before it was closed off."

Cain's eyes widen considerably. "Can you please repeat that?"

Castiel is now confused. "My vessel's soul moved on without a fuss. He recognized that his body was not his own anymore and conceded gracefully-"

"Not that, not that," Cain waves off, "your vessel's name: Jimmy Novak?"

"Yes," Castiel says slowly, "but what is the importance?" Castiel expects an answer, but the old man is now muttering to himself. Phrases like: "I knew I recognized those eyes," and "It all makes sense!" "Cain!" Castiel says loudly, snapping the man from his daze, "Can you please explain the importance of Jimmy Novak!"

Cain gives Castiel another smile, but it is filled with nostalgia and bittersweet memories. "When I was a demon in the Civil War… I met this woman, a woman so extraordinary and wonderful I couldn't help falling in love with her. She saved me, rescued me from the Hell I created for myself. And she had these… beautiful, blue eyes that I couldn't help but drown in like the ocean itself. However, she… died before being able to have our child. I thought that it was over for the family, and there could never be another like her. But Colette had a twin sister. She spoke of her often whenever she received a letter from her. To escape the coming tidal wave of war between the Union and the Confederacy, she moved to Europe and married a man: a Dmitri Novak. I believe that this man is a relative of the Jimmy Novak that your grac- sorry, soul, now resides in. That is why your eyes are so familiar. They are the eyes of the woman who saved me."

Castiel is so shocked at his confession he cannot speak. Yet Cain continues on.

"How ironic that the eyes that saved me are also the ones that now save my protégé."

He starts to laugh at the notion of fate. His laughter starts small but grows. Castiel seems to calm down as Cain breaks through the shock with his boisterous laughter, and soon Castiel joins in too. But the laughter soon ends when the tray and the bowl of soup is thrown with a crash to the ground as Dean starts to thrash again. It's more erratic, like he's trying to escape. His mark is a devilish red, and it's pulsing. Castiel tries to hold Dean down, but he's too strong for the angel. Cain, however, has seen this before. He knows what is happening. He exits the room and heads to the lobby to find a short man in a dark overcoat holding a familiar animal jawbone in his hand.

"Crowley," Cain growls.

"Hello Cain, love," he starts, "I brought a present."

It takes a while, but Sam finally makes it to Milton. He stops off at this little out of the way diner to catch his breath and have a nice meal. Relax before diving deep into the not natural phenomena that awaits him. He finds a nice place at the bar that he can rest at, and the older waitress gives him an appreciative stare before fixing him his order: a nice, crisp, healthy salad. He's enjoying himself, stabbing away at the leafy greens. Sam thinks he can have a nice dinner to himself. Yet the chiming door announces the arrival of a new patron, a young twenty-something with a grim expression and dark bags sits next to him. He flashes the new guest a smile, but gets nothing in return.

"Bill! Where were you! Judy was calling me, asking where you were!"

The waitress from before comes over to the young man, hand on her hips, and a harried expression on her face.

"So?" the young man questions rebelliously.

"So?" the waitress reiterates, "So? Do not worry me like that young man!"

Bill stands and slams his hands on the counter, "So?"

Sam can see that this situation is not going to end well for anyone, so he decides to intervene. "Hey, hey, hey," he says, "no need to cause a scene, Bill, was it?"

But his pleas fall on deaf ears as Bill takes the knife from the placemat and stabs it into the waitress's hand. She holds her other hand over the wound and screams. Before Bill can do anymore damage Sam is upon him, slamming him into the counter and knocking him out.

"You're coming with me buddy."

Sam drags the unconscious man out of the diner, leaving his dinner to wilt, unfinished.

On the side of the road, a young man is slowly walking towards an unknown destination. He's meandering his way down the stretch of asphalt, just making his way down the road. A lone car is driving on this same land, and notices the lone boy. The car pulls up and a middle aged man rolls down the window. He, too, is alone.

"Boy," he says, "Boy are you stranded? Do you need a ride?"

The boy stares at him, saying nothing. The man inches closer, repeating his question. Yet instead of an answer, a quick swipe is his reply.

The man's throat quickly spills blood as his hands grab hold, trying to staunch the flow. However the wound is too big, and he dies in his car. The boy pries open the door and drags the lifeless corpse onto the highway. He squeezes as much blood as he can into a small pool, and starts to chant while drawing symbols and sigils into the earth. This incantation comes to fruition, as the random symbols take the form of a word:

MILTON

The boy smirks. He hops into the stopped car and starts it. "I've always wanted to drive one of these things," he says before getting back to his journey.

"Next stop," he says, "dear ol' Sammy."

Abbadon sits on her perch, preening herself with one of her favorite knives. She is picking at one of her nails when her assistant comes in.

"Urbuna," Abbadon asks, "what are you doing here?"

"I have some… unfortunate news, your highness."

She stops what she is doing and shifts from her relaxed position. Her knife is held tightly in her hand, and she has to stop herself before she wastes another assistant.

"What news could that possibly be?"

"Remember when your first plan, which involved the release of Lucifer, failed?"

"I do," she says uncomfortably.

"Well when Lucifer escaped… he left the cage unlocked."

"Does this mean…?"

"I'm afraid so…"

In a secluded office building, a blonde man sits at a desk, reviewing pages and pages of different files, trying to do many things at once. A knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts.

"Enter," he says, closing the cover of a file about an ancient artifact from Heaven.

"Bartholomew-"

"This better be important," he interrupts, folding his hands over his mahogany desk, "remember I told you to only talk to me when you had information on two things. Do you?"

"Well-yes-"

"Is this about Castiel?" he asks interestedly, leaning closer, intrigued to know if he can finally kill the traitor once and for all.

"No, but-"

"So it's about Lucifer?" he leans back, still interested, but not as much.

"Yes-"

"What is it?"

"He's on the move, heading towards somewhere in Illinois."

The angel stands there, waiting for Bartholomew to say something.

"So?" Bartholomew asks, agitated, "get him. And don't interrupt my personal time unless you have captured him."

"So this isn't the first case like this?" Sam asks the sheriff, curious about the man he brought in.

"No," he replies, "probably the seventh one this week. Two days ago it was a priest, and a week before that a housewife killed her spouse. Unfortunately she is no longer with us…"

"I'm sorry for the loss," Sam replies, "but they all suffer from the same symptoms?"

"Well yes, agent," the sheriff answers, "but I thought you knew all this. Seeing as one of your partners is here investigating this case as well."

"Partner?" Sam asks curiously, confused as to who would be here.

"That would be me: Agent Diana Prince."

Sam turns around and comes face to face to someone he thought he would never see again. Right before his eyes was the one and only person who would be less helpful to him than Dean right now.

Tracy Bell.

And I brought her back! I thought she had an interesting backstory and I would love to see her interact with the brothers more (especially Sam *wink wink*). I know there was a lot of information brought into this chapter, a lot of characters all heading to the same place. But next chapter I am going to continue. This was the set-up chapter, expect action next time!

Remember to review my lovely readers!