Chapter 12 - Visions of Horror


Veronica's first week living in a mansion full of demons was strange, to say the least. Granted, she expected an experience like that to be strange, of course, but it wasn't strange in the way she anticipated. She had pictured it all being quite a bit more violent and uncomfortable. However, it seemed that Crowley was intent on her being perfectly happy as she recorded her visions.

She had a beautiful view of the grounds and the desert from the expansive room Crowley had put her in. She was served breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and Crowley was insistent on her having whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

"If you ever need or want anything at all, all you need to do is ask. I'll give you whatever your little heart desires."

"So, if I ask you to let me go, you will?"

"Don't get cute, Veronica."

"It's Ronnie, damn it."

The demon was a slow learner when it came to names. Or he just didn't care what people wanted to be called - which seemed much more likely.

The days were uneventful, for the most part, but each night that she slept, she dreamt of Sam, Castiel, and Gadreel. Tensions in Heaven were worsening. The Horseman Rings were absent from Bobby's demolished house in Sioux Falls, and Sam believed that following Dick Roman's trail was their best chance at recovering the rings and keeping them safe from Asmodel. Castiel, with his condition worsening by the day, searched for Dean tirelessly while Sam tried to find Dick Roman's heir.

She saw no visions of Crowley, which was strange. She could only assume that her proximity to him was affecting what exactly she saw. She wasn't sure. She saw Dean, but only when he was on assignments for Crowley and away from the compound.

Her dreams of Dean weren't really dreams, but nightmares. Crowley only ever had one task in mind when it came to his Knight.

She wrote down everything that she saw, except the fact that Sam and Castiel had a lead on the Horseman Rings. Something that could release Lucifer… well, that was a weapon of unimaginable power, and in spite of the fact that Crowley was unlikely to have any desire to use it, she still didn't want to see the Rings in the hands of the King of Hell.

So she wrote that the trail had gone cold, and Sam and Castiel were in low spirits. Crowley came later to collect what she'd written, and she was both surprised and relieved when he didn't question anything about it. Then again, the demon had seemed distracted and in a hurry, so when he had more time to think, he might notice the gaps in her report.

As the days progressed and an odd schedule was formed, Crowley never once questioned what she turned into him, even though she often omitted much of what Castiel and Sam were up to, and sometimes even completely fabricated things in an attempt to make Crowley believe that she was reporting her visions in full.

Ronnie found as the days passed that Crowley was actually… kind of okay. For a demon, anyway.

When he had the time, he would stay in her room and chat with her for sometimes several hours after she'd given him the stack of papers containing her dreams from the night before. The more she saw of the new world she'd been thrown into, the more questions she had, and Crowley was more than happy to answer them. She was half-convinced that the King actually enjoyed her company.

She would admit that she was waiting for Crowley to start actually acting like a demon – violent, angry, inhuman – but if she hadn't seen proof with her own two eyes, she would have never believed that he was a demon at all.

She didn't enjoy being imprisoned by any means, but as she didn't have any choice in the matter, she tried to make the best of her situation. Living as the King of Hell's prisoner should've probably been a living nightmare, but she'd seen open combat in Iraq – no. She'd seen Hell in Iraq, and it would be a stretch even to call that a metaphor. She'd seen her entire squad blown away, heard their screams… she'd watched them die. She'd heard it said that war was worse than Hell, because in Hell, there were no innocents. She was inclined to agree.

Really, by comparison, being the captive of the new, civilized devil and his Knight was a walk in the park.

Crowley allowed her to wander around the mansion as she pleased, as they both knew that she wouldn't really be able to get away, with the amount of guards that protected the place. She had even observed one of Crowley and Dean's 'training sessions', and watched with something between amusement and apprehension as Dean tried to levitate a couch but repeatedly failed. The finer points of being a demon seemed to be beyond Dean, in most cases.

However, once Crowley placed the First Blade in Dean's hand, his focus sharpened significantly. When the couch touched the ceiling, Crowley gave Dean an only mildly condescending round of applause and said it was enough for the day.

Her visions continued to be nothing of extreme importance. Mainly Sam drinking more than any human being should even dream of ingesting, Castiel throwing up blood and barely being able to fly from place to place but fighting with all he had to keep going and save his friend, and Gadreel continuously trying to reign in the angels under Cas's command, who seemed almost as hungry for a fight as their pro-apocalypse competition.

More and more she wished that she could do something to help them. In her visions, she saw things from the point of view of one of the three – and she felt what they felt. Sam and Castiel were lost without Dean, both of them taking on the blame for his transformation and subsequent demonization. Though they were trying to keep the Horseman Rings out of the hands of Asmodel and his followers, both of their main concerns were finding Dean and trying to bring back the man that they knew.

Looking at him now, she wasn't sure how successful they would be in their endeavor.

It wasn't until about a week after Crowley showed up at her front door that she had her first truly disturbing vision. It was the first one she'd had while conscious, rather than while she was asleep. It hit her in the middle of the day, pulling her out of the real world and throwing her into Dean's head.

And what she saw was horrible indeed.


Perhaps the greatest benefit of being a demon was, as Crowley said, the freedom.

Dean disappeared, not really thinking of any location in particular – just away. Away from Crowley, who he was on the verge of lunging at with the First Blade. He needed to calm himself down, or there was no telling what he would do. His body seemed to be practically vibrating with energy, and he could feel his pulse in every inch of his body like the beat of a timpani.

Dean found himself in the middle of a city somewhere with people rushing by him on all sides. He stored the First Blade swiftly and took in his surroundings. After a moment, he identified the city as Lawrence, Kansas. His hometown.

Huh.

He walked along with the rest of the crowd, but the amount of people was doing nothing to soothe his extremely frayed nerves. One slice to the jugular of the man in the cheap suit who pushed past him. A swing of his arm, Blade in hand, and the woman pushing a baby stroller to his right would be down a head. He couldn't stand being surrounded by potential prey.

It was just… too many beating hearts. Too much blood pumping through veins and waiting to be spilled by his hand. He hadn't killed in almost three days, and he was hungry for it… far too hungry. A crowded street was quite possibly the worst place he could be, for the time being.

He focused his energies. This time, he knew where he was going.

Dean reappeared in the ruins of Bobby's old house in Sioux Falls. Not only was the place completely devoid of any human life, but the crisp South Dakota air served to help clear his head to a certain degree. He leaned against a wall that was threatening to crumble. The sky was thick with thunder clouds. A storm was coming.

the panic room

Dean flinched, surprised to hear the Blade's voice. Panic room? What about the panic room?

GO

Dean felt himself moving without really making the conscious decision to do so. His boots stomped over charred, cracked floorboards, echoing in the ruined house's burnt out carcass. A lifetime ago, being here would've been like claws digging into a still-open wound, but now, he felt nothing but a slightly nostalgic numbness.

When Dean reached the basement stairs, he realized why he was being pushed towards the panic room.

Bobby's vault – the one that held his most dangerous and valuable procurements that the older hunter found – was in the panic room. And the last thing Dean knew, the three Horseman rings were stored inside.

"Screw Crowley," he muttered to himself as he descended the stairs. "Let's light this candle."

He couldn't pinpoint exactly why the idea of a Judgment Day repeat enthralled him so much. It was something deep inside of him, something primal… he wanted the chaos. The war. The battle. Needed it, practically. It would only be so long before the remainder of Abaddon's loyalists were wiped out and Hell was docile once again. What would he do then? What purpose would he have?

He supposed he could hunt again, but that wasn't the kind of instant gratification he wanted, and of course he would be running the extreme risk of colliding with Sam again, which-

Dean's thoughts broke off abruptly, and he stood in Bobby's basement. His mind was a complete blank for a few moments. What had he even been thinking about?

the rings

Right. He needed to get the Horseman Rings. He made a beeline for the panic room, pushing the heavy door aside. However, when he touched it, he let out a sharp hiss, pulling his hand back. An angry red burn glowed on his fingertips. Damn it. The door was made of iron. He kept forgetting the side effects of his new... condition.

He realized that he wouldn't be able to get inside of the panic room, either, which would've been a problem if he couldn't see the safe from where he stood outside of the door. It was clear that somebody had already gotten there and plundered the vault first. It was just a question of who had taken them. Had it been the Leviathan, or had Castiel taken them to keep them out of Asmodel's hands?

Damn. It hadn't been a fully formed plan, but having the Horseman Rings in his possession would've been nice… to know that he had the power to release Lucifer in his hand. Of course, he would need Death's ring for that… and convincing the Pale Horse Rider to relinquish that would be almost impossible. Death clearly had no interest in helping the end times along.

It was all a pipe dream, really, but still, the idea had worked its way into his mind, and he seemed unable to shake it out of his thoughts now.

Dean's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he rolled his eyes. Probably Crowley. He wasn't going back to the compound – not yet. He had to find some way to relieve the tension built up within his muscles like a tightly coiled wire first, or he was likely to snap and attack the first living thing in front of him, and he'd rather that thing not be the King of Hell.

Still, he checked his phone. It was indeed a text from Crowley, but it simply read, "511 Walnut Street, Springfield, Illinois. Demon nest. Kill them all."

Thank God – or whatever entity demons were supposed to thank. This was exactly what he needed right now. Dean took a deep breath, drawing the First Blade out of his jacket, knowing that its presence would center him enough that he would be able to teleport himself with greater ease. Exhaling his pent up breath, he felt the familiar tug in his stomach as he vanished from Bobby's basement and popped into existence hundreds of miles away.

He looked up. He was outside of what appeared to be a tavern called Buck's. He could sense approximately a dozen signs of life coming from the inside, but the sign on the main door was flipped to 'closed' and the blinds on the front windows were drawn. As if that would stop him. He tried to teleport himself inside, but found that he was unable to. He groaned, feeling a burning in his essence as he attempted it.

What the hell? Something was keeping him out. Was the place warded against demons? But that wasn't possible if there were demons inside. He wasn't sure what to do. Most of these hunts that Crowley sent him on were fairly linear. Show up. Kill demons. Leave the mess for the King's minions.

At a loss, he knocked on the door. Invincibility gave him confidence; it's not like whatever was behind that door could stand against him, anyway. He didn't detect the stench of demons inside the building or anywhere nearby. Why had Crowley sent him here?

Is this a trap? He wouldn't put it past the King, especially given the argument they'd just had. The last thing in the world Crowley wanted was another apocalypse. But how would Crowley take him out? Was it even possible?

The door opened, and a young woman with a tan complexion and dark hair stood just inside the threshold. He narrowed his eyes, positive that he'd seen her somewhere before – and also positive that she was a human, not a demon.

"Can't you read, jackass-" She broke off when she took in his features. "Wait a minute. I know you."

"I know you, too," Dean said, become more and more perplexed by the second. "It's Tracy, right? Tracy Bell?"

"Yeah. Last time I saw you was when we had it out with that crazy red-headed bitch and her demons," she said. "What are you doing here?"

That was a good question.

He should leave. He peered past Tracy. No less than ten hunters were gathered around two tables in the closed down bar, most of them in the process of filling syringes with what he guessed was dead man's blood or sharpening machetes. They looked like they were gearing up for one hell of a vamp hunt.

"Heard something was going down," he said vaguely. Why was he still here? He was distinctly aware of the salt line in front of the door. He wondered if that was the group of hunters' only defense against demons. They probably weren't expecting any kind of interference from his kind on a hunt like this. Dean's phone rang loudly in his pocket, but he ignored it.

"You want in?" Tracy's eyes tracked down to the First Blade. "The hell is that thing?"

"Long story," he said. "Can I come in?"

No. No. No.

yes yes yes

"Sure." She scraped her toe through the salt. "We definitely could use the extra help. Your brother around?"

"Nope." He crossed over the now broken line. Tracy went to remake it, but before she could, Dean grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall, hard. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I can't let you do that."


Blood everywhere. The hunters fought valiantly, but none of their weapons did any real damage to him. Guns went off in quick succession, bright flashes smearing against the crimson paint that Dean was coloring the bar with. There was the sound of Tracy screaming, but that didn't last long once he'd brought the Blade down on her head to silence her.

A shotgun blast hit Dean in the chest, loaded with salt rounds. He stumbled and felt a stab of brief pain, but that was the only effect it had on him. He laughed, and that seemed to scare the remaining hunters. With a swing of the Blade, he felled another, then twisted to dodge the oncoming knife headed for his chest. Dean speared him through the middle, and he realized he recognized the hunter – he'd been a friend of Bobby's.

He twisted the Blade, and he laughed again.

It wasn't long before every single one of them was dead, laid out prostrate at his feet, all pale with gray, staring eyes. And he couldn't stop smiling. Perhaps not as challenging as fighting other demons, but it had still been fun.

Ronnie gasped as her eyes snapped open. "Oh my..." She'd had visions of Dean going on unrepentant massacres with the Blade before, but she'd never seen him murder humans – not just humans, but hunters. People who would've been his comrades, before he'd been turned into a demon.

She was fairly sure that her visions came to her shortly before the events transpired in real life, though she wasn't sure specifically how long. Was there some way she would be able to stop this from happening? Had Crowley sent Dean their intentionally? Dean had been angry… angry about an argument with Crowley about whether or not to restart Armageddon. But why would that precipitate Crowley sending Dean after hunters under the pretense of killing demons?

She supposed there was only one person to ask.

She jumped up from the couch in her room and darted out the door, rushing past the demon guard posted there and heading for the stairs that would take her to Crowley's study on the floor above her, where hopefully she would be able to find the demon king. No one made any move to stop her, which didn't surprise her. It's not as if she was stupid enough to try to just sprint away from the clutches of the King of Hell.

She burst in without knocking once she reached the door. Crowley was at his desk, a glass of scotch in hand and his feet up on the desk. He looked up at her with mild curiosity when she entered.

"Veronica. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?"

"Did you send Dean after hunters on purpose?" she asked, wasting no time. If the King was surprised by her question, he didn't show it. He merely set his drink down and considered her.

"Now, what would possess you to ask that?"

"Because I just saw Dean butcher an entire group of hunters. Human hunters. Is that what you wanted?"

Crowley showed no reaction other than a subtle raising of his eyebrows.

"Why do you sound so shocked? I thought you were expecting something like this." He gestured at himself. "Demon, remember?"

"From what I've seen of you so far, you don't just do things because you can. What reason do you have for killing those hunters?"

"Hunters kill demons, I'm a demon… this isn't exactly rocket science, darling."

"Why did you tell Dean that it was a demon nest if you've got perfectly valid reasons for wiping those hunters out?"

"I fail to see how that's any of your business."

"Crowley!"

The demon simply rolled his eyes. "If this kind of thing is going to send you into a tizzy, you need to develop a stronger stomach, and fast. Dean's activities aren't typically G rated." Crowley snapped his fingers, and one of his goons ducked in. "Laharl, escort Veronica back to her room. I've business to attend to."

"You can stop him!" she said as Laharl grabbed her arm to force her out of Crowley's study. "Those people don't deserve to die."

"Goodbye, Veronica." Laharl took her out of the room, and with a wave of his hand, Crowley slammed the door in her face.


Crowley tried calling Dean. The Knight, unsurprisingly, did not answer.

He knew he was too late when he arrived in Springfield, but he still had the vain hope that he might be able to stop Dean – after all, if Veronica had envisioned it, then Crowley had the answer he'd been searching for. Dean was indeed quite capable of killing off members of his former species, apparently without any reason or regret.

He flicked his wrist, and the door of the bar opened. He stepped over a fractured salt line and was immediately assaulted by the smell of death. It was a scent that had once been commonplace and hadn't affected him, but since his brush with humanity, he found the odor foul and off-putting. He'd only taken three steps before his Italian loafers splashed into a pool of blood.

Crowley counted twelve bodies. Dean stood in the center of a messy half-circle of corpses, Blade dangling from his hand and soaked similarly to the rest of the hunter. Everything was red except for Dean's eyes, which were black.

Unexpectedly, the first thought that hit Crowley was, Sweet Hell, what have I done?

It wasn't necessarily the death of the hunters that jarred him. It was a pity, of course, but he couldn't bring himself to feel particularly dewy eyed over their passing when he was surely number one on the hunters' Most Wanted List. And if he wasn't, he should have been.

No, what was truly disturbing was the fact that Dean had murdered humans with absolutely no prompting.

"What is wrong with you?" Crowley asked before he could stop himself. Dean moved his head so that he could meet Crowley's eyes. "You didn't need to kill them."

Dean huffed out a laugh that sent a chill up Crowley's spine. "There's nothing wrong with me, Crowley." Dean stepped away from the pile of bodies, turning fully to face him. "I killed them because I could... 'cause I wanted to." He tensed when Dean lifted the Blade and placed it lightly against Crowley's shoulder. A warning. "You got a problem with that?"

With that bloody ass jaw near his neck, no, he didn't have much of a problem with anything.

"No problem at all," he said in a low voice.

Dean smiled.

And then he vanished.