Chapter Thirteen

"Okay with what I can figure out from this," Crowley cleared his throat glancing at the notes Olivette had given him. "This one is the spell we are looking for but the ingredients aren't clear."

"Is that really all you can make out?" Sam asked tired from staying up all night in the dungeon with Crowley.

"Sorry moose but this language is not easy," Crowley sighed. "How long has it been?"

"I don't know like nine hours…" Sam answered flipping through a notes they had saved form Kevin. "These notes must help us translate more."

"Olivette!" Crowley called to the witch laying on the hard floor with a thin blanket and a flat pillow.

Olivette groaned flipping Crowley off as she flipped over. "I have to sleep."

"We need more translation," Crowley explained.

"When we get a profit or when I get the book is when we can translate the actual text," Olivette mumbled.

"Why can't we just go get a profit again?" Crowley questioned Sam.

"Apparently Metatron flipped some switch in heaven that doesn't allow profits to regenerate," Sam rubbed his eyes yawning.

"You need some sleep," Crowley suggested.

"I'll sleep when Dean doesn't have that mark on his arm," Sam scowled.

"Dean is even sleeping it's not as bad as it was moose. Go rest," Crowley raised his eyebrows.

"No," Sam said sternly.

Crowley's jaw tightened but he nodded. "You're not helpin' those bags under your eyes…"

He liked the screaming. He needed more of it. More of the wet blood that lathered the walls. More of the copper smell the blood gave off. More of this. More of death.

Dean opened his eyes to find himself in a room full of dead bodies. Red blood covering his hands. Oh god… Why is he holding the first blade? Dean tried to drop it but the blade wouldn't let go of Dean's hand. Dean started panicking shaking his hand and pulling at the blade.

"That's not going to work," a familiar voice laughed.

Dean looked up terrified to find the face staring back at him. This face had visited him once before. He was this face before. It was himself with black eyes. A deep grin on his face. Dean breathed heavy trying to moved back as far away from himself as possible. He hit a wall. He slid down so he was sitting.

"Hey man what are you doing?" Demon Dean asked taking short but quick steps over to Dean squatting down to just above his eye level. "Are you deaf? Answer me!" Demon Dean demanded punching Dean in the face.

Dean sat up a bit dizzy. "What do you mean?"

"I mean why are you just relaxing playing lick a dick all day while we could be getting some work done?" Demon Dean questioned his black eyes somehow blacker.

"I'm not going to be you ever again…" Dean swallowed some blood.

"You see this boy?" Demon Dean forcefully shoved Dean's arm with the mark in his face. "This means you don't have a choice man! You are so god damn blind!" Another swing got Dean's face.

"I'll get it off," Dean heaved. Trying to stand his ground.

Demon Dean stood up walking and laughed circling back to Dean and pulling his face close by his shirt. "It's not a sticker dumbass! It's not some temporary tattoo! It doesn't come off with rubbing alcohol! This is the real deal! Embrace it!"

"You should listen to him," Another voiced called. Dean glanced over to see Cain leaning up against the wall watching the show with a smile.

"Screw you!" Dean spit blood in his direction.

"Hey!" Demon Dean punched Dean a couple of times then straightened him out. "This man gave you a gift!"

"It's a curse," Dean struggled.

"Even so… you should see it as a present, because that's the only way you'll be able to except that you've got it forever," Cain explained.

Dean remained quite except for a pain in his throat that made him cough violently.

"Enough playing around," Demon Dean smiled. "I'm coming out to get some work done." Demon Dean pressed his mark to Dean's making Dean's arm shoot up with pain. Unbearable pain. And glow a bright light that laminated the mark and the veins around it.

"No!" Dean screamed throwing his head back in agony.

Dean was now in his room his head pressed back against this pillow. He was grasping at his arm which hurt like holy hell. He quick held up his arm for him to just in time to catch a glimpse of the light fading from his veins into the mark and the away completely. He put his hand on his forehead feeling that he was drenched in sweat. What the hell was that about?

"All I'm said was that Dean seems stable. He hasn't had anything weird happen lately and he seems almost like himself," Crowley explained to Charlie who had joined the room.

"Just because he seems fine doesn't mean he is," Sam growled at him. "He might be going through some dark stuff and just not telling us."

"Yeah but we could see through that…" Crowley injected that point.

"Maybe," Charlie shrugged. "Either way Sam we will translate this spell you need to go sleep."

Sam shook his head at Charlie. "I'm not stopping. And as far as Dean knows I'm fine, got it?"

Charlie sighed but nodded her head and so did Crowley. "This is not a good idea," Crowley murmured.

"What's not a good idea?" Dean asked coming into the room.

"Charlie and me watching every episode of Doctor Who in one sitting," Sam laughed getting up at see his brother.

"The old ones too?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Doesn't matter cause it's insane and we have work to do," Sam smiled picking up his papers and leaving the room.

"Charlie, I'm game if he's not," Dean said excitedly.

"I don't know Sam is right we have lots of work to do," Charlie shrugged.

"Oh come one just the new ones then? Some Eccleston? Some Tennant? Smith? Kick it with Capaldi?" Dean begged wanting a distraction from his dream.

"Well Tennant is my favorite…" Charlie smirked. "Okay a couple of Tennant episodes… And maybe Smith if I'm feelin' risky. Its pain full to skip Eccleston though…" Charlie sighed. "We are gonna end up watching them all…"

Dean smiled throwing his arm around her shoulder. "Let's Dooo Weee Dooo it!" He said humming the tune to the theme song. "Yes and I realized that sounded stupid and I don't care."