Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or it's characters.

There's a lil bit of physical hurt in this. Not graphic, don't worry.

Chapter 13

Dean ran as fast as his feet would carry him, barely stopping even when his chest got tighter and tighter.

"Stupid son of a bitch." He kept muttering to himself. He kept running, running, running. He didn't even slow once he got at the location he was supposed to be at, and instead ran at the door in full speed. The door opened easily enough, and Dean only winced a little when his arm impacted with the door. The door slammed behind him, and Dean spun on his heel. "Shit." He muttered. The room was pitch black, and you couldn't see your hand in front of his face. Dean found it disorienting, the room felt as though it was spinning, though Dean couldn't see. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Should have seen it coming. No way in Hell he would have got her." He cursed himself. He leant up the wall, shuffling slightly away from the door. He slid down the wall, sitting down, knees up, and rested his hands atop of it, and his head too. "So stupid." Distantly, he heard a clap, and the lights flickered on. Dean sat up abruptly, and knocked his head on the wall. He hissed a little in pain.

"So nice of you to join, Dean." The room was empty, and Dean couldn't make out where the voice was coming from. He knew exactly who's it was, though.

Dean closed his eyes. "What do you want, Metadick?"

He heard him laugh. "Hah, a nickname?" There was a clap. "Oh, you shouldn't have." There was a door opening, and shortly after, closing. "How rude, Dean." Metatron grabbed Dean's face. Damn that son of a bitch moves fast. "Sleeping whilst you have company?"

Dean scrunched his eyes tighter shut. "What are you gonna do about it?" He spat.

Metatron let go of Dean's face, throwing it to the wall. Hard, but not hard enough to knock him out. Metatron tsked. "Dean, Dean, Dean. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"

Dean grit his teeth, and kept his eyes closed, but relaxed his lids. Block him out, ignore him.

"Anyway, enough rudeness. Onto Castiel." Dean could hear Metatron walking around. "You haven't killed him yet."

Dean rolled his eyes under his lids. "No shit."

Metatron grabbed Dean's wrist and held it on the wall. Dean's eyes opened at that. "Shh. I'm talking. No interruptions." He loosened his grip, and Dean wriggled his hand free, grunting. "And I'm curious, why? You've never had any problems before."

Dean didn't answer. Metatron grabbed his hand again, and got closer to Dean's face. Dean tired to wiggle free, but the grip was like a vice. "Why?" Metatron repeated, voice low.

Dean diverted his gaze.

Metatron threw the hand at the wall, and Dean winced at the crack. "You've been on this, what? Four months?"

Dean held his wrist.

Metatron was shaking head head, scoffing a laugh. "The great Dean Winchester. Brought down. By what? Hmm." Metatron mockingly rubbed his beard. He smirked. "Feelings?" Metatron crouched in front of Dean, who was looking at his wrist still. He studied his face.

"No." Dean whispered.

Metatron smirked even more. "Don't lie." He said, voice low and dangerous. "Trust me, I know when you're lying. You have a twitch."

Dean inhaled through his nose, huffing a laugh. He brought his gaze to Metatron's, and smirked. "Just a twitch to smirk."

Metatron huffed a laugh this time, studying his face again. "No. You're lying. You may be able to lie to yourself, but not to me." Dean looked down again. "So..." Metatron's voice drifted off. "Which one?"

"Hate?"

Metatron laughed. A sharp and short one. "No. Compassion." He grabbed Dean's face, and studied it again. "I'd even go as far as to say Love."

Dean scoffed. "You can stuff love up your-"

"Now, now." Metatron released his face, and stood. He began pacing. "So. Why?"

Dean huffed.

"You don't have to answer. I'm sure Castiel could aid you."

Dean's eyes widened. "No!" He said, shuffling himself up the wall. "Don't you dare touch him!"

Metatron tsked. "And you say you have no emotions towards Castiel."

Dean was standing, his head was pounding, as was his wrist. His hair was sticking to the side of his face, and Dean ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the red. He inhaled through his nose. "Okay. I do." He admitted, head low.

Metatron clapped, laughing. "The great Dean Winchester." He mocked again. "Brought down by love!"

Dean's breathing was heavy.

"You've known each other for four months."

Dean knocked his head back. The room was spinning again.

"I'm sure that wasn't part of the plan."

Dean ignored it.

"Not talking?"

Dean didn't reply.

"I guess we'll have to deal with dear old Castiel sooner. Maybe set someone-"

Dean's head snapped up, and he ignored the nausea. "Don't touch him." He growled. "You hear me? You dare touch him!"

Metatron laughed. "Oh, I won't, Dean. Don't worry. Not while you're here, at least."

Dean took a step towards Metatron. "What do you mean?" He said, tone the same.

Metatron smirked. "You heard me. Now, get out of my face."

Dean didn't, and Metatron punched him. He stumbled backwards, grasping his face with his good hand. He hissed at the cut that was now on his cheek.

"What a shame. Your boyfriend is going to see you hurt." Metatron sneered, face and voice full of fake empathy. Dean spat at him, and frowned, confused. Metatron rolled his eyes. "Okay!" He shouted.

The door that Metatron entered in opened, and two figures stumbled in. Well, one was stumbling one was unconscious, leaning on the other as it was almost dragged..

Dean looked to the door, eyes widening and jaw dropping slightly at the sight.

"Cas?"

Chapter 14 teaser:

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~~I'd like to thank BornRider2 for reviewing. And QuestioningKate for reviewing on my authors note!~~

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