Title: Teeming Shadows

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 995

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Sam was talking again, and Dean tried to focus on his intructions. He knew that they could save him.

"Here. It's what Bobby said to do. You hold the candle and say this."

Dean gripped his lit candle tight. The incense in the room was overpowering, and the herbs were itching his nose. It was beginning to dawn on him that he was beginning to dislike, no, truly hate the smell. Most herbs didn't smell sweet like roses, but he wondered if the reaction was normal. The odor was damned near threatening to choke him.

Dean scanned the eight lines of Latin. It seemed so simple, but he felt his stomach drop at the thought of saying them.

He needed a new job.

The excuse was forthcoming. "I don't know if this will work."

"Bobby said that this was one of the strongest sealing spells ever written, Dean. It has to work. Why don't we give it a shot?"

Dean felt true terror ripping at his guts. He didn't have a good feeling about this at all. It would be too easy. And, the thought of being sealed was an uncomfortable one. But his options at present were scarce, and he couldn't afford to be too picky. Besides, the spell would would seal Alastair...wouldn't it? Keep him out? Wasn't that a good thing?

Sam was insisent. "Say the words, Dean. Before the candle burns out."

Honestly, Dean didn't want to. It was as if he could feel someone watching his futile attempts to clear himself of this evil. His senses were being flooded with an impending warning seasoned with crushing doom as if something was daring him to. But, he would set his unfounded fears aside and say the words regardless. He would do it. For Sam.

Under his brother's gaze, he recited the invocation in a voice that wavered more than he would like. The flame devouring the wick flickered as it grew larger; the wax dripping down from the candle onto his hand. He could feel an ancient power coursing through him. Hopefully, it was stronger than Alastair's. It would protect him from the demon.

"It's working!" Sam rejoiced.

For a moment, Dean felt relief. A fluttering of hope. Finally, this nightmare could end. If he could just get Alastair out of his head, then his life would be be back to normal. He would be able to think clearly once more.

All of a sudden, the candle was knocked out of his hand by an invisible force, and Dean stared after it in shock as the candle hit the wall. On impact, the flame died in curling smoke; Dean's hope burning with it.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Sam asked.

The ritual hadn't worked. He could feel it. Dean still felt exposed and vulnerable. On cue, he could have sworn that he heard bonechilling laughter. He stifled a sob as he keenly feel the sand trickling out of the hourglass. He was fucked to put it mildly.

"We'll try something else, Dean. Okay?"

How casual Sam made it sound. Except that they weren't perfecting a recipe for chocolate chip cookies. This was his life. Dean turned his back; scarlet staining his cheeks. He was upset to say the least. And so tired. His hand fanned out on the wall for support before sliding down to fall to his knees. Moments later, he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder and shuddered.

"Dean?"

Something was moving underneath his skin again, and Dean didn't know how long he could ignore it. "It's over," he announced hollowly.

There. It felt good to say out loud. Dean allowed his fatigued eyes to snap closed.

"No, it's not," Sam argued.

"Over," Dean repeated.

"No. It's going to be all right. We'll find another spell," Sam said it in a voice you would use for to a wounded animal. A dangerous animal.

Dean growled as he shoved Sam's hand away.

"Chill, Dean."

It's his fault you're in this situation in the first place. Punish him, Dean.

Dean didn't know the origin of that voice, but he agreed with it. Something was breaking loose inside Dean. Something that had been caged for far too long. His blood bubbled over with hatred and despair. Suddenly, Dean had the urge to grab Sam by the throat.

"You think that you're the boss now, you little shit?"

It just took one second for the whole world to explode. In one seamless movement, Dean charged at Sam with strength he didn't even know he possessed, knocking Sam off his feet.

"It's over!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, stop!"

Sam was saying something, but he couldn't hear it. Both brothers wrestled and writhed on the floor only to crash into a table. Clutter rained down on their heads as they continued to roll across the room.

Suddenly, Ruby was in the room and she was pulling Sam away from Dean. Her supernatural strength along with Sam's were more than enough to hold him down. Dean stuggled, kicked, and fought against the demoness and his terrified, confused brother. He swore at them both. Didn't they understand? Couldn't they feel that something was wrong?

Dean roared in betrayal before his vision darkened. Now, he could see the shadows that had been pulling at him. He could feel the heat of the fire and smell the smoke. Eventually, he could see the individual demons leering at him. They were calling out to him. Mocking him.

"Welcome back, Dean Winchester," they whispered in his head.

Was it a hallucination? Another little trick? Had the spell done this? Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to debate as he was rapidly losing conciousness.

He knew that he was going back. He was going back to hell.

"Come on, Sam. We have to put him somewhere safe. Somewhere he can't hurt anyone," he could hear Ruby order.

"But, what's happening to him?"

"Right now, Sam!"

A pause. "Where?"

Dean finally blacked out.

"Goodbye, Sam..."