Title: Confession
Author: Fenikkusu Ai
Pairing: Alastair/Dean
Rating: M
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 949
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Dean knew that he should be worried as he walked along the corridor. He was aware that he was dreaming but didn't know precisely where he was going. It wasn't like there was anyone here to ask for directions. Strangely enough, this didn't bother him. Calm acceptance washed over him; nourishing his spirit and urging him forwards. He was meeting his destiny. He wasn't afraid anymore.
At last, he opened a door that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He opened it in one smooth motion to encounter a tall form hunched over cleaning a razor. Dean wasn't afraid when he approached him. Instead, a shiver of excitement raced up his spine. He was finally here.
"You're running out of time, my boy." Alastair said in a sing song voice.
Dean could see the mutilated soul was only fascinated. His training was coming back to him, and he welcomed it like a fond friend.
The soul disappeared from the rack leaving it empty. Dean's mouth opened in comprehension.
Alastair at last turned around with a wide smile that stretched from ear to ear. "Such luck! Another position has just opened up. We've been waiting for you."
Dean dreaded to open his eyes. He could feel that he was currently lying on cool tiles. It was safe to assume that he wasn't in hell. Yet.
Hell didn't feel this nice.
"It's for your own good, Dean," he heard Sam saying through the door. "We'll figure something else out."
Dean jerked awake; returning to his senses too late. Desperately, he tried the doorknob and wasn't surprised that it was locked.
He found his voice. "Sam! Let me out." Dean rattled the doorknob.
"Not yet."
"Let me out, goddamn it!"
Dean began to bang on the door frantically. Something was closing in. It was as if he could feel the footsteps on his grave. His control on his life was slipping away.
"Stop!" Sam barked.
Dean stopped; fist frozen in midair. He was beginning to feel like a criminal rattling at the bars of his cell.
"Dean...you're not okay right now. You could hurt someone." Sam had evened his voice at least. It carried notes of apology, but Dean could hear the caution in it.
Then, in a flash, Dean remembered everything. He had attacked his brother. He had attacked Sam and wanted to hurt him. In Sam's eyes, he was now the enemy, and he knew that no one could argue with him, much less himself.
He should have just told Sam about that one moonlit night instead of hiding the truth. Now, he was fucked. Dean realized that he no longer had credibility. He was to be dealt with the hard way in the same manner of caging and eventually subduing a rabid dog.
Dean looked up at the ceiling. The bathroom was silent and dark. It became obvious that Sam had gone. He had left him behind. Dean knew that he could attempt breaking the door down, but knew that things would only get messier with Sam, not to mention Ruby.
Fucking bitch.
She knew. Ruby knew. Why was she doing this? Was there an alliance between her and Alastair? Was Ruby digging her claws into Sam and intentionally distancing him from his brother? Would the next step be presenting him to Alastair with a bow?
It wasn't going to end like this. Dean knew that he had one more lifeline left. He took a deep breath before weighing his options one last time. This was an emergency after all. He had been avoiding this day for far too long anyway.
Before he realized what he was doing, Dean's treacherous vocal chords opened. "Cas. Cas!"
He no longer cared if he was found out. Instead, Dean mentally steeled himself for the disappointment that would be in the angel's eyes.
"Castiel!" he called as loud as he dared.
Dean remained alone. The rejection was almost palpable. It would serve him right for his angel not to answer him. In all truth, he should let him to rot here. Maybe Castiel should have done so the first place. It would have made life so much easier for him now.
In hell, approximately twenty-five years would have passed. Cold gooseflesh broke out when Dean wondered what would have happened in twenty-five years. Would he have black eyes by now? Would he still be licking Alastair's shoes; hungering for approval?
"Hello, Dean." He heard a familiar voice behind him.
Dean wanted to cry out of sheer happiness.
"Cas!"
Dean turned around to see a familiar tan overcoat.
I'm in a bit of a jam," he confessed almost embarrassedly.
"You appear to be locked...in a bathroom." Castiel glanced at the toilet.
Dean sighed. "I'm locked in here. Sam did it."
"He had a reason to." Castiel replied.
Dean could feel his heart sink into his chest as he felt the angel's disappointment radiate into his soul. He knew. Castiel already knew.
Dean hung his head. Had Castiel been intentionally been avoiding him? Had he lost all of his allies in the space of one hour?
But, what happened next took Dean by total surprise.
"Here." The angel took a step towards him.
"What?"
Dean was already on his guard. Was the moment finally here? Would he soon feel the sensations of flames licking his flesh? Castiel had taken him out, but he could easily put him back. Dean was keenly aware of the power imbalance between himself and the warrior of heaven.
"We're leaving," Castiel announced harshly.
Before he knew it, Castiel's fingers touched his forehead, and Dean didn't even had time to take another breath before he was transported to another place.