Chapter Twenty-Five

For a long while, Sam was worried that Dean had ditched him for some unknown reason. He stopped at the liquor store and questioned the cashier, who informed him that Dean had left about thirty minutes prior.

Sam stalked out the door and immediately froze in his tracks as the sight of the Impala sitting directly outside the liquor store met his eyes. He hadn't noticed it walking in. "Dammit…" He muttered, slapping his phone once again. "C'mon, Dean, pick up." The first ring blared in his ears, and, at the very same time, Led Zeppelin began playing. Sam froze in his tracks and listened. The phone kept going, and so did the music.

It was near him, he could tell. Sam dropped his cell to his side, but allowed it to continue calling his brother. He knew that song…When the Levee Breaks. It was the one that Dean had just set as his ringtone. He'd watched him do it.

"Dean!?" Sam exclaimed. No answer. "Dean!"

Suddenly, a soft groan sounded near him and Sam instinctively followed it. As he passed the alleyway leading behind the liquor store, he spotted a grown man crumpled to the ground. Dean. Sam raced to his brother's side and lifted him into a sitting position against the brick wall. "Man, what happened!?"

Dean's eyes were fogged over and it didn't look like he could easily meet Sam's gaze. He didn't offer an answer, and Sam snapped his fingers in front of his face, trying to break him out of his trance. "Hey. What happened?" He repeated, less forcefully.

Dean shook his head, as if he were trying to clear it. "Don't r'member…" He grumbled finally, his voice inexplicably slurred. "Head hur's…" He admitted after a pause. Sam studied his brother's condition thoroughly before finding a large, bloodied gash at the back of his head. He immediately cringed at the state of the injury. "S'mmy…" Dean mumbled, leaning back against the wall. His face looked positively green. "Th'nk 'm gonna be sick…"

"No." Sam said firmly. "No, you aren't. C'mon…" He slipped his hands beneath the other hunter's arms and hoisted him to his feet. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"N't again…" Dean complained dazedly as Sam practically dragged him to where the Impala sat on the side of the street.

"Too bad." Sam responded as he helped his brother into the passenger seat of the car. "Buckle up." He said before slamming the door and heading to the driver's side.

A few minutes into the ride, Dean yawned and Sam's eyes shot to where he slouched against the seat. His head lolled towards the window and Sam reached out to slap his brother's shoulder. "Snap out of it. You gotta stay awake."

"T'red…" Dean moaned quietly.

"You can sleep when the doc says it's okay." Sam replied. "For now, keep your eyes open, got it? Focus on something else." Dean gave him a look that clearly said, 'Like what?'. Sam didn't have a good answer.

By the time they reached the hospital, Dean's eyes were fluttering like crazy. But he'd powered through, and that was what mattered. Sam had jerked him into consciousness a couple of times, but he was simply glad that he'd managed to stay awake for the most part.

"Okay, man. We're here."

"Back in less than a day?"

Doctor Birne's voice was filled with amusement as he entered the room where Dean and Sam waited. Dean sat atop the exam table, while Sam had claimed the bench in the corner.

"Well, I can tell you this." Birne continued. "Mr. Angus, the wound you received at the back of your head was clearly obtained by rough contact with a solid surface…such as a wall, et cetera. The initial bash to your head caused you to receive a mild concussion. But, no worries…the symptoms should wear off eventually. Any memory loss will be restored. You should be good to go home again in a couple of hours. In the meantime, I want you to get some rest, Mr. Angus. It should help your head."

Dean nodded slowly, not having the energy to reply. His head still felt like there was a hammer pounding relentlessly against his skull, he couldn't shake the constant ringing in his ears, and every waking moment felt like he were living in a dream.

"Well, guess you'll be okay." Sam said after Birne left the room. Dean let out a heavy sigh, closed his eyes, and collapsed against the tiny pillow that lay at the head of the exam table. "You sure you still don't remember anything after leaving the liquor store?"

Dean was once again about to respond with a solid 'no', but he hesitated before doing so as he recounted the earlier event. "Actually…" His eyes opened gradually. "Maybe I do remember something."

"What, Dean?"

"A girl…" Dean swallowed, creasing his brow. "Blonde…pretty…brown eyes…like Jo…" He turned his head to one side to meet Sam's gaze. His brother was studying him with a peculiar look on his face. "She coaxed me into that alleyway, and…she kissed me."

Sam raised his eyebrows and smirked a little. "And then?"

"She said…'I've got you'…and…" Dean paused before continuing. "…and then she bashed my head into the wall. After that, all I remember is you calling my name."

Sam scrubbed a hand across his face before speaking, his tone exhausted. "It's the demon."

"The demon? The one that Crowley hired to kill me if the disease didn't work?" Sam nodded. "Well, she's doing her job, that's for sure." Another nod. Dean frowned at his brother, who was purposely avoiding his gaze. "Sammy, why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything that happened while I was down under?"

The younger Winchester exhaled sharply and closed his eyes. "You're right." He said quietly, his tone reluctant.

Dean pulled himself into a sitting position, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms over his chest skeptically. "Well, then, I'm all ears."

So Sam told him.

Everything this time. About the demon possessing him for the majority of the time, acquiring the disease himself…everything that he'd refused to reveal to him the last time he'd given him an explanation.

By the time he was finished, Dean's jaw was hanging open. After an awkward silence, he finally spoke. "And you were planning to fill me in on this…when, exactly?" Sam narrowed his eyes and Dean huffed out a breath. "Oh, I see. Never. Dammit, Sam. Why don't you ever tell me these things?"

"Don't talk like you don't do the same thing." Sam objected sharply. Dean raised his eyebrows before shrugging in consent, as if to say, 'You're not wrong'. "It's just…what we do." Sam remarked.

"Damn straight." Dean answered, no longer sounding sore. He once again laid back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"Now go get yourself some Jell-O from the cafeteria and let me sleep."

She was hopeless. Demoralized. Completely and utterly defeated.

The demon paced back and forth in the cramped, seedy motel room she'd managed to scrounge up with the money left in her host's pocket. She traipsed to the dresser and slammed her palms against it, gripping the edge so tight that her knuckles turned white.

She turned her gaze to the mirror and met the wide, brown eyes of her vessel that were so foreign to her. She studied the lank blonde hair and skinny frame. It had just been a stroke of luck to find this specific host as Dean's Impala rumbled up to the liquor store in town.

The demon had still been possessing Corinne, who had been coincidentally been making a trip to the laundromat right next door as Dean showed up. Taking her chance, the demon smoked out of Corinne and possessed the nearest pretty girl exiting the laundromat.

Dean had fallen for it. Hard.

But then Sam saved his hide at the last minute. It was almost as if the Winchesters were immune to her each and every attempt. And it was becoming more and more aggravating by the second.

What had those two done to be so damned special? Why couldn't they just die and stay that way? So many times…so many times they had bitten the dust and then were let off the hook. It was ludicrous, completely ludicrous.

The demon inhaled deeply before inching her gaze to the nightstand drawer beside the moth-eaten bed that the motel owners expected their guests to sleep in. It was in there. The one weapon that could kill Dean Winchester, once and for all.

The First Blade.

She strode purposefully to the stand and yanked out the drawer to reveal the jawbone meticulously crafted into a lethal blade. The demon lifted it by the hilt and scrutinized it closely, her heart pounding as adrenaline flooded through her veins. A wicked smile formed on her lips.

Even just holding it, she knew. It was now or never. It was kill or be killed. Whatever the hell you wanted to call it, this was her last attempt. She was going to succeed…

Or die trying.

Dean sat motionless at the main table in the library, watching Sam as he pranced around the bunker, setting up hex begs and anti-possession charms and a bunch of other trinkets that Dean didn't have the patience to identify.

"You know, Sammy…" He mused as his brother checked the contents of what seemed like the hundredth hex bag. "I don't think you need to take all these precautions—"

"'Don't need to take precautions'?" Sam's voice was incredulous. "Dean, are you joking? Should I remind you about that damned demon stabbing you and bashing your head into a brick wall?"

"I know…" Dean grumbled. He winced at the reminder, the back of his head still twinging with occasional pain. He'd managed to sleep for a few hours at the hospital, which helped, but it would be a couple days until he was completely back to normal.

"And you still say I shouldn't take precautions? You're too friggin' reckless, you know that, don't you?" Dean shrugged. He wasn't wrong. "Okay." Sam said as he finished diligently positioning the final hex bag. "I'm gonna hit the sack. You should too."

Dean nodded and watched his brother disappear down the hall to his bedroom. Not just yet, Sammy. The minute his gigantic back slipped from within eyeshot, Dean was immediately on his feet, scanning the room for each and every security trinket the younger Winchester had set up.

Sorry, Sam… He thought contritely as he set to work erasing his brother's attempts to protect him. But I need to end this. Once he was done, he lowered himself into the chair and sat back, resting his feet on the edge of the table.

"Okay. I'm ready. Come and get me, bitch."

"Last dose from this one, my king…"

Lola purred as she prepared the syringe filled to the brim with blood. "I'll head out tonight to collect another prize, I promise."

"Sounds peachy, love." Crowley responded. He reached out desperately for the blood and smiled as the other demon placed it obediently in his waiting palms.

His shaky hands prepared the needle above his forearm and he squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure as he pressed down on the plunger. The blood rushed through his veins. It triggered so many emotions…emotions he couldn't identify as they coursed through him.

"How do you feel, your Majesty?" Lola murmured in his ear, her hands working into his back as she massaged between his shoulderblades.

"I feel…brilliant." And he did. For once, he cherished the best feelings that the human blood delivered to him. Just for a moment, he didn't care about his failure with Dean…he didn't care about the looming threat of Abaddon…he didn't care about anything, for just a few precious minutes.

This was his addiction.

Castiel stared at his reflection in the mirror. He stood in front of the dresser in one of the many motel rooms he'd been staying in for the past few days. He examined the body of Jimmy Novak that he had long since claimed. The messy dark hair and bright blue eyes he now considered his own.

Cass still had moments where he wondered what Jimmy Novak and his family's lives would've been like if he had given Jimmy's back. Where would he be? So much could change just due to one little adjustment.

And of course, that drove the thought to what Heaven would think of him if he hadn't taken the Winchester's side so many times in a row. Would he still stand with Metatron? Maybe he wouldn't have fallen for the Scribe's lies if he hadn't messed so much with humanity. That way the Fall would have never occurred.

Amriel's words suddenly flashed in his brain…

You prioritize any human above your own brethren. It's disgraceful.

Was it, really? Humanity, was, after all, what all angels in the old days strived to protect. Now, with Metatron in charge, it was different. Had he really polluted all of his followers' minds into thinking that humankind was tainted, foul, and corrupt.

Eventually Cass would have to choose. Humans or angels. Now, sadly, there really was no in-between. He didn't know the answer yet. But there was one thing he did know…

Castiel was going to defeat Metatron. Whether he did so as a soldier or as a leader.

It was time.

The demon sensed it in her bones as she stood outside the bunker door, listening for noises within. There was nothing. She closed her eyes and felt herself travel through the door and across the threshold.

When she opened them again, she stood atop the stairwell leading down to the bunker's library. She scanned the area, double-checking for last minute devil's traps, hex bags, and any other anti-demon trinkets.

She came back with nothing.

A sinister smile formed on her lips, and she gripped the hilt of the First Blade tighter. She felt the power from it radiating through her. Sure, she didn't have the Mark. But you only need that factor to kill a Knight of Hell.

A pure mortal, even Dean Winchester, could be killed with just a single stab wound to the heart.

Her eyes, still scouring the area, found Dean himself with his feet up on the large table at the center of the library. His chin dropped towards his chest, which rose and fell steadily in sleep. Sam was nowhere to be seen. She stalked down the stairs as if she were on pins and needles, careful not to make a single sound.

His slumbering form showed no sign of stirring as she approached. His eyelids twitched as if he were dreaming, and the demon slowly slipped the First Blade from where she had it stowed inside her jacket. Her fingers were deathly white as she clutched it as hard as she possibly could. She was vaguely surprised that Dean didn't wake to the frantic hammering of her heart, whose sound echoed thunderously in her ears.

The demon hesitated with the First Blade readied in her hand. She observed the man before her with a softness in her gaze. He was handsome, she realized. She'd never really thought about it before. It'd be a shame to waste such a pretty face. In a few short seconds, he'd be lying lifeless on the floor. Pity, but it was necessary, for both her and her King's satisfaction. Even Crowley wouldn't expect her to go against his orders, he would eventually come to appreciate her decision.

She took a deep inhalation, closed her eyes, and exhaled through her nose, preparing for the moment she had been waiting for. It felt like she'd been waiting for years, no matter how long it had actually been.

Everything she'd been through flitted through her mind…

Possessing Gina Sullett, capturing Sam before eventually claiming his body as her own. Finishing the case of the Nephilim…watching Dean slowly become weaker and weaker until he ultimately gave into the illness…

Experiencing the exact same thoughts and feelings that Sam did as he watched his brother succumb to 'Mortem per somniatis' without knowing what was really going on inside Dean's body.

Becoming impatient with the amount of time the disease was taking to claim its victim…eventually going against Crowley's orders and deciding to rid the world of Dean Winchester with a much more classic solution…stabbing.

Watching Dean power through, even while comatose. Seeing the connection Corinne Acker developed with him…and mocking it. Feeling the agony as Sam attempted to exorcise her…forcing Sam to catch the disease himself.

Seeing the angel Castiel slowly succeed in collect the ingredients to cure Dean through Sam's eyes. Finally being forced from the younger Winchester's body as the angel burned off the binding lock he'd placed on him.

Taking over Corinne, attempting another murder of Dean after he woke up. Failing again. So many failures…so many thoughts…so many feelings.

It had been overwhelming. It was time to end everything she'd gone through…leave it all in the past and forget about it once and for all.

"Goodbye, Dean Winchester." She crooned before preparing the Blade. In a split second, she was bringing it down, lightning fast, aimed towards the hunter's heart.

But what happened next was unexpected.

Dean's eyes flew open just seconds before the tip of the Blade made contact with his skin, and he lunged to the side, his foot lashing out. Before the demon could rationally understand what was happening, her feet flew out from under her and she was toppling to the floor.

She didn't have a chance to get ahold of herself before Dean stood over her and kicked the First Blade from her reach. He slammed his foot onto the small of her back, preventing her from getting up. "Did you really think it would be so easy to get in here?" He chuckled darkly and bent down, retrieving the First Blade from where it lay pathetically on the ground.

Both of them felt the sudden change in the room as Dean's skin came in contact with the hilt of the Blade. A chill traveled through him and his eyes closed. The demon stared in shock as the Mark on his arm glowed with an eerie golden light.

Dean inhaled heavily and his eyes opened, smoldering with a malevolent bloodlust like the demon, in all her years, dead or alive, had never seen before. His eyes stared down at her from where she lay helplessly on the floor.

And he simply gazed at her. Utterly calm. Then it happened.

He grabbed ahold of the collar of her jacket and lifted her into the air with barely an effort. His green eyes still stared into hers with that uncanny calm.

"Rot in hell, bitch." He growled before not even hesitating to detach her head from the rest of her body. The corpse crumpled to the ground and he threw the head down along with it. He felt no remorse for the innocent girl who had been trapped inside the demon. Dean dropped to his knees, clutching the bloodied First Blade in his fist.

Just like in his nightmare.

Sam arrived soon after, awakened by the sudden chaos sounding from the struggle between the demon and Dean. As he stumbled into the library, half-asleep, he found Dean in a kneeling position, clutching what looked like the jawbone of an animal. His hands shook. His eyes stared blankly in front of him.

The First Blade. Sam realized.

The younger Winchester took in the scene before him. The decapitated body, the blood, the trancelike state his brother seemed to be trapped in.

"Dean? Dean. Hey, it's over. She's dead."

His brother's eyes slid to the Blade. The Mark on his arm still burned gold. His lips curled into a snarl, making him seem less than human. Sam's heart traveled up his throat.

"Drop the Blade, Dean." The other hunter didn't appear to hear him. If he had, he showed no indication of letting go. "Dean!" Finally, Dean seemed to realize his brother's presence. A flicker of humanity sidled across his face and he met Sam's gaze. "Drop the Blade." Sam said again.

Dean uncurled his hand from the hilt and the First Blade dropped from his grasp. The Mark went back to normal, and Dean narrowed his eyes before drawing his trembling hand to his chest.

It was over.