A/N: Hey everyone, and welcome to a Saturday night special (hehe, see what I did there?) update. I pray that we are all healthy and not letting this quarantine get to us. I know it's hard but we will come out of this stronger than we were. And kinder. Thanks to shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod, bagelcat1 (x2), and SammysGirl42 (x3) for the awesome reviews!
This chapter is tagged to episode 10x21, The Prisoner. This was a rough one to watch, not gonna lie. But Jensen killed it for sure. I hope you all enjoy it! Please leave me a review at the end to let me know what you thought! Let's keep lifting each other up during this difficult time!
Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable belongs to me.
Fire
Dean Winchester dreamed of fire.
It haunted his (rare) sweetest of dreams and had a starring role in his nightmares.
The fire that took his mother away from him and turned his father into a machine.
The fire that burned thousands of miles below him in Hell, still hot enough to scorch him to the bone.
The fire that laid Bobby to rest.
The fires that he would set in Purgatory to ensure his own survival.
Fire had been a constant form of pain and comfort in his long life, and usually he could a handle on his dreams of it, good or bad. But this…this was the tipping point, as far as he was concerned. He'd burned friends and family alike over the years, but this was different. This…this was…
"Charlie." Sam spoke through choked back tears. "We're gonna miss you. You were the best. And I'm so sorry –"
"Shut up." Dean growled. "You got her killed, you don't get to apologize."
Sam turned to him desperately. "We were trying to help you."
"I didn't need help!" Dean barked back. "I told you to leave it alone."
"What was I supposed to do, just – watch you die?"
Dean scoffed. "The Mark isn't gonna kill me."
"Maybe not, but –" Sam swallowed heavily. "When it's done with you, you won't be you anymore. Dean…" Sam turned to him, eyes glistening. "You're all I've got. So, of course, I was gonna fight for you because that's what we do. And listen, I had a shot –"
"Yeah…you had a shot," Dean sneered. "Charlie's dead. Nice shot."
Sam took half a step back when he saw the look of hostility in Dean's eyes. "You think I'm… You think I'm ever – gonna forgive myself for that?"
"You wanna know what I think?" Dean turned on him, standing so closely Sam could see the reflection of the fire in Dean's eyes. "I think it should be you up there, not her." Sam felt a chill run up his spine but refused to do anything but meet his brother's gaze. "This thing, with Cas, and the book, ends now. Shut it down before somebody else gets hurt. You understand me?"
Sam finally turned away, staring into the fire that was currently consuming Charlie's body. He had known the second Charlie went missing that, if anything happened to her, it would drive Dean over the edge that he had been standing so precariously close to for months.
He could rationalize Dean's anger. Charlie was one of his closest friends, pure, innocent…relatively untouched by all the crap that went on in their lives. She didn't deserve to go out the way she did, and, knowing Dean as well as he did, Sam knew that Dean was thinking that Charlie didn't deserve to die saving Dean's 'worthless' hide. Sam also knew that the Mark was feeding Dean's anger, making him say things that he didn't really mean. He didn't mean that Sam should have died instead of Charlie. He couldn't have meant that. It went against everything they stood for as a team, as a family, as brothers. They kept each other alive, kept each other safe, kept each other sane. It was just what they did, and Sam wouldn't let that go.
"And what about you?" he whispered, almost as if he was afraid of the answer.
"Oh, I'm gonna find whoever did this. And I'm gonna rip apart everything and everyone that they ever loved. And then I'm gonna tear out their heart."
"Is that you talking or the Mark?"
Dean chuckled coldly. "Does it matter?"
Dean turned his back on Sam and started marching off into the distance.
Fire. It was everywhere. Not only in his dreams and nightmares, but encircling him, ensnaring him. An impenetrable force keeping him locked away in his mind. Like Holy Fire.
Damn, now that Dean knew what that felt like, he felt almost sorry for the rat bastard angels that he and Sammy had trapped in a ring of Holy Fire over the years.
The Mark was the ring of Holy Oil, forming a toxic ring around Dean's better qualities. His protectiveness, his love, his heart and humour. On his good days, Dean could still bring those qualities out, but this was a dark day. Charlie's death had been the spark that turned the Oil into Fire, keeping everything that made Dean warm and loving and caring locked away.
Dean felt trapped—was trapped—behind that wall of toxic flame. He raged and screamed and fought for a way out, but he couldn't. The Mark had completely taken over, and he was helplessly trapped in his own mind as he heard himself say all those things to Sam.
About how he should have died instead of Charlie.
About how he was going to find the Stynes and rip their hearts out.
He was even helplessly trapped in his mind as he laid into that youngest Styne kid. And Castiel. As he spouted toxic truths to his friend and beat him half to death.
The Dean that was trapped behind his fiery anger knew that he was telling the truth. Magic like the kind that comes from the Book of the Damned, from Rowena, always came with a price. It was the same kind of magic that let John trade his soul for Dean's life, or let Dean trade his soul for Sam's life. It was dark magic, ugly magic that ended in blood and tears and suffering for all. It wasn't the type of magic that he wanted his brother and his friend to get involved in, especially not to save him. Not when Charlie had already died trying to save him. He wouldn't let anyone else suffer the same fate. He wasn't worth it, especially the way he was now.
The Dean that was being fed by the anger didn't care about Dean's protective instincts. He was a Dean that was fed solely by self-preservation, by fight or flight. He wanted to live. The anger inside of him wanted to live, and it would, by any means necessary. If that meant beating Castiel and killing the Styne kid, so be it.
It was the one common goal that both versions of Dean had. Survival. For one Dean, it was survival of his family, his friends. For the other Dean, it was survival of the self. And both were determined to reach their goal, no matter who or what stood in their way.
A/N: So, I think I went a little too psychological with this one but oh well. Let me know what you thought! Stay safe, stay healthy, stay sane!
