Wrote this one today. Exploring Dean with the Mark of Cain. Sad moment between Celeste and Dean. Please feel free to review.
Brown liquid pools stretch across the wood panel floor of the bunker. I gulp. Not again, please not again.
Hurrying along the corridor I follow the trail of broken whiskey bottles. The bitter stench making me want to gag. Outside his room I go to knock but the door swings open.
Leaning against the frame is Dean. Hiccupping, his green eyes struggling to focus on anything.
"What do you want?" his tone is aggressive despite his words being slurred.
"Dean. You need to stop," I state bluntly as I glare at him.
He doesn't answer me as he goes to shove the door close. Pushing my wings against it I fling it open so it smacks the stone wall. Dean huffs as he staggers towards his bedside.
His room is in complete disarray. The floor has become a sea of wrinkled shirts. A stale smell makes the atmosphere feel depressing and hopeless, rather than creating pity it makes me want to yell at him. Alongside the stale smell, my sensitive nose can detect vomit which makes my own stomach churn.
Leaning down Dean roughly pulls open his drawer, swearing as he attempts to grab another bottle.
"Dean. Please don't," I beg hoping that the care I have for his wellbeing is enough to sober him up.
Clearly it's not as he looks at me witheringly before throwing his head back to take a swig of the bottle. Suddenly his head jerks forward.
"Empty," he states disappointedly and sends me an accusing look as if I were responsible for the lack of alcohol.
"Just like your soul," I mutter bitterly.
Without warning Dean throws the glass and before I have a chance to move it smashes into my arm. I let out a scream as I notice blood pouring down my arm from a gash in my shoulder, creating a crimson sleeve.
"Don't be such a cry baby. At least you can fix yourself," Dean sniffs as he wobbles precariously before slumping down on his bed.
"I give up with you. We are doing everything we can Dean, you're not exactly helping," I begin to shout, all my patience is dried up and I have nothing left but rage and contempt for the man in front of me.
He slurs an insult but even my advanced hearing cannot decipher his drunken tongue. Screw you and my dad. If only I had been there when my dad decided to bring Dean back by using the frigging mark. I would have never allowed it to happen. No matter what the consequences I would have stopped him. Anything would have been better for Dean than his now miserable existence.
We were all desperately trying to find a cure whilst Dean was drowning everything out through his assortment of drinks. He said it helps but we all know the truth. It was just fuelling his anger and it was increasing the mark's grip on Dean.
As I left feeling completely defeated, I could have sworn that for the first time in ages I heard Dean weeping and repeatedly saying: 'I'm sorry' on a continuous, frantic loop. Looking back I am about to turn as Sam appears concern in his eyes,
"Cel. What happened to your arm?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it. Any luck?" I ask as I heal myself effortlessly.
"No. Your uncles are out trying to source some more ancient texts. Gabriel has been really racking his brains," Sam explained as I followed him to the living room.
"That won't take very long," I grin at Sam and we both start laughing.
That's all I'm good for at the moment. I am trying to keep everyone's spirits up before we all resort to heated arguments. The only way we could save Dean is if we all remained united. I just wished that my powers were strong enough to remove the mark. I tried and failed. Now all I have is this burning guilt, not only as my dad was responsible for most of this but also because of the anguish on Sam's face when I told him I couldn't heal his brother.
"Hey. Don't look so down. We'll find a cure Cel. I promise." Sam smiled as he nudged my shoulder and he gave me a quick hug.