CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: When All Seems Lost, Bring Out The Big Guns

The house just felt… darker without Dean in it.

As the former group of seven, now six, trudged up Bobby's front porch into the falling apart home, everything seemed less welcoming as they all filed in, going off their separate ways. It was roughly two in the morning, the day's events depleting what little energy they had left as the reality of what just happened seeped in. They all tried to keep their minds off of what the middle Winchester was probably having to go through at this very moment, but they couldn't help the multitude of images that flooded their brains.

Ellen and Jo made their way groggily upstairs after having been awoken from their slumber in the car when they arrived, followed soon after by Sam and Bobby. Mary settled for plopping down on the couch in the living room, watching the TV but not really watching it, unable to indulge in the act of sleep like her sons were able to. John made his way to the kitchen to the bottle of Jack Dean had left out, only half drank, soon to be gone if the old hunter had anything to do with it.

The two stayed quiet for awhile, each in their own little worlds, the only sounds being heard was the endless streaming of infomercials and the clinking of a glass making contact with the table.

John was about ready to turn in, pleasantly buzzed, when he heard the faint sound of his wife crying coming from the other room. Wordlessly he got up and made his way over to the couch, sitting down beside her where he waited, knowing Mary would do whatever she was comfortable with. With just the need to be soothed in mind, the blonde leaned over to her husband, resting her head on his shoulder as she sobbed for her lost child. She gripped at his shirt, the fabric wrinkling from her insistent grasp. The hunter instinctively tightened his arms around her, shushing her and rubbing small circles on her arms. The two parents grieved, hoping they would somehow find a way to bring back their kid from his terrible fate.

….

The second Jo's eyes had shut, she immediately regretted it. She sat up abruptly, desperately trying to rub away the image of Dean getting mauled by Hellhounds that had permanently engrained itself into her eyelids. The young hunter's head fell into her hands, knowing she wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. She groaned and shook her head as she stood up to go to the bathroom, to do anything to distract herself.

Thankfully, Ellen had somehow come home and had fallen asleep rather quickly, not aware of the turmoil her daughter was going through in the restroom. Jo puked, the mental picture of Dean's blood splashing on the carpet making its way to the forefront of her mind.

Sam wasn't doing much better, he lay in bed, eyes glassy as he stared at the ceiling. He knew that he wasn't going to be sleeping, he didn't even sleep well on normal nights let alone tonight. He had failed. He saw what was going to happen to his brother months ago yet he wasn't able to stop it. But Sam was going to get Dean back one way or another, and one way just appeared in his room.

"Ruby?" He asked disbelievingly, not expecting her. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, socked feet hitting the floor. "If you're here to say I told you so, I'm not in the mood." He said, pointing a daring finger at the slim blonde standing in front of him with her arms crossed.

She held her hands up in the universal gesture of peace, trying to hide her cocky grin. "Wouldn't dream of it. I come bearing gifts." She dropped an obviously full backpack on the floor with a loud thud, the unmistakable sloshing of liquid being music to Sam's ears.

The young demon narrowed his eyes, not sure if he should trust her or not. "I didn't ask for this." He pointed out, standing up to inspect the contents of the bag. He unzipped it, a hint of hunger in his eyes as he counted the amount of water bottles full of crimson that occupied the small pack.

Too distracted by the scarlet filled containers, Sam missed the way Ruby watched him like he was one of those show dogs, nothing more than something to be manipulated. "I know you didn't ask for it." She said, rolling her eyes as he returned his gaze to look at her. "Just thought you could use a pick me up, that's all."

The youngest Winchester was about to respond when there came a small rap at his door, his head snapping to it. He went to look at Ruby but she was gone. Well, she's smart, I'll give her that, He thought as he zipped the bag back up, not bothering to hide it before going over to the door and opening it.

"Sam? Is everything okay?" Jo asked, looking small and concerned in her pink flannel pajama shorts and black tank top as she tried to glance in the room around his gigantic body.

The demon tried to play it cool, leaning on the doorframe casually. "Yeah, why?" He asked a little too quickly.

"I heard a loud thud and some voices." She stated, her tone suspicious, locking eyes with the tall man in front of her.

Jo could tell he forced a laugh. "I turned off my light and went to lie down and missed the bed. That was just me being clumsy and scolding myself for it. Don't worry." He lied, earning a 'not-taking-any-of-your-shit' glare from the blonde.

Jo cocked an eyebrow and popped her hip, waiting for him to come clean. Sam may be a demon, but he was one sucky liar.

The youngest Winchester grew aggravated, glancing down the hall quickly to make sure no one was around. "It's none of your business okay? Just stay out of it." With that he shut the door in Jo's face, the blonde huffing before heading back to her room. That's what she gets for trying to look out for the guy.

This wasn't over, she wasn't going to let Dean come back to his brother being off the rails. She made a promise and she'd be damned if she didn't keep it.

…...

A low, animal-like growl escaped Dean's lips as Alastair took a sharp metal blade and carved it across his skin, his bare chest now decorated with a wide cut that extended from his right shoulder to his left hip. He was a mess, to say it in the kindest way possible. His face and body were covered in purple and blue bruises, long, deep gashes occupied his arms and shoulder blades. He could feel a broken rib threatening to protrude from his side, the marks the Hellhounds had left still evident on his body, the wounds scabbing over. He glared at the sadistic bastard standing in front of him, eyes black as he focused all his anger in this one glare. "What the fuck is that thing?" He barked, ignoring the pain of his split lip when he talked. He had always thought the only knife that could harm demons was the one he had left with his father.

Man, was he wrong.

Alastair snickered as he slid the blade agonizingly slow into Dean's lower torso, the middle Winchester grinding his teeth to try to keep from screaming. "This," He paused, smiling menacingly. ",is what's going to be my favorite toy these next few months. Buckle up, Dean-o. I'm just getting started." His voice was dripping with malice as he twisted the knife, this time eliciting a broken gasp from his current project.

"What the hell does Crowley want?" He snapped, trying again to get answers from the demon that was having way too much fun torturing him.

Alastair yanked out the blade the least bit gentle he could and walked over to the cart, picking up a funnel and what appeared to be a container of salt. Dean's body stiffened as it prepared for what was coming. When the demon turned back and stopped a few inches from the middle Winchester, he shook his head pathetically before Alastair pried his mouth open to shove the funnel in right before he poured the salt through it, the tiny particles burning Dean's throat as they made contact.

Alastair stepped back, taking pride in the way his latest punching bag gagged and coughed up now bloodied salt, trying to rid his body of the harmful seasoning. The cruel demon returned and gripped Dean's face with one hand while he was still coughing. "Don't ask stupid questions."

….

"Castiel, Naomi may see you now." A dark haired, blue eyed man glanced up from the spot on the glass table he had trained his eyes on, meeting the gaze of a quiet angel he barely knew. The only thing he was sure about her was that her name was Hannah, but other than that she was a stranger.

He stood up quickly from the pure white couch, not wanting to keep his superior waiting. He nodded his thanks to his fellow angel, making his way into the office. He never got tired of its beauty, one wall completely made up of floor to ceiling windows, the crispness and professionalism of the small space.

He bowed slightly to the standing angel behind the table who had her hair in a tight bun. She looked all business, ready to lead the angels in whatever direction was necessary.

"Castiel, please sit." She encouraged, gesturing towards one of the chairs in front of her desk while she sat down gingerly behind it.

He obliged, perching on the edge of it while he waited for the orders he was here to receive. He hoped he was being sent to Earth, he hadn't been down in almost a century and he missed the abundance of nature and the humanity the planet consisted of.

"I'm sure you figured out you are here for your latest assignment." She started off, smiling at him politely. He nodded back, knowing not to speak out of turn. Although she seemed nice on the outside, Castiel has heard stories where Naomi has lost her patience with particularly pesky angels. She clasped her hands on the desk and tried to sort through what she was going to say. She knew what she needed to deliver was going to be difficult to understand, she had barely been able to grasp it herself when she was first told. "We need you to go down to Hell to rescue a soul. One in particular."

Castiel waited patiently, tilting his head to the side. "Who is so important as to need rescuing from there? If they have been banished to Hell, do they not deserve to be there?" He asked with a genuinely confused expression.

Naomi nodded. "Yes, but this one needs to be brought to Heaven so he can be dealt with properly. If not, the world is in danger." She said vaguely, meeting Castiel's bewildered expression.

"I do not understand. Who is the soul? What could they do if not dealt with?" He tried to learn of the person's name once again, wishing he could just get all the information.

"Dean Winchester." She said as if the name was foul, shaking her head in disgust.

Dean was well known to the angels, he had been wrecking havoc for all living things since he was a young boy, his demonic tendencies always more rambunctious than his brother's. Thankfully, the angel's had only one complication with him, which didn't end well for either party.

Castiel visibly straightened, waiting for Naomi to correct herself. When she didn't, he had to ask. "I thought Dean Winchester was a demon." He stated, seeming unsure. He was almost positive…

She nodded regretfully, as if she herself didn't like that they had to do this. "The King of Hell, Crowley, is planning on having the demon take on the Mark of Cain. A mark that when administered to the wrong person, like Dean Winchester, can end catastrophically for our kind as well as the humans."

Although Castiel didn't like it, he had been taught about the Mark of Cain and knew what he had just learned must be taken seriously. So instead of questioning the who and the why, he switched gears. "How should I proceed?"

…...

Crowley took his time walking down the hallway, scotch in hand, taking in all the sounds around him. He especially liked one specific sound, one he never thought he would hear. The broken screams that belonged to Dean Winchester echoed against the walls, being music to the King's ears as he got closer to where Alastair was working.

When he finally walked in, he was greeted by the middle Winchester's obsidian glare and Alastair looking like a child on Christmas morning. Crowley took in the shape of the troublesome demon, seeing how wrecked his body was and the blood that had pooled at his feet.

"I see you've wasted no time." Crowley noted, smirking as he stepped closer to inspect the severity of the wounds.

Dean spit some access blood from his mouth onto the floor, barely missing the King's shoes before he lifted his spiteful gaze. Crowley couldn't help but find it weird that the demon hadn't made any smartass remarks, so he turned to Alastair. "Why isn't he talking?"

The master of torture lip's turned darkly at the ends as he stepped forward. "A little too much salt and holy water. Don't worry, he'll be back to spouting off soon." He said almost regrettably, he had been enjoying the silence other than the middle Winchester's ragged screams.

Dean cleared his throat, wishing they would both just go or at least tell him why the hell he was there.

"I'm sure you're curious about what you have to do with the Mark of Cain." Crowley started, meeting Dean's annoyed but interested glare. "All you've got to do is take it, and you're free to go." He revealed, trying to make the act sound appealing.

Dean coughed a little, wishing he could just get some water, and not the holy kind. "You- want me- to take the- Mark?" He choked out, the words choppy and hard to comprehend. "Isn't that- kinda- signing your own- death warrant?" He finished, breathing hard.

Crowley chuckled as if the idea was absurd. "No, squirrel I wouldn't have to worry about that. See, you and your brother are really quite easily manipulated." Dean narrowed his eyes, not sure where this was going. "All I have to do is threaten that little family of yours, and you'll do whatever I ask. Just wait, you'll see."

The King turned to leave, not stopping to look over his shoulder when the middle Winchester tried to yell.

"I'll fucking kill you I swear!" He screamed, his voice sounding like a chain smoker. He earned himself a punch to his jaw by Alastair for his outburst but he didn't care. He swore to himself that by this time next year, Crowley would be dead.

….

"What did Crowley say to you before we showed up?" Sam asked, pulling up a chair in front of Bobby's big desk in the living room that his father currently was occupying.

John didn't even look up from the book he was reading. "The Mark of Cain."

Sam stopped, eyes widening in recognition. He felt physically sick as he stood up, running thick fingers through his long hair. The eldest Winchester finally looked up to see his son distress and quickly stood up. "Hey, what's wrong?" He questioned, brows knitted in worry.

"Cain was the Father of Murder. Technically he still is but nobody's heard from him in ages. And I mean, this guy was scary. This is the guy demon's tell ghost stories about." He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory of his older brother trying to scare the shit out of him growing up. "This guy killed his brother, Abel, and he made this whole army of Knights that would go on murder sprees." Sam paused, feeling like someone was churning his insides with their bare hands. "Specifically, what did Crowley say about it to you?" He pressed, not liking where this was going.

"Nothing… just said to do some research on it." John met his son's horrified gaze, assuming the worst. "This can't be good can it?"

The youngest Winchester shook his head, Mary walking in as he did so.

"Everything okay?" She questioned, her tone full of concern as she took note of the father and son duo's faces. The blonde demon looked back and forth between the two, waiting for an answer.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he shared with his brother and father as he processed the information he had just learned. "Crowley mentioned the Mark of Cain to John."

Mary stiffened as her brows creased in astonishment. "Cain hasn't been heard of in at least six decades. You're telling me Crowley has plans for the Mark?" She asked disbelievingly as John slowly stood up.

"Crowley made a point to mention it to me and to tell me to research it. He wouldn't of told me it if it wasn't significant." The old hunter said confidently, not missing a beat.

With new found defiance, Mary squared her shoulders as her features hardened. "We are getting Dean back."

With that, she walked outside straight towards the Impala.

…

Dean was woken up rather rudely by a swift knock to the jaw, his head snapping back from the impact. He groaned, the wounds that had been elicited from the past few hours demanding to be felt. He brought his heavy-lidded eyes to meet Alastair's dark gaze, instantly wishing he hadn't. "Listen, man, ain't nobody want to see that when they first wake up." He quipped, Alastair's lip twitching with anger. He raised his fist, ready to administer another hit when Crowley walked in followed by someone who Dean couldn't see because of the venomous demon in front of him.

"That's enough. He needs to be able to stand on his own in order to take it." The King reminded, his tone disapproving as he stepped forward, a bearded, rough looking man following after him.

The middle Winchester narrowed his eyes, thinking he had seen that face before but not quite able to put his finger on it. "I'm just getting all kinds of visitors. Who's next? Meg? Ruby? Casey?" He asked. He felt his split lip start to crack as he smirked, but couldn't bring himself to care.

The gruff man walked towards him abruptly, gripping his face with one hand, his fingernails digging into his cheeks. "You better show me some respect, boy. I'm giving you my damn Mark for fuck's sake."

Dean felt his heart rise to his throat as he realized who exactly was standing before him. "You come out of hiding just to do Crowley's bidding? Man are you whippe-" He felt the sharp point of a blade pressing in his chest, no doubt Cain had grabbed it from the cart when he had walked in.

"I don't do anything I don't want to. If giving you my Mark means you will suffer, I'll gladly transfer it." Cain hissed, his patience decreasing.

The middle Winchester leaned forward the best he could, figuring he had nothing to lose. "You think that now, just know your ass will be one I come for first."

The Father of Murder shoved his face away with ferocity as he carved a decent sized gash into his side. Dean clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay quiet.

"You're not really helping yourself here Squirrel, it's almost as if you have a death wish." Crowley said, a hint of pity in his voice before he turned to his master of torture. "Get him down." The King turned his attention to the door where a familiar blonde was strolling into the small room.

"Should've put my money on Ruby." Dean said with fake disappointment in his tone. He eyed her with such hate, Ruby could see the anger radiating off of him.

"Go help Alastair hold him." Crowley demanded, serious and intense. As Alastair slowly and painfully removed the hooks and chain, Ruby quickly grabbed the wounded demon's arms to support him.

"Fucking bitch." Dean muttered, struggling weakly against her firm grip. Alastair soon joined her on the other side, making sure he stayed standing as Cain approached him.

The Father of Murder seemed satisfied as he held out his hand, waiting for Dean to take it. When he didn't, he vigorously grabbed his right hand and grasped it tight so he couldn't yank it back. "Let's dance." The young demon looked young and afraid, not ready for whatever was waiting for him.

White hot pain laced up Dean's wrists in red tendrils as he could physically feel the power flowing from Cain into him, the Mark slowly branding itself on his right forearm. The middle Winchester felt such agony surge through him that was unlike anything he's ever felt before.

The pain was over soon after it started, Alastair and Ruby allowing him to fall to the floor in a heap. He balanced on his hands and knees, breathing hard.

Crowley crouched down, lacing his meaty fingers through Dean's hair and forcing his head up so he could meet his gaze. "This is only the beginning. Tomorrow, we start your training.
"

….

TBC

Please leave your thoughts for this chapter and what you think might happen. I want to know if you guys are still enjoying the twists and turns even though I am straying from canon. And, I felt like Cain should be a little scarier since in the show he seemed a little like a coward. Also, I hope you enjoyed my introduction to Castiel. I plan on going in some detail on his actual journey to rescues Dean, just because I feel like it could be cool. Let me know if that sounds good or not. Anywho, thanks to all the people who review, favorite, follow, and read this story, it honestly means so much to me! If I don't update before then or if I'm late, I hope everyone has a great/had a great holiday!