Chapter 2

Let me know if you're enjoying this fic! I'm enjoying writing it, and I have a feeling it'll be a 3 parter, since the next episode will be out on the 21st and anything I write here will be therefore untrue to the storyline.

In the next few days I'll get chapter 3 up, PROMISE! :D

Enjoy!

After Dean left the bar, he found another bar… (Because he's Dean.)

"Whiskey." Dean muttered to the waitress at the hotel bar he had relocated himself to.

"Honey, you've had enough." The waitress replied simply, turning to serve another costumer.

Dean shoved the costumer off of his stool. "I said, whiskey." He said more forcefully, meeting the terrified waitresses eyes.

"Sure," she relented, turning to grab the whiskey bottle with trembling hands.

She filled Dean's glass and turned to call the police from the back room.

"You might wanna get going," the man who Dean shoved from his seat piped up from the floor, where he was brushing dust and dirt off of his jacket.

"You might want to shut your mouth." Dean glared at him with a stone solid expression that wasn't his own.

The man backed off, going down the row of stools far away from Dean before he sat back down.

A siren blared from outside, and the man who had warned Dean to leave smirked down at him.

"Bitch." Dean hollered at the waitress as she peered out the back room's door.

Dean grabbed his drink and downed the last drop, then turned to leave.

"Don't move, put your hands where I can see them!" A cop yelled from where he stood with five other officers.

"You're makin' a mistake." Dean muttered loud enough for the cop to hear.

"Am I? I'll be the judge of that." The cop approached him slowly, pointing his gun at Dean's head.

As the cop reached into his back pocket for the handcuffs, Dean felt an all too familiar tug from the Mark on his arm.

Kill.

Dean's pocket knife was somehow swinging around in his hand, then flying into the oncoming policeman's arm.

"Fire!" The command was ordered from somewhere far back in the crowd of police officers.

Bullets rained into the now deserted bar, Dean ducked behind it, then set his eyes on the back exit.

More orders were yelled through the chaos.

Dean took his chance and bolted to the door, tugged on the handle, and thankfully it opened. He yanked it hard, and as he squeezed through the opening, he heard a noise that told him to flee.

CRACK! WHOOSH!

The Bullet flew through the wooden door and sent itself skidding across Dean's right shoulder as he searched the parking lot for a car to hot-wire.

He grabbed his arm, feeling the familiar burn of a bullet.

"He went out the back!" voices hollered from inside.

I've got fifteen seconds, tops.

Dean thought to himself, scanning the parking lot and settling on the idea of jumping on top of the dumpster and into the surrounding woods.

He knew he'd lost the cops when he stopped hearing gunfire and sirens.

"Sammy." He said the name as if he thought his brother was right there next to him.

Kill, the Mark begged.

Go back to the bunker, find Sammy.

But the real Dean's desire won out, and he pushed the Mark's ideas out of his mind.

For now.

Hours later, inside the bunker…

"Why didn't you go after him?" Castiel still didn't seem able comprehend why on earth Sam would let Dean go.

"He said it wasn't safe." Sam growled, becoming angry at himself for not following Dean.

"We could've had this whole problem solved by now if-…" Castiel began for the hundredth time. Arguing with each other, they sounded like an old married couple with an out of control teen.

"Don't you think I know that!" Sam hissed at him angrily.

"Of course." Castiel shook his head back and forth like a child before continuing. "We'll find him."

"Thanks, Cas." Sam looked down at his untouched drink, he never was as fond of the stuff as Dean.

The rumbling noise of the door opening came from the bunker's entrance, startling both the men.

"What's that?" Castiel inquired, looking up at the ceiling, then back at the entrance, trying to find the source of the disturbance.

"The door, but only us and-…" Sam turned to find Dean walking down the hall towards himself and Castiel.

"Hey." Dean said, waving a hand, attempting humor.

"Dean." Sam hurried over to him, noting the blood on his shirt and face, knowing where some of the wounds came from after witnessing the fight at the bar.

"We've gotta get rid of this." Dean said softly after giving Sam a manly hug.

"We will." Sam promised once again.

Sam patted Dean on the shoulder good-naturedly before noticing the bullet wound, earning a grunt from Dean, who used some choice words.

"Sorry." Sam apologized, moving his arm away gently.

Dean sent him a death glare as he turned to Castiel, who seemed unsure of what to do during their family reunion.

"You want a hug too?" Dean added sarcastically.

"I'm fine, thank you." Castiel replied normally, as if it had been a real offer.

Dean rolled his eyes as if Castiel were an oblivious child, earning a smirk from his brother who crossed his arms.

Just kiss already… Sam thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

Later in the Bunker…

"Son of a bitch," Dean complained, "Would you be careful?" He sent Sam a look that he had never shown Sam before.

"Sorry." Sam continued to stitch together the bullet wound on Dean's shoulder, earning complaints all the way.

Dean took the bottle of alcohol which was supposed to be used for sanitizing and took another swig, which Sam chose not to comment on.

"Hm…" Castiel stared intently into Sam's laptop screen.

"Find anything?" Sam asked him, looking curiously over his shoulder.

"Cas, we talked about that." Sam scolded him.

"Is he watching- Again?" Dean turned around too and found Castiel had opened up a porn website.

"I didn't mean to." Castiel defended himself, closing the internet tab.

"What'd you find on the Mark?" Sam changed the subject, looking over to the other five internet tabs left open to pictures and stories about the Mark of Cain.

"Nothing to help. The only way I know to get rid of it is to pass it on to a willing candidate." Castiel explained annoyedly, wishing he had found more. "We shouldn't though, it'll only become a problem again."

"There's no point in putting it off, we've gotta find someone." Sam said forcefully.

"Whoever receives the Mark will only turn out- The same way." Castiel said, trying to make it sound better than it was.

"And if we let Dean keep it, who knows what it'll do to him!" Sam replied angrily.

"It won't kill him, Sam." Castiel continued.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Dean interjected.

Castiel and Sam turned to him, they had nearly forgotten he was there while they argued.

"We find Cain, he dealt with the Mark for years. Maybe he'll take it back." Dean shrugged, then took another long sip from the bottle.

Sam grabbed the bottle away from him disapprovingly, "So we just find Cain. How?" The sarcasm was clear in his voice.

"I don't freaking know, that guy was five kinds of crazy." Dean replied seriously.

"Alright, we'll try to find Cain. But while we do, we also try find someone to take that Mark from Dean." Sam said, his gaze moving to look Dean in the eye.

"Fine." Dean grumbled.

"I agree with Dean." Castiel said, a bit too enthusiastically. "And Claire?"

"She can stay here, but I doubt barbie'd go for that." Dean spoke before Sam could.

"Then she can come?" Castiel inquired, looking between the two Winchesters.

Dean shrugged, Sam nodded uneasily.

Castiel went to tell Claire, and Sam turned to Dean once he was gone, "We don't want to put that girl in danger."

"We already have." Dean said, balling his hands into fists. "Sides', we already have."

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