AN: I wish I had a slightly longer chapter to offer yall, especially to help stave off the 'guest' who threatened me with bodily restraint and Kid's Bop if I didn't finish this story. (Thank you whoever you are, you gave me a good laugh on a very bad day.)
I have no intention of abandoning this story and the next chapter is about half done already. Life is just got a bit too LIFEy for a while. I'll try to keep my footing and keep the updates coming.
Something had come loose in the hours that Dean tossed and turned and refused the reprise of sleep. He could feel it rattling around inside him, banging against the vital parts of his mind; crippling hope, and trust, and other things that really didn't need any extra encouragement in order to fall apart.
There came into being a vital need for coffee; either that or a medically induced coma. Awake or asleep. Anything other than being in the weird limbo of doubt he found himself adrift in.
There was a stale taste in the back of his throat and an orphaned bruise on his left forearm that he couldn't remember the origin of. He rubbed the back of his wrist over his mouth and debated if he would have doughnuts with his coffee or if that kind of sugar would just make him feel sick at this point.
Dean gave up trying to pretend to sleep when he was able to hear Sam and his insufferable little boyfriend waking up and talking in less-than-hushed voices. He rolled onto his back and tried to find answers in the patterns of morning light cast over the ceiling.
It was a subtle but stern effort that Dean made not to look over at the Angel still sleeping beside him. Dean had done more than enough of that during the night, and Cas' stupid face had not laid bare any truths or answers to any of life's great mysteries. And honestly Dean was still worried about the night before- it didn't matter how much of it he wanted to just chalk up to the Angel being well medicated- he couldn't shake the feeling that Cas' weird confession right before he passed out was something that Dean should actively be frightened of.
Why was Cas here?
What did it have to do with Dean?
What had Michael wanted him for- aside from a quick joyride?
Dean had an inordinate amount of questions buzzing in his skull. It was like a swarm of angry bees had taken up residence over the past few hours and he had no idea how to placate them or to lure them out.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned softly in an attempt to drown out the drone of his own thoughts that had kept him wide awake for so many hours. He could push it all aside long enough to get a shower and some breakfast. He needed to. He could drown in his doubts latter, once his blood sugar levels were back somewhere this side of the red.
Few things in life happen gently. Maybe spring showers, or flowers opening to the morning sun, perhaps even butterflies or other girly, delicate things.
Castiel was not delicate and neither was the way in which he woke up beside Dean. A brief warning sound, caught halfway between a yawn and a thunder storm was the only warning that Dean received- not even enough to lower his hands from his eyes- before the Angel crashed into him. It was a mess of thin arms and morning breath and Dean smiled in spite of the bruise he could feel forming on his ribs where Cas' unforgiving elbow had found its target. The hunter couldn't quite manage to pull his arms out from between their bodies as Cas crowded him, sort of oozing over his chest and resettling in an overly warm but not unpleasant way.
"Cas… can I help you with somethin'?" Dean asked softly, not even sure if the Angel had yet reached a stage of wakefulness that allowed for speech.
There was a soft rustle and even though he could not see them, he could feel the touch of Cas' wings settling over them, warm and as soft as a dream. "No thank you, Dean. I do not require any assistance." The Angel breathed over his neck, stifling another yawn as he became a sort of blanket for the hunter.
Through sheer determination, Cas managed to wheedle an arm beneath their chests and extract just enough of Dean's arm that they could hold hands and that was just fine. Dean curled his fingers tightly, dragging the digits up to his lips and lightly kissing them.
"I am not awake enough for kisses, Dean." The Angel objected in a halfhearted murmur, and Dean could not hold back a hollow chuckle.
"If you and your fat ass are gunna' lay on me, I have full rights to your fingers." He kissed the pad of Cas' thumb to make his point.
"It is not any fatter than yours." His sleep heavy voice took on a defensive lit.
"Have you been comparing them?" Dean teased, easily amused at the gentle idea for his mind to dwell on.
"Was I not supposed to?" Cas shifted, peeking up from Dean's chest, trying to look him in the eye.
Dean was too tired not to laugh at the open innocence in that single question. He grinned and kissed the Angel's warm hand again, followed by the soft pulse in his wrist and Dean earned himself a strange throaty sound from the man watching him with lidded eyes.
"You check out my ass all you want." Dean shifted his hips, trying to find a comfortable spot between the lumpy mattress and the Angel's ribcage. "As long as it's not in public."
"We are not in public, Dean," and if that sounded more like an offer than anything else then it was just the first sign that Dean had started getting loopy from lack of sleep.
Dean took that offer, imagined or otherwise, and he gently drew Cas up so they could see each other eye to eye. And Dean had had intentions of some kind of toe-curling, breathless, hip rolling, good-morning kiss, but Cas had sat himself up on his elbows and was blinking sleep from his clear blue eyes, looking freaking beautiful in the morning sun light that slipped through the parted curtains. The feeling that slapped Dean across his face made his chest tight in a way that scared him speechless, and he was struck by the realization that this was not a feeling that would fade anytime soon.
He refused to name it, to give it any more power than it already had, but this feeling… Dean knew it. He had heard legend of it. He knew its name, all the dirty and dangerous things that people called it. He knew the stupid things people did in the name of it, and how even just a glimpse of it can shatter you. So Dean pushed that feeling aside too, as much as he was able. He shoved it down with the doubt and the fear and all the other things that he had tried valiantly to condition out of himself.
The muscles in his stomach bunched as he sat up too, meeting Castiel's sleepily yawning mouth in a gentle kiss.
Cas smiled; one of those welcoming, inviting expressions that he seemed to be rationing because Dean had only ever seen it used once before. Dean wasn't sure he remembered how to breathe, so he opted to kiss Cas again. If he was about to suffocate through his own love-struck-stupidity, at least he could leave this world with the taste of the other man on his lips. Luckily it seemed that his body remembered how to do that neat breathing thing on its own; though why his chest was burning with each stuttering gasp was a mystery that Dean did not want to divvy any extra thought processes to.
It was around the same time that Cas was settling himself more intimately into Dean's lap that Gabriel decided to show his damnably chipper face in their room. He only knocked once and then just let himself in like he owned the place, and from the corner of his eye, Dean watched some certifiably obnoxious morning greeting blink out of existence.
Gabriel's bright eyes went wide for a moment and a mix of emotions cascaded over his pointed little face, before settling into a frighteningly toothy grin. "Hell's bells, Dean. I told you to uses that Winchester charm to sweet talk information out of him- that's not the same thing as giving you permission to bump uglies in a cheap motel." He folded his arms over his chest, looking at them as if trying to decide what sort of punishment could possibly be suitable for such a crime. "You could at least put a sock on the door- a man deserves a bit of warning before walking in on his brother getting boned. This kind of stuff can be traumatic for a guy."
Sam chuckled somewhere in the other room, then made the mistake of coming over to see what amusing and compromising position his boyfriend had found their brothers in. By the look on his face what he found was not at all what he had expected.
"Dean?"
"Shut your yap, Sammy." Dean instructed as he let his hands fall from Cas' hair to settle at the small of his back. "I'm not really in the mood for one of your lectures right now." He felt defensive and a little guilty and it had nothing to do with what had been interrupted and everything to do with the strange look his brother was giving him. It wasn't like Sam hadn't walked in on him in the midst of far more incriminating situations, but this was different somehow.
He didn't want to feel guilty about Cas, because the Angel was pretty much the only good thing he had going for himself these days.
But when it came down to it, he did.
He felt really fucking guilty.
Dean had every intention of telling his brother about whatever this was. This thing he and Cas had- however this was nowhere close to how he had intended to let Sam know about this new and lovely little sin he had discovered. But that ship had kinda sailed. The barn doors were open, the cows were out and the bag was really devoid of cats.
"Dean," Sam averted his eyes, stumbling over his words. "Um… like Gabriel said, this is a little traumatic. You really should have warned us."
"Yeah, like this is any more disturbing than the sexcapades that I walked in on last night."
And if there was any doubt as to what he was referring to- it was not had by Sam. Dean's younger brother turned a lovely shade of red and stammered out something incoherent before shrugging it off and folding his arms over his broad chest.
"Aw, you tell em, Sammy." Gabe encouraged enthusiastically, patting Sam's shoulder and grinning up at the much taller man.
Dean, disengaged from the man on his lap, getting off the bed and turning to face the interruption tag-team that loomed in his doorway. He rolled his shoulders and somehow found a smile. "Got a present for you, Sammy."
"I don't think I want it." Sam looked up, dubious of the offer and there was a troubling light to his gaze. It was definitely that 'we need to talk' expression, but it seemed entirely involuntary. Like he already knew the script that Dean would be reading from, and there was nothing that could brace him for having to actually hear the words spoken aloud.
"Don't be a puss." Dean snatched up the battered journal that he had received the night before and he held it out like an olive branch.
Sam blinked and picked up the shabby little thing with the same unwarranted reverence that he always managed towards books. "What's this?"
"Kaleb Elias' journal- well, one of them. With cliff notes and everything." He managed to stifle a grin as he saw his distraction take full hold of the other man's thoughts. "Please try to contain your gratitude, Sammy."
The pages made soft fluttering sounds as Sam leafed through them, the bright post-it notes flashing merrily. "This is… where did you find this?"
"Kaleb's daughter brought it by last night. She's still translating the others, but I'll get 'em to you if you ask real nicely."
Sam was already lost in the pages, sitting himself down in the room's only chair and bowing his head over the lines and lines of careful writing.
"You're welcome." Dean said with a roll of his eyes, knowing full well that he had lost Sam, but at the same time, so unspeakably grateful for the distraction.
Gabriel was peering over his boyfriend's shoulder looking equally caught up in whatever notes and annotations had been left on those many, many pages
Dean leaned down and kissed Cas gently. "I'm gunna go get a shower then see if I can't find some coffee."
"Can I come with you?" Cas was still leaning upwards, straining ever so slightly after Dean even though the hunter had already pulled back.
"Sure."
It had been a simple answer and Dean didn't know what to do when he noticed Cas getting off the bed and following him to the bathroom.
"The coffee, Cas. You can come with me to get coffee." He explained carefully, not entirely sure where the miscommunication had come from. "And you really need to put pants on." Dean was struggling to keep his gaze fixed somewhere near the Angel's ear. It wasn't so much that the sight of the mostly naked man did funny things to Dean's insides- and that's a giant lie. It really had everything to do with those feelings that made his stomach and pants tight. However, they were not alone in the room and he felt a vast need to keep such reactions to himself.
"I need to put on pants for a shower?" Cas tilted his head, clearly confused.
Gabriel started laughing and it caused Sam to glance up from his book and he looked just as confused as Cas, though most likely for different reasons.
"Why isn't Cas wearing pants?" Sam asked the room like he was taking a poll, honestly expecting someone to venture an answer- like there was any proper answer to a question like that.
Dean found himself grinning, thinking that 'Why isn't Cas Wearing Pants?' would possibly be the best title for a game show ever. He would totally tune in once a week, watching with the curtains drawn and the lights out.
"Because I was sleeping… is it customary to get redressed between waking and showering?" Cas made it sound like he thought that that would be a horrible waste of time, but that he would be willing if it were required of him. When he didn't get an answer from Sam he looked back at Dean, who just shook his head.
"No." Dean sighed through his smile. "But you're not talking a shower. I am." A few days ago this whole thing would have put him on edge; his discomfort manifesting in short aggressive bursts of attitude and snark- as protocol demanded. But not today. Today it was just funny for some reason, and that was probably the sleeplessness and stress and fear making things come out wrong, but Dean would take it. He didn't have much say in the matter anyways.
"Oh." Cas managed to put a startling amount of disappointment in that single word.
"Just get dressed- I'll be right out. And don't let Tweedle-dee and Tweddle-dumb give you any lip about us kissing."
Sam made a small protesting sound, like he couldn't quite hold back everything he wanted to say in response to that.
"Look, Sam… I'm only going to explain this once- because you know I don't do this show and tell crap. Cas and I are… well… we just are- just like you and your little feathery weirdo, except currently with one hundred percent less sexually explicit activities- which I intend to remedy at some undisclosed point in the hopefully not too distant future. I don't want to discuss it beyond this right here and now. I don't want a lecture, I don't want advice, and I don't want you trying to talk me out of it."
"Can I ask a question?" Sam used his best inside voice, the one he would sometimes get when he was much younger and making a suicidal attempt at discussion with John.
"I really doubt that there is any force on this planet that could somehow shut down that part of you." Dean sighed and braced himself for whatever it was that Sam would hit him with, knowing full well that if he didn't have a good answer he could just retreat to the bathroom.
"Are you happy?"
The buzzing came back, those doubts and thoughts rising up and deafening for a moment. Dean gritted his teeth and refused to let his eyes wander to Cas while he struggled with that unexpected question.
The answer came to him unbidden, just a gut reaction that came rolling out from somewhere deep inside and when nothing substantial rose up to crush it, the thought was given voice. "Yeah. Of course I am." He answered softly, as if a bit of misery had never stood in the way of his actions before. As if a bit of misery had never been the cause or goal of his actions before. Of course he was happy, why wouldn't he be? He stared his brother down, daring him to question the half-truth, and he could see, plain as day that Sam knew that the half-truth was also a half-lie.
Sam looked away first, studying the way his hands held the little leather bound tome that he was currently attempting not to strangle. When he looked up again it was with a smile that seemed almost genuine. "That's good enough for me."
"So glad we have your blessing." Dean gave a mock bow and retreated to his off put shower that had waited so patiently for him.
Dean ended up getting a dozen doughnuts, not because he was that hungry, but because he had a feeling that Gabriel would probably end up eating most of them, and he figured if the little jerk was full of sugar he might leave Dean alone for a bit. Cas sat beside him in the car, the sweet smelling pink box balanced on his lap, watching the city streets passing the window.
"I have been thinking and I have decided that I like your brother."
"Sam?" Dean glanced over, not sure where this was going.
"He still has a very corruptible look to him…" Cas paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "But while you were in the shower Gabriel tried to explain to me that any feelings I thought you might have towards me were a fabrication. You were simply doing a favor for him and taking it too far."
Dean's teeth hurt from how hard he was clenching his jaw. There was no way he was going to be sharing his doughnuts with Gabriel now. That son of a bitch could get his own breakfast. "He's wrong."
"I know that." Cas actually laughed, his strange sharp laugh that said he had never once questioned Dean's motives. "While I was trying to explain to Gabriel how wrong he was Sam came to your defense. He said… he said many fierce and lovely things about you. I think he might be the type of brother that is both loyal and wonderful."
Not knowing what to say to that, Dean just watched the traffic light and nodded slowly. "Yeah… he's a pretty good guy."
They found a coffee shop, some non-Starbucks location and Dean got him and Sam coffees and for once he actually ordered Sam's drink the way he liked it. He also ordered a bagel, because he knew his brother wasn't big on doughnuts. See, Dean could be a wonderful brother too.
Sam honestly looked confused at the offering, but smiled a wary thanks and took his food. Things between them might end up a bit awkward for a while, but Dean had a feeling that it would all even out. It usually did.
He sat on the edge of his bed and slapped Gabriel's hands away from his doughnut box. "So, you kids find anything good in that book? What exactly are you looking for anyways?" He allowed Cas to hesitantly size up a maple bar and claim it as his own.
"Things about the war, the Angels," Sam sipped at his coffee and gave Dean another hesitant smile, seemingly surprised that it was the right drink for once. "Your denarius friends that keep trying to kill Castiel."
"Can you explain again why your boyfriend doesn't already know about this shit?" Dean ate something chocolate with sprinkles and regretted nothing.
Gabriel stole part of Sam's bagel and made a face at Dean. "Because his boyfriend left before all this shit started going on and no one in his family is willing to talk to him."
"And you care about what's going on down here with us because?" Dean honestly didn't see any motive in this for the little Angel.
"I have my reasons." He replied cryptically.
"You gunna start vomiting blood if share these reasons?" Dean glanced at Cas who looked to be wholly occupied with picking the frosting off of his doughnut and eating the crumbling amber flakes one at a time. It would suck, but wouldn't surprise Dean if both Angels had the same sort of information sharing ban going on.
Gabriel just smiled enigmatically and slouched in his chair, gazing longingly at the box full of pastries that he was not permitted to touch.
"Dean-" Sam narrowed his eyes at the little post-it notes littering the page laid out before him. "Who is the righteous man in hell?"
"How the fuck should I know?" It was for this very reason that Dean typically left the research to his brother.
"I don't know- I just assumed that since you wrote it maybe you'd know what it meant."
Dean looked up from the sprinkles stuck to his fingers and frowned. "I didn't write shit. What are you talking about?"
Sam held up the journal even though it was on the other side of the room and the words were too small for Dean to read. "You didn't write these notes?" The younger Winchester asked like he simply refused to believe that Dean was not just fucking with him.
"Andy did the translating- I had nothing to do with it."
"Did she dictate to you?"
"No," Dean said quickly. "It was just a hug."
The look Sam gave him was…well, heavy was the best word for it. "Dictate, Dean. Was she telling you what to write?"
"For fuck's sake, Sam. No. I didn't write anything. What's wrong with you?" He stood, coming to loom over his sitting brother, annoyed that they couldn't just eat breakfast together like millions of other dysfunctional families did all across the united states- no, they had to argue about damn post-it notes.
"It's your handwriting." Sam's voice dropped and he let Dean roughly take the book from his hands.
Have you ever seen something so infinitesimally wrong that your brain refused to tell you what it was, but your gut had no such qualms? Dean looked at those little bits of paper, crowded over with clumsy, slanted letters made with awkward, abrupt strokes. He realized that he could taste his heartbeat in the back of his throat and it was an unpleasant sensation at least. The letters were all there, in their right places, some scribbled out darkly and rewritten on separate lines- and it had been a while since Dean had seen anything that looked so very wrong without reason.
"I didn't write these."
"You misspelled righteous." Sam pointed out almost gently. "You always do." And now was actually not the time for a lesson in spelling and grammar.
"I didn't write these." He shoved the book back, wanting it out of his hands. "It was Andy- she did- she made the notes."
"Dean," Sam started in his most reasonable voice, "I've only been teaching high school for a few months- but this is definitely not a teenage girl's hand writing. It's yours."
It wasn't that Dean was running away from his problems, quite the opposite actually- though he could see how the fact that he turned and stomped out of the room could have been mistaken as an evasion of sorts.
He went down the hall to Andy's room and pounded on the door with the back of a fist, it wasn't exactly polite, but Dean wasn't exactly feeling polite right then. "Andy, open up."
She didn't answer his summons and Dean wasn't sure if she was avoiding him or if she had checked out earlier that morning.
A door down the hall opened and Sam came out of their room, walking quickly to Dean's side and looking worried. "Is this her room?"
"It was last night." Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number that the girl had programmed in the night before. It rang straight to voice mail and her terse 'I'm not here- leave a message' sounded almost alien in the recording. "Andy, it's Dean Winchester…" Dean hesitated, not sure what exactly to say, if he was accusing her of something nefarious or just looking for answers. "It's important… call me back."
Sam was watching him with that still same worried expression, "Do you think this has something to do with you being," Sam bit down on the next word, not willing to say 'possessed'. "When you were riding shotgun?"
Dean huffed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Hell if I know. Apparently that's when she got the journals from me in the first place, so it's possible." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Sammy, when you were... you know-" he found he didn't want to say the word 'possessed' either. "Were you missing things?"
"Things?"
"Days." Dean clarified even if the word caught in his throat and he couldn't remember the last time anyone had looked at him so sympathetically.
"Bits and pieces." Sam assured. "I think I was only awake for the parts she wanted me there for."
"And what did Michael want me for?" It was one of the questions that had kept Dean far from sleep the night before, though surprisingly it was not the thing that worried him the most.
"Hopefully not the same thing that Castiel wants you for." Sam was fighting back a smile.
"That's not funny." He bristled, his cheeks growing warm.
"Yeah it is." Sam assured his brother and started walking back to their room.
"Laugh it up, bitch. But I've got an extra shadow and I'd love to hear your explanation for that."
It was with some satisfaction that Dean watched his brother's smile fade. Sam looked at him, and it was an openly lost sort of expression, the same that Cas gave him so often. The two brothers stood side by side watching Dean's shadows- one normal and slanting just as Sam's, the other one thick and trailing off in a skewed direction in an open rebellion against natural laws.
"Well…" Sam started slowly and Dean could practically hear the gears churning. "Well… shit."
"Does that mean you don't have a smartass answer, Mr. Teacher?"
"I think I need my laptop." And with that Sam was off, back to the room, leaving Dean and his shadows to follow after him.
Gabriel had managed to polish off the box of doughnuts and was idly licking frosting from his fingers while leafing through Kaleb's journal. "Oh, Sam, you quit before you got to all the steamy bits."
"Steamy?" Sam was halfway between the door dividing the rooms but he stopped to give Gabriel an incredulous look.
"Oh yeah." Gabriel wore a wild sort of grin, a little unhinged and manic. "We're talking about breaking seals and opening cages and Lucifer rising up. It doesn't get much steamier than that."
"L-Lucifer?" Sam abandoned all thoughts of his laptop and Dean watched uncomfortably as his brother went to hover over Gabriel, his large hands flexing empty at his sides.
"Oh, you'll like him. He's the pretty brother." Gabriel kept that grin in place and Dean felt a little sick.
Cas was sitting quietly on one of the beds, seemingly unable to confirm or deny Gabriel's bold statement. Instead he had a hand pressed tightly to his mouth and he was pointedly not looking at Dean.
"Lucifer?" Sam asked again, maybe a bit louder this time. "Like as in The Devil. That Lucifer?"
"I only know the one. It's not really a common name." Gabriel sort of half hugged the journal to his chest let his grin die in a tight laugh. "Apocalypses sure are exciting."
And despite the fact that this conversation was as interesting as it was disturbing, Dean's phone had started to ring against his leg so he stepped into the second bedroom and closed the door behind him.
"Did you start to miss me already, Dean?" Andy teased gently when Dean answered his phone.
"Not exactly." He went to sit on the bed, but immediately thought better of it and remained standing.
"Wha'da ya need?" There were strange background sounds, clattering almost like a train, people talking with strange inflections.
"The journal you gave back to me, it-" Dean took a sharp breath, realizing how stupid he was about to sound. "Did you make the notes?"
"Notes?" She said the word in her slow way, like she wasn't sure she was hearing him right.
"The translations- all the little notes… those are yours, right?"
"Wrote them with the very hand God gave me." Came her strange answer. "You got a problem with 'em?"
"No." Dean felt a little stuck on her choice of words, but he didn't want to turn them into anything deeper or more menacing than she had intended. "Your handwriting is shit, is all."
"Aw, thanks, Winchester. Did you call me up just to tell me that?"
"Have you come across anything about… uh… angelic possessions?"
"Angel's taking hosts?" Again, that damnably mocking slowness to her question. "Did you even bother to look at the journal I gave you last night or should I have stuck around to read it to you?" She made an annoyed sound before Dean could find a sharp enough answer to that. "Yeah, Dad wrote about it a bit near the middle, after those ninety seals. Something about Angels needing vessels- something, something about one for the Archangel and one for the Devil."
Dean did sit down then. His knees just didn't feel like holding him up any longer and he didn't know why.
"Did you know that the Devil used to be an Archangel before he was cast out of heaven?"
Dean really didn't care about that right now, though he knew he should be making one hell of an attempt because it sounded important. "No shit?"
"I shit you not." She said evenly and Dean found himself imagining the serious line her lips would be making as she frowned at him from wherever she was. "Yeah- the journal I'm working on has all sorts of weird stuff like that in it. It'll probably take me a few more days before I can get through it."
Hang up
Dean looked around wildly for a moment.
Hang up and go back to the others
There wasn't anyone else in the room with him.
Dean was hearing voices.
Andy was still talking somewhere, but it was just background noise, just a white buzz over the phone, the phone that Dean had dropped. He pushed his hands to his ears, certain that he had not actually heard the voice with them- that it had come from somewhere inside his own head, and for fuck's sake, did that mean he had finally snapped? He was hearing a voice telling him to do things and he was pretty sure that was not a good sign.
Be not afraid
The voice rumbled through Dean and he pressed his hands tighter to his ears and closed his eyes. "Get out of my head."
Go back to the others where you are safe
There was a pressure building at the base of his neck, intensifying with each word pounding against his skull.
She will taint you
She will taint your actions
Go back to the others
"Get the hell out of my head!"
The door to the room banged opened, another distant noise that did no more than get cataloged away somewhere in the recesses of Dean's mind that felt like they were being pulled apart.
She uses the truth to lie to you, Dean Winchester
The voice knew his name. The god damned voice knew his name.
It felt like there was a water balloon inside his skull, and some jackass had left the tap on. He was full to bursting- any second now his head would explode. Dean could imagine it in glorious Technicolor, all blood and gore following a comically loud pop, and that would be all she wrote.
Just POP and that would be the end of him, it would be the end of the crushing pressure.
He looked forward to it.
Her help is poison
Dean slid from the chair, sinking to his knees, clutching his head in a desperate attempt to keep the agony at bay. Even with his eyes closed, the lights had grown too bright and he wished that he could shut his mind to the thunderous ringing that shook him to his bones. Dean was sure that he was deaf. He was sure that he was blind. He was sure that he would never move again.
Go back to the others where you are safe
"Get out." And this time Dean knew he wasn't yelling. What little pride he retained for just such occasions let him know that he had whimpered out those two words.
The mounting pressure left. It just left, like it had been impatiently waiting for him to beg and then it was just gone. Well, not wholly gone. The residual pain was enough to rival the worst hangover Dean had ever had. He was shaking. He was sweating and he was fairly sure that he had a sudden case of hypothermia.
But the voice was gone.
"Dean!" Someone was yelling at him and even if he couldn't manage to open his eyes he knew without a doubt that it was Sam gripping his shoulders and shaking him. "Are you ok?"
The noise that came out of Dean could have been mistaken for a sob by an untrained ear. "No- no, I'm not fucking ok."
"Dean, you're bleeding."
For some reason, Dean found that idea terrifying.
It was a mindless brain-stem terror, the kind that quite simply bypasses rational thought and heads straight for your soul.
And he laughed.
He laughed until he could feel tears slicking his cheeks.
He laughed until the laughter whimpered off into nothing- and that nothing was all he had left.