Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. I'm only borrowing them.

Pairing: Dean/Castiel - very graphic. This is my first attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone. Please let me know what you think, constructively.

Overall Warnings: Rated M for swearing, graphic sexual content with S and M undertones, implied forced sexual torture and other adult subject matter.

Mainly swearing in this chapter.

Chapter 11 – Black Water

Three days later, Dean pulled into Bobby's Salvage Yard at dusk. He really wished he had somewhere else to go but the pull of family even if it was a dream or something was too strong to ignore. He was just too connected to them.

He hadn't slept since he'd left Bobby's and had barely ate. He kept hydrated as much as his stomach would allow. Unfortunately, he'd suffered waves of nausea the whole three days. He just couldn't figure out why. Not because there was no reason for it. On the contrary, there were too many reasons for it.

He sighed heavily while he shut off his baby's engine and leaned his head down on his steering wheel for a moment. He dearly wished that he could sleep if only for a little bit but knew better. His dreams, nightmares, would consume him if he closed his eyes too long.

He pushed off the wheel and got out of the car. He grabbed his duffle and headed inside. He walked through the door and immediately spied Sam and Bobby staring at him from their places in the study.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Bobby snarked irritably.

"Glad you're in one piece," Sam commented reluctantly in a very pissed off voice. "Although a phone call or two would have been nice, you know, just to have a clue that you're alive."

Dean rolled his eyes and bit back, "Oh, just get off the rag, Samantha. I had something to check out, okay. I didn't need my mother and father along because I'm a big boy now." Dean was going to put his stuff up in his room but figured that it would be a bad idea considering the way that Sam was acting.

He sighed and lowered his bag to the ground then walked into the study doorway. He leaned casually against it and wondered, "Do you want me on the carpet for this dressing down or will here suffice? Oh, yeah, and while you're at it, let me know how much longer you're going to be PMS'ing so I can disappear until it's over."

"Don't turn this back on me, Dean," Sam growled irately. "You have been missing more these past two months than present. You get kidnapped. You're acting totally wack. Don't you understand that you're losing it? How would you feel if this was happening to me?"

"Well, I wouldn't know since you didn't tell me about the Lucy visions. No, I had to hear about it from that dick archangel." Dean blinked at the intensity of his ire, especially over this alternate reality Sam but he was so much like the real one that it really pissed Dean off. He drew in a deep calming breath then shook his head. He moved away from the doorway and announced firmly to the room at large, "I need a drink."

"You ain't touching my alcohol with the way you've been acting," Bobby warned with a growl.

Dean rolled his eyes and dismissed the warning easily, "Wasn't going to. Just wanted some water. Geez."

Sam shot up and stopped him with a hand on his arm. "You aren't leaving this room, Dean, not until we have an actual conversation about what is going on with you."

"I'll get it," Bobby grumbled ungraciously as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Nothing's going on with me," Dean yanked his arm free and argued tightly. "And you can follow me into the kitchen, you know."

"Dean," Sam demanded, desperately trying to keep control of his rising temper. "Just sit down and shut up. You are going to tell me everything and you are going to tell me everything right now."

Dean started to respond with all the ire that was escalating within him when he heard the faucet in the kitchen turn on. His brain clicked over to autopilot. He remembered hearing a glass being taken out of the cabinet. Glass plus faucet equals water, drinking water, from the faucet.

Dean didn't think it through. He couldn't. He just reacted. He charged into the kitchen, yelling, "Bobby, no!"

He met Bobby at the doorway and grabbed the glass of water out of Bobby's hand while he charged pass the stunned man and smashed the glass into the sink. He didn't notice the glass shards that cut into his hand from the broken glass. He just watched the water go down the drain. It was starting.

In his mind all he saw was black water. Black water was bad. Black water was death. Black water was them.

"Dean?" Bobby called out from his position on the right side of the hunter. He'd grown very concerned when Dean slammed the glass in the sink then didn't move. He hurried over and saw Dean staring hard into the sink which now had glass shards in it, Dean's blood and water droplets.

Sam reached Dean's other side at about the same time. He saw the same thing as Bobby but couldn't understand what it meant. Sam demanded, "What the hell, Bobby?"

Bobby looked at him with wide, confused eyes. "Like I know. If he didn't want water, he could have just said so." Bobby frowned and leaned forward as he thought he heard Dean saying something. Sam noticed, too, and did the same thing.

After a few moments, Bobby verified, "Is he saying, 'black water'?"

Sam nodded and agreed, "Over and over." Sam shook Dean's shoulder and shouted, "Dean, snap out of it. Dean!"

Bobby reached in and grabbed Dean's clenched hand, intent on taking care of Dean's cut hand.

Dean snapped out of it then and clenched his fist tightly, digging the shards in even deeper. Pain flared in his hand and penetrated his brain. Dean jerked away from both of them with wide eyes.

"Back off," he warned shakily. "Just . . . back . . . off," he trailed off, swallowing thickly, as he tried to regain some equilibrium but it was too much. Pain and nausea warred very briefly in his body. Nausea was the clear winner.

"Damn it," he cursed then raced upstairs to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. He hurled into the toilet, throwing up everything he had eaten this morning. He fell back against the wall behind him and ran his unbloodied hand down his face, still clenching the hurt hand into a tight fist, intent on the pain it gave him, as he curled in on himself.

"Dean!" Sam yelled through the door. "Dean. Are you okay?"

Dean tried to respond but couldn't. His body trembled violently. He tried to get it to stop but he couldn't. His mind had drawn away from the present to the other place and time.

He was stronger than this, he knew, but the visions were too sharp, too intense, too real. They had been with him for too long without relief. He hadn't been eating right or sleeping which weakened him too much. Now the images had him. Bobby dead, Jo killing him, Cass dead, all his friends dead. . . Cass dead.

In the distance, like in a movie he was watching, he heard the door splinter. He heard Sam calling him. He heard Bobby. He heard everything but nothing penetrated the fog around him. Nothing touched him where he was at.

"What the hell?" Gabriel exclaimed with concern when he materialized within Bobby's bathroom after hearing Sam's call. He stared in shock at Dean who was curled into fetal position, trembling in shock with tears running down his face. Gabriel snapped in surprise, "Alright. Who broke the boy toy?"

Sam turned to Gabriel and demanded hotly, "Is this still the infection?"

"What? What infection?" Gabriel asked in confusion.

"From the demon over a month ago," Sam explained quickly. "Bobby and I figured out that was when he started acting strange. So is this a side effect?"

"I have no idea," Gabriel bit out before commanding, "Back away so that I can get to him. This bathroom is way too small for this."

Both men backed away as Gabriel moved next to Dean and gently stroked his sweaty hair back from his forehead. Gabriel grimaced at Dean's vomit breath and quickly mojo'd that away. Dean didn't react in any way to any of it. Gabriel grabbed Dean's chin and stared into Dean's unfocused eyes. He placed a couple of fingers on Dean's forehead and frowned heavily.

"What the hell? How is Cass dead?" Gabriel demanded with outrage.

"What?" Sam cried out. "Cass is dead? No way. When?"

"No. No, he's not," Gabriel snapped irritably. "Neither is Bobby but Dean seems pretty cerrtain about that one, too. What the hell? Damn it. This whole thing is wrong." He stood up with a heavy sigh. "I can't fix this."

"Why not?" Sam snarled.

"Because I don't know what this is," Gabriel huffed out. "It's like he's reliving his worst memories but they aren't memories. Or, at least, they're not as far as I know. I wonder . . .," he trailed off slowly. He shook his head. "I need to borrow him for a while."

"What? Why?"

"I think I know someone who can help him so I am going to take him there. I'll be back as soon as I know something," Gabriel promised before he touched Dean and they both blinked out of sight, leaving a cursing, concerned Sam and a very worried Bobby.

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