*Next chapter, hope it suffices. Sorry for that last cliff hanger. This one kinda comes with another one. Read and review.
The thrill of stabbing the Shifter hadn't been strong enough. Even unconscious, Dean's mind still raced, never stopping, never really resting because he hadn't satisfied his craving.
His head had mostly stopped pounding at least, but as he began to pull through the darkness, he started to panic remembering where he'd passed out. He certainly wasn't there now and they'd made enough noise to potentially draw the attention of local law enforcement.
He was exhausted, his whole body screamed for a peace of mind and a long nap. But the violent, somewhat twisted images that flicked through his mind forced his eyes open.
He blinked, his vision a little fuzzy, and a mild relief passed through him as he realized he wasn't in prison, he was in the motel. He started to sit up just as Sam came in the door. Dean felt a sudden need to apologize for his overzealous approach killing the Shifter.
"Sam." Dean began, but he trailed off, unable to explain his behavior from earlier or even account for what happened between then and now.
Sam shut the door behind himself and stowed his phone in his pocket, sitting down on other bed.
"Who were you calling?" Dean asked, unable to word what he'd really wanted to say.
"Crowley. No answer though." Sam said, "Now, are you gonna tell me what the hell happened in there?"
Dean shrugged, swinging his legs off the bed as he sat up completely, "I don't know. I got a little impatient and I just wanted to do it already, man, it's not a big deal-"
"Yeah, no, I got that part," Sam said a little harshly, "I mean you cut that guy, his skin didn't burn when the silver touched him, you knew the other guy was the Shifter. You almost killed that guy, Dean."
Dean blinked. He hadn't known that. Had he? Being honest with himself, the word Shifter had somewhat escaped his mind in that moment. He just wanted to stab it. End it. But how could he explain that to Sam that, no, no, he was in control of himself, he could be trusted, except when he couldn't, which was just whenever his homicidal mind got a little restless?
"I don't know, Sam. But I am going to get a handle on this, okay?"
"I get it, okay, you can't control it, believe me, I get it, but I can't trust you if you can't trust yourself."
The phone rang and Sam sighed heavily before answering, "Agent Young."
Dean felt that deep seeded homicidal rage inside him stirring. Stop it, he told himself, you are in control. But he wasn't.
"Another one? Alright. Thanks." Sam said, hanging up, he turned to Dean, "There's another Shifter. The first guy, the one who went missing? They caught him on tape robbing a bank. All the tellers are dead."
Dean wanted to bolt and track the thing down. Carve it apart; slow, painful death. But he had to hide it. Put a mask on the monster so he could pass as a human.
"You sure this one's a Shifter?" Dean asked, praying Sam would say yes.
"Yeah," Sam said and a sick satisfaction bubbled in Dean's heart, "The same lens flare on this video as the last one. Cops think the guys are using a jammer to mess with the footage."
Just go, that's enough for Sam, go, kill it.
"Could it be?" Dean asked, biting the words as they were forced through his teeth.
"I doubt it. Interference looks more like snow than a glare." Sam stood up, "Alright. I'll take care of it, I'll be back."
"Woah, hey!" Dean said, "You can't go alone and I can't just sit here-"
"I can't let you hunt like this, Dean." Sam said, but he sounded more subdued, almost broken.
Dean could hardly care though.
"Try and stop me."
Sam handcuffed Dean to the bed.
"Kinky, Sam." Dean said, shaking his wrist in the cuff, testing how strong the hold was.
"I'm sorry." Sam said, and it was genuine, and then he left.
Dean watched him go. Knew he shouldn't be mad at him, he was doing exactly what Dean would've done, put in the same situation. Hell, he had done this same thing in a similar situation. But there was still that sharp voice in his mind that said, he thinks I'm a monster.
"I am a monster." Dean reasoned as the voice seemed to manifest itself before him in the form of the black eyed self he'd so often dreamed about.
"You're not a monster. You're stronger. You're a legend."
"What the hell are you even talking ab- No, I am not about to have a conversation with someone that isn't there, alright? No."
"You know how to pick the lock on handcuffs, Cain. You have a knife in your pocket."
Dean wondered why he hadn't thought of that initially and took out his knife. He looked around for something to work at the tiny tumblers inside the handcuffs while the knife held the lock in place. His eyes focused on a bent up strip of aluminum next to him on the floor, separating the bathroom floor from the bedroom. He grabbed it and peeled off a strip (not the highest quality material, although it was just a threshold in a dirty motel) and picked the lock, getting himself free.
Fighting hard passed the bloodlust that dominated Dean's brain was a voice he recognized as Sam's. It might've just been a voice in his head, but it had the same tone that Sam had that made him feel guilty when he knew he was doing something wrong but refused to stop.
"Sam told you to stay here to keep you safe. And himself. From you."
A sudden surge of rage hit Dean's uneasy mind and he stood up, now free of his handcuffs he grabbed the lamp off the side table and threw it at the wall.
"I WON'T KILL HIM."
"Cain killed Abel, Cain killed Abel..." The voice sang in his head.
Dean stopped himself from responding out loud. Bit back his anger, tried to get a handle on his breathing and gauge a certain level of sanity.
"Cain had to kill Abel."
With that last thought, Dean bolted. Out the door, knife in his pocket, he headed for the bus stop, knowing Sam had taken his car but even that didn't seem to matter to him anymore.
Last the Sheriff had talked to him, Agent Young was heading for the sewers where a witness had seen the suspect disappear into after fleeing the bank. Dean gave a nod of thanks and turned to leave the station when the Sheriff said,
"By the way, Agent, you might wanna take a day, you look like Hell warmed over."
Dean gave a sarcastic, but more manic sounding, "HA." and left.
The Impala was parked in a small parking lot right by a large sewer hatch. Dean checked his surroundings for potentially curious passer bys and seeing none, he opened it up and climbed down. He knew immediately this was the Shifter's newest hideout because two yards down the giant pipe he found a lump of human flesh and a few fingernails.
By the time the pipe opened up into a small underground, cavernous area, the Mark was burning again and Dean prayed Sam hadn't killed the Shifter already because Dean really needed it right now. He felt addicted. And an addiction to murder can be a tricky vice to succumb to. He stepped out into the dim lighting of the room and heard a familiar, muffled yell.
He turned the corner and found Sam tied up to a pipe, mouth duct taped. Dean felt the Mark heating up and tried to ignore when he heard Sam's voice from behind him say,
"No, that one's the Shifter, I got him tied up," Dean turned around and saw Sam walking towards him, "I was worried about what you said so I thought I'd come back and get you so that you could kill him instead."
Dean looked from the tied up Sam to the free, talking Sam.
"Cain killed Abel, Cain killed Abel..."
"Cain had to kill Abel."