Chapter 3:
xxx24 hours earlierxxx
Dean had pulled into the garage of the bunker. It had been a boring day.
Eventually, he had gone out to the store just to pick up a couple of supplies. Only to discover that errands did nothing to obliterate the boredom. He needed a hunt, something to kill. He could feel the mark on his arm burning into his skin. Demanding a kill, or a mutilation of some sort, something to give him that adrenaline rush that made the mark less painful.
Getting out of the car and walking into the main bunker, he headed in the direction of the library. Determined to barrow Sam's laptop, and use it to find a case. He was not, however, expecting Sam to be waiting for him, and especially not Castiel, who was standing beside him with a grim expression.
"Dean, this is an intervention." Sam started. Pulling a couple of note cards out of his pocket.
"I'm sorry, what?" Dean asked, smiling as he looked between him and Castiel, expecting one of them to suddenly yell out 'Psych' or 'Gotcha'. But the two of them continued to stare at him. Their faces solemn, without a hint of humor.
"Dean, the mark is changing you." Sam started, looking down at his cards, ignoring Dean's outburst, accusing him of kidding. "It's making you into something your not. I can not stand by and watch as my older brother, and hero becomes the very thing he hates. You are my brother, and I love you, so I will do whatever it takes to make you happy. This..." Sam said, gesturing to Dean's arm. "This is not making you happy. It's turning you into a monster, and the blood lust is not you. I know that at your core you are still human, and the merciless killings will eventually eat you from the inside." Sam paused, letting out a sigh. "And I will not let that happen to you."
"Right, well this is all very moving, but..." Dean started.
"Dean, Sam is right." Castiel started, pulling his own cards out of his pocket.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Dean started, as Castiel continued to read.
"The blood lust, anger, and violent outburst are not the Dean who taught me the value of free will. You are my best friend, and now it is the time I repay you. You have taught me that your actions are more important then your words in most situations. As well as the love and loyalty you have for your family. To help them, sometimes you have to do something that may hurt them, or anger them. You are my family, Dean. But I feel what I have done, will help you in the long run." Castiel read.
"Say what?" Dean asked, panic starting to rise.
"I have taken the First Blade and hidden it." Castiel admitted.
"You what?" Dean yelled, approaching Castiel menacingly.
"I have taken the very thing that makes you kill, and hidden it." Castiel answered blankly.
Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Castiel had taken the First Blade, the First Blade, and hidden it from him. He could feel the mark throbbing at the distance between it and the blade. What did they think he was supposed to do? You can't fucking reverse the damn thing.
"What?.." Dean asked. "You think this is like a drug or a regular addiction like booze or crack? You can't just detox from this." Dean yelled.
"Well, we need to take a shot." Sam stated, keeping his voice calm as apposed to Dean's anger. "I didn't think I could detox from Demon blood, but we tried, and...Okay, well the first time didn't work. But the second time it did. So we need to see if this could work."
"It's not gonna work Sam." Dean yelled, hitting a pile of books off the table before pacing the floor. "Your just gonna risk my sanity, or possible life, just because your convince this is something that could be fixed so easily? Like I'm just a fucking junkie?"
"Dean, I know this is hard to except." Castiel started. "But your going to feel better when it's all over." He calmed, walking up to Dean, both hands in the air, as a gesture of peace.
Having no response that they would listen to, Dean walked out. Feeling like a disgruntled teenager, he went to his room and turned his stereo on. He put on his headphones and laid down on his bed. He would find the blade, that was no big deal, it's probably somewhere in the bunker.
Coming to that conclusion, he lifted himself up out of bed, and walked to his door. He made a point of checking the hall for any noise before stepping out of his room.
He walked down the hallway, making sure to avoid any of the main areas of the bunker, and went to the storage rooms. He'd yet to go through them, but he wouldn't put it past Cas to think that was a good place to hide the blade.
He entered the first room he came across, looking for any kind a feeling from the mark. Hoping it would give him some indication that the blade was close. Feeling nothing, he walked deeper into the room, and started going through the boxes stacked up against the walls.
He opened the first box he came across and raffled through it's contents. Finding nothing, he went on to the second box, and another, and another. Box after box, he would come up with some pretty weird shit, but nothing resembling the first blade. Slamming his hand on the last box, he walked out of the room.
"It's okay." Dean told himself, calming down. "It's okay. Cas is a smart guy. He would know better then to hide it in the first storage room." Dean said to nobody in particular.
Walking to the next one, he started looking again. He opened the boxes, searching them to the very bottom. He opened the drawers in the desk that they kept in there. He lifted the big things, and searched under the bigger things. Looking anywhere that might have a crevice. Somewhere to hide the blade in. Still coming up with nothing, he picked himself up and turned to exit the room, coming face to face with the very being that made him go on this wild goose chase.
"Hello Dean." Castiel greeted him with a look of disapproval.
"Damn it, Cas. Warn a guy next time." Dean exclaimed, taking a step back.
"My apologies." Castiel admitted, taking a step back himself. "But do you really think I would be so stupid as to hide the very item you need to be staying away from in the place you live." He asked, sending Dean a questioning glare.
Man, Dean hated that look. A look of disapproval and anger. As if all his trust in Dean was waning. Which just made Dean angrier. Who was he to look at him like that. It's not like he hadn't made mistakes himself. He had no right to look at him like that, with the eyes of judgement.
"Kinda hoped so." Dean said, giving Cas a shit eating grin. Boy did he want to rile someone up, and his Angel was the perfect target. He would love to see that righteous son-of-a-bitch loose his temper. Demonstrate some of that anger that he knows is hidden in there. Only seen glimpses of. "After all, you've made a few stupid moves in your lifetime. Thought maybe this would be one of them." He said, watching Castiel take in a slow, measured breath.
"Not this time, I'm afraid." Castiel answered. "You are not going to find the First Blade in the bunker Dean. I may have made mistakes in the past, but I'm not going to let that happen with you."
"What, you think I'm some sort of baby who can't handle myself?" Dean argued, sending a glare at Castiel.
"Dean, Abbadon is dead. There is no more need for the Blade." Castiel answered back, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture, and boy, did that piss Dean off. He did not need to be treated like a child, or like he was made of glass.
"I'M NOT A CHILD CAS?" Dean yelled, closing in on the Angel with rage in his eyes. Every fiber of his being telling him, to rip the guy apart. The human side telling him that it was a horrible thing to think. Cas was his best friend, and he was just trying to help him, in his own way. That Cas cared enough to stick around and help him was enough to make his anger defuse, almost.
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own damn decisions. I'm sick of everybody telling me what's best for me, when they can't even handle their own lives." Dean ranted, pacing in front of his friend, before rounding on him. "You especially. You never take advice from anyone. Or come to anyone. You always disappear, and do these things that could kill people and yourself. Never going to anyone for help, and nobody can make you stop. So why the fuck should I listen to you?" He finished, ignoring every time he had told Cas about personal space, as he walked right up to him, inches from his face.
God damn, that stupid calm face of his. Dean just wanted to grab him and shake that look off his face. He wanted to see something other then calm in those blue eyes. Something he'd never seen in those eyes before, fear maybe, or panic. Maybe something else, anything but that fucking patience and calmness that he has come to associate the Angel with. But before he could do anything, Castiel spoke.
"Your right." Castiel said, to Dean's surprise. "I have no right to tell you what to do, or make decisions for you." He admitted, licking his lips. "But I know, that this..." Castiel stated, grabbing Dean's arm in vice like grip that Dean, no matter how supped up he is, could not break. "This, is not you. This is the Mark of Cain talking, and if you want to continue this after that Mark has left you, then I will let you. But until the Mark is gone, I know it's not you, and your going to turn yourself into the very thing you hunt. I know you don't want that." He finished, never breaking his eye contact with Dean. Clear blue eyes staring at him with determination, and damn it, if Dean didn't think that was one of the most attractive things ever.
It was then, other thoughts came to his head. Thoughts that had only ever visited him in his dreams, since the first time he'd met the stubborn ass. Thoughts of him, under him, squirming, screaming, and moaning his name, looking completely debauched. Just take that innocent, virginal Angel apart, in a whole new way. A way that was sinful in it's very nature, and bring that smug ass down a peg, to his level.
"What makes you think that you know what I want?" Dean snapped, staring down at Castiel. Taking a good look at his face, trying to see anything in those eyes that told him that Cas was thinking the same things he was. But the only thing he saw was concern, and determination, and an unyielding stubbornness that he'd only ever found in himself.
"Because I know you." Castiel snapped back, refusing to move even an inch. "I put you back together when I raised you from Hell, Dean. Do you honestly think there are things I don't know about you? Even a facet of your personality, soul, or body that I don't know about. Even if I didn't know everything then, do you honestly think I wouldn't have picked up on it in the five years that we've known each other." He finished, breathing heavily, and Dean could also see something else in his eyes, something almost possessive about the way he talked about him.
"Well, maybe you missed something." Dean said with a smirk, noticing their closeness. He could just close the distance between them in an easy movement. Wouldn't that surprise the Angel, didn't know as much as he thought he did. It was almost too good of a chance to pass up. If he could just bend his head a bit he would...
He needed a drink.
Pushing past Castiel, Dean walked to the kitchen. What had he just thought? What was he about to do? Make is friend angry, fight him, or molest him? This wasn't right, he didn't want to do any of those things. Not to Cas. The guy was just trying to help, trying to be there for support. He cared about him, just wanted him to get better and be himself again. That wasn't so bad, was it?
Grabbing a glass from the cabinets, he filled it with water, and drank it down slowly. Letting the cool liquid slide down his throat and calm his nerves before repeating the process. Three more glasses of water and he realized that he was going to need something a bit stronger. The need for another kill still pumping in his veins, getting stronger by the minute. He put the glass down, and pulled a bottle of whiskey from another cabinet. He gave himself three fingers in his glass, and started to drink. The burn of the alcohol easing the tension off a bit.
The first glass did not give as much help as he would have hoped, as it did not provide a decent enough buzz to take his mind off things. He poured himself another couple fingers, taking his time with this one. Sipping the alcohol, holding it in and savoring it.
It was while he was half-way through the third glass, that he heard a knock at the door.
Setting his cup down, he pulled out his gun from his waistband. Checking to see that it was in working order, he started towards the door. He spotted Sam walking up the steps. At Sam's nod, he went out through the garage, circling around to the front, making sure to not be seen or heard.
What he saw, was the last thing he expected.
Knowing it had to be some sort of monster, demon, or angel, he waited for Sam to open the door, before getting behind the thing and cocking and aiming his weapon.
"This had better be good." He said, as the dark haired man turned around.
Okay, Chapter 3 is up, and I'm afraid that will be it for the day.
Hope you are liking it so far.