He stood in the dimly lit room, shock and horror rendering his body immobile. He had heard his name, heard his brother's voice again. The joy that he had, fled once he turned around. Now he was faced with a terror he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy. Dean stood in the doorway, smiling, his arms open wide. Yet his soulless, ebony eyes glittered menacingly, keeping their gaze locked with Sam's. He searched desperately for something to say, but how could Sam respond to what was in front of him? Maybe he was-
"Not a hallucination, Sammy-boy," Dean said wickedly, relishing in the effect he was having on his former brother. "What? No 'We'll figure this out, Dean'?" The new knight tsked, shaking his head and taking long, slow, strides towards Sam. He took a deep breath, glancing around the room as if he were an inspector, "I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed." His eyes flashed back to their deep, hazel green as he leveled a faux-offended look at the hunter, "What happened to 'I wouldn't do the same'? Whatever happened to 'letting me stay dead'?" A dangerous spark jumped behind Dean's eyes, a spark of flaming anger.
"Dean," Crowley purred the warning from the doorway, "Let's go."
The words seemed to finally break Sam from his stunned silence. Hot tears threatened to roll down his face as a monsoon of profanity was shot at Crowley. "YOU DID THIS!" He screamed, all of Sam's own vengeful fury finally taking root and settling in his heart like a parasite. He whirled the demon blade in his right hand, and without a second thought, threw it at Crowley, sending it on a straight course for the demon's chest.
Then, it stopped.
It was an inch from Crowley's chest, but it did not shake, as if it were stuck in some invisible target. "Oh, Sam, you really are pathetic," Dean chuckled, his right index finger casually pointed at the knife, holding it still. He opened his hand, motioning for the blade. Like a well-trained dog, the knife seemed to run into Dean's hand.
Crowley carefully kept his surprise hidden, instead putting on a smile that reflected his true sense of pride in Dean's ability to control the blade. "You see, Moose, your brother… Well, not anymore, I suppose… He's mine." He dusted his suit off, and strode around the room to place himself slightly in front of Dean like the king he was.
"No… Dean, please," Sam begged, staring past Crowley as if he weren't there. He cried out as his body was flung against the far wall, taking out some shelves that held old vases on his way. The vases crashed to the stone floor, shattering into thousands of pieces.
Dean stepped out from behind Crowley, both of his hands raised and aimed at his brother. The ceramic pieces crunched and broke under his feet as he casually sauntered to the wall that held his brother. If he could do this right now, there was no telling what he could do if Crowley trained him. "Sorry, Sammy-boy, but you see, you just tried to kill the king… My king, to be exact." He tilted his head to one side, pondering the countless ways he could torture Sam. Alastair's training was still burning brightly in his memory, reminding him of the souls he had tortured before, and how hard he had to fight (when he was a human) not to do it again. How foolish of him. Twitching his finger up, Sam slid even further up the wall, then, taking a demented version of an orchestral conductor's stance, Dean dropped his arms.
Sam dropped like a rag doll. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was sure to be a bone-splintering landing. He grunted as he felt himself stop abruptly, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that his feet were barely an inch from the ground. He looked up to see Crowley, one hand raised, the other on Dean's arm. "Let's not kill him yet," he said in a low tone, as if they were playing a game, "Save the best for last and whatnot."
Dean's coal eyes were full of frustration, but he saw Crowley's logic. Jerking his arm away, he heard Sam's feet land on the ground. Crowley headed towards the door, Dean following obediently behind him. A wonderful idea seemed to float into Dean's mind, and he stopped in the doorway. "What now?" Crowley sighed, ready to get on with the business of 'reprimanding' Abbadon's followers. A pair of green-tinted eyes flashed and betrayed the sadism that was in Dean's mind as he turned around, once more facing Sam.
"Dean?" Sam's voice had a sickening amount of hope in it. He took a step towards his brother.
A hair-raising crunch filled the room, followed by an anguished scream. Sam fell to the floor, his right leg twisted at what should have been an impossible angle. His vision was blurry with pain, but he kept his eyes fixed on Dean, who was now kneeling down next to him. Dean gripped Sam's chin and forced it upwards, his eyes travelling down the mangled excuse for a leg then back to the hunter's eyes. He smiled once more, "I'll be seeing you later, Sam." He stood, and returned to stand by Crowley's side.
"Nice touch," Crowley said.
"I thought so." Dean's laugh echoed throughout the room as his body dissolved into a pillar of black smoke and followed the crimson smoke beside him out of the room and into the outside world.