When he awoke, Maalik had returned. He and Harker were muttering to each other by the table, as Maalik twiddled the Colt in his dark hands.
Dean blinked slowly and tried to raise his head. The back of his neck was aching. As was everything else, if he was honest. On the bright side his swollen eye was finally able to open a slit. Although that just added to the pounding headache caused by the too-bright bulb.
He needed to get out of here, somehow. He needed the First Blade. He didn't know how much longer he could last without it. He couldn't understand how Cain had survived a month without it, let alone all those centuries. Clearly, Dean thought, he's a stronger demon than I am.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
Maalik glanced up at him. Seeing he was awake, he stepped forward until his dark eyes were locked on Dean's green ones.
"How is our guest feeling this morning?" he asked pleasantly. His eyes glinted maliciously.
Dean couldn't muster the energy to speak. He simply stared at Maalik through slitted, unfocused eyes.
The angel smiled, satisfied. "Not so snarky now, are we?"
Dean blinked slowly.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
"My master is most pleased with your progress. You were posing quite a threat to him. You should feel honoured to be considered so important." He stroked the silver pistol he held. "Unfortunately, special though the Colt is, it cannot kill one such as yourself, only … inconvenience you for a time. Only the First Blade can truly kill you, according to my master."
"B-Blade," Dean murmured, his voice barely audible.
"What's that?" Maalik said, leaning one ear forward like a grade school teacher. "What did you say?"
"B ... Blade," he breathed.
Maalik laughed. "Oh, did you hear him, Miss Melanie? The boy wants his blade!"
Harker's laughter joined Maalik's, filling the room, beating into Dean's headache like tiny fists.
"Poor thing," Harker mocked. "We stole his favourite toy."
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
Dean tried to speak, but his tongue was too heavy to form words. His head tipped forward onto his chest in defeat. He was so weak. They must have done something new to him while he was unconscious. Either that or whatever resilience had lasted him this long was failing. The Mark was calling.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
He felt the muzzle of the Colt press against his chin. It pushed until his head was raised high enough for his gaze to meet Maalik's once more. The laughter had stopped.
"As I said," Maalik continued as if there had been no interruption. "The Colt cannot kill you. But as you can see, it can weaken you greatly. And dear Melanie only shot you in the stomach. Imagine how you'll feel if I pull the trigger now?"
He pressed the gun further, until Dean's neck was straining and he was staring up at the white ceiling. He couldn't breathe properly in this position. His chest zinged with pain, protesting against the sudden stretch.
"You would no longer be a problem to my master then." Maalik's tone was one of calm fury. He longed to pull the trigger and send Dean into some sort of demonic coma. Dean waited, his breath scything out of him in a pitiful wheeze.
Suddenly the pressure was gone. Dean's head flopped back to his chest. He scrunched his eyes shut against the agony inside him.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
"But, I promised Miss Melanie that she may be the one to end you," Maalik said, his tone light and casual once more.
Harker stepped forward and took the gun Maalik held out for her.
"Enjoy, my dear."
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
Harker's lips were curled up in a smile Dean recognised. He had worn that same smile every time he had imagined killing Yellow-Eyes. She had waited a long time for this moment. Dean knew she would enjoy it as much as he had.
Harker stood facing him, looking up into his half-open eyes. He blinked slowly at her, too tired to feel anything close to fear.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
She glanced down to the gun, weighing it in her hand, finding the perfect grip. She raised it, the muzzle pressed against Dean's forehead. He kept his weary gaze locked on her fiery one.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
Her finger curled around the trigger …
… and the room shook with the force of a mighty earthquake.
The knives and syringes fell with a ringing clatter from the table, landing in a jumbled heap on the floor. The table toppled moments later, thudding to the ground with an echoing crash.
Harker stumbled, the gun withdrawing from Dean's head as she fought for balance. Maalik roared with rage as cracks appeared on the walls, destroying the sigils. The iron Devil's Trap at Dean's feet shook and rattled until it popped at the hinges, breaking the circle.
The light flickered madly as the ceiling began to fall apart too. Chunks of plaster rained down amid sprinkling dust on all three of them. One piece the size of a Yorkie hit Maalik hard on the head and he stumbled, lost his balance and fell flat on his back.
Harker's black hair was powdered with white. She gaped at the inches-thick cracks snaking their way through every sigil, through every square foot of the small, ruined room.
Dean's lips drew up in a smile. He fought to stay conscious. He knew who was coming. And he could feel what came with them.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
The door behind him burst open, flying off its hinges and thudding into the back of the Enochian Trap he was chained to. The metal rang and Dean grimaced as the sound stabbed through his ears.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –
With a bellow of wild rage, Maalik leapt to his feet and charged the newcomer, an angelblade flicking to his hand in a flash of silver.
That's not gonna work, Dean thought smugly.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –!
He heard Maalik shriek as a brilliant, blinding light filled the room, stunning Harker and burning Dean's retinas through his eyelids.
He could feel the rage pouring off Michelle as she strode into view, bloody angelblade in hand and a terrible fury in her eyes.
Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill –!
Harker staggered backward, bringing the Colt up to aim at Michelle's heart. With an irritable flick of her hand, Michelle threw Harker hard against the far wall, pinning her there as the ancient pistol clattered to the ground.
The shaking ceased as she turned to Dean. Fury melted to concern as her eyes darted over his tattered torso and bleeding face. He tried to smile for her.
Killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill –!
Michelle reached out one powerful hand and whipped it back as though pulling a punch. The chains binding Dean leaped towards her as if magnetically attracted to her hand. Dean fell hard onto the cracked concrete ground, his forearms and stomach burning against the iron of the collapsible Trap. With a casual flick, Michelle dismantled the Enochian frame that had held Dean captive for almost a month. It flew backwards and shattered against the far wall.
Before she could run forward to aid her fallen leader, the fingers of Dean's right hand twitched. She felt the First Blade she had liberated from an angelic cursebox respond to the gesture. Dean's fingers twitched again in an exhausted beckon. Before she had time to take a half step forward, the First Blade flew gracefully out from behind her back and landed gently, hilt-first, in its master's blood-slicked hand.
For one, immeasurable moment, the room was still but for Harker's terrified panting.
Then Dean's fingers closed around the hilt.
What followed happened so fast, even Michelle could barely comprehend it.
One moment Dean was lying as though unconscious on the burning remains of the Devil's Trap. The next, he was on his feet, charging forwards with a bellow of fury and eyes blacker than the cellars of Hell.
Melanie Harker didn't have time to cry out. Her eyes widened in terror and shame as she saw the demon barrelling towards her. The ancient teeth sunk through her sternum and into her galloping heart.
Which, for her, was extremely lucky.
Before her eyes emptied of all emotion and her body hung limp in Michelle's telekinetic grasp, Dean had withdrawn the Blade and thrust it into her seven more times. Her bright, warm blood spattered chaotically over the demon's face and hands as he fulfilled his promise to her.
The mutilated corpse of Melanie Harker crumbled to the ground with a sickening, squelching thud.
Dean Winchester followed moments later.
Michelle leapt forward, kneeling at the demon's side. "Dean?" she whispered, concern colouring her tone.
He didn't respond.
"Dean!" she said, more forcefully this time, shaking him slightly. Curling one arm around his shoulders, she hoisted him onto her lap. "Dean? Wake up. It's me, it's Michelle. I'm here. I found you. I've got you."
She gazed at him with horrified eyes. He didn't seem to be breathing. Glancing around, she saw that the First Blade had fallen from his grip. It lay beside his outstretched hand, the blood blazing against the yellow-brown bone.
He remained motionless and silent as she muttered reassurances, not hearing a word. She placed the hilt of the weapon in Dean's unmoving hand, then pressed his fingers gently around the grip. She switched to her black eyes to better see how injured he was beneath the torn and ruined flesh.
For a second that contained an excruciating eternity, nothing happened.
Then Dean's black eyes flew open. He saw the demon holding him off the ground and jerked away from her, terrified. His hand was clenched around something in his hand and he gasped as pain and power thundered through every cell in his body. His confused eyes flicked to green just as Michelle's widened in shock.
"Dean, what –?"
Without thinking, he did the first thing he could think of to escape. Closing his eyes tight in concentration, he focused on the one thing he needed: safety. He vanished from the wreck of his prison as quickly as thought, one word resounding in his head in a silent cry:
Sam!