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”I wanna stab you in the chest,” the demon spat, throwing the words in the face of the helplessly tied up man in front of him. “I wanna drive my knife through your stupid, stubborn heart until it finally stops!”
The venomous anger in his voice faded as a smile colder than the arctic sea took over his face, and even the hunter, hardened by years of cold-blooded kills and unimaginable massacres, almost shivered.
“And I will cherish,” the demon continued, his voice suddenly soft and smooth like satin and silk in Deans ears. “I will cherish the glimpse of relief, of gratitude, before Dean Winchesters murderous eyes become empty forever.” His voice slowly wavered off, and Dean’s head hung low.
He’d prepared to shoot back, to yell how it would take more than one measly crossroads demon to take him out, but he hadn’t prepared for those words. For how close to home they’d hit.
He knew Sam would see this, if not right now then surely later, on the camera in the corner of the room which content Dean was sure the demon would get into the hands of the younger Winchester. He couldn’t let Sam think he’d given up. Could he?
They’d been fighting for a long time now. Years had gone past and yet the threat never seemed to lessen. He was so tired.
He would fight for Sammy to his last breath, he would die for him without second thoughts. But would he leave him alone? Could he allow himself to do that?
“Oh, how your brother will miss you. He’ll cry rivers for you, don’t you think?” The demon commented, as if he knew Deans thoughts. Maybe he did. Probably wasn’t that hard to figure out.
His next words, however, surprised Dean a little.
“And the angel… he will turn the world upside down to get you back.” The smile on the demons face was pure malice. “He’s done it before. He cares too much about you, don’t you think?”
Dean lifted his head, just enough for the demon to catch the look of bone-deep weariness, mind-numbing sorrow and an acceptance that was almost the scariest of it all.
“They won’t,” Dean said with a hoarse voice. He’d been praying the whole night, sitting here in his chair while the demon tested the limits of his pain tolerance and his torturous creativity. No answer. “They will move on. One less hunter - that’s not sensational.”
“I see,” the demon said, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s a shame you think so little of yourself, Mr. Winchester. I would have enjoyed watching you break for their grief!” He hissed the last part out through furiously gritted teeth. The glimpse in his eyes had gone from calculated to infuriated.
Dean remained silent, simply watching his capturer. He had known for a while that sooner or later, it would come down to this. One maniac with a grudge.
The demon pointed his knife at him, and Dean stared fearlessly up the blade. Death didn’t scare him; hadn’t done so for way too many years. He didn’t like leaving Sammy alone, but after the fight they had the other day… maybe it was for the best. Cas would look out for him.
Cas.
Dean had regretted many things in his life, but here was one that wouldn’t seem to leave him alone. He had been okay, even almost accepted it, until… no, he couldn’t think of that.
He really couldn’t, and yet his traitorous brain wouldn’t stop playing the memory. For his inner eye he saw Castiel, the powerful angel of the lord who had devoted himself to the brothers, to Dean. He had gone to hell and raised Dean up before they even knew each other, and over the last years they’d gotten closer.
Some would call them friends, some would even say brothers. Dean didn’t know anymore. Not when the sight of Cas, standing far too close, close enough that Dean could see the orange light of the setting sun reflect in his raven-black hair, and the ocean-like depths of his blue eyes, holding secrets too vast for a mere human to comprehend, wouldn’t leave his mind.
Dean had been caught in a moment of vulnerability, and he’d slipped up, said the words that were never supposed to leave his mouth.
The memory of the stunned look on his angels face almost made him smile, until the image shifted. Sam, slamming the door behind him with a fury Dean had never seen on his little brothers face before.
The yelling, all the hurtful words and half-true accusations that hit his heart harder than anything should have been able to.
Of course Dean knew he’d fucked up, and keeping his plans for himself had been wrong and selfish, but writing them down had perhaps been asking for this trouble. It was an old habit; whenever shit got too rough and he felt like he couldn’t burden Sam or Bobby or even Cas with it, he would write it in a little notebook.
His planned suicide mission had been one of those things.
But Sam finding the book now, of all times, had just made him the more determined to go through with it, and somehow he had found himself able to get away from his brother.
Which had landed him here. Right where he wanted to be.
The decision was old, really. Years. But somehow, yesterday had become the day of its execution, and the only thing keeping Dean from complete certainty that this was the best for everyone, was that damn conversation with Cas, and the look in the angels eyes when the forbidden words had spilled from Deans lips.
But he couldn’t back out now. Tied up, completely drained from the sustained torture, and with a knife at his throat. Just what he’d wanted.
The demon stood silently, probably lost in his own thoughts about the glory that awaited him in hell. The one who defeated a Winchester must earn a promotion!
“They will brand me a hero!” He hissed at Dean, with a mad glint of euphoria in his eyes.
Dean still remained silent.
“Not so wordy now, huh? Then we’ll just get to it.”
The demon lifted the knife, and time seemed to slow down as it swung towards his neck. Dean closed his eyes.
#1 But instead of the sound of a throat being slit and blood gushing out, he heard a footstep and a sound he’d come to associate with raw power; a loud sizzling and a muffled scream. Even through his closed eyes he could see the white light, but his eyes stayed shut.
He couldn’t believe it.
Soft hands and gentle touches on his wrists, removing the cuffs and chains. This was happening, and if he liked it or not really didn’t make a difference.
“Dean,” a deep, almost raspy, and incredibly tender voice said, and perhaps it was okay. Perhaps he could let himself be found, be saved.
He opened his eyes, and a sight as beautiful as that from his memory met him. Green eyes met blue, before Dean lowered his gaze. He wanted so desperately to take the words back, to make the world forget he ever said them, to once again banish them to the deepest corners of his mind. But he knew he couldn’t.
“Sam is okay. I told him I’d bring you back safely. He will forgive you,” Cas said, and Dean could have cried from relief. But even though the words calmed him, brought him back a step from the edge of the cliff, there was something else he needed to hear. He needed an answer.
And he got one.
“And, about what you said…” Castiel’s voice trailed off as Dean finally looked up again, meeting his eyes, and he didn’t mean to look desperate but his eyes showed every little emotion he’d stored away for so long and just couldn’t contain any longer.
“I love you too.”
#2 Cold steel met warm skin in an explosion of pain, ripping his nerve endings apart and overwhelming his brain with pain signals, before a blessed duvet of dark nothing enveloped him. He didn’t feel the blood gushing from his open wound, didn’t hear the cry of victory from the demon.
And he didn’t see the white light when the cry was cut short and the blade clattered to the floor.
The furious, heartbroken angel in front of him was only staring at the empty shell of what could never again become Dean Winchester. It was this shell he cradled, let his tears fall on and finally said the words to that he had wanted the living, breathing man to hear.
A strained voice, stained with tears, and a grief deeper than the empty abyss swallowed him whole.
“I love you too.”