It started out simple enough. You know, the same way major car wrecks start simple. You have an itch on your leg, you lose two seconds deciding if you wanna scratch it or not and Bang! Thirty-car pile up.
So, you know, simple.
He said that he would give Dean a weapon to help him in his task. Dean figured that Castiel, being an angel of the Lord and all that, would give him some arrows and a cute little pink bow.
He was wrong.
After having witnessed close up the various effects of Castiel's little two-fingers, hand-touching-forehead crap-trick, first with Bobby's nap and then with his own time-traveling, mind-screwing, let's-never-mention-it-again episode, it was understandable that Dean would expect pretty much anything when mister 'holy-tax-accountant' reached out both hands and touched one finger to each side of his head.
Nothing happen. There was no flash of white light, no waking up in some street bench in the middle of the Apocalypse, no bad-assed light saber, not even the ringing of Heaven's bells in his ears. Just a slight tingling on the balls of his feet, which could mean anything, from divine intervention to, you know, tight shoes.
Before Dean could wrap his mind around anything else, or even come to some sort of reasoning about all that had happen that night, Castiel was gone once more and Sam? He was getting in to the bitch's yellow car and driving away, leaving all the corpses behind them, like they were nothing… like they didn't even matter.
Dean knew that he should get his act together, race to his car and beat his brother back to the motel room. Dean knew that he should face Sam and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing. Dean knew that he should DO something, but the only thing he could do was wrap his coat tight around his trembling body and take advantage of the dirty wall behind his back to guide his descend to the ground.
It hurt. It hurt deeply and in some place so deep inside him that he couldn't even name it anatomically. It hurt in his soul.
He knew that there had to be a reason, some sort of explanation. His heart warned him to get a grip, to stop listening to his mind. To ignore what he had just seen. But he couldn't.
As soon as Castiel had brought him back from the past, the ugly past that he could not change, Dean had raced out of the motel's room and went to find Sam.
He arrived too late.
All around his baby brother, Dean could see dead bodies of at least five people. He had seen the other four fall, while the last one remained standing; a little girl of perhaps nine, maybe less. Her back was to Dean, her small face turned upward to the towering figure that was Sam, screaming at him to stop. Sam didn't.
First came the sound. It was this awful sound, this horribly familiar sound, like her insides were being ripped out and then she just fell to the ground in a boneless heap, silent.
Sam's hand remained raised for a few seconds more, a faint glow still emanating from his palm, a few sparkles of the light bulbs that had exploded around him still coloring the air with bright specks of white.
Sam didn't even blink an eye, his face impassive. No, not impassive. Dean could've dealt with impassive.
Proud. Sam looked proud as he gazed the bodies of the five people he had just… ended. Proud; like a job well done. Proud, in a way he'd never looked before, even when he killed the nastiest of beasts.
Before. Before Dean had died and gone to Hell. Before Dean found out that Azazel had tainted his brother.
The deed done, Sam just cleaned his hands on his jeans and walked over to the petite brunette who stood waiting for him, leaning casually against the yellow sports car. Even from afar, and despite the change of looks, Dean knew that he was looking at Ruby. This new Ruby, Dean realized, was the same bitch that his brother had in his hotel room when Dean had come back, the same bitch that his brother pretended not to know… The bitch that helped his brother access the powers that he had sworn never to tap into.
Sworn to Dean. And then crapped all over it.
Dean looked at his shaking hands, trying to wipe his head clean of what he had seen, trying to get that sound out of his ears. He closed his eyes, fighting the sense of dread that was becoming his permanent companion these days. The same sense of dread and deep fear that he felt whenever he looked in the mirror and saw his own terrified eyes and blood… so much blood.
His voice had made that same sound once, he was sure of that. He could not recall the exact circumstances, he could not pin point the exact place, but he had a pretty good idea of where it had happened and his throat… his throat remembered the exact feeling of screaming like that. Exactly like that. It left a nauseating blood aftertaste in his mouth.
Dean screamed again, just for the sake of it, just to get some control over his actions. It helped a little. Taking deep gulps of air, Dean tried getting to his feet. They held so he pushed himself up and walked towards his parked car.
It was time to go back to his brother. They had a lot to talk about and if Sam thought that Dean was just going to seat back and watch him… turn in to this, Sam was in for a big surprise.
It was time for Dean to take back his place as older brother, it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself and face his task. It was time…
"… for you to learn what your bother is and what he can become," Castiel's deep voice came from inside the car.
Bending over, Dean looked inside, knowing that he would find the annoying angel lounging in the passenger seat. Sam's seat.
"Get out of my head," Dean growled. He threw open the door and got inside. "And get out of my car," he added as an after thought, turning the key in the ignition.
The familiar roar of his car's engine filled the air, the sound and the faint smell of gasoline drowning the little girl's scream and the smell of blood in his nostrils.
"There is something of great importance that you need to know, something that you wouldn't understand before you saw what you've seen tonight," Castiel went on, ignoring both Dean's words and the murderous glare in his eyes.
"What?" Dean clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. "That bad deals are apparently genetic and that my brother spends his nights playing serial killer?"
"That your brother is one of the 66 seals."