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Deans body slammed to the floor, his body trying to curl itself up to protect him from his opponent; his opponent who kicked him onto his back like a toy, Save him from his fate The words echoed around Deans mind, defiance plastered on his face, he would never become like Cain; a sharp kick from the steel haired man towering above him cracked this mask with pain,
"First you'll kill Crowley," Deans mind flashed with images of the short King, his dark clothing and no-care attitude, sure he could be a dick, but he wasn't bad, well not bad for a demon; Dean thought of their trip to the dingy bars and crappy motels, him and Crowley; Cain wasn't wrong, Dean could easily kill him and he would reason away the guilt, telling himself the Crowley was a Demon and that it was his job to kill Demons no matter how they had become... friends?
His ears pricked at Castiel's name, no, he could never kill Cas, Cas was more than a friend... Cas was family. The blue eyed angel had saved him; he had brought him back and stood by his side even when all of Heaven and Hell were against them. He had fallen for them; no, not for him, not Sammy, not any human. Cas had fallen for humanity; from the first moment he had set foot on this Earth it was destined to be; for in that moment he had seen life; joy, hope, sadness, pain, and all the world was so alive. Deans mind showed him the images of Castiel's smile, his trench coat, his eyes, he could hear his laugh, his low quiet chuckle; that turned to a cry of pair as his face distorted into a look of sadness and betrayal, tears dripping from the angels dead dull eyes; Dean couldn't breathe, could it be the feeling of his lungs being ripped out his body and his heart slowly crushed at the thought of driving the blade deep into Castiel's chest... or simply the fact that Cain had descended onto his chest, pinning him to the ground.
Sammy, how could Cain even dare to mention his name, Dean would never, he could never become like Cain, he may have killed his brother but Dean and Sam, what they had was different, Sammy was everything; he would, and had, die for him, to protect him. Cain was right. It would destroy him, turn him savage, his grief and hatred for his own flesh projected onto every living thing, if he let the blade take control, there would be no future. That could not happen, Dean unsheathed Cain's dagger from his chest and in one action it was done.
Cain's disbelief, his pain, caused his weight to shift off Dean who grabbed the first blade.
Dean descended the stairs, blade in hand and blood in his face. He wore no expression, his face as hard as stone, no life in his body. His friends, his family, waited for news to arrive, as they saw Dean they felt both relief and the fear of uncertainty, would any of them make it out of this alive? Dean came face to face with the trio, his brother, his angel, his friends he could feel the weight of the blade in his hand, the mark burning on his arm, the adrenaline pumping through his body, the need gnawing inside;
"Dean," Sam's steady tone broke through the fog like a light guiding him back, then there was Crowley's voice, asking for the blade, the blade that felt so good just to hold, that fitted perfectly in the palm of his hand; he held out the blade. He felt Castiel's fingers brush his as his trusted friend took the blade; Crowley was betrayed, but at least he was alive. They all were. Then he was gone. With only family around him Dean finally let it get the better of him, his knees giving way as he collapsed into Sam's arms. He'd done it. Finally he succumbed to the sleep that was swirling in his brain, yes the mark would still be there when he woke up. But so would Cas. So would Sam.