Chapter Text
He was different, he could feel it, but it wasn’t…bad. He knew bad. Hell, he was Dean fucking Winchester, he practically wrote the book on fucking things up. But for the first time in, shit, before the apocalypse, he actually felt pretty good. He opened his eyes, aware, vaguely, that Crowley was talking to him. Which is just what he needed, that annoying British ass yapping at him while he was dead, or dying, or whatever.
He flicked his eyes towards Crowley and the air shimmered. The air was alive with every color ever known, all pulling in different directions. He had no idea what was going on, but he had little time to question it because Crowley smirked, reached out his hand, and they were gone.
“Damn it, Crowley!” Dean pulled away as soon as he had a chance. He hated when Cas did that and he hated it more when Crowley did it just on principle. His hand flew to his hip and closed around the hilt of the first blade before he even realized what he was doing. The blade hummed in anticipation but it didn’t feel the way it had before, it wasn’t overpowering.
“Calm down, squirrel,” Crowley said as he raised his hands defensively. “I thought you might want to leave before your little brother actually summoned me.”
Dean narrowed his eyes, but he loosened his grip on the blade. “What the shit is going on, Crowley?”
“Isn’t is obvious?” Crowley waited for Dean to respond but he didn’t move, his hand still resting lightly on the blade. Crowley sighed. “Honestly, Dean, I just explained all of this. You died. Again. Which I am sorry about, by the way, but there really wasn’t anything I could do. But now you’re not dead. Again. Which I also had nothing to do with, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to blame me anyway.”
“Get to the point, Crowley,” Dean growled.
Crowley rolled his eyes “no respect, after everything I’ve done. Well fine. The short of it is you’re a Knight of Hell now. Congrats.”
Dean’s hand dropped from the blade and he stepped back in shock. He couldn’t be a demon. He felt… whole. He felt right. There wasn’t any way he had turned into the one thing they had been fighting so long to stop. How could being a demon feel anything but awful? He turned to run, though to where he wasn’t sure, but Crowley was there, holding a mirror and doing his best to look concerned. Dean snatched the mirror and looked.
His eyes were black. Awful. Soulless. But they didn’t look right. Dean shook as he held the mirror. Of course he would manage to screw up being a demon. When had he ever managed to do something right? He flung the mirror away and it thunked into the ground, embedding deep into the ground.
“Thank you, Crowley,” he said as he turned to walk away.
“Dean? I can help you, you know.”
“I know. I don’t want it.”
Crowley strangled the air. “Why are you boys always so damned stubborn? What? You think you’re just going to waltz into the bunker and get yourself cured? You are a Knight of Hell, Dean. The rules are different. But I could show you how to use your powers. I could show you how to really live.”
“No offence, Crowley, but I’m not interested in anything you have to teach me.” He didn’t look at Crowley. He wished he was somewhere else, anywhere else.
And then he was.