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The man looked at the box he was holding in his hands, controlling distractedly everything he had put in it.
The icy air caressed his back, sneaking through the fibers of the wrinkled shirt, into the cracks of dam skin causing him shivers full of expectation.
He studied with care the landscape that surrounded him, enumerating in his mind the possible escape from that crossroad while he buried his only possibility.
He closed his eyes, waiting.
«Hello stranger» a deep voice plunged him into reality. «My name is Dean Winchester»
Dean Winchester.
That name echoed in his mind like a bad memory steeped in stories, haunting his corrupt soul and filling with pure hatred every cell of that vessel created especially for him . He was a demon, one of the cruelest in hell, the one who instilled fear with his mere presence even to the king of hell.
The one who, according to rumors, had known and defeated Lucifer and God himself.
Dean had never denied anything because the truth was that he liked to be put on a pedestal; that way he could do whatever he wanted and not follow anyone's rules. Including being occasionally a crossroad demon: condemn a soul and kiss? They were two of his favorite activities.
Dean never liked his name, but one of his superiors convinced him he was the one right for him. That only at the sound of that name everyone, monsters, demons and humans, would be afraid.
And it had always been like that.
But then why, at the exact moment he appeared, the blue eyes of that man light up? Why was his soul, for one little moment, shaken by a tremor ?
«I want to make a deal» Dean turned to look at his face, trapping his tongue between his teeth in a smirk. The demon didn't respond, surrounding him with slow steps, walking in a circle to study every detail of the man in front of him.
Judging by his posture and weapons, he must have been a hunter - and one of the good ones since he had in his pocket, carefully sealed, pure angel grace.
«I have a friend who got lost» said the man looking down. «I-I want to help him remember that there's a right way»
Dean let himself go in a laugh approaching the man, smiling and foretasting that soul. That familiar soul that had shaken only for him.
«Let's fix that son of bitch then»
His black, hollow and lifeless eyes stared at him for a second before drawing the man into that kiss that would decree his end.
><><><><
It had been two hours and 43 minutes since the deal was signed.
Slightly more than two hours in which he couldn't help but doing anything except drink.
Alcohol hadn't the same effect anymore yet in that moment the memory was enough.
There was nothing memorable about that kiss. It had been clumsy and uncoordinated and that man's raw beard had pinched his cheek the whole time.
Despite that, Dean Winchester couldn't put that pain inside him to rest. A pain that dragged him away from duties, from his pleasures, from his life only to leave him in pieces, helpless to the memory of that man standing at the center of a crossroad, under a sky illuminated by stars in the absolute nothingness.
And he shone with his own light in his thoughts, like supernova on the point of exploding.
He had to see him again.
Dean weighed up that decision for less than a moment then snapped his fingers, vanishing in a puff of black smoke.
><><><><
The man was in the exact spot where he had left him, sitting compostally on an old and destroyed Impala. His gaze turned towards the festively illuminated sky.
Dean was lost in that vision.
Seeing him again was like starting to breathe again after years and years of deprivation. Like going back to a long-lost home.
«Hello, Dean» his voice hit him in the chest, stabbing him in the heart.
In a matter of seconds his whole life exploded in his brain. All the torture and suffering, the image of Sam dying in his arms again and again, until that day in February when they had fulfilled their destiny.
Brother against brother, as Cain had predicted.
And Dean had killed him to save his soul, to barter it for his already damned – as God's murderer was no longer welcome in heaven.
He remembered how upset he was after Sam's death and how he only wanted to end it; but surviving was his real punishment and so he had spent years regretting practically all the decisions of his life. He remembered the hundreds of years he spent in hell before he became a demon: he still remembered the first time his eyes had turned black as his memories became more and more hazy as the days passed.
Until there was none left. Until there was only one empty shell left of him.
But then Dean looked up and met those tired and impossible blue eyes, that smile pulled on the dirty face slightly aged and something inside him just shattered.
Behind the suffering Dean also remembered the laughter and hugs. The evenings watching old movies with his family, with never ending hamburgers and popcorn. Bobby's proud look as he watched him, the long trips with his Baby without destination, some good music and his brother next to him. The two of them against the world.
And he remembered Castiel, his guardian angel, who had saved him from eternal perdition. The angel who has always promised he would have been forever on his side, and he did it, even when his whole world seemed like falling apart, even when his life had become just a burden.
The angel who an ordinary Thursday in June had confessed how much he'd always loved him and he would love him until the end of his days, kissing him slowly, with such a great love that Dean felt he didn't deserve and for a moment everything seemed to be back to the right place.
Dean's knees trembled.
He could feel his eyes turn green, fight for life, fill up with tears.
And a familiar name slipped from his lips like a prayer.
«Cas»
«Welcome back Dean»