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“It’s over, Dean! It’s over!” Castiel yelled as he held Dean in an arm lock, forcing him to stop hunting down his brother and I.
Sam’s face was ghostly white, breath heavy, and hands slightly shaking. We had been running from his demonized brother in the bunker, a knife against a hammer. Dean roared in anger, his eyes turning black and an inhuman sound rose from somewhere deep inside him. I had never seen a human like this…but of course, Dean was no longer human.
Cas took Dean back to the cell where he and I began the treatments once again – purified human blood injections every hour for 8 hours. Dean's roars of pain and anger penetrated to my core, but I knew it would transform him back into the Dean I knew. This battle against him had worn all of us down. Sam had initially worked with Cas and I, the three of us alternating plunging the needle deep into Dean's flesh, but Sam needed a break.
"Go get some sleep," I told him. "I've got this."
Sam furrowed his brow, hesitation in his hazel eyes. "Are you sure? I can stay if you need me to."
I shook my head. "No, it's alright. You're exhausted. If I need you, I know where to find you."
The tall man nodded, glanced at his brother, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. I turned back to the demon sitting inside the devil's trap, strapped down and medicated. It hurt to see him like this. The Mark of Cain took him over, just as he was warned it would do. Dean had fought it. Hard. But it wasn't enough in the end. When we first found him, blackness in his eyes, defeat washed over everyone. Especially Sammy. But it seemed to motivate Sam to find a cure. He stopped at nothing, and although the purified blood might not work, it was our greatest chance of getting Dean back. We had to try.
"Well, hello sweetheart."
His voice caught me off guard and I snapped my attention to the creature. Black momentarily covered his eyes and a snarl accompanied the tone of his words. I checked my watch. 50 minutes till the next injection. Sighing, I simply checked over the syringes, insuring each one was present so not a dose was missed.
"Ah, come on, darlin'. Let's talk. I know you want to."
"I don't want to talk to this thing," I spat, narrowing my eyes. Keep your cool, I thought. It's not him. It's not. Him.
Dean scoffed. "Because you'd talk to me anyway, right? How much have you been keeping from me lately? Huh? Surely there's something you're dying to tell me!"
"No. There's not."
He grinned. A vile, sinister, grin highlighting the demonic presence. "Oh, we're gonna have fun today, sweetheart!" He punctuated his remark with a short laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly as he did. "Say, what was that thing I used to tell you when you were having a bad night?"
Stay calm, I internally chanted.
"Oh yes." Dean cleared his throat. "'Breathe, darlin'. This is just a chapter, not your whole story'. That is such garbage. You know I only said that to get you to stop crying, right? So I could go to sleep. Because..." He paused for a moment. "You're just so damn high maintenance, with your PTSD and your triggers and ups and downs. I mean, anything to get you to shut up. Why does it always have to be at night? Can't you have a breakdown somewhere else other than my room? Surely Sam has time to deal with your crap. Give someone else a chance for a change!"
It's not him. Dean wouldn't say those things. It's not him.
"And, what is with you and being in such a positive mood all the time? Do you really think it'll rub off on us? Well, it doesn't! So why don't you just STOP!"
Crossing my arms, I stared at the ground, avoiding him as much as possible in a room that contained only the two of us. Instead of listening to the lies he spat, I tried to focus on the Dean I knew. The Dean that would challenge me to a poker game to just let me win. The Dean that was over-protective and would hesitate if I wanted to go on a high risk hunt. The Dean that would rub my back on dark nights when all I could see were the triggers and my past. The Dean that hummed 'Smoke on the Water' to a baby. The Dean that would run a million miles a minute just to save you from the monster. The thing in that chair was not Dean.
"You're wrong about me, you know." The demon continued his spiel. "I don't care. About any of you. Least of all you. You're just a thorn in my side, and when this fails, I'm going to get up from this chair, and I'm going to kill you. And I'm going to enjoy it. Watching the life drain from your eyes, your body squirming for one more drop of life. You're going to die knowing you aren't loved by anyone. That I never loved you and never will. That Sam thinks it was a bad idea to let you move in with us. That Cas wishes you would have just died in the house we saved you from. We don't need you. And we never will."
I checked my watch again. 30 minutes.
Taking a deep breath, I stared into his green eyes. "You're only saying that because of what you are right now. When this works, you're going to apologize. We both know it. Sam and Cas will have my back when there's no one else. And I know you will too, Dean."
He laughed, and the sound was a punch to the gut. "If you believe that, you're more delusional than I thought!"
He's not human. He doesn't mean it.
"What makes you think this is going to work, anyway?" he continued. "Because Sammy said so?"
"It'll work. There's proof. There's no exceptions."
"Has it every worked on a Knight of Hell? On the Mark of Cain? Where's that data, huh?"
"I know what you're doing."
"And what is that?"
"You're trying to get under my skin. It's not going to work."
Dean grinned. "Oh really? Because from the looks of it, you're getting more and more agitated by the minute. Tell me something, sweetheart. Do you always do whatever Sam says? Do you really believe anything he says to you? Don't you remember what he is?" He paused, forcing the words to soak in. "He's a monster, Lindy! The demon blood, the things he did when he was looking for me. He's exactly the type of thing you would hunt if the roles were reversed!"
"That's not true."
"Isn't it though? You know, if it weren't for him, my mother would still be alive. He ruined everything! And you're ruining my life too. Just by being here."
I stabbed him with the needle before I even knew what was happening. Dean inhaled sharply, pain flashing across his face, his gut clenched. He let out a guttural moan and shook his head.
He raised his eyes toward me. "Why do you think I carved your face up? Just to wipe that stupid scared look off of it. And you're scared now, I can feel it."
It went on like that. Round for round, Dean said anything he could just to get under my skin, and I would stab him as hard as I could with the next dose. And every time I pressed down on the syringe, he let out deep agonizing roars that hit my eardrums and bounced around my skull. Each one hit like an anvil to the chest.
He passed out at one point, and I couldn't wake him up, but his pulse was still strong. Cas had come back to check how things were going as I plunged the last needle into his arm in line with the other injection sites.
"What if we're killing him, Cas?" I asked. "How do we even know this will work?"
"We don't," Cas replied, matter-of-fact. "But we have to hope that it will."
I ducked my head. "Yeah." Sighing, I glanced at Dean then back at the angel. "I'm going to take a break. Let me know if anything changes."
"Of course."
Rubbing my temples, I stepped away from Dean and walked to the library. Sam sat at the long table with an open bottle of beer next to his laptop. When he saw me, he stood immediately, waiting for me to say something. Anything.
"Well?" he asked when I didn't utter a word.
"As far as we can tell, he's okay."
Sam let out the breath he had subconsciously been holding in. "Good. Good." He sat down, hard, taking a swig of the beer and running a hand down his face. "I'm sorry I didn't come back. It's just..."
"No, Sam. It's okay. Did you get any sleep?"
"Not really. Between Dean yelling and the overhanging stress, I couldn't even lie down very long. So, I just came back in here to look for possible cases."
"For the distraction."
He cleared his throat. "Yeah."
I closed my eyes for a moment and an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion punched me in the chest. My resolve suddenly fell and I felt pinprick warmth behind my eyes. Sam saw the change and he stood.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?" He set a hand on my shoulder, rubbing at a knot.
Just the gentle contact forced the dam to break and salty streams to jump the levee holding them back.
Sam, as the big brother I had adopted him to be, protectively wrapped me in a hug and brushed through my hair. “Shh…Shh…It’s okay, Lindy. He’ll be okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “We just have to have hope.”
"I know..."
“I, uh, hate to break the moment, Sam." Castiel appeared at the doorway of the library. "But Dean is waking up.” He didn't wait for us to follow, disappearing back into the hallway.
I pealed myself away from Sam and saw the area on his shirt where my tears fell. “Sorry…” I mumbled.
“It’s okay. Do you want to come? You don’t have to.”
“No. I want to.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
I followed Sam to the cell and prepared myself for Dean to remain what he was. I knew there was a possibility that Dean would never be Dean again, but, like Sam had said, I had to have hope. The cell was dark, save a single light over the chair Dean sat in. He was chained, and his head lolled to the side, obviously unconscious. I could see his fingers twitching, the tell-tale sign, demon or not, that Dean was waking up.
Then he raised his head and opened his eyes. They were black. Black. Still black. But, slowly, the black receded and his gorgeous green irises remained – soft and searching for something familiar.
“You look worried, fellas.” Dean attempted a laugh, but coughed instead, hanging his head, and taking a deep breath. I cried in relief and turned my head away. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. “Lindy?”
“Here,” Sam said, handing me the key to the chains. I cautiously took it and began to walk forward. Sam caught my arm. “Wait…” He took a flask of holy water and flung water onto Dean. He didn’t sizzle. He didn’t groan in pain. Sam nodded at me and I continued to Dean.
I unlocked each chain and set the key down on the floor, unwrapping his arms and legs from the bindings. Taking Dean’s hands, I helped him out of the chair and made sure he was steady on his feet. I didn’t have much warning - Dean enveloped me in a tight hug, squeezing me against him and resting his chin on the top of my head. One hand rested on my head and the other wrapped around my back. He kissed the side of my head and I could have sworn I sensed he was crying.
“I’m so sorry…” he whispered. “I’m sorry…”
I forced enough room between us to take his face in my hands and wipe the tears from his eyes. “You weren’t you. Don’t you dare blame yourself, Dean Winchester. That wasn’t you.” If he listened, he didn’t show it. He simply rested his head on my shoulder and continued to cry silently. "You aren't the darkness, Dean," I whispered, and he only held me closer - if that was possible.
After a few minutes, Sam hugged his brother tighter than I had seen before. Relief flooded his face and I could see the tension dropping from his shoulders. Dean seemed exhausted, which wasn't surprising. Forcing the demon out of you would probably drain anyone.
Dean would stare at me, his eyes grazing the long scar left by a knife. I could see the guilt he carried. Sam, Cas, and I tried to make him remember it wasn't his fault. But he kept saying it was his job to protect us, to make sure we were safe, and he had failed. How can you succeed at that job if you're a demon?