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Kyle's ears strained to hear footsteps around him, but he could hardly hear them over the blood rushing in his ears and the pounding of his heart. Miraculously, his grip on the angel blade didn't shake even though his palms were slick with sweat. Kyle wasn't sure where Sam was, but he desperately hoped he had a plan or was figuring something out. As good a hunter as he was, they needed a long-term solution, not threatening their brother (knight of hell) with a demon or angel blade.
He peeked around the corner, trying hard to control his breathing. A few overly long curls poked at his eyes, but he didn't bother brushing them out of the way. Seeing nothing around the corner, Kyle let out a small sigh of relief. Almost immediately after, he heard the slightest footstep and whirled around to see Dean (not Dean) aiming a hammer at his head.
A blinding pain shattered through his head, and Kyle dropped to his knees in a breathless gasp of agony. The angel blade clattered to the ground, and warm blood trickled down his head. "Hey, kiddo," not his brother, simpered. Nausea roiled in his gut as he collapsed to his side. His vision was dark, and he struggled to move his arms.
"S-s-sam," Kyle wheezed, desperately willing his brother to his side.
"Aw, that's cute. Brotherly love. I'm gonna kill him too, y'know. He's no help to you anymore." The creature pretending to be his brother hadn't moved. He just stared down at him, a mocking smile on his face as he twirled the hammer coated with Kyle's blood in his hands. Kyle fell onto his back, consciousness slipping from him. Just as he spotted what looked like a blob of tan, another excruciating pain hit him, and he knew no more.
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Awareness returned to him in waves. He was lying in a bed with a sheet pulled up to his chest. Blinking slowly, Kyle looked around. Oh, he was in his own room. The walls were littered with his various posters he had gathered throughout the years, and dirty clothes were scattered on the floor. It was dark; the only light was coming from a crack in the doorway. His limbs were heavy as he reached up to feel the side of his head. It was whole and bloodless. Wrinkling his face in confusion, he sat up. Kyle was sure he had been dead. Trying to piece together what had happened with little success, he swung his legs off the side of the bed. Slowly standing up, he ignored the exhaustion permeating his body and left to go find Sam. If he were in his room, surely Dean(?) had been taken care of.
The bunker floors were cool on his unsocked feet, and a slight shiver ran through him. Kyle made his way over to the library, where Sam's bedroom was. As he drew closer, he heard voices. Was that Cas? Sure enough, his older brother and friend were talking in front of the map table. Castiel noticed him first, and his face lit up. "Kyle, I'm glad to see you up and moving." Sam turned around as well with a smile on his face.
"Thanks, Cas. Uh, what the fuck happened?" Kyle moved closer to them, absentmindedly rubbing the hem of his shirt. Both Sam and Castiel's faces sobered at his question.
"Well, just after Dean uh," Sam fumbled for words, clearly not wanting to voice what had happened. "Hit you, Cas was able to restrain him, and we got him back into the dungeon. I started working on curing him, and Cas came and healed you." Kyle nodded, not really sure what to say. "Dean's fine now. I'm going to go get drunk." Sam concluded with a nod and left for the bunker stairs. Kyle tried to suppress a flinch at the sound of the door opening, but was only partially successful.
Cas made his way to Kyle, who was rooted to the spot, unidentifiable emotions consuming him. "How are you, Kyle?" His piercing eyes were full of kindness, but Kyle shifted and looked away, licking his lips.
"Yeah, uh, fine. Just tired." Kyle's stomach churned, and he looked back at Castiel. "Where's Dean?"
"In his room," Castiel replied, tilting his head slightly.
"Good." He cleared his throat. "I'm glad he's ok. I'm just gonna go get something to eat." Kyle flashed him a smile and left for the kitchen, leaving Castiel behind him. A lingering fear ate at him despite knowing Dean wasn't a demon anymore. He couldn't stop replaying the image of the hammer smashing into his skull. Kyle stopped in the middle of the hallway and squeezed his eyes closed, trying to banish the memory. After a few deep breaths, he opened his eyes and resumed his walk to the kitchen. Even with the knowledge that Dean was in his room, he let out a breath at seeing the room empty.
As Kyle opened the pantry, any desire to eat disappeared, and he grimaced as nausea crept up his throat. Sighing as he closed the door, Kyle turned around and slammed his back into the door behind him in panic. Dean was standing behind him, looking unsure and like a deer in headlights. Kyle's heart was pounding, and his breathing was speeding up. He couldn't seem to be able to tell his body his brother wasn't a demon anymore.
"Uh, hey kiddo." Dean tried. The nickname sent him tumbling back to a few hours ago, another spike of fear piercing his chest.
"Don't. Don't… call me that." Kyle managed with a slight shake of his head. Dean looked pained, but he gave a faint nod.
"Ok. Uh, how-" Dean started, but Kyle couldn't. He needed to get away.
"Um, I'm not hungry. I'm just gonna…" He vaguely motioned towards the door and hurried out, giving himself a wide berth between himself and his oldest (recently cured) brother. He didn't look back as he stumbled through the halls and into his room, slamming the door behind him, his chest heaving.
Wiping his hands over his face and then through his dark hair, he sat down heavily on his bed. Guilt wormed its way through his body and mixed with the residual panic. He knew it wasn't Dean who had killed him; merely a demon wearing his skin and holding his memories. But trauma wasn't logical, and he couldn't help panicking at the thought of being in the same room as his brother. Kyle collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted from the whole day, and after a few minutes, he fell asleep.
Kyle woke to a soft knock on his door. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, a slight sense of trepidation entering him, not knowing who it was. "Come in." The door opened, and Sam walked in. Kyle let out a sigh of relief, seeing it wasn't Dean.
"Hey, Kyle," Sam greeted. He lingered in the doorway until Kyle motioned with his head to sit on the bed. "How're you doing? Dean told me what happened." Kyle noticed Sam staring at him, no doubt a result of his recent death, but it still made him squirm a little.
"Oh. Yeah." Kyle answered, staring at the wall and playing with a ring on his middle finger. "I just. I can't see anything except him trying to kill me. I know it wasn't him but…"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I know."
"I just need time. I think." Kyle added.
"Ok," Sam said simply. "He understands." Kyle let out a soft huff, twisting the ring once again. Kyle leaned his head on his brother's shoulder, Sam returned the gesture, and the tension slowly drained out of him as they sat together in the comfortable darkness.