Awaken and Burn

Your eyes open with a snick...

That sound. That's never happened before. Not outside of your worst nightmares, that is.

You look around noting that, beside the fact that you feel no pain (despite the gaping hole you can still feel in the center of your chest) the room is colorless and drab; cast in shades of varying beiges, and grays. This surprises you slightly until you realize that you're on your own bed surrounded by your own things and... Has it always been this blah in here?

You're distracted from your mundane thoughts when a voice you recognize all too well asks, "Well, squirrel? What do you say?"

"About what?" you respond and start in surprise again at the roughness of your voice. It's not like it hasn't always been a bit hoarse, but this is extreme, even for you.

Once again, Crowley draws your attention with a dramatic sigh that reeks of impatience and when you tilt your head you catch the tail end of his eye roll.

"You. Me. Howling at the moon. Ringing any bells?" In an undertone you know that your human ears should not be able to hear he says, "Simpleminded as ever... Guess we'll have to work on that."

You want to respond to the barb but his previous words did ring a bell and suddenly your ears are full of an impassioned speech given at the side of your death bed by none other than the King of Hell himself.

"Your brother, bless his soul, is summoning me, as I speak. Make a deal. Bring you back. It's exactly what I was talking about, isn't it? It's all become so…expected. You have to believe me. When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know that this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental. But…there is one story about Cain that I might have…forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death rather than become the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the Blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me…no it wasn't truly until you left that cheeseburger uneaten, that I began to let myself believe maybe miracles do come true. Listen to me, Dean Winchester. What you're feeling right now — it's not death. It's life — a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

It all clicks into place and you know now that you are the embodiment of all you and Sam used to hunt.

You spring from the bed in the the blink of an eye causing the aforementioned King of Hell to scamper out of your way in what seems suspiciously like alarm. Maybe you'll be able to take advantage of that later but for now you have a burning desire to verify that you are what you're sure you've become.

In three giant strides you're in front of your mirror. You close your eyelids not sure that this isn't that same nightmare that plagued you after you'd sold your soul all those years ago for Sam.

Sam...

Strangely, that doesn't bring on the usual surge of guilt you always feel when you've wronged him. Maybe it's because this time you feel like you actually did right by him. You died for Christ's sake! You did it so that you wouldn't become... This. How were you supposed to know that it wouldn't take?

You're stunned when you realize that this makes you angry since you couldn't bother to feel guilt for leaving your brother. Could it be that you are not the average run-of-the-mill demon? Could it be that you still retain that core need to protect Sam from anything and everything that threatens him?

Cain killed his own brother so that he wouldn't be corrupted by Lucifer and then he turned into a demon. But not just any demon. He'd been human. He was turned but not by selling his soul and being tortured into it. He'd done horrible things but then he'd met Colette and for her love he promised to stop killing. And he had, until she was taken. To save her, he went on a killing spree to eradicate all the Knights. He almost succeeded until he found Abbadon... in possession of Colette's body. In trying to kill the demon within, he instead killed the woman he loved as Abbadon fled. Before she died, however, Colette made Cain swear to stop. So he did. He walked away.

Perhaps you can too.

You look down at the first blade in your hand. Its pull is still as alluring as ever but you want to put it down so that you can give your full attention to your reflection. After all, there will plenty of time to play with the blade later if this all pans out the way you're sure it will.

You force yourself to relinquish your hold on the damned weapon and gradually lift your eyes, more apprehensive at your own reaction to what you'll see than you are at what you already know to be true.

Sure enough, eyes black as a bottomless pit stare back at you. You turn your head left and right as if that will make the endless night in your eyes seem like nothing more than shadows, but it doesn't.

The smile that graces your lips surprises you by how much it doesn't actually surprise you.

Another thing that surprises you is that you don't just burst into flames right on the spot from having turned into the thing you despised all your human life. You the one who was once protected by angels. You, the one who had been the vessel of the most powerful archangel there was. You, the righteous man.

All that is done now, wiped away like chalk from a chalkboard when you took on the Mark Of Cain.

It's a heady feeling knowing that you're finally free in a way you never have been before. Your shoulders feel marvelously devoid of the weight you used to carry around as if it was your birth right, which in a way, it was. But no more. No more responsibilities. No more guilt over lives not saved. You deserve a break. Let the world take care of itself for a change. You're no longer Atlas keeping the sky and the Earth from meeting. Someone else can shoulder that burden while you work the kinks out of yours.

You focus on your reflection again and rub your hand over the wounds that Metatron inflicted.

Metatron. You owe him pain but for now, it'll keep. You have other business to attend to right now.

Like fixing your face. You wonder if you're capable of healing yet.

You close your eyes and concentrate on knitting the broken skin together. When you finally lift your eyelids again, first one, then the other, you smile at your now perfect reflection. That wasn't nearly as hard as you thought it would be.

You catch Crowley's approving smirk and frown momentarily, remembering his wake up speech. You might just owe him a beat down but you don't want to get ahead of yourself because you unfortunately need him to show you some tricks from the 'How To Be a Demon' handbook. That's okay. It's not the first time you've used him as a means to an end, it won't be the last. Unless you kill him that is.

You grin inwardly at the thought of being the one to bring about the King's demise despite not being able to do it right this minute. No matter. You'll bide your time and then when you're proficient at all things evil, you'll take care of him then.

You smile back at his reflection in the mirror.

Getting back to business, you concentrate on the gaping hole in your chest and it too heals. It takes a little more time but you're ecstatic that it doesn't sap your seemingly boundless energy.

Now you're ready to go out and test your demon mettle for however long it may last.

You're not stupid. You know Sam will try (and possibly succeed) at finding a way to reverse this situation. You might even root him on, though it's unlikely.

Yeah, definitely unlikely, because going back means pain, and guilt, and compassion; all those pesky emotions that are currently buried under thick layers of I-feel-good-now, I-don't-give-a-single-fuck, and Let-the-world-burn-because-what's-the world-ever-done-for-me? If Sam is triumphant, you know there's the very real possibility that when he gets you back, you'll never be the same. You'll be changed to the very core of your being.

You shrug, because it is what it is. You may as well enjoy burning out of control now, because when you rise out of the depths of the flames, there will be no more carefree abandon.

You glance back at Crowley who is still wearing that self-satisfied leer, the smarmy dick. He is what he's always been but he can give you what you need in this moment.

"Sure. Why the hell not." You respond to his earlier invitation.

Crowley understands, taking your answer for the yes it is and counters with, "Why the hell not, indeed."

He comes over and places a guiding hand on your shoulder, after all you are new to all this demon stuff, and you both disappear.

A/N: This popped into my head when I was listening to the Incubus song, "Pardon Me." It reminds me of Dean quite a bit. If you enjoyed this, feel free to leave a review. Thanks for reading.