WARNING: Spoilers for 10x22 "The Prisoner".

Author's Note: I needed something to help me cope with that last scene in 10x22, and so this happened. There is angst ahead, be warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

The blood of a dozen men decorates his shirt while the blood of a boy rests on his hands.

Dean feels powerful like a derailed train, and the angel he would call his best friend stands in his path.

Castiel does it once, twice…

Strike three.

It's the repeated physical contact that finally gets things going. The arm that pushes Dean back that last time becomes the trigger, and in a motion so swift it could be flowing water Dean dislocates Castiel's shoulder and snaps the arm itself like a toothpick.

They exchange further blows, yet somehow the angel's face is the only one to end up truly bloodied. It swells like a sick balloon, and a distant voice in Dean's mind calls out, "That's not right," even as he slams Castiel onto a table with enough force that he can feel ribs crack.

Dean ignores it because the drums of battle are throbbing in his arm, and the glint of silver has drawn his eye. In an instant he is holding the angel's life in his hand, and the choice to extinguish or preserve it is waiting.

Still waiting...

Then there is a single word. It is a hollow plea whispered with such resignation that Dean hears the voice in his head again; the one that tells him how wrong the image before him is.

The one he almost wishes were louder now.

"Please."

The angel speaks what could be his last, and Dean stares at the broken face below him while feeling the weight of the blade in his own hand.

Suddenly he remembers an old crypt.

Dean recalls kneeling on a stone floor there, his own face a mess of bruising and blood, and begging Cas to spare his life. The request was not made out of fear, but out of sorrow. Because the horror of dying at the hands of family is just as strong as watching family die, and Dean didn't want to experience it back then…

He stares down at Castiel now.

That voice in his mind is finally loud enough to momentarily drown out the beating of the war drums, so he brings the weapon down hard, watching as it sinks itself into the pages of a book next to Castiel's body.

The blade ends up little more than six inches away from outright murder, and Dean wants to be pleased that it isn't in Castiel's chest, but such a small distance hardly seems worthy of praise.

He came so close to destroying his closest friend, and the reality of that is too much to bear.

Dean finds that he can't keep looking at the evidence of his near-loss, so he turns his back and walks away instead, calling over his shoulder, "Stay away from me or next time I won't miss."

As he speaks those words his voice is filled with a callousness that makes him want to gag.

The statement was intended as an expression of concern, not a threat, yet the phrasing and the detachment in his tone do nothing to demonstrate as much. Dean knows he should turn back and clarify. Or apologize. Or just take that damn angel blade and stab himself with it, just in case it might somehow put an end to the monster he can feel himself becoming instead of speeding the process along…

But the drumbeat in Dean's arm is pounding away once more and his legs are dancing to the tune; dancing him right out of the room toward the solitude he both fears and craves.

He remembers that crypt again, and the way that Castiel dropped his blade that night to save him.

Dean remembers those six inches and wishes he'd never needed them in the first place.

Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I apologize for all the angst here. Then again I don't, because it had to go somewhere after that episode, and this was probably the healthiest option. lol Anyway, if you have a moment please do leave feedback. It's greatly appreciated. Or feel free to just leave me a rant about the pain 10x22 caused you, because we all need to support each other through the end of this season, and I am fully prepared to be a virtual shoulder for you to cry on. ;)