Watched On the Head of a Pin last night, got to thinking about Dean's relationship to Alastair, and what his choices brought...please review.

I hate him.

God, but I hate him.

I close my eyes and see his face, that gloating, sneering face.

John Waters meets Marlon Brando, my God.

And even as I hear his smooth voice, smooth like ugly silk, I know.

I know that beneath everything, he's telling the truth.

He knows me.

He knows what I'm capable of.

He knows because he taught me.

My Teacher in Torture.

My Mentor in Murder.

Maybe I was touched by an angel, marked by one, at that, but I'm still a product of hell.

I'm a product of the things I learned, the things I did, and all that evil is still inside me.

The Pupil became The Master, and it was hell's spawn perfected.

It was what I was meant for, and I can't escape from it.

The cold glee that snaked up through my body as I did the devil's work still haunts me.

I can still feel that glow.

I feel it like an inferno, and I want to burn everyone.

It is like a well of hate and rage and sorrow, a well that has stored up every hurt since the day I was born.

And when they asked me, my mouth kept saying no, but my body was screaming yes, God, yes.

My heart shut down, my soul took a nap, and I did things to that son of a bitch that I had dreamed of for thirty years plus.

I heard him scream, heard his pain, and I liked it.

I craved it.

It brought me peace.

To see him weak, to see him vulnerable, it gave me hope.

But he wouldn't break.

He wouldn't.

He mocked me, even while I stripped the skin from his flesh with the sting of holy water.

His voice, his words were like worms wriggling into my brain, gnawing at my consciousness, because I knew he was telling the truth.

And no matter what I did to him, no matter how I hurt him, he wouldn't shut up.

He talked about my father.

He talked about My First Time.

He talked about how this whole mess, the end of the world…

He told me it's my fault.

"And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell."

He called me Son, and in a sad way, I was his son.

The New Winchester was born of his tutelage.

It was Me.

Why didn't I say no?

As I break, so shall It break.