Chapter Text
Dean had known, somewhere, that it would end like this. Bleeding out in a dark alley, a rotting warehouse, an empty field. He had known he was destined to die alone, as the curse of the hunter often was. It just sucked that no one would know what happened to him. He would leave this plane, but his body would not, stuck here until someone came across it or nature fully claimed it.
With bloody hands, he shakily dialed his father"s number one last time. With a wet cough, he waited until the voice mail tone beeped and left his message. He had thought often what his dying words would be, but never thought he would have to prepare them so soon.
"Hey dad...it"s me. I, uh, am sorry to be blowing up your phone like this, but it"d important. Call me, okay?"
Dean hit the end button, and let out another wet sounding cough. He only had a few more minutes, so it was pointless to call for help now. He looked at the monster on the floor, rotting away, and he knew he would soon be joining it. He pulled up one last call, and hoped (prayed) Bobby answered.
The phone rang, and Dean prepared himself to leave another voicemail when a gruff "What?" was spoken into the phone.
"Bobby?" he whispered. "Are you there?"
"Dean?" Bobby asked him. "Why did you call?"
Dean took a shuddering breath. The wound he had sustained was still bleeding sluggishly and he didn"t have much time left, minutes at most. He had to make this quick. "Are you-"
Before he could get it out, Bobby let out an impatient sigh. "Dean, listen, can I call you back? I"m in the middle of an important time sensitive translation with another hunter on the other line. Is this important?"
Dean felt his hope shatter. He closed in on himself, and ignored the way his eyes watered. He swallowed the bile threatening to rise, choked back the blood that was rising, and took a deep shaky breath. "It"s fine. Don’t worry about calling back."
"Alright boy, call me another time and we can chat." After that, Bobby hung up.
Dean wanted to laugh, if he was able to. He didn"t bother calling Sam. That ship had sailed months ago, when Sam "politely" asked him to stop calling. Sam didn"t even pick up after that. Dean didn"t want to waste his energy, what little he had left. He knew he wasn"t going be found for a long time, if ever, in this secluded warehouse. It ws fitting he would die as he lived: alone, ignored, and unloved.
He took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, they didn"t open.
When he woke up, it was dark. Darker than he remembered. He looked around, and found himself in a room. He was chained to the table, and couldn"t sit up. A man he had never seen entered the room.
"Now what do we have here?” The man asked. “A new soul, just for me? And my oh my, a special one indeed." He caressed Dean"s cheek in a mockery of softness. Dean squirmed away.
The man next to the other one scowled. He had dark skin, and a perpetual frown."You know your mission. See to it it is complete. We are much ahead of schedule, so make it count."
The man"s eye glinted with malicious intent. Dean did not like what it forbade. "Oh feathers, don"t you worry, I will make this opportunity count."
The dark skinned man scowled even harder. "Do not refer to me as "feathers" you swine. Break him, or I break you."
"Uriel, so serious." The man teased. "It will be done, don"t worry. Now scurry along why don"t you? Deanie and I have to make ourselves acquainted."
The man looked disgusted to follow the order, but turned around and disappeared. Right before Dean"s eyes.
What?
The man from before looked delighted.He lifted deans chin up with his finger, forcing dean to look into his eyes. The contained nothing but gleeful amusement, like he count wait to take Dean apart.
"Now, where should we begin?"
The years blended in to each other. He could barely remember his own name. The only reason he remembered it was because Alastair (he had learned the man"s name awhile ago) said it a lot. Another cut was sliced into his skin, and he cried out in pain. He had long since stopped trying to muffle his cries of pain. Alastair would hurt him even more if he did, and he didn"t have the energy to try and hold it in.
"I gotta say there, Dean-o, you"re more resilient than most. It"s been how many years now? At least a century. Maybe two? And you"re still holding out. What a strength of character. If you just said yes, all this pain would go away. It"s so easy. One little word, and you"re free." Alastair cut into his side, a deeper cut than the last one.
"No." Dean forced out. "Never."
"Not even if you have nothing left to hold out for?" Alastair"s black eyes bored into him. "You know, I was up top recently, getting a good blood bath, and I heard the darnedest thing!" Dean said nothing, just pursed his lips. "What was it, you ask?" Dean scowled at him. He knew Alastair would tell him either way. "No one even knows about your death. I went to the spot where you bit it, and wouldn"t you know, it was still there, badly decomposing."
Dean frowned, his muddled mind trying to make sense of what Alastair was saying. "Huh?"
"Let me dumb it down for your pea sized brain." Alastair smiled. "No one was looking for you."
Dean"s heart would have stopped if he was still alive. "What?"
"Your daddy? Your Brother? Bobby Singer?" As Alastair listed the names, Dean felt fear creeping up. "None of them even know you died, much less are looking for you. All too busy for you."
"I don"t believe you." Dean said, forcing the words passed his lips. "You"re lying."
"Why would I lie when the truth hurts so much worse?" Alastair grinned. "Your family doesn"t care about you. In fact, I wouldn"t be surprised if they ever did." Alastair looked at him critically, then a malicious smile spread across his lips. "In fact, let me show you what I saw."
Dean was in a dinner, casually enjoying his coffee. While it wasn"t horrible, he was in the diner for one reason: John Winchester. Alastair was curious about whether or not anyone had noticed his new favorite playthings disappearance, and figured this would be a great way to break him. Alastair sat across from him and smiled.
"John is walking in right now. Listen close to his conversation, there will be a test after this." His wicked smile was the last thing Dean saw before he turned his attention onto his father.
"No Singer, I haven"t heard from him. He blew up my phone a while back, but I figured it was for something stupid, like usual." Joh. said, taking a seat. "Dean always did need help on hunts, unlike Sam. Kid was a natural, and it"s a shame he abandoned us." Dean felt the hurt lance through him. His dad had purposefully not answered? "Left me some voice message, but never called me back, so I figured it wasn"t serious. Besides, he"s been on his own for a year now, so he"ll be fine."
"Are you sure?" Bobby asked "He seemed pretty scared on the phone when he called me."
"I"m sorry he wasted your time with his little meltdown. He always does this." John shook his head. "I"m not worried about him, and you shouldn"t be either. I"m sure he"s fine."
"I don"t know John, we haven"t heard from him in months." came Bobby"s response.
"You remember that job in Ohio? He probably found another pretty face and got ensnared. He"s a sucker for a pretty face you know. Turns all mushy." John laughed, but it was far from kind. "Told some girl one time, and she slapped him across the face before dumping him. Serves him right though, he broke the golden rule. Not to mention, he messes up on hunts a lot, always needing someone to come to the rescue. He needs to learn how to survive on his own."
"The golden rule being ‘treat others how you want to be treated’?” Came Bobby"s sarcastic remark.
"Never tell civilians about hunting." John said, rolling his eyes. "But he always was a bit slow."
He heard Bobby laugh. Anger filled Dean. These were the people who were supposed to care about him. Worry about him. And what? They didn’t care about his months long disaapearnece? They laughed at one his biggest heartbreaks to date? Made fun of everything he did?
"I guess you"re right." Bobby said. "The pretty face getting to him does sound like Dean. If he doesn’t show up soon, I"m sure he will at some point."
"Exactly." John said. "Dean needs to learn the world doesn"t revolve around him."
"One of the hardest lessons to learn, I’m sure." Bobby remarked. "Well, sorry for wasting your time. I gotta get back to this translation. Call me if you need anything."
As the phone call ended, John punched in a familiar number. Dean"s number. It went straight to voicemail, because of course it did. The phone had been dead for months, but he paid for it by minute, and he still had a lot of minutes left when he bit it.
John lifted th phone to his ear. "Dean, when I call I expect you to answer."
"That"s rich."" Dean thought.
John continued, "Don’t be calling Bobby for things you can take care of yourself. I get you have issues with hunting, but don"t lay them down at other"s peoples feet. It’s time you pick up after yourself, and stop relying on others to help. You"re a grown adult Dean,. I shouldn"t have to tell you this, it"s embarrassing. Sam never had this issue, so why do you? Straighten up yourself or I will have to do it. And trust me, you will not like what I have to say on this matter." John flips the phone shut, ending the call. He sighs, rubs his forehead, and mutters, "He"s going to give me an ulcer one of these days with how incompetent he can be."
The illusion dissolved as he was pushed back to the present.
"See, told you." Alastair smirked, twirling the knife. "Doesn"t know, doesn"t care."
“And how can I believe that was a true vision. You like manipulation." Dean says, glaring at him. "It wouldn"t be the first time you tricked me."
"That"s where you"re wrong." Alastair says, teeth bared in a facsimile of a smile. "I love manipulation, and I am very good at it. I don"t need to fake anything. That was taken straight from the brain of the man I was possessing at the time."
Dean looked him, and thought back to the scene. At this point, he was tired. He didn"t know how much longer he could continue like this. He was tired of being hurt physically and mentally all day every day.
He just wanted it all to stop.
"So what do you say, Dean?" Alastair said, holding the knife in front of him. "Wanna be taken off the Rack? All you have to do is say that one little word."
He didn"t even think twice. After what he had be shown, even if it was fake, very well could have happened. It seemed like something his father would do and say. So he took a deep breath and let out a smile spread slowly across his face. He looked Alastair in the eyes, and said the one word he wanted to hear. Alastair"s malicious grin widened even more when he heard Dean"s answer.
"Yes."