Lambs for Slaughter

Chapter 3

The moment the adrenaline from his fight with the hellhound drained from his veins, the call of the First Blade hit him harder than it had since Sam and Cas turned him back into a human.

He let out a sharp cry and grit his teeth against the pain, the bloodlust, fighting every instinct in his body to crash down onto his knees.

"Dean!"

The sound of his brother's voice tore Dean from his downward spiral, and he let Sam pull him along by the elbow, his grip tighter than probably necessary. "We're going to get the hell out of here, and then you're going to explain what the fuck just happened!"

Dean barely managed to roll his eyes before he was being shoved into the front seat of the Impala, wondering how they got there so fast. He blurred in and out of consciousness in an attempt to fight off the trembling in his arm. Fuck. His body was calling, begging really, for the blade without his permission, so Dean sucked in long, deep breaths to force himself back under control.

Before he knew it, Sam was throwing him onto his creaky bed back at the motel.

"Dean? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

He opened his eyes again to find that his vision had cleared. Thank God. "I'm good, Sammy. You know the Mark protects me," Dean managed to choke out, his voice rough.

His brother let out a relieved breath before turning a frantic glare on him. "Good. Now explain what just happened!"

"And why you did not let Sam dispose of the hellhound in your place."

Dean jumped in surprise and spun around to find Cas sitting on the edge of Sam's bed. "Shit, man. Bells, I'm telling you. It's time to invest."

"Dean!"

"I'm fine," Dean insisted, frustrated now. His body was calmer and sure, there was an underlying shooting pain that had his hand flexing, but he could handle it. "Sam was too far away." He turned to match his brother's glare. "You wouldn't have gotten there in time to stop the hellhound from killing those agents."

"I was right behind you! I could have handled it!" Sam argued hotly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I wasn't about to take that chance. I was there and I saved him. Them." He corrected quickly. "What did you want me to do?"

"How about not do something that could potentially get you killed? Or have you fall under the effects of the First Blade? Again!"

A wave of shame rolled over him as he shrank back against Cas' words. He hated making the two of them worry about him. It wasn't like Dean didn't know that he put everything at risk when he killed the hellhound. He didn't want to feel the Mark again, and he sure as fuck didn't want to be a demon again, but...

"I had to protect them," he insisted, knowing he did the right thing.

Cas and Sam exchanged a glance. His brother raised an aggressive eyebrow at Dean. "That's another thing. Did you know one of the feds? It sounded like you said, "Hotch.""

And that was the end of Dean's willingness to share. He'd never told anyone about Hotch, and he sure as fuck wasn't about to start now. He stubbornly kept his mouth shut as Sam pressed, looking at a point over his brother's shoulder.

Both he and Sam looked up when Cas pushed to his feet, staring at Dean with a crease between his brows. "Fine. If you will not explain, I shall seek out my own answers."

Alarm bells started ringing in Dean's head, but before he could call out to Cas, the angel disappeared in a flurry, whipping a slight breeze through the motel room.