Onyx eyes

---

Onyx. That was the only word for it. Not black. Dean's eyes were onyx; because even when he was this twisted and mangled version of himself, you still couldn't fathom ugly or plain words to go along with him. He'd never been either of those things to you. But he was scaring you now.

You watched from the corner of the dungeon, leaning into the corner of the room and trying to make yourself as small as possible as you watched Sam inject another vial of blood into Dean's arm. He writhed against it, yelling and gasping for air as if it were poison; you supposed it was to him.

"You just going to stand there and watch all night? Hmm? Don't want a piece of the action?" he taunted, turning his full gaze on you when he'd recovered his senses.

You stared back, jaw clenched tight, and remained silent.

"Y/N, you don't have to be here for this," Sam said from the table where he was wrapping up the remaining vials. You were getting close to the end.

"Yeah, Y/N, you don't have to be here for this," Dean added, voice mocking. You walked to Sam, keeping your back to Dean and stood on your toes, pulling him toward you.

"Can you give us a minute?" you asked quietly. He pulled back to look at you, brow furrowed. "I'll be fine. You can wait right outside. I just...I think Dean's still in there, Sam. I really do."

"Oh, he is," Dean called from behind you. "Because it's just me in here. There's no one else. You two are having a really hard time accepting that, aren't you?"

"Please, Sam," you said, turning back to him. He sighed, looking behind you to his brother.

"Things go sideways, you call for me," he said. You nodded once and watched as he took his leave, pulling the heavy door shut behind him, and finally you turned to face Dean.

"Alone at last," he grinned at you.

"Dean?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" he replied. You pulled in a deep breath, steeling yourself against his mockery.

"There's part of you in there that's still you. The old you. You've fought against things like this before, all kinds of darkness."

"Well, that's true. But that was when I didn't want it. Now I do," he shrugged casually. You walked to the small table for a moment, before stalking around him slowly, watching him. It was hard to look at; the smirk on this man's face with whom you'd shared a bed and everything else in your life implicitly until a few months ago when you'd presumed him gone.

"You don't want this. Not really," you said.

"I don't, do I? And why wouldn't I? Please enlighten me. What wonders am I missing out on? Really."

"Love," you replied immediately, to which he started laughing.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That's sweet, it really is. Love," he said, mocking your tone. "Were you this doe-eyed when we were together? I don't remember this amount of sap coming from you." He shook his head, still smiling.

You came to stand in front of him again and closed the distance between you, planting yourself in his lap. That seemed to surprise him at least, and anything that wiped the smirk off his face was progress to you.

You searched his eyes, looking for some trace of your Dean within them and came up empty.

"You can do better than this," he said. "You're saying I'm the one who's changed but look at you, trying to use the power of love on a friggin' knight of hell. When has that ever worked out for you?"

"You've always been a stubborn pain in the ass, Dean," you said. "And it's always been my job to get you back on track. This is no different."

"Get me back on track?" he asked incredulously. "Knight. Of. Hell. There is no getting back on track from that. This is the end of the line."

Without letting him get another word in, you grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pulled him toward you, pressing your lips against his firmly. It was just an instant and he resisted at first, but then he began moving his lips with yours the way he used to; gently, sweetly. You clamped your eyes shut tight, aching for the man he used to be, and pulled away with a silent tear tracked down your cheek.

"Y/N?" he asked, and his voice was quiet, his eyes soft as they looked back at you. You nodded, cupping his cheek, hardly daring to believe that some microscopic part of him had broken through. He leaned forward, bound as he was, and you met him halfway, lips on lips again.

This time was different. His lips were more insistent, prying your own apart and his tongue was hot in your mouth, burning a trail of fire behind it. You tried to pull away from him but he bit down fast on your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and cause you to cry out in surprise. He released you with a wicked smile and you felt the blood run down your chin.

His eyes were black this time when you looked at him; that same grin returned.

"I was screwing with you," he said. "True love's kiss? I'm actually kind of disappointed in you. That crap's not going to work."

"Maybe not," you replied, leaning close to him again, brushing your lips against his ear. "But you kissed me back. So Dean-my Dean-is still in there." You pressed a kiss, feather-light to his neck, leaving your lips printed in blood from his bite, before plunging the vial you'd snuck into his throat right between the mark you'd left.

You stood quickly from his lap as he writhed in pain again; it looked like agony and you trembled as you watched. But his yelling turned into laughter after a moment as he rose his head to stare you down again.

"I always loved your eyes the best," he said. "I never told you that. Maybe I'll pluck those out first, just scoop them right from that pretty face-keep them as a souvenir when I find you later. And sweetheart? I will find you later." He continued grinning at you as you turned, tossing the empty vial onto the table, and pulling the doors open to leave.

Sam had been sitting outside, leaning on the wall and waiting for you, and he stood immediately when you exited. You brushed past him, holding a hand to your bloody lip.

"That's not Dean," you muttered, and continued without looking back to the room you'd once shared, shutting the door behind you.