Broken Apart (Dean Winchester x Reader)

The Mark's Control

Your heart in your chest, you focused on Dean. You noticed immediately the blood covering his shirt and face, knowing he had been successful in part of his revenge. But the main person he was after was here, and you knew nothing, not even you, would get in his way of extracting it.

"Dean-O, I wasn't sure you would be able to make it. I thought we were going to have fun without you." Eldon said, coming to stand behind you, holding the knife to your neck. Dean didn't even more, or seemed phased by the fact that you could die at any second.

"Well, I've already had my fun. Probably wasn't that great for your family." Dean hinted at, and you felt the knife tighten against your neck even farther, nicking the skin as Dean's words sunk in.

"What did you do?" He asked Dean, his voice deepening with anger, and a little bit of fear.

"You killed my family, I just returned the favor." Dean answered calmly, taking a step forward.

"You mean that red haired girl? Wasn't her name Claire or something?" He goaded Dean, and you watched him tense.

"Eldon, let's go." Cyrus pleaded, but Eldon shook it off.

"We aren't done yet." He argued.

Dean took another step forward. "Let her go, and I will let you die quickly." He said, his eyes dark with blood lust. 

You couldn't see what Eldon did behind you, but you felt him draw the blade across your neck drawing more blood before placing the tip of the knife against your chest, digging just the tip in, earning a moan from you. "I don't think so. I think I will kill you, then take her back home with me."

Before you could even blink, Dean had his gun out, and was pressing the trigger, a bullet zipping past your head. You felt the knife slide up your body, slicing through your shirt, barely nicking your skin, before slicing more deeply into your shoulder. As you fought the pain, you heard the thud as Eldon fell lifeless to the floor. Taking deep, gulping breaths, you peered up at Dean, seeing his gun still in his hands, his eyes glassy but void of the usual life you saw in them.

"Dean, untie me." You begged, but his eyes trained on movement behind you, and you knew he was now focused on Cyrus. You felt bad for the boy, he had shown nothing but remorse at being in the bunker, and you had a feeling he wanted nothing to do with his families business.

"Please, sir, let me go. I won't do anything, I promise." Cyrus begged from behind you.

"You're a part of their family. You need to die." Dean said, only seeing in black and white.

"Dean, please. He was a pawn. Let him go." You pleaded, but before you could beg anymore Dean pressed the trigger again, shooting down the helpless boy. You sobbed in your chair, heartbroken over the life that he never lived.

"I had to. He was a part of their family." Dean repeated, just as another figure came into the room. You recognized the familiar trench coat instantly, and you relaxed a little bit, knowing you had an ally. 

"Dean, what did you do?" Cas asked, walking past him, staring down sadly at the lifeless body of Cyrus.

"What needed to be done. Why are you here Cas?" Dean asked, never moving from his spot, except for putting his gun away.

Cas pulled out his angel blade, cutting you free from the rope, supporting you as you attempted to stand up, the wound in your thigh screaming under the pressure. You shook your head, and you sat back down, taking a moment to catch your breath. 

Cas placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder  before moving to stand in front of Dean. "Dean, we need to talk." He told him, but Dean moved to shove past him. Cas placed a hand on Dean, trying to stop him, and you stood up, hobbling over to where they were standing.

"Dean, please stay. Let's talk about this, work things out." You pleaded, and he turned on you, his eyes full of disgust. 

"Let's talk? Let's talk about you going behind my back. Let's talk about you and my brother getting Charlie killed." He growled, and when you limped forward, he swung his arm out, his hand connecting with your cheek. With your sore leg you couldn't hold yourself up, and you fell to the ground, moaning as you slammed into the floor.

"Dean." Cas threatened, and Dean turned on him.

"What Cas? You know what? Just leave me alone." Dean ordered, shoving Cas out of the way, but he bounced back as you slowly came back to your feet, your leg throbbing. 

"No Dean, we care about you. We want to help you." You told him which seemed to infuriate him even more.

"I don't need your help!" He roared, flinging his fist back, letting it fly at you, smashing into your already bloody shoulder. The force of his punch threw you back, your lower back smashing into the edge of the table, and you cried out at the pain.

"Dean, leave her alone. She loves you, and is trying to help you. She doesn't deserve your anger." Cas told Dean, pulling him to face him.

Dean chuckled, a sound that was deep and sounded nothing like your Dean. "She deserves everything. She's always been a pain in my side, causing so much trouble. I wish I had never rescued her from Crowley. Or better yet, I wish I had never seen her at that club." He said, and you felt as if a knife was plunged into your heart, twisting as he spat each words.

"Dean, you don't mean that. It's the Mark talking." Cas said, giving you a glance, and you could tell his words were more for you than for Dean.

"Does it matter anymore?" Dean asked, before throwing a punch at Cas. You could only lay there and watch as Dean pummeled Cas. Hit after hit, he threw at Cas, and Cas took it, his face turning bloody and broken, but still he wouldn't fight back. 

Needing to help your friend, you stumbled back to your feet, your movements slipping in the blood that had pooled on the ground. Grabbing the nearest thing you could find, you held the metal statue over your head, ready to clobber Dean in the head with it, to get his attention away from Cas. But the statue was heavy, and you were weak, and instead of hitting his head, it bounced off of his shoulder, annoying him more than anything. 

"You guys don't get it, do you. I don't care if you live or not. You mean nothing to me." Dean growled, swiping his hand backwards at you, connecting with your cheek. With how unstable you were, you lost your balance quickly, falling backwards, and the last thing you felt before blackness overtook you was the sharp pain of the back of your head connecting with something hard, and sharp.