Supernatural High [Destiel and Sabriel High School AU]

Chapter 42

Dean's arm stung a bit, but overall it wasn't bad. His mind replayed the image of Cas with glowing, blue eyes smiting the soul that had grabbed onto Dean. He had looked like a true warrior of God in that moment, not like the nerdy, adorable Cas he'd come to know and love. In that moment, he was Castiel—black wings billowing behind him. The whole incident reminded Dean that Cas, while he might have been in a teenager's vessel, was millions of years old, and a force to be reckoned with. And he was hot.

Life had been hard on Dean Winchester the past few weeks. Hell, hard was an understatement. If it hadn't been for Cas, Sam, and Bobby, Dean doubted he would have made it. They were the rock he clung to when the ocean came crashing down, pummeling him, and threatening to pull him out to sea. He still hurt inside—he didn't know if that would ever go away—but at least he now had something to distract himself with: Lilith. That bitch would die—whether it be by his hand or someone else's. Dean would make sure of it. There was no way he was ever going to stop until Lilith was dead and all those evil sons of bitches that ever hurt him or his father or his brother were dead.

I'm starting to sound like Dad, Dean thought ruefully. The mighty John Winchester—slain by the demon he'd been trying to hunt. A fitting death, sure. He went out with a bang, no pun intended. He died fighting. That's what people talk about when someone young dies. They were brave. They went out fighting. They don't talk about how terrifying it must have been for them in their last moments, right before they were killed. They don't talk about how most of the time they piss themselves. That's what Dean thought about—what went through his father's head before he died; how scared he must have been. John Winchester died alone and probably scared and confused in an explosion. That's what happened to him.

But Dean was going to fix it. He was going to avenge his dad so John could rest in peace.

They finally, after what seemed like an eternity, got to the room that Crowley had mentioned. The door was some kind of heavy metal that shimmered in the faint light that there was. It creaked loudly and scraped across the stone floor as it opened. Inside, there was a large, wooden pentagram standing upright. It towered high, even above Dean's head, almost reaching the vaulted ceiling. A man was strapped to the pentagram, his arms and legs stretched outward towards the star's points. The pentagram itself was located in the middle of a devil's trap that was painted on the floor.

Next to the devil's trap was another man—tall, and kind of scrawny-looking. He had short, light brown hair that was thinning along his forehead, and the rough, scraggly beginnings of a beard. He smiled at the little group as they entered, and Dean didn't miss the hunger in his eyes. There was a darkness in them that made even Crowley shudder a little bit. "Hello, Alastair," the Scotsman greeted. "Everyone, this is Alastair, Hell's Master Torturer."

Alastair walked over to a table where various weapons were laid out—demon-killing knives, salt, holy water, even a few angel blades. "I can't go into our little circle there because of the devil's trap," the torturer explained. "Which is why I need some assistance, if anyone is willing."

Dean's eyes flicked over to the demon who was strapped to the pentagram. His eyes were pitch black, and his lips were curled in a snarl as he overlooked the newcomers. "I'll do it," he volunteered, stepping forward. He felt Cas stiffen beside him, but the angel did not outwardly object.

"Ahhh," Alastair practically purred, stepping toward Dean. "So the human wants to get himself wet, does he?"

As Dean stepped toward the weapon table, a hand latched onto his wrist. He spun around to be face-to-face with Cas's cerulean eyes. "Dean," the angel plead. "Please..." he looked like he wanted to say more, but the words simply wouldn't come.

The human avoided his gaze, looking at the ground. "I'm sorry, Cas." He pulled out of Cas's grip and went over to the table. Choosing a knife, he stepped into the devil's trap. The demon's black, soulless eyes glared at him in the dim light. "Where is Lilith?"

When the demon didn't respond, Dean pressed the knife's blade to his cheek. "You know what this is?" he asked in a low, growly voice. "This is a demon-killing blade, which means its gonna hurt like hell when I start cutting into you. Now, I'll ask you again, where is the bitch?"

"Fuck you," the demon snarled. He strained against his iron chains, making the large pentagram rattle.

Dean's jaw went taught as he pressed the knife's edge into his skin. Blood began to run from the wound, dripping down onto the demon's clothes. In that moment, Dean couldn't even bring himself to be horrified by the fact that he enjoyed the way it screamed. It was so... satisfying to hear the monster—like the one who had killed his mother and father—suffer.

The torture went on for ages. Dean took his turn, asking different questions, sometimes the others helping. Then, Dean felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Cas. Instead, it was Lucifer. The devil's amber eyes held an undeterminable expression. "Why don't you let me take over, Dean?" It was the first time Lucifer had ever called Dean by his real named and not "human" or "Winchester." That was when Dean realized he was almost completely covered in blood. The demon he'd been interrogating was cut up badly, but slowly healing. Dean, his shoulders heaving with each breath, looked at his group of companions. The vampire was stone-faced and watching Lucifer instead. Crowley and Cas were both staring at Dean. Crowley's expression was almost appraising, but also wary. Cas looked haunted and horrified all at once. Nevertheless, Dean's angel—ever faithful and supportive—reached out for the human.

"Dean," Cas murmured, taking a step toward him.

With a shaky breath, Dean dropped the knife and almost staggered toward Cas. The angel caught him before he could fall, wrapping the hunter in an embrace. Cas pulled away a bit so he could look the human in the eyes. "Dean," he breathed. The blood disappeared and Dean was left trembling slightly.

The torture continued, this time with Lucifer and his vampire taking control. It wasn't long until, to everyone's surprise, it was the vampire who broke him. "I don't know where Lilith is!" he gasped. "But I know she's not far... She has... spies... in the school... in... everywhere... Close to... you..."

Dean saw Lucifer straighten up. His eyes narrowed as he pulled out his own angel blade. "Thank you for your service," he said hollowly, plunging the blade into the demon's neck. Its eyes lit up the color of flames, and its body convulsed before slumping against the pentagram. Lucifer pulled out his blade and tucked it away in his jacket.

"The hell you do that for?" Crowley hissed. "There was more he could tell us!"

"No, he said enough," the devil replied. "I could see it, that was all we would get out of him. And I think I know two of those spies he spoke of."

Dean's brow furrowed as he thought of who that could be, then he realized. "Meg and that one demon that kept talking to Sam—Ruby."