Destiel One-Shots

You're Still Beautiful (Post-S9 Finale)

Dean was sick and tired of dying. And not just dying, more like not staying dead. He'd lost count of how many times that had happened by now.

There wasn't much point in coming back now, he figured. He'd failed. He fucked up killing Metatron, Cas was captured and stuck in heaven, and Sam was much better off without him. Hell, Dean had been the cause of most of their troubles ever since the trials. It would be so much easier if he could just die for good.

He could vaguely hear a British voice from somewhere, but he couldn't make out the words. Dean elected to ignore it, trying instead to figure out what felt so different. It wasn't the same as when he'd died and come back to life before. He felt stronger, much stronger. And there was seething anger that he wasn't quite sure about. Yeah, he was freaking pissed about this entire situation, but he knew that that wasn't what it was about.

"Open your eyes." The voice suddenly became clear, and Dean identified it as Crowley's. Son of a bitch. Sam had made a deal, hadn't he. Dean was briefly entertained by the image of his brother sealing the deal with the King of Hell, but it was fleeting. He opened his eyes.

"Welcome back," Crowley said drily, looking at Dean with a bored expression. "And before you ask, no, it wasn't Sam. Bloody idiot is going to try, but you're not gonna let him." Dean nodded briefly, but a confused expression soon clouded his face.

"So if it wasn't Sammy, then what brought me back?" His eyes drifted down to his chest, where he was grasping the First Blade. Dean looked up at Crowley and almost didn't want to ask the question burning in the back of his mind. "It was the Blade, wasn't it."

"Bingo," the demon said. "The Mark, combined with the blade, gave you some regeneration powers if you will. You might want to do something about that before you talk to Moose." Crowley gestured vaguely at his eyes. Dean didn't quite understand. What was wrong with-

Oh.

The mirror hanging across the wall answered that question pretty quickly.

Dean saw himself, just like he normally did, but the normal green of his eyes, the whole things even, were black as coal. His heart jumped. "This has to be an trick!" He looked at Crowley angrily. "Cut it out right the fuck now and let me see my brother," he growled. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. The Blade and the Mark. The anger. The power. Those coupled with the eyes made the situation pretty clear.

They had turned Dean into a fucking demon.

He was briefly reminded of a time years ago, confronted with a mirror image of himself. Frighteningly, Dean could see more of his current self in the demon illusion than in past him. Angry. Black eyed. Bloodstained.

A monster.

That's all he was now. A monster. There was no denying it.

What the fuck was he supposed to tell Sam? He doubted that this situation would go over well with his brother. "Oh hey, sorry about that, I'm not dead! I'm just a demon now, no big deal." Yeah, no. He'd be lucky not to be ganked on the spot.

"Whenever you're ready." Dean had no patience for Crowley right then. Without looking away from the mirror he flipped off the King of Hell and, with intense concentration, focused on getting his eyes to go back to normal. It took a good 3 minutes, but when the ebony was only in the pupil he decided it was good enough. Shit, how was he going to explain this to Sam?

The simplest thing, he figured, would be to not. Cautiously he took his first few steps out of his room, assuming he'd find Sam where Dean had summoned Crowley earlier. His guess was correct, at least partly. Sam looked more pathetic than Dean had ever seen him. He stunk of alcohol, his entire face was red, and his clothes were covered in blood. It took a moment for Dean to realize that it was his own.