Kings of Hell • Crowley x Dean • Castiel x Dean •

• chapter three •

Ten missed calls from Castiel sat in Dean's phone. He was surprised he hasn't thrown his phone away and replaced it in the past couple of months. He'd convinced himself that he'd call Cas eventually. It was digging at him deep inside, something was telling Dean to pick up the phone and return the calls.

The elevator door opened. The hotel he saw in front of him was dark and dead quiet. It was 5:15AM, after all. Dean made his way towards the deserted bar. The clear glossy wood of the bar was bare, his magazine was nowhere in sight.

"Hey there" A woman's voice began

Dean looked up to see a beautiful young brunette in a white dress, she leaned against the wall behind the bar, holding a cloth. She appeared to be a maid of some kind.

Dean gave her a smile, "hey, uh. Did you happen to see any magazine laying around here?"

"No, sorry."

He took a seat at one of the tables, and gazed at the karaoke stage. His eyes fixed on the food that had been thrown at him on stage, when he had performed a couple nights ago.

His blood bubbled inside of him. Crowley had been right, he was getting itchy to kill. Dean felt it all through this body. A wave of hunger he ached to satisfy.

"Hey lady, come here. Someone's left their crap on the floor."

The lady looked alarmed and slowly made her way over.

Dean pointed to the corner of the stage, "Its just over there."

She faced away from him, and kneeled down to scrub the mess off of the floor.

Dean slowly approached her from behind. Blade drawn. Every bone in his body was desperate to pierce her flesh.

It happened fast. Dean jumped on the woman, and jabbed the blade into her. Blood immediately began to spill, as she yelped and slowed to be a motionless corpse. Over and over, he stabbed the blade in and out of her back.

Once she was dead, he meant to stop, but he couldn't help the feeling. It was irreplaceable. Like no other. Even though his mind was telling him to leave the dead woman alone, his body continued stabbing. And it felt wonderful. It was something he wish he didn't enjoy.

Her once pure white dress, without a single stain, had become dark red in the pool of blood beneath her.

Dean examined the now silent room. He hid the first blade in his maroon jacket, and took careful steps out of the hotel. The police would be there as soon as someone saw the body. He intended to be as far away from the hotel as possible when that was happening.

He felt refreshed. New blood ran through his veins. Dean's hunger to kill had been satisfied.

A thought arose in Dean's fresh mind.

Cas.

He opened his phone to the missed calls page, and scrolled through to see how much time had passed.

Dean's finger hovered over the button. It was tempting.

Maybe he would just call to tell him he was done. No going back. This was who he was now. He wouldn't return to a hunter's life. He wouldn't return to being human. Because he couldn't

But there was something in Dean that wanted to fight for a life with his brother and Castiel.

He shook his head and turned off his phone. Maybe it wasn't worth calling after all.