Anything For Dean Winchester

Chapter 1

Pain. Pain is all he feels.
Not the flames that ignite and surround him. Not the intensity of the heat radiating from the flames that make his skin burn with fever. Not the searing ash that falls from above like snow powdering the ground. Pain.
Dean picks up a freshly sharpened blade in his right hand. He dips the blade into a container of holy water large enough to kill hundreds of demons. Dean looks over his shoulder to the white-eyed Demond Alastair.
"What's her name?"
"Every time you ask and every time I tell you it does not matter!"
"It does! What is her name?"
"Why?"
"So I can apologize using her real name."
"One good thing about torture Dean, if it is done correctly there is no one left to apologize to. Now begin."
Alastair waits impatiently. Every second that passes his face loses more expression. Dean's hands start to shake, knowing, yet again, that he will not win. He never knows their names. Probably never will. Taking a step towards the girl in front of him the rest of his body joins his hands in trembling. She is stretched out, nailed on a cross and it is Dean who is burdened with performing her crucifixion. He can tell even in Hell she was a lovely girl. Pale skin that makes her light brown eyes look almost golden. Reminds Dean of wheat fields in Kansas when hit by the summer sun. Long red hair that starts to curl at the ends. Tears running down her freckled face and on to her breasts. Dean takes the blade and runs it down the side of her face leaving a trail of blood flowing along her jawline as he goes. It's sorrowful and remorseful yet soft and almost passionate.
In an instant, her golden eyes go black and her tears come to a full stop and the demon laughs. A short, sharp, ear-piercing laugh. With a smile still plastered to her face, she speaks.
"I have heard horror stories that advertise The Winchester's and there natural talent for hunting down and torturing the wicked but I must say that sad look in your eyes, the sad and lost puppy look, doesn't quite live up to the publicity."
Dean's soft demeanor leaves and a cruel grin runs across his lips. For a moment he starts to enjoy himself. He takes the blade and slowly digs into the skin until he hits the chest bone. Dragging the blade from chest to lower abdomen before withdrawing it. Wiping the blade on his pants to remove the blood before reapplying more holy water. Immediately going in again. Dropping to his knees to go from the outer upper thigh to ankle. Then twisting the blade around to her inner leg and going from ankle to thigh. Deep enough to scrape the bone. Never lifting his harsh grip, the cruel grin never leaving his lips.
A sudden scream rings in Dean's ears. As he lifts his head and meets the girl's eyes he sees golden wheat fields once more.
A small fragile voice with a simple whimper and stutter comes through the now raging stream of tears..."W...why?...P...Ple...Please Stop!"
Dean's grin subsided as he frees the blade from her body. His hands go limp as the blade falls to the ground. With a dry throat and a hoarse voice, all he can produce is a simple "I'm sorry."
Suddenly Dean can feel it on his very own body. Every cut, gash, puncture. Every slice to the bone. Every muscle rips and tears under his own hand as if he was torturing himself. Dean screams in agony. Alistair snaps his fingers and the red-headed girl is gone and replaced on the cross with Dean. Now Alistair, one of the top demons in Hell gets to use his electrifying power on Dean just as he has every time Dean has failed him for the last 40 years. Dean should know better than to disappoint him by now. Should know better than to drop the blade. Should know better than to apologize.
Pain. Pain is all he feels.

Dean screams in the distance...

Lately, most of Sam's nights have been spent in the library doing research or in the kitchen just browsing through new stories for possible cases. Tonight Sam had started in the library but after realizing his desperate need for caffeine he relocated to the kitchen. The Bunker kitchen was cold in this early AM and its food supply was running low however it was now filled wall to wall with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Coffee is always a bonus. He would much rather be in his own room snoring away the hours but with Dean screaming in the bedroom next to Sam's it makes it impossible for the younger Winchester to sleep.
"Those nightmares of his seem to be getting increasingly worse every night," Sam said without even glancing up from his laptop as he continued reading a story about a possible Werwolf case a few towns over.
Castiel nodded as he entered and crossed the room. A sigh slipped from his mouth as his shoulders dropped in what looked like defeat. He finished pouring himself a cup of coffee and took a seat opposite Sam. Castiel looked just as bad, maybe a little worse than Sam. Neither of the men had received a good nights rest in weeks. Not that Castiel could sleep but the rest would be nice.

Dean screams again, reverberating off the metal kitchen walls.

Castiel begins rubbing the temples of his head with palms of his hands. Taking a deep breath and exhaling before he spoke.
"It is getting harder to put his mind at ease. Every night this past week I have had to use more focus to get my grace wrapped around his soul." Removing his hands from his head, Cas took a huge drink from his cup before continuing.
"It's hard to help him when he believes that he deserves to be tortured. It's as though he knows my grace is there and does not want my help. His soul struggles to let my grace around it. I can feel the battle in his mind. I fear one night his mind will win the fight and expel my grace before I can help."
Castiel lets out another defeated sigh.
Sam finally looked up from his computer to see Castiel's face for the first time since the angle walked in. His face looked sunken in and he had dark circles under his eyes. Sam looked at him with a knowing gaze. He knew Castiel was just being honest but something about Dean fighting to stay in a nightmare that he didn't deserve made Sam sick to his stomach and he knew his friend was feeling the same.
Castiel took another large drink of coffee, sat his cup on the table and stood. Before he made it to the door Sam was on his feet placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry that we ask so much of you Cas but I know Dean needs you and you help him in ways that I could not even begin to imagine. Thank you."
Before Castiel could reply Sam pulled him in for a short one-arm around the neck hug. He appropriated the kind words and the gesture of gratitude. Unlike Dean, Sam always seemed to have kind words and when words failed he had kind eyes.
When Sam released him he slapped one hand on his back and turned walking back over to refill his coffee and then to the table to pick up his story where he left off.
Castiel left the kitchen walking down the dimly lit halls towards Dean's room. On his way, he lets himself have warm thoughts of how tonight might be better. How for once Dean's mind might be uncomplicated to redirect. How he may be able to rest peacefully the remainder of the night just watching over Dean while he sleeps comfortably. Then the dark thoughts invade, as always. Thoughts of Dean waking up and catching him. Dean refusing to let him help ever again. Dean getting furious at him and telling him to leave. If Dean ever demanded him to leave again he would not want to live any longer.
Castle acknowledged to himself a long time ago he would do anything for Dean.
He had already pulled him from Hell, rebelled against his family, rewrote the course of destiny that was hard-wired into his brain, started a civil war in his name, gave up an entire army, fought despite his mental state and need for peace, broke through mind control that was specifically focused on killing Dean, and destroyed the most powerful weapon in all existence.
Even after all that Castiel knew he would use every last bit of his grace if it meant taking Dean's pain away. He would give his very wings to keep him safe and happy. He would even give his own life without question. Anything for Dean Winchester.
All thoughts retreat from Castiel's head as he stands in front of his door about to enter...

Another scream echoed down through the halls.