I've just finished season 10 for the first time and this was one of the episodes I felt needed a little bit more. I loved season 10, mostly... *whimpers* Charlie... And it was already so full of emotion and angst that I was surprised that we didn't get a little bit more of a scene in Soul Survivor, so here is my version of what happened between Dean becoming human again and Sam and Cas' conversation at the end of the episode.

Disclaimer: The Supernatural brothers and Castiel belong to CW and Warner Brothers, as does all references to episodes. The story is mine.

Dean crawls back into consciousness slowly. At first all he senses is rage and hate and darkness, but then his vision clears.

His veins feel like they're on fire. Every muscle aches. His head feels like someone's run it over with a truck. Sam and Cas are staring down at him with worried expressions on their faces.

"You look worried, fellas." He said weakly, trying to make his groggy brain remember anything that happened before he fell unconscious. He didn't even know the last thing he remembered.

Cold water suddenly splashed into his face; Holy water. He turned his eyes up to Sam, trying and failing to give his brother a what-the-hell-was-that-for glare.

"Welcome back, Dean." Sam murmured, smiling the relieved smile of a person just told that their presumed dead loved one was actually alive.

And with those words, it all came flooding back.

The memories flashed behind his mind's eye, in chronological order. Metatron sliding the Angel blade into his chest as though his skin and muscle was made of butter. Vague recollections of Sam holding him, Sam crying and telling him everything was going to be okay. The blackness, the curiosity that there was no Heaven or Hell waiting for him.

Then waking up.

Everything after that was a rush of the same feelings that briefly surrounded him upon waking. Anger, hatred at anything and everything, all the time he was trapped inside a cloak of darkness. He knew what he had become.

A demon.

With the first blade in hand, he killed countless people, people who were either completely innocent of any crime, or mostly. Crowley by his side...Crowley. He remembered one moment with the King of Hell that felt like a knife stabbint through his heart.

After being caught in Crowley's bed with some random waitress.

"Jerk." Crowley muttered.

"Bitch." Demon Dean replied the other half of his old insult-trade automatically, even though he knew it wasn't Sam. Knew he and Sam hadn't exchanged those words for years. It was demon Dean's way of asserting Crowley as his new partner...

It sickened him. On top of that there was the drinking...the God-damn karaoke!

Dean began to shiver, pulling weakly against the ropes and shackles that pinned him to the chair in the demon containment room, where he had to be restrained after...

He remembered Sam coming to find him, the scuffle with that guy, the shackles, the cure, going after Sam, the hammer...the sick lust in his mind to see his brother dead...

Dean closed his eyes and tried to keep the tears of guilt and horror inside, at least until he was alone, but Sam would have none of it.

"He's remembered...Dean? Dean? Look at me?" Sam's voice was panicked, scared.

Of course he should be scared.

But Dean couldn't deny a direct request from his brother now. He opened his eyes and forced himself to stare into Sam's.

The dam broke.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered through the tears. "Sammy...I'm so sorry...I..."

Sam shushed him, signalling to Cas. The bonds were loosened and the shackles unlocked. Sam pulled Dean off the chair into a hug, but Dean tried to push him away. He didn't deserve Sam's care. How did Sam still care anyway? Now that Dean was cured, surely he'd send him packing.

But he knew his Sammy, and his Sammy would never do that.

"Dean, stop fighting me."

The quiet plea was enough, and Dean allowed himself to be held by his brother. He distinctly got the feeling that Cas had left, and he appreciated that.

He continued to mumble, "I'm sorry." Over and over again the words tumbled out of his mouth. Sam just said, "I know.", or ,"It wasn't the real you. Your soul had twisted. It wasn't you."

Dean tried to believe those words. Surely when Crowley was human he wasn't a horrible person. He might have been a selfish jerk considering the deal he made, but not evil, not like the Crowley of today. Becomming a demon changed you, that was certain. But did that mean that even as a demon...Dean didn't have any of his old will and compassion?

It felt so much like him. He hadn't thought there was anything wrong at the time. In fact, he had relished the thought of killing the person he had once loved, as though it was a weakness that he would be only too happy to remove.

His dark train of thought was stopped when Sam said, "Come on, let's get you to your room where you can lie down. You look like crap."

Humour. Something which had turned bitter and used only for dramatic purposes, was possibly Sam's way of testing whether Dean was broken. Well, he didn't know whether he would ever recover from the things he had done, but he could put on a good enough charade if it would make Sam happy.

"You don't look great yourself, sunshine. Have you even slept at all the last few months?"

That was Dean's way of letting Sam know that he could see clearly how much the last few months had damaged him, too; the wild look in his eyes, the bags under them big enough to hold food for weeks, the slimmer frame and slightly sunken in cheeks...the broken arm.

Sam pulled Dean to his feet. He found that, though still hurting...pretty much everywhere...his legs supported him normally. They made their way back to his room, deliberately avoiding, Dean noticed, the hallway sporting the hammer sticking out of the hole in the wall.

He was grateful. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't fall to pieces completely if he saw that.

Before he knew it he was sitting down on the edge of his bed. His room looked exactly the same; there was no evidence that anything had happened. The note was gone, the blood-stained sheets had been replaced and the mess Dean had caused as his demon self had left was tidied up.

Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Do you want anything?"

At that question, Dean realised that he was actually hungry and thirsty for the first time in months. Demons didn't eat, of course, and boy did he want to eat now.

This natural confirmation that he was fully human relaxed him like nothing else had. He noticed Sam sigh in relief as Dean sank a few inches into the memory foam.

"Yeah, I'd love some proper, unhealthy food." Dean said, putting on a smile that was only half-fake.

The grin that spread across his brother's face brought tears to Dean's eyes again. "Really? Well...ok, I'll go shopping right now! I won't be long."

He was like a kid who had just been told he could go and buy the toy he had been wanting for weeks.

As Sam left, Dean lay down on his bed, trying hard to forget everything. He pulled his sleeve down over the Mark, then decided to just have a shower and get changed. It made him feel a lot better...cleaner, and not just physically.

Surely he was past the worst now.

Surely, even with the Mark, the only way was up.

He was back. Sam didn't hate him. He hoped Cas didn't hate him. Granted, he still hated himself, but that was nothing knew.

Yes, maybe, just maybe, he could keep going.

I thought this kind of fit in with the rest of the series :) I really hope everyone liked it. I'm going to start accepting requests for one-shots if people like the way I write, so if anyone would like me to do a story for them, I'd be happy to...just please no Destiel or Wincest ^_^" Review, favourite, follow, all that jazz :)