AN: Hey guys. Sorry it has been a while! Don't worry, my life is back to sucking which means I'm back to writing. This is my first Supernatural story and I realize it's probably OOC. I am still getting a feel of how to write these characters so bear with me. I haven't gone through and edited this. It was (as all my stories are) written during a bought of raw emotion that needed an outlet, so let me know if I made big mistakes! Love you all!

Dean struggled to pull the cold air into his lungs. All of his muscles were tight, his jaw clenching so hard he could feel his teeth grinding and threatening to crack against themselves. He forced his feet forward across the snow covered sidewalk. He had no idea where he was going but he had to do something, anything to try and alleviate this anger. Cas had once again used the fact that he had raised him from Hell against the hunter. Had manipulated his way back into their trio. And once again, the angel had betrayed him.

Dean clenched and unclenched his stinging cold fists. He could feel the limbs losing blood and the skin getting taught with the beginning stages of freezing. If they stayed exposed much longer, he would get frost bite. A thought struck him as he shoved his balled fists roughly into his jacket. A brief flash across his swimming red vision. Blood. Warm blood flowing from a writhing body, warming his cold hands. He pictured digging his hands into soft warm flesh, using this body as a screaming, living pair of mittens. Flashbacks from Hell. He had gotten a good hold on his memories since he had been back, leaving them to only haunt his nightmares but now, when his rage was at the point of no return, he relished them. He fought to remember every bone crunching, god what he wouldn't give to feel bones break under his fists. Every scream and plea for mercy that fell upon deaf ears. Every last hope fading from the tortured soul's eyes as he broke them and they watched him enjoy it. Oh, how he had enjoyed it. Much more than his human consciousness could ever admit. He knew that he had only been one step away from becoming one of those things, those things he hunted but secretly envied since his return.

The hunter was on edge the rest of the way home. His eyes and body were just begging every passerby to start something. One wrong comment and he would attack the son of a bitch and bleed him dry. Dean's legs had long since gone numb, as had his face and fingers. Honestly, the only thing he could feel was the heavy pounding of his heart. His heart that shouldn't even be beating, he should be in Hell where he could bathe in the blood of his charges. He fumbled with the door and key before he stumbled into the small motel room. He didn't even spare the room a glance before he grabbed his bottle of Jack and took a long pull from it. He winced at the burn as it slid down his raw throat. Why was his throat raw? He hadn't yelled or screamed, he hadn't in fact said a word. He immediately grabbed a beer and chased the burn down with it. He took both bottles to his bed with him.

Sam watched Dean with carefully guarded eyes when he returned. He knew Cas' betrayal had changed something in his brother, had caused something to snap. The younger hunter could see hellfire reflected in Dean's eyes, stronger than he ever had. He knew Dean was thinking of Hell, but he wasn't afraid and Sam didn't want to begin to think what that meant.

"Dean? You ok, dude?" Sammy asked, almost afraid to know the answer. His brother's muscles were rigid and his eyes… they weren't Dean. There was no softness in them when green met hazel. There was nothing but rage and Hell.

"Sam…" Dean said his brother's name in a harsh whisper. In the next second he was on top of his little brother holding him down by his neck with one hand and caressing his brother's long trigger finger with the other. "No. I'm not ok. I want to feel bones break, Sammy."

Sam struggled to breathe as his brother pushed harder on his neck. Dean's breath reeked of liquor and his cheeks were flushed from the cold or the rage, both probably. He tried to hide his panic as his brother grabbed his trigger finger in his strong grasp and started bending it the wrong way. It hurt, but he knew this wasn't Dean. This thing was not his brother. It was some shadow from Hell that Castiel had accidentally forced inside his brother's body. It had to be. This could not be Dean. Dean would never hurt him.

"I want you to scream for me, Sammy." Dean's voice shook with barely contained excitement as he wrenched hard on his brother's finger, snapping the bone in two. His body shook with pleasure, stronger than any orgasm he's had, when he heard Sam's whimper of pain. He wanted more. "I'm going to make you scream until you choke on the blood from your throat. Until you will never make a sound again."

The glint in Dean's eyes was not human. Sam could see the shadow of Hell in them. He was scared. His head was light and he couldn't force enough air into his lungs. His finger hurt like hell. But none of that mattered because this thing, whatever it was, was going to kill him with his brother's body if he didn't stop it. He refused to let him think of it as his brother. Dean was his protector, not his torturer.

"Dean! Dean, stop!" He gasped out as strongly as he could, looking his brother in the eyes. There was not even a spark of recognition or remorse in Dean's eyes. He didn't try to hide his panic as Dean took another finger in his strong hand and started wrenching.

"Stop? Why would I stop? Your bones make the most satisfying sound when they crack, Sammy. Much better than the false sounds of the bodiless souls in Hell." Dean growled in a low demonic voice and smirked as he broke another of Sam's fingers. He closed his eyes and let Sam's scream, as he ground the bones back together, wash over him. "I want to hear them all, little brother. Every… Single… One!" His last words were punctuated by him painfully snapping each of Sam's broken fingers hard enough to have the bones popping out of the skin. Sam screamed that purifying scream of his and Dean's heart almost felt heavy for him. Almost.

"Dean, no." Sam panted out. His vision was beginning to be rimmed in black. If he passed out with Dean like this, he had no doubt he would wake up back in the pit himself. This was not his brother but he was realizing, this was what his brother had become in Hell. What he had been fighting to hide from Sammy since his return. To protect him from himself.

"Come on, Sam." Dean said in a frustrated tone that was almost like his old self. "I know it wasn't exactly you but you were in there when Lucifer attacked me. I heard your voice say it." Dean twisted his face into a mockery of Sam's Lucifer possessed one and did his best to imitate him. "He's gonna feel the snap of your bones. Every single one." Dean sneered evilly as he remembered the pain. "I know you felt what he did when he said he wanted to snap my bones. Its okay, Sam. I understand. I know the pleasure that ran through your body when he started beating me. You don't have to be ashamed, little brother."

"No!" Sam bit out with as much bite as he could. He gathered all the strength he had left and shoved Dean off the bed, landing on top of him, trying to pin him down. Dean looked a little dazed from smacking his head on the floor and Sam took advantage of it to press his arm to his brother's throat. "Dean, please." His voice was barely a broken whisper.

Dean struggled violently against his brother, growling and acting every part the demon he was so convinced he should have become. He refused to acknowledge the pang he felt in his chest at Sam's voice as he reached underneath his body. He smiled dangerously as he pulled his gun from his waistband and pressed it to Sam's chest. He watched Sam's eyes widen with recognition right before he pulled the trigger. Sam's blood fell steady from the wound, bathing Dean in its delicious warmth. He shivered in pleasure and closed his eyes, relishing the warmth as the larger body fell over him like a heavy blanket.

"D-Dean…" Sam gasped through clenched teeth. It felt like there was no air and his head felt fuzzy. The pain in his chest was unbearable. "'S okay. Dean?"

Dean's head snapped toward his brother's face beside him on the ground at the small tone. Sammy sounded like a child again and… oh God. He hurt Sam. He had relished being soaked in Sam's blood. He tried to kill his brother.

"Sammy?! Hold on, Sammy." The hunter hurriedly grabbed his blood stained cell phone and called 911 while scooping Sam up in his arms. "Sammy… I'm so sorry. Sammy, don't leave me. Sam? I'm sorry. SAM!" They stayed like that, with Dean putting pressure on the wound and Sam laying limply across him, until the ambulance came. The police arrived shortly after the paramedics and Dean didn't bother to come up with a cover story. The murder weapon still in his hands. He didn't fight as they put him in handcuffs and read him his rights. As the door to the police car closed behind him, he looked wearily at his reflection. The shadows made his eyes look black and for once, he didn't care. He wanted his reflection to remind him that he was every bit the demon he thought he left behind in Hell.