There were four things in life that Dean Winchester simply could not stand to any extent: Witches, mixed and matched justice, Oreos with yellow filling, and an unhappy brother.

With that in mind, it seemed that the only reason for Dean's sour mood at the moment where they weren't on a case and eating respectable Oreos with the correct colored center, was Sam.

Dean hadn't had the slightest clue what was bothering his brother so much, but let it be known it wasn't from the lack of trying. He had asked mercilessly why the younger man was so out of it the last couple of days, with only a shrug or roll of eyes as a response. The computer searches and discreet glances at his phone had no results either. Why was Sam so upset?

If anything, Dean felt he should be the one who was freaking out. Sam didn't wake up chained and covered in blood with no recollection of how he managed to get himself in that situation. The idea that his brother had endure worse than that torment made Dean's skin crawl. What did Dean do with that blade?

Ever since he had fallen asleep after that day he killed Cain, Dean had been suffering from a variety of nightmares and a few panic attacks that he had no idea how they were triggered. He could just be sitting there and suddenly it was like someone had put a plastic bag over his head, his muscles screaming from lack of oxygen and mind fluttering in and out of consciousness, screaming high pitched and shrill burning in his ears.

Dean had hoped Sam hadn't noticed. Whenever he felt them coming on, he had known enough to retreat to his room where he could hopefully suffer in peace. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no escaping the angel, who even with his lack of wings, somehow managed to sneak up on him whenever he visited.

"Perhaps you should try not being upset." Was the glorious piece of advice the angel had offered. Dean asked him not to tell Sam. Whether he did or not, was unknown to the elder Winchester, though he doubted Castiel would.

"So." Dean said, dipping his Oreo in milk and strategically dissecting it so that he had the drink all over his hands as he licked the creamy middle. "Any word on Metatron?" He asked and Sam took a moment to wrinkle his nose at his brother's eating habits before shaking his head.

"I guess he's laying low." Sam said, clicking on his computer thoughtfully "I wonder if maybe a spell could track him…"

"Yeah." Dean agreed, sitting up eagerly "We could try it-"

"Once Cas is ready." Sam interrupted him and Dean fell back into his seat with pursed lips. Dean had been happy for Castiel when he decided to lead the remaining rebel angels against the new self-proclaimed God. He had not been as pleased when he found out he had to wait for Castiel to train them before they went after the dick.

"Okay. As lovely as that sounds, I still don't get why we have to wait for Team Heaven to gear up."

"Did you see him Dean?" Sam asked incredulously with that look Dean always hated. It was the one where he kind of narrowed his eyes and put his head forward in the most sarcastic way possible. As if questioning if Dean was really that stupid or if he just hit his head really hard. "The guy blew out holy fire. Even with Cas and the other angels that might be enough."

There were several things Dean wanted to say to that, but he managed to keep his mouth shut for the moment. Lately Dean had been… Experimenting he supposed he could call it.

Dean didn't need anyone to tell him he was heading down a bad road. One that led to problems for him in the future and ones that won't be solved with pretty bows… But he also knew if what was happening to him was actually happening… He could take full advantage of the situation, starting with Metatron.

He couldn't say that though. Not with Sam being so… Confusing lately. Instead he went for the second hardest thing he could suggest.

"I know a few others who are willing to help." He started quietly and Sam cast him a wary look.

"Hunters?" He asked and Dean shook his head, shifting slightly in his seat.

"Not…Exactly." He admitted and looked at him hesitantly before forcing himself to meet Sam's critical eyes. "I… Met some demons." He said slowly "Who would be willing to help."

"Demons?" Sam asked and the accusation in his voice was clear enough "Do you-? How many times are we going to-?" He spluttered out, and Dean felt his defenses rising quickly.

"I'm not saying to trust them!" He spat back "I'm just saying we could use them to overthrow Metatron. They don't want him here either." He reasoned, and tried not hear Sam's younger voice saying something similar about Ruby.

"And how do you know they weren't turn on us?" Sam scoffed and Dean bit his lip. This was the tricky part. He didn't want to lie, but there was no way Sam wasn't about to pull a gun on him if he admitted the truth. He should be pulling a gun on himself.

"They… Kind of… Come to me." He finally bit out and Sam gave him a questioning glance. Whether it was towards what he just said or his brother's sanity was unclear. Sighing, Dean tugged on his sleeve, pausing when Sam winced at the sight of the mark boring his arm. It was still that angry red- welted and burnt into his skin- but the edges had turned into a nasty black that almost hummed with energy. Dean was pretty sure it was due to him having a longer interaction with the First Blade, but knew enough not to say it out loud.

"I press my arm." He said, demonstrating by digging his Oreo stained thumb into the raised flesh and suddenly his whole arm brightened "And they talk to me." He said cautiously, watching Sam's scarily blank face. "Well… Kind of. They don't really talk to me. It is kind of like I have them all under mind control or something. They ask me what I want all monotone and I just ask them questions and they answer. No jokes or anything. Just this really creepy straight answer thing." He rushed out and as if on cue, a zombie like voice spoke in his head.

Yes? It asked and Dean stayed quiet, waiting for a response from Sam. When he got none, he turned his attention momentarily to the thing inside of his head.

What's your name? He asked back and instantly there was a response.

Alex It said without a single trace of emotion or scorn. Dean nodded to himself.

If I asked you to fight someone…What would you say?

Who? Alex asked without hesitation and Dean smiled slightly.

Metatron?

Of course. Alex told him and Dean thanked it, as strange as it was to thank a demon. He supposed it was easier to hate them when they weren't being so…Polite and not sassy.

"You…" Sam started slowly "Just decided not to tell me about this?" He asked, tinges of anger coloring the tone. "Oh, just talking to demons in your head. No big deal, right?" He asked coldly and glared at the table.

"I just found out." He told him "Besides, how did I know you weren't going to shoot me?"

"Are you saying that someone should?" Sam snapped at him and Dean stared, swallowing the amount of physical pain that one question seemed to cause him.

"I guess that's up to you to decide." He said quietly "All I know is that we're running out of options to fight this war. For whatever reason, you're blocking me at every turn. I can take Metatron with the blade. You know it. I know it. Cas knows it. Yet, the blade is still hidden from me and-"

"Do you like the idea of killing people?" Sam asked him with a glare "Because with that thing, you lost control."

"Well maybe if you just let me practice with it I can learn to fix that!"

"Practice with it!?" Sam yelled "Are you kidding me? It is literally made up of anger!"

"Then send me to anger management!" Dean told him sarcastically "Look, I'm asking you this because we're working together. If you're really serious about waiting around then I'm out. I can do this myself." He said, standing up and Sam quickly stood up and grabbed his bicep as he turned away.

"And how are you going to do that?" He asked dangerously "You don't have the blade. You're not getting the blade and if you think that a bunch of demons are just going to help you out then-"

"Christ Sam!" Dean hissed, ripping his arm away "I don't get it! Either you're freaking out about me being alive and not giving a damn about monsters or the other way around! Cut me some slack here and just let me decide for once!"

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Sam yelled back at him "Don't act like you ever take in your life into account because of me! You've sacrificed yourself a hundred times when I didn't want you to!"

"Well the last couple months you were fine with it and suddenly you're flipping on me!?"

"I never wanted you dead. I said I would let you die."

"Thanks. That clears everything up." Dean scoffed at him "Well how about this? I'm going to pack a bag and leave. I won't come back. Good as dead, right? So let me die." He snapped and before he could turn around again, felt himself being slammed hard into the wall behind him.

"Shut. Up. How many times are you going to hold that over me!?" Sam growled and Dean, feeling the anger welling up again shoved back, sending Sam almost toppling over the oak table.

"Hold that over you? I never mentioned that! I've been keeping my mouth shut!" He hissed and Sam let out laugh that echoed painfully around the empty bunker.

"Yeah. Right. You haven't been reaming me out about what a terrible person I am or how much you hate me!"

"Hate you!?" Dean yelled back "What the Hell are you talking about? At what point in my life have I ever said I hated you? Damn it Sam, If I hate you why would I bother trying to keep you alive? Or drag you out of Hell? Or do half the things I do?!" He demanded and Sam rolled his eye, face red from yelling.

"Because you have to. That's how Dad trained you right? Keep me alive. That's the only thing that ever mattered!"

"And?" Dean asked, suddenly feeling drained "Yeah. That's basically how it went down. My job was to keep you breathing. That was the only thing that mattered to Dad. That's the thing he told me again and again and again to do. And yeah, that's still built into me. But you know what? I was also the first one to fight for you when it came to you wanting to go college, joining all the clubs and teams, doing all that stuff when you were a kid. Hell, I was the one who snuck you into the movies and saved up my allowance all year so you could have something to open on your birthday. I didn't do that to keep you alive Sam. I just wanted to see you happy. Now tell me how do you even begin to get hate from any of that?" Dean demanded, though at this point, all he wanted to do was sit down from exhaustion. He was tired. So tired it was nearly impossible to keep his body from sinking down into the nice, warm ground. It was almost as if all of his feelings were slipping away into something much more numb...

Sam went quiet. He was watching his brother with a mixture of anger, confusion, guilt, and betrayal that all seemed to wind up in a nice little blanket. Sam knew he couldn't-shouldn't hold Dean responsible for what he said while under the blade's influence… But he did.

He just wished Dean would remember. So that he could explain it to him. Sam couldn't change the past. How could he still hold it over him? Did he not think he regretted it? That he wasn't sorry? People had…

Oh.

Sam swallowed and looked down, his stomach clenching. He had already known this, but it seemed different when situation was right in front of him.

"Dean…You can't use the blade." He said quietly, ignoring everything else. He glanced up to meet a frustrated glance and when his brother turned away to leave, he called out again. "You killed three people." He said and there was a pause.

"What?" Dean asked slowly, his voice strangely blank.

"We couldn't stop you in time… We tried…" Sam trailed off and Dean kept staring, as if not comprehending exactly what the younger man was saying.

"You said that I didn't hurt anyone." He nearly whispered and Sam just stared back, not bothering to justify it with an answer. Sam waited for the anger. The accusation of having lied to him when Sam had recently disowned him for lying… Well, lying and allowing him to be possessed.

They didn't come though, only leaving a strangely empty look on the elder's face. Like nothing else in life really made sense anymore.

"Dean." Sam started "Um… There were…Other things too. That you…Said."

He felt so childish. Crying over something his brother said to him. He should be above that… But he wasn't. Sam knew that while he'd deny it to the end of the Earth, his brother's opinion of him still mattered to a certain extent.

"To you." Dean said, not looking surprised "I'm guessing they weren't nice." He sighed and sank into a chair, staring carefully at the wall in front of him. "I'm sorry." He stated, though it sounded more dazed than anything. It honestly didn't make Sam feel any better.

"I think something is wrong with me." Dean suddenly told him bluntly. Sam, unsure of how to respond to that in any way supportive simply gaped in confusion. "I don't care." He said and Sam frowned.

"What?"

"I…Don't care." He said and wrinkled his forehead in confusion, as if the thought of this all seemed puzzling. "I'm surprised I guess, but I really don't give a damn that I killed those people… I don't care that I hurt you. I don't even care that I normally wouldn't feel that way. This should be devastating me…Shouldn't it? But it isn't. I just want the blade. I just want to kill Metatron."

Weren't they just having a conversation about how Dean wanted him to be happy five minutes ago? His brother had been known to have some mood swings throughout his life, but this was strange even for him. Within the past few seconds it was almost as if he had went from high emotional turmoil to zapped of everything.

"You don't care." Sam repeated and Dean looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Sometimes I do… But then it is almost like it is too much and then I don't… Then I do again." He shook his head, looking overcome with this revelation. "I don't really understand it…" He trailed off and looked at Sam imploringly "Are you going to kill me?" He asked, sounding as though they were talking about the weather. His voice didn't sound bothered at all by the prospect of his brother killing him. In fact, it was almost as if… He was kind of excited by it.

"No." Sam answered, trying not to show how shaken he was "I'm sure that this… This will pass or something." He told him with a look around the room "We can probably research and find-"

"Nothing?" Dean replied simply "I've looked. There's nothing. Am I still leaving or are we going to go after Metatron now?"

Stop. Stop. Stop. Sam didn't know what to do. He couldn't decide whether or cry or scream or both. What was he supposed to do? Who was he supposed to ask about this? Cain was dead. Crowley maybe? Sam felt sick at the idea of going to that damn demon for help, but at this point it seemed like the only solution.

"Sure. Soon. I just need a couple days to-"

"Tomorrow." Dean interrupted and Sam swallowed again. He really didn't want to have to kill his brother because of this stupid mark.

Are you sure you're the one who is going to be doing the killing? A voice whispered in his head and Sam clenched his teeth before nodding in agreement.

Crowley did not look happy to see him.

At all.

Which was strange because he had never seen the pain in the ass unhappy to see anyone before. The guy was a walking ball of aggravating, sadistic happiness.

"Moose." He greeted stiffly and looked over his shoulder "What do you want? I don't appreciate being summoned like a common dog."

"I thought you'd be flattered." Sam commented "I like dogs." Then with a small smile he cocked his head. "It almost seems fitting. You call me Moose. I call you bitch. It all works out."

"Have you only come to ruffle my feathers? I am the King of Hell. I have priorities."

"Yeah, shouldn't you be in a better mood because of that?" Sam asked, circling dangerously around the demon. It was the dead of the night, perhaps maybe even one in the morning by now and Sam had mere hours to figure out what was wrong with his brother. Crowley stood against a tree of the forest, watching him coldly as animals shuffled away throughout the wooded area, obviously sensing the demon's presence.

"I thought my competition was gone." He said in a monotone voice. Sam didn't bother to remind him that Abbadon was dead and went straight for pulling out Ruby's knife. Crowley glanced at it, but didn't flinch away or look at all distressed.

"You were with my brother when he got the Mark of Cain. What's happening to him?" He asked and a scowl came clearer on the king's face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" Sam growled and slammed him hard into the trunk of the tree. Crowley, again, was strangely submissive. "You wanted him to get that thing. Why?"

"To kill Abbadon obviously." He growled back and pushed Sam away "The mark had never been distributed before. Cain had been thought to be dead for centuries- millenias now. How the bloody Hell am I supposed to know everything about that damn blade? If I knew then what I know now I wouldn't have even bothered." He added in "Abbadon could have been brought down a different way…But this… This is entirely different."

"What is?" Sam asked carefully, unsure of what was going on. Crowley didn't respond at first, simply looking pathetically at the trees out in the distance.

"Do you know where souls go after they've been destroyed Moose?" Crowley suddenly asked and Sam gave him an odd look.

"What do you mean?" He asked impatiently. He didn't have time for the demon to get philosophical now.

"When you stab an angel or a demon… Where do they go? Not purgatory. That is only for monsters. Not Hell or Heaven. They're just…Gone. It is strange to know what happens after death than to realize you don't."

"Are you…High on blood or something?" Sam frowned, backing away slightly. Crowley looked at him, almost with… Pity. An emotion that certainly wouldn't belong on a demon.

"No." He murmured "I was just thinking about how many souls I've seen change. How many I've seen just disappear. Most at your hand. I'm sorry about your brother Sam."

Then, as if he hadn't contradicted his own personality as well as everything demons stood for, he disappeared into the blackness.

So... Yeah, I have a reason for such an OOC Crowley, I promise! Next chapter XP