Thoughtless (UNDER EDITING)

Chapter 9 (Under Editing)

{Deans POV}

It kept creeping up my arm, starting like a fire and running through my veins until the words whispered in my brain: kill. Kill. Kill.

Almost like a chant and I couldn't stop it. I could hold it off until I finally snapped, but I couldn't keep this up. Playing this sick little game with myself almost like it didn't exist. The mark was consuming me, swallowing me up in my own self destruction until I could finally destroy someone else. The longer I ignored it the more it would stir and gnaw at me, egging me on until I knew I couldn't take it anymore.

But then there was Cassie, I couldn't let her find out what I was; what I had become was between me, Sam, Castiel and that dick Crowley. Bobby had been iffy about me but he never questioned my judgement like Sam did. I was sure Cassie thought I was enough of a monster without knowing that I practically have to lock myself inside my bones to keep myself from killing something. I fought off the demon inside, but how long would it last before I snapped in front of her? A week, days, hours, minutes? Each ticked by with a certain risk that I didn't want to take. But she was going to gank this Shtriga with us and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do with her in general. Her lack of judgement is painfully obvious and I knew she'd screw this whole thing up but I couldn't stop giving her chances to prove herself to me; though I can't prove kind to her. I didn't want to be rude, it just came out that way because everyone I ever come in contact with either ended up dead or worse.

"Dean?" I heard her say my name and my eyes snapped up from the road and glanced in the rear view mirror. Cassie's hazel eyes were staring back at me and I focused back on the road to Bobbys. Sam was leaned back in his seat sleeping.

"Yeah?" I asked quietly, not wanting to wake my baby brother.

She sighed somberly and I heard her shift uncomfortably.

"Where are we going?" she sounded so small, almost like she was frightened to say a single word to me.

"Bobby's."

"What? I thought that we were going on a hunt?" she leaned up so she didn't have to speak so loud and whispered, "You lied."

I shook my head, "I didn't lie. If you're gonna hunt you need to investigate too. Bobby can make you fake ID's."

"Fake ID's for what?"

"Do you think that the cops are just going to hand out information about murders point blank?" I growled back at her and she shrunk back in her seat.

Dammit, Dean. She didn't do anything to you. Stop being a dick.

But I couldn't, because if I did she would eventually become attached.

{Cassie's POV}

Bobby was a grumpy old man who smelled of whiskey and talked like a father. He was kind if you got past all his sass and attitude, but that was difficult.

"Cassie, then? What's your last name?" Bobby asked after I posed emotionless for the picture that would be put on my fake identifications.

I furrowed my brows, trying to pick through my brain and find it.

I finally gave up, "I have no idea." I said, feeling defeated by my memory loss again.

"You'll just be Cassie Sanderson for the time being, okay?" Sam said gently and patted my back, I gave a slight nod and put my head in my hands. It was so frustrating not being able to remember anything about myself. Sam gently grabbed my wrist and I looked up at him as he nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. I stood with him and followed him, once I stood in the middle of the establishment he closed the windowed doors.

"Cass, you don't have to be upset about any of this. We're going to help you get everything back, I promise," Sam consoled and leaned back against the counter.

I shook my head, "You, only you are helping. Dean hasn't done crap for me."

Sam shook his head, his hair bouncing a little, "No. He's the one that was desperate to get you from the Djinn. He fought three of them off with me and you were in his arms the whole time; until he accidentally dropped you," he chuckled softly in an attempt to lighten the mood. "But that's beside the point. He got you out of there as safely as he knew how and sat with you in the back seat until we got to the hospital. He carried you in and yelled until someone finally responded to him. Dean refused to leave your side the entire time until they told him he had to leave. Then he bought you clothes and shoes and came back, ignoring the protests from the doctors and nurses." My head began to spin with all the information Sam was firing at me and he continued, "Dean has changed a lot since our last encounter with someone who wasn't a hunter. He just has to get used to being kind again, he doesn't want to get attached because he has it in his head that you'll end up dead if he does."

The whole conversation was heavy and I felt like it was dragging me to the ground, digging me deeper into the hole of depression I already found myself in.

Someone cleared their throat and I whipped my head around and saw Dean leaning against the door frame which the doors now hung ajar from.

"Sammy," Deans tone was soft but he looked uncomfortable. "Can I have some privacy with Cassie?"

Sam glanced at me and I stood, unmoving and still staring at Dean. The tall brother gave Dean a warning glance as he exited the area and Dean shut the double doors once again.

After a few beats of silence and trying to look at anything that wasn't Dean Winchester, he spoke up, "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged, "Fine, I guess."

Was I? I had just had a slight break down due to my disability of memorization. Other than that I assumed that I was fine.

"No you're not," Dean said and leaned back against the counter like Sam did. It was the little things that made me realize that they actually were brothers aside from their handsome features. They were almost polar opposites and I guessed diversity was a good thing in family. "You just cried in the middle of a conversation with Bobby and your cheeks are still wet."

I didn't think anyone noticed, quickly I swiped the wetness away and leaned against the wall adjacent to him.

"I'm fine. What do you care, anyway?"

His new expression was pained and he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Dean was complicated and I didn't feel like dealing with his Rubix Cube personality today.

"I do care," he said flatly and I chuckled.

"Yeah, that's believable."

"What is with you?" he stood up straight and began to pace, "Do you feel this need to be difficult all the time?"

He clenched his fist then clamped his left hand down on his forearm for what seemed like the tenth time that day.

"What is with you? Do you have a broken bone or something?" I asked and approached him. He backed away until his back hit the fridge, but I wasn't about to let him continue to be a mysterious douche bag.

I snatched his hand away from his arm, trying to ignore the butterfly wings that caressed my insides. I rolled his sleeve up and noticed the raised mark on his arm was glowing red, but the glow was fading quickly and his breathing seemed to calm.

I blinked a few times and examined it closer.

"Don't," Deans voice cracked at the end and he gently took his arm back from me, rolling his sleeve down and swallowing audibly.

"What is that? Did someone brand you?"

He licked his lips and his forehead creased, "Something like that. I'd rather not talk about it, okay?"

His voice was so weak, he sounded so ashamed and I wanted to know why. But I just dropped it for his sake more than mine.

I didn't want either of us to get more worked up than we had already been that day.

"We should hit the road," Dean finally said, his jade eyes boring into mine.

All I could do was nod and go back into the living area to pack up my fake ID's.