Dean had told you about the time that his brother got out of the pit, how after a year of being the only soul in the cage with Lucifer aside from Adam, his brother came back different. He was broken, shattered, and if you could remember any time other than those surrounding the pair that souls were dragged back into their bodies, maybe you would be able to understand a little better. But what mostly stuck out to you was the idea that the younger brother's soul was split into pieces that he needed to pull back together. It made sense to you, as soon as that memory came flooding back into your consciousness, that every time you went down to the cage and came back up, you saw the two creatures you were looking at now. You could go back thousands of years and after every refresher course, after every time going back to the pit in order to 'straighten yourself back out' and 'erase the humanity' that 'contaminated' you, you were haunted by these two numnuts for a good couple months following. Sometimes years, you didn't know. It varied.
But what was even more curious to you was the way they changed. You never remembered them changing.
Sup was bigger, probably up to your waist by this point; his voice sounded more like a child's than a chew-toy's, and he was much easier to listen to at this point. He wasn't so squeaky, so uncomfortable on your ears.
Id, too, had changed, only he was about an inch taller than you rather than the decent foot he held, previously. His voice was still deep and incredibly intimidating, but he was getting smaller, almost wasting away in front of your eyes; that did not, of course, reflect the anger he held. No, he was still as angry as ever, as bitter as ever, was always hitting on Sup (not in the flirtatious way) while screaming at you.
"What's your last memory, Y/N?"
You brought your attention back to Death, who raised his eyebrows before handing a paper bag to you, once again trying to get you to eat something. It was a kind enough gesture and you knew Death was only trying to keep you sustained in order to give you energy, but your appetite was gone; you felt yourself getting thinner—it had been easily a week, maybe a week and a half on earth since you'd gotten out of the cage, and you hadn't eaten much more than a couple sandwiches.
No appetite. You were busy.
You shook your head and watched Death as he shrugged and leaned back in the chair before repeating himself. "Your last memory, what is it?"
Why are you wasting your time? Id was laying on his back between you and Death, tossing what seemed to be a black pool ball into the air and catching it above his head before tossing the ball back into the air and repeating the cycle. You can hear Crowley calling to you, he probably thinks you're dead. That's cruel to leave him waiting.
Who are you to tell her about being cruel? Sup snapped back at him, removing his attention from the book he was reading just long enough to earn a sharp glare from Id. You were almost certain Id was going to chuck the pool ball at his smaller counterpart, but he seemed to brush Sup's comment off easily enough.
"I was in the bunker." You said, finally bringing your eyes up to Death. "I was with Sam and Dean Winchester, who are hunters that started the apocalypse and—"
And are the damned reason you got sent back to the pit. Id interjected, pausing his tossing of the pool ball just long enough to look at you. I mean if that's not reason to go kill people, I don't know what is.
"And Sam was out doing..." You continued, pausing to try and recollect what had happened. "Sam was out hunting or something and I remember... I remember a piano and a big room with wooden floors."
That was the ballroom!
"A ballroom." You nodded, "I was in a ballroom."
Silence fell between everyone in the room as Death looked at you, Id sighed, shook his head, and silently began throwing the ball once again; Sup went back to reading, the smile on his face lighting up though he held silence. Finally Death sighed and brought a hand to his mouth, using the armrest on the chair to prop his elbow up.
"And what do you remember about the Mark?"
That there are two, but that hardly matters. Kill 'em both.
"Dean got it from Cain, but it's weird." You shook your head, eyes fixed on the ground. "I remember how it was with Cain, how we were always at each other's throats and he did anything possible to get under my skin, but when Dean had the Mark... I don't know."
"Well then tell me what you do know."
You looked up at Death and Id sat up, his abs flexing in order to pull him into a sitting position while he looked at you, pool ball in one hand and a scowl on his face. He silently threatened you, held a finger up and shook his head with gritted teeth, but you ignored him—he hadn't been able to hurt you up to this point, so what was his threat, exactly?
"Was I having relations with a human?" You asked finally, watching Death's expression with analyzing eyes. "I mean real relations, not just the kind of fake thing I'd been pulling off for so long?"
Death smirked and looked at the ground, an action that you took as a 'yes.' You felt your hand cover your mouth just as Id said I knew it, Gragnis, you've lost your edge. Death looked back up at you with raised eyebrows before saying, "That's not to say I didn't warn you about it, but you're awful good at disregarding my caution.
"That being said," Death leaned forward and reached the bag out toward you once again, shaking it slightly as he urged you to take it. When you finally reached out and grabbed the small bag of food he smiled and leaned back, crossing his legs. "I do believe the last couple weeks are of the utmost importance for you to remember."
Blah, blah, keep talking you trite old man. Id, who had been talking directly to Death, turned to you before rolling his eyes. You know enough, now get back out there. You're the most powerful thing in the world, for Luci's sake, why are you stuck in this ratty motel room?
You were opening the bag and peering inside when you said to Death, "I suppose you know, already?"
"What I know isn't of concern to you, because you need to remember for yourself."
Ask him, maybe he'll tell you.
Shut up, Sup.
You had taken the grilled cheese sandwich from the bag and were looking at it with widened eyes before you turned to Death. He smiled and nodded, saying that yes, you did need to eat and that was what was on the menu; Death smirked as you smelled the sandwich, trying to ignore the grease that had begun dripping from the corner as you inspected it.
"Couldn't you have brought something of nutritional value?" You whined, your eyes still locked on the piece of greasy bread. "Like, I don't know, a pineapple?"
"Just eat." Death stood, nodding once at the sandwich before making his way to the door. "They say that the senses are the best way to unlock memories, so what do you have to lose?"
Death was gone before you could question what he could possibly have meant by that, leaving you sitting with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes on the bed while Sup threw his book across the room and ran over to you, a huge grin on his face.
This could be it! This might be the time that—
But Id had swiped an arm out, hitting Sup and sending him falling to the ground a few feet away. He couldn't do nearly as much damage as he could have several days ago, but the force was enough to leave Sup lying on the ground with a frazzled expression and a groan escaping his lips.
Put that down. Id turned back to you. You're going to give yourself a heart attack.
Electing to ignore each of the creatures that were now arguing, pushing and pulling on each other, you only cautiously brought the sandwich to your mouth and took a bite.
Dean was laughing across the island from you, his expression enough to make you want to kiss him. He must have been laughing at the face you made, because after a little while he pointed at you, holding his bare stomach with one hand while bending over as the laughing fit washed over him.
"I told you I can only make hamburgers," he somehow managed to choke out and you felt yourself grimace before looking down at the burnt grilled cheese sandwich that you held in your hand. "I know you can't die, but I still can't believe you actually ate it."
"It's not that bad," you felt yourself lie through your teeth before erupting into a fit of laughter right along with Dean. You tried to bring the sandwich to your mouth, to take another bite, but you couldn't manage it, electing to throw it onto the plate while shaking your head. Dean was still laughing, bent at the waist before he looked up at you, at your face, and started laughing again.
"You must really feel bad for me if you just ate that piece of garbage." He pointed at the sandwich before shaking his head. "I tried, sorry."
"Well no, I brought it upon myself." You stood from the stool and walked over to the fridge, grabbing a carton of orange juice and taking a swig right from the nozzle. "I should have believed you."
"Damn straight you should have," Dean said just as you were finishing with your drink, smiling as he walked up to you and put his arm around your waist before taking the orange juice from your hand and setting it on the counter. He only held you there a moment, the smile lighting up his eyes that had been clear of the cloud, the shadow for the entire day, so far. Remembering the fact made you smile—it had been a whole day since you'd seen the Mark take power over him—and Dean leaned in close, his mouth almost on yours before he flinched away with a curled nose. "Oh, God, you smell like it."
"Shut up," you said back, pushing him away with a smile. "You're an awful cook, don't blame me for being kind enough to try and boost your self esteem a bit."
"Lying is bad." Dean said, a certain mocking quality to his voice and you opened your mouth, ready to spout your mouth off at his comment, but the front door of the bunker slammed and you heard Sam call out for each of you.
Dean's eyes widened and he looked at you, at your wimpy excuse for clothes, at the same time that you smirked and raised your eyebrows at the fact that he was only wearing boxers. At the exact same time the two of you turned and ran down the hall, trying to avoid Sam by sprinting into Dean's room and slamming the door.
"Guys, I've got a case."
"Hold on!" Dean yelled back before turning to you with a smirk. He rolled his eyes, a silent 'I mean, I know this is nothing new to Sammy but we could at least spare him the embarrassment' before he grabbed a pair of jeans from the ground and began pulling them up. When he realized you were only standing there biting your bottom lip, he paused.
"What's got you lookin' so shocked?"
"My backpack is in the library."
Dean's eyebrows rose and he nodded, saying "Ah," as he connected what you were saying. He turned and looked around the room before leaning down and grabbing one of his shirts, lazily tossing it to you before digging in his dresser and tossing you a pair of his boxers. When you caught the two and looked at him with raised eyebrows, he only shrugged.
"I mean you could go out like that," He gestured lazily at your basically bare body, "Or you can deal with a few seconds of my brother knowing we have sex."
"Can't you just go and get it for me?"
Dean smirked. "I'm not that easy."
The two of you only looked at each other a moment, Dean's eyebrows raised while you did your best to give him a death glare, but there was something about the man that made it impossible for you to show any wicked side. With a frustrated exhale you rolled your eyes and turned away from him before stepping into his boxers.
"Where did you get that, by the way?" Dean asked, and when you turned to see what he was talking about you saw that he was gesturing toward the area that your back had occupied prior to your turning. To clarify, he added, "That scar on your back. I've been meaning to ask since Toledo but..." He let his words drag off, assuming that you knew what he was getting at. "I mean I didn't realize you could scar, you know?"
You fought the urge to bring your hand to the back of your head as he said this, knowing that it would bring attention to something you had managed to keep hidden from him for almost two whole days, so far. It was a stretch, you knew that he was bound to catch on eventually, but as of that very moment you were safe. He didn't know.
"I don't remember," you said, finally, shrugging as you put your other leg through the boxers and pulled them up, now facing him. "It must have happened a while ago, I just always remember having it."
Dean nodded once before shaking his head and buttoning his jeans.
"What?"
"Well I mean I get if you don't want to tell me, but you don't have to lie." He turned away from you and walked toward the closet, which he opened in order to grab one of his shirts. "A simple 'let's not talk about this' would have worked fine."
"I'm not lying."
"Really?" He threw the shirt onto the bed and looked up at you, his eyes narrowed with blatant disbelief. "I mean really?"
"Dean, I've been around for a long time, it's easy for my memories to—"
"And I get that, I really do, but that's the only scar you have." He paused. "Don't you think you'd remember something that flawed the most powerful creature in the universe?"
"It's just a scar."
"Yes." Dean pointed at you before taking the shirt from the hanger, tossing the hanger angrily onto the bed. "Yes, it's just a scar." He tossed the shirt over his shoulders and began buttoning it as he said, "It's just a scar on the one creature on the world that can't scar, but you're right. Just a scar."
"I wish you would stop calling me that," you muttered before putting his shirt over your head, adding an extra, "It's a shitty word," while poking your arms out.
"What?"
"Creature." You fixed the shirt before looking up at him, your eyebrows raised. "It makes me sound like the kraken or something."
"Well you're not exactly a person."
The words struck you like a freight train and within seconds you noticed that your eyebrows had lowered, your mouth had chomped closed, your eyes were neither wide nor narrowed; your face went blank, your mind scrambled. Dean must have noticed that his words had some effect on you because he was quick to tilt his head to the side with a shrug, bringing his hand up to his forehead.
"Oh, come on, I didn't mean it like that."
"How exactly did you mean it, then?" You voice was flat and it frightened you to hear how emotionless it was. Your mouth moved, your words flowed from your lips but it was purely logical, no sentiment attached to your words at all. You shook your head, raised a hand, and turned. "You know what, forget it, I know what you meant."
"Y/N, I didn't mean—"
"Forget it." You snapped back at him at the exact same time that a knock echoed from the door. Dean and you were looking at each other, obviously having a silent debate over who was going to answer, but finally the door just opened itself and Sam's head stuck in.
"Guys, Cas and I—" He paused, looking between you and Dean before his eyes went wide. "Am I interrupting something?"
"No.
"Yes." Dean said at the exact same time before shooting a glare your way, but you were quick to shake it off and walk toward Sam with a smile.
"It's fine, Sam, we were just heading out, actually."
Sam looked at you, his eyes wide before he glanced over at Dean. He was going to protest, you could feel it, so you simply pushed past him and walked into the library in order to avoid the conflict. You heard Dean say something as you left followed by a counter from Sam, but you elected to leave the two arguing while you walked into the library and scowled at the sight of Castiel standing at the head.
"You're wounded." He said before taking steps closer to you and taking your cheeks in one hand, his palm extending across your mouth for a split second before you jerked your face away. "Was this Cain?" He paused, looked you up and down. "You're glowing."
You turned and looked down the hallway that lead to the bedrooms, glad to see that neither Sam nor Dean had come out of Dean's room, yet. After listening a moment you nodded, satisfied that they were still bickering.
You turned back to Castiel. "Why are you here?"
"I came to tell you that Cain has been searching for you, but I see that you've already identified him as a threat." He gestured to your face. "He's going to need to be taken care of."
"Yeah, well," you turned to walk to your backpack, pulling a pair of blue jeans and a hoodie from it before turning back to the angel with raised eyebrows, "I'm on it, thanks for the update."
"You and Dean have been very close." Castiel's eyes were narrowed as he said this, almost as though he were trying to comprehend something. You saw his nose crinkle a bit as he sniffed into the air, then looked at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "Y/N, tell me you haven't."
Hopping gently while you shoved a leg into one of your jeans, you looked up at the angel and caught his eye before rolling yours and turning your gaze back to the jeans you were attempting to put on. "If you're going to try and convince me it's a bad idea, save it." You steadied yourself, now standing fully on both of your feet while shoving a hand down your jeans to push Dean's boxers down, smoothen them out. "I already know and you'd be wasting your breath."
"He has the Mark, Y/N." Castiel took a step closer to you as he said this, one of his palms now facing you at his waist as he added, "That's not only unsafe for Dean, but it's unsafe for you."
"And since when have you cared about my wellbeing, Castiel?" You snapped at him, watching as the angel opened his mouth to speak but you only raised a hand, silencing him. "You're worried about Dean, I get it. I am, too. But don't try using my wellbeing as a reason for your concern because I know damn well that it's not true."
"Does he know?"
"About what?" You asked before taking the hoodie and shoving your head through it. It was while you were poking your arms through their respective holes that you asked, "About the Mark and me?"
Castiel nodded.
"How do you even know about the Mark and me, Castiel?" You asked suddenly, your eyes narrowing as you took a step closer to the angel. "There are very few people that know about it, and you were never on that list."
"I heard Metatron."
Your eyebrows rose when he admitted that, only to be crushed back down when Castiel took another step closer to you, his face suddenly far more grim than it had been. "That's why I am concerned about Cain searching for you. I fear he might try to..." The angel shrugged, allowing you to finish the sentence for him.
"You're not worried about me." You laughed out, dry humor in your words. "Your life would be easier if I was out of the equation, wouldn't it?"
"I'm worried for Dean."
"How does Dean have anything to do with Cain and I other than the Mark he has on his arm?"
"I'm afraid that," Castiel's lips went taut a moment as he considered what to say, his eyes jumping between each of yours before he finally said, "I'm afraid that Dean won't be able to handle that instance."
You felt your heart skip a beat—quite literally, it left you slightly winded—as you stared at the angel, at the true concern in his eyes; he must have learned the sentiment during his time with the Winchesters, because you knew first hand that angels rarely felt anything other than motivation to carry out orders. Given that this was most certainly not an order from up above, you safely assumed he was genuine.
"Well I don't plan on letting Cain get me, if it's worth anything to you."
Castiel and you looked at each other in silence for only two or three seconds before he flew off and Sam and Dean walked into the library; judging by the footsteps, there was a considerable amount of tension between the brothers that part of you didn't want to get involved in, but the other part knew you were the cause of. With a sigh you turned to the brothers and walked over to them, pulling out a chair at the table and taking a seat beside Sam.
"So tell me this doesn't look like Charlie," he said, looking to his opposite side at Dean before pulling the iPad that had been sitting across the table toward himself. "I found this this morning and I swear it's her."
Only a second had passed, the blink of an eye. You looked down at your sandwich.
Cain had been looking for you.
Cain had been looking for you, but you sat around with the damned Winchesters instead of taking care of things.
Are you angry enough to go do something about this, yet?
You looked at Id and felt the anger bubbling in your stomach, felt the twinge of pain that shot through your arm, causing you to drop the grilled cheese onto the bed in front of you. The pain was sharp, angry, brought about a wicked bitterness inside you that was especially hard to shake.
You don't know the whole story yet.
She knows enough.
But she doesn't know everything.
Shut up, Sup. Id stuck an arm out and slapped Sup's cheek, laughing when the smaller creature let out a little cry. Go back to reading your damned book, you've got nothing to do here.