Disclaimer: If this were mine, the show would consist of nothing but chick-flick moments and brotherly schmoop. But as it is, Supernatural has a plot. So clearly, it does not belong to me.

Excerpt: In the Absence of Light

"Where!?" Voice so sharp it can slice through glass, pain so tangible Bobby knows that not a single person could possibly ignore it. "Tell...me...now." There isn't a shred of the young boy he once knew left. The young boy who spent summers all but destroying his home. The young boy he played catch with in that field. Though Bobby isn't surprised. He knows the things desperation can do to a person, witnessed it firsthand as Sam spiraled away and out of control all those years ago.

And in Dean's eyes, Bobby can see all the burning determination and rage of a kamikaze.

"Where is he!?" It's so hard for Bobby to keep his mouth shut, to stand uncomfortably in the doorway and be the sympathetic, level-headed party. His sole job is to make sure that Dean doesn't kill the bitch. But the more desperate Dean becomes, the more panicked and lost, and the less she cooperates, the harder it becomes for Bobby to remember this job. Because he can't really see any advantage to keeping Dean in control.

Not when he wants her and her group dead almost as much as Dean does.

"Burning in Hell!" it screams back, cold laughter tearing out from its throat. Dean doesn't even hesitate, barely lets it get the words out before he's dragging the knife down its arm and they're both listening to her scream.

Ever so slowly, with all the calm of someone trained in the art of torture, Dean kneels down in front of the chair they have it tied to, sitting in the middle of a devil's trap. He stares up at what used to be a woman and Bobby feels even himself shiver. Distantly, he wonders how far he should let this go. Because Dean is slipping farther and farther and farther into the Dean created in Hell. And he knows that if Sam were here, he'd never condone this. If Sam were here, he'd never have let Dean do this. If Sam were here, he'd ask Dean to stop and Dean would. Done. End of story.

But then, if Sam were here, none of this would really be an issue, now would it?

Calmly, Dean repeats, "Where is he?" He runs his fingers along the tip of the blade, avoiding the tainted blood that covers it, breathing in deeply through his nose. "Tell me where he is, you bitch."

Chest heaving, the demon smirks and looks down at him, tilting its head to the side. "Hell. I sent him back there myse-" And had Dean been any slower, Bobby would have beaten him to one of the buckets of holy water they have sitting around the room. But Dean's faster and he has the entire thing upended over her head in less than a second, throwing the barrel to the side as she screams.

The oldest Winchester bends over the chair, resting his hands on the armrests as he places himself right in her face. And it's then that Bobby realizes that it won't matter if he wants to stop Dean. It won't matter at all. Because Dean isn't going to stop. Not until he gets what he wants. "You know who I am. You know who I was trained by. Which means you know that I can make you hurt in ways you can't even imagine." It's said so quietly, right into the demon's ear, and Bobby realizes that before, Dean only ever reluctantly admitted that information. Now though... Now, he can use it to protect Sammy. And if he can use it to protect Sammy, he can't muster up the energy to be ashamed of it. "Unless you tell me where my brother is? Get comfy."

"I know you, Dean Winchester," it says. "You wouldn't do anything to permanently damage this casing."

"Well," Dean smirks, standing up, "you obviously don't know me that well." Bobby knows that the girl in that demon is already dead, has been for awhile now. But the demon doesn't know they know that. And honestly, at this point, Bobby isn't sure Dean would care either way.

No, it really doesn't know Dean Winchester at all.

Dean turns around, reaching for Ruby's knife on the table behind him. The smile slips from the demon's face, as if it's finally realized how much trouble it is in. And it fights back the only way it knows how. "I used to watch, y'know. A lot of us did. It was a great show."

Bobby can see Dean's back tense, watches it lock into place just as his jaw does. And now he knows that this demon has just signed its death certificate.

It knows it too. And Bobby realizes suddenly that that's exactly what it wants. A quick and easy death. "Watching Lucifer peel flesh from bone-"

"Shut up." Dean doesn't turn around. It's growled to the wall in front of him which only makes it that much more terrifying. Though his teeth are clenched so tightly that Bobby's surprised that any sound is able to escape at all.

"Hearing him scream-"

"I said, shut up!" Dean shouts, and before Bobby can even process what's happening, Dean's stabbing Ruby's knife in through the demon's shoulder, pinning it to the back of the wooden chair. He turns away immediately after, running his hand down his face as screams fill the basement's walls. And Bobby has to wonder if that's where he should stop him. If this is the line that he shouldn't let Dean cross. Because this is getting too much. Far too much for Dean to handle.

Stepping away from the wall, Bobby starts, "Dean-" but never gets any farther than that. Dean's gaze flickers over to him, just for an instant, and all of Bobby's arguments dry up.

"She knows where he is," Dean tells him. "She knows-"

"He screamed for you!" the demon shouts through its sobs. Dean flips back around to face it and the ice that was previously in his eyes transforms into a fire that burns so black and strong that Bobby knows it will be impossible to put out. And at that moment, Bobby really wishes that he could let Dean just kill the thing. Because neither one of them need to hear the shit she's saying. Neither one of them needs the images she's handing out.

Dean storms over to it, pulling the knife from its shoulder. Wetness paints its cheeks and dark hair falls down over the wound. But it doesn't stop. Because it wants Dean to hurt. It wants him to lose it. "Even when you were the one doing the torturing, he still screamed for big brother to come save him. But you didn't, did you!? You didn't!"

"Where's my brother!?"

"Hell!" The knife goes in through its thigh and this time, Bobby doesn't hesitate. Not even as its screams all but shatter his eardrums. Not even as its voice blows out the tiny window at the back of the basement. Because Dean's already reaching for the blade again and he knows that if he's given another chance, it'll go someplace much more vital.

Wrapping his arms around his pseudo-son's chest, he yanks the younger man back, trying to keep him from driving anymore holes into the thing. "Tell me where my brother is!" His screams mix in with hers, melding together into one of the most Earth-shattering sounds Bobby has ever heard.

"Dean, stop! Calm down!" Bobby shouts, trying to make himself heard over everything else, trying to hold back the struggling, far too determined body in front of him. Because he honestly doesn't know what Dean will do if he lets go of him.

The demon drags in deep breaths, chest heaving. And looking up through her eyelashes, she spits, "He's Lucifer's plaything."

Dean lunges forward again, almost tearing himself from Bobby's grip, but Bobby manages to duck around, putting himself in front of the raging hunter. And as crazed as Dean has gotten, Bobby doesn't think he's yet at the point where he'll hit him.

"You're lying," Dean growls over Bobby's shoulder, as if he's not even there. "Tell me where he is or I swear, I will tear you apart."

It smirks, leg jerking. "Sounds like fun."

Dean's fingers twitch against his sides and his eyes meet Bobby's, a clear demand for him to get out of the way. And Bobby would love to. Really. He would. Because this is the same as standing in front of a really pissed off lion at feeding time. But he couldn't. Not yet. "You kill it, Dean, and you'll never know."

The younger's eyebrows raise. "I know that." It's said calmly, almost as if he doesn't understand why Bobby feels the need to state something so obvious.

"You won't know what happened."

Dean blinks. Once. Twice. And then repeats, "I know that." His gaze is blank and that's far scarier than the fire or the ice. At least in both of those cases, Bobby knew what he was dealing with. This is too logical, too clinical. Sighing, Dean adds, "I'm not gonna kill it." The I wouldn't do that, is implied, tacked so heavily onto the end of the sentence that Bobby can only nod. Because that he believes.

It's Sam. Dean wouldn't do that.

Taking a breath, Bobby steps out of the kid's way, eyes staying locked on the Demon-killing knife.

But Dean's eyes are locked on the demon.

And as his hand seizes around the handle of the blade, as he shifts his weight to the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders back, neck cracking, Dean smirks.

...Coming soon...

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