if i don't make it back from where i've gone
just know i loved you all along

inkpot gods, the amazing devil

chapter fifteen

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ONE INSTANT, Dean was holding the spear, ready to finish Michael right there. The next, he's snapping back into his body with the ghost of a kiss leaving his lips. He fights the oncoming dizziness, facing Catherine. They're still staring at each other, gaze unbroken, yet there's something off about her.

It takes him a few seconds to realize it. Once he does, it's already too late.

She starts laughing and steps back, then throws out a hand. Her eyes flash blue as Michael's power takes hold of him and shoves him to his knees. Anger ripples through him at the sight of that blue. The fucking bastard.

He hates the sound of that laugh. A taunting, arrogant sound he'd never imagine hearing from her mouth. He watches as she examines her hands, looking down at herself. Then she looks at Dean again, those eyes with no weight of her under them. "You know what this means, don't you?" Somehow, it sounds nothing like her. Like Catherine.

At his lack of response she approaches, crouching at his level. She grabs his chin and tilts his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. Then she leans in close, breathing in a dangerous whisper, "It means...I win."

He replies, in a growl just as venomous, "I'm gonna kill you."

She pouts mockingly. "Will you, Righteous Man?"

The use of that title stuns him, enough that he doesn't rebuff as she straightens and goes to collect the broken pieces of the spear.

He takes the moment to turn and figure out the state of the others. He finds them in the same position as him, on their knees and unmoving. Jack has tears streaming down his face, and neither Sam nor Cas will quite meet his eyes. They all look equally devastated.

"Tell me, Dean," She says, now holding both pieces of the broken spear. "Would you do it now?" She holds the pieces together and they mend, as easily as it was snapped. She tosses it and it rolls, stopping right in front of him.

He's released from his hold and he jumps for the spear, crossing the room with the tip at her throat in seconds.

Then he remembers, and he hesitates. He remembers what it was like when Lucifer was killed. The way it burned through his vessel's body, the way it incinerated the church.

"So predictable," Michael whispers. "You can't hate even me more than you love her." She grabs the spear, and within seconds it's ablaze. He jumps back to avoid the flame, and the spear evaporates to a pile of ash.

She doesn't bother putting him in the hold again. She's called his bluff; he wouldn't dare try anything that could hurt Catherine.

"That will always be your downfall, Dean Winchester," she taunts, once again stepping towards him. "Love. It's always been your biggest weakness. You burn with it."

She smirks, and pain slowly begins to wash over him. It comes in waves, getting stronger with each one. She doesn't even need to touch him to send him to his knees.

"If you're gonna kill us," he manages, though strained. "Just get it over with."

She sighs and turns away. She scoops up the abandoned glass from the table and pours herself a drink. "I think...this time I'd rather just leave you to the wolves." She drains the glass and places it back in the same spot. "Have fun, boys."

Then she's gone.

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PURE FUCKING rage was the only thing that got them out of that hotel alive. Even now, he still shakes with it, holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

It's been a while since he's felt this sort of anger. Not since the days of the impossible scar imprinted on his arm, but even then, this is different. Back then, that anger was fragile, like a bomb. Like a storm, like lightning boiling inside him, waiting for the next strike.

This is different. This is quiet, like a dangerous hum low inside him. It's vengeful. Biblical. He'd rip Michael's essence from her body with his bare goddamn hands if he could.

No one dares to speak as they hurtle down the road. He wouldn't be surprised if the rest of them could feel the heat of it radiating off of him.

They're all stained with varying ranges of monster blood and guts, along with hefty amounts of their own blood and wounds. Dean glances in the rearview mirror to see Jack staring out the window. He's not sure he'll ever forget the look on Jack's face back in that room.

"Hey, kid," Everyone in the car perks up, even though he only addressed Jack. He checks the mirror to make sure he's looking. "We're gonna get her back. You got that?"

After a few moments, he gives a small nod. He returns with his own.

The van quite literally comes out of nowhere. It just clips the front of the car, sending it spinning. Then another hits them from the back, and they might've gone airborne, but he's not quite sure. Whatever happens next, it's all in a daze. He can't hear much over the ringing in his ears.

Dean has the vague sensation of hands all over him, dragging him, then shouting and the metallic tang of blood in the air.

Next thing he knows, he's on his knees again, facing Michael. For a split second he doesn't recognize her, with the once long blonde waves now dark brown and cut short, and leathers traded for a blazer.

"Honestly, Dean, I wasn't expecting any of you to make it out of that hotel," He realizes she's saying. He frantically looks around, searching, and he finds them all yards away being held by vampires. One of them has fangs inches away from Jack's throat, and he freezes.

"Funny how we always end up here, isn't it?"

He realizes then, that they're completely surrounded. Whatever army that was in the city, it's here now, gathered around them.

"You had to have known that it was going to end like this." She lowers into his field of vision.

"God, do you ever stop talking?"

Her mouth upturns, but he can see the bitterness behind the smirk. "You should've seen her face. The moment she realized..." She trails off with a laugh. "And, you won't know this, Dean, but..." She leans closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "She feels so good."

The anger feels alive, now. Raging inside him, and it knows the only thing that will stifle it is Michael dead.

He struggles against his hold, and that's when he learns there are actual bonds holding him this time, instead of Michael's powers.

She straightens once again, and when she speaks, she's addressing all of them. "Once I learned you made it out of Hitomi alive, I realized you could actually be useful to me. I realized...just how glorious it would be, for all of you to become the very thing you've spent your lives hating and killing. Well..." She turns, looking over Cas and Jack. "Most of you. Because, once you're gone, where's the hope for this world? What is this world without the Winchesters?"

She shoots a vague gesture towards a group of monsters. "Let's get this over with. Kill the angel."

The vampires start to separate the group, dragging Cas away. Before Dean can even try to fight back, there's a werewolf at his side sinking its teeth into his shoulder. He groans at the white-hot pain shooting through him.

"Stop!" Everything comes to a standstill at the voice; it's so distinctly Catherine that it takes his breath away, even through the pain. The werewolf is gone, and when he focuses on her, she's on the ground like she collapsed. She's panting like she's run a marathon, a hand outstretched towards the werewolf that had just been there. But it's her.

"Cath?" He can barely get it out. She drags herself to her feet, staring at her hand. It's shaking. She snaps, just once, and half of the monsters surrounding them disappear into thin air. The rest of them fall to the ground, limp. Her legs nearly buckle, but she stumbles forward until she falls to her knees right in front of him.

"Don't say anything, please don't say anything," she practically begs. Her gaze focuses on his shoulder. She lifts both hands to the wound, emitting a gentle light as it stitches itself together.

"How are you doing that?"

She shakes her head. "I– I don't know. It doesn't matter right now."

She snaps again and his arms come free. She gasps as her eyes flash blue, but she squeezes her eyes shut and strains past it. She reaches out and grabs his shoulder to keep herself up. He grabs her waist and pulls her in. Her breath returns heaving, and she finally looks at him.

"Cath–"

"Dean, please listen, okay? Just listen to me, don't say anything." Silver tears line her eyes and her voice trembles. He nods. All he can do is hold her close. "The archangel blades. I know you have them hidden somewhere. You need to find them."

"We can't use them, Cath, what...?" He trails off as the realization sets in, but he refuses. He refuses to acknowledge this as an option. "No. Not an option."

She coughs out a sob. "It's the only way. It's the only option we have left. He burned the fucking spear, there's nothing else left that can kill him."

"What about you?" It feels more like an accusation than a question, and he nearly shouts it. All she does is look at him as tears stream down her face. He lifts a hand from her waist to her face, and she nearly crumples into the touch. She closes her eyes and grasps his wrist to hold him there.

"I don't matter," she finally says, quietly.

"Don't say that. Don't you say that to me."

She reopens her eyes, pouring into his own.

"Eject him," he demands.

"No."

"Cath–"

"Dean, please–" She sobs again, leaning into him. "I don't know what else to do. This is the last card and I have to play it."

"There's always another way. Always."

"Not this time."

"Catherine, look at me." He lifts his other hand to cup her other cheek, brushing his thumbs along her cheekbones. "We will figure something out. We will."

She inhales sharply and her hand tightens around his wrist. Blood begins to drip from her nose. She sways and he wraps an arm around her waist, pressing her to him.

"I can't– I can't hold him much longer. The blades, Dean."

He starts shaking his head, but she ignores him.

"Find them. And then find me."

"Cath, please–"

Her hand leaves his shoulder and brushes against his face. He savors the touch, praying it won't be the last time. Her eyes are growing more hazy by the second. "Have– have I ever said how much I love your eyes? I used– used to dream about them. When we first met."

"Don't do this, Cath."

She gasps in pain, nearly a whimper. "Find me."

"Don't–!" But he can't finish the sentence because she disappears from his arms, leaving him chasing air. 

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author's note !!

everyone stop what ur doing immediately and go listen to inkpot gods just go do it right now if you've ever decided to listen to me let now be that moment

10/10 song

THEE deancath song

anyways. they're so tragic i love them

u guys know the drill vote and comment <333

thanks for reading!!

-skye