the taste of blood

[kickingand]

Who: Dean & YOU
What: The Mark of Cain Compels You. as in it compels dean. to kill things.
Where: the caves & around the caves & heading back to the spires (dean lives in spire 1, room 501 so feel free to bump into him around there, too)
When: right now!
Warnings: gore, violence, blood, dean being dean.


There was only so much Dean could take of the constant screaming in his mind. Only so much he could withstand when it came to the compulsions he faced on a second by second basis, the ones that forced him to question his every move, his every breath. Every face he passed was an opportunity to kill and every moment was one he wasted not handling the needs that lay crawling under his skin. It was something he told Sammy nothing about because he was fully aware that it was wrong, that all he would do was worry and mull and try to come up with a solution that didn't exist. Because if there was something that Dean knew, it was that there was none. And the only solution, the only one that meant he would stay alive, was to find something to kill.

He'd heard about the caves, brief explanations of the monsters that crawled within. And so he finally decided, after being here for too long without reprieve, left to flickering memories of Leviathan and Purgatory, to take care of what needed to be taken care of.

Making his way to the edge of Hadriel, it took nothing to dip inside the caves and begin to hunt. It wasn't a rare thing for him to go looking for monsters; there was no inkling of the fear that should likely have existed riding the pulse found in his throat. But it was the first one he stumbled upon that made the world around him vanish, that made nothing but the beast in front of him stark and real and necessary to demolish. His demon blade made in appearance in seconds flat and as the cat like creature pounced, he was quick to jam it into its underbelly, wrenching his fist and slicing through skin and muscle, blood immediately pouring over his fingers, down his wrist, soaking beneath his jacket.

It was only the beginning.

Anything he couldn't kill straight off, couldn't demolish with a blade took a shot to the head, blood spattering across the cave walls, a fine most of it hanging in the air. The rest he gored, struck through, tore open - any flesh he could sink into was decimated to the best of his ability. It was a constant rush, his heart crammed up somewhere into the back of his throat as he killed until he could find nothing else. He reeked of death, of remnants and innards and his boots stuck to the floor with sticky, congealed messes. He was soaked with his own need to kill and finally, by the end of it, he felt sated. Numb would have been another word for it, his being finally tamed for, how long? He didn't know.

But it would do for now.

Making his way back out of the caves, Dean wasn't quite sure what to do now. He had to clean up, had to get back to the Spires without making a scene and that wasn't going to happen. And so he did exactly that: just began to walk. Because what else could he do? He'd done what he had to and now he had to face the music. It was the only thing left.

Comments

[bekommen]

Night after night of sleep plagued with intensely uncomfortable dreams has already worked a heavy toll on Nick, and she doesn't much relish the idea of many more nights of the same to come. Even the dreams that had been pleasant in the moment were too close to something painful to truly be enjoyed, and Nick woke every time with a lingering sour aftertaste that she couldn't shake.

So today, she's out walking. She doesn't typically go near the caves, because that's where the monsters live, and that would be stupid, but she also tends to fall on self-destructive habits in times of emotional turmoil. Maybe she's looking for Kamina, holding on to a tiny glimmer of hope that he'll show up again like he did before after an extended stint in the caves. Maybe she's looking for trouble. Maybe she's simply looking for a distraction.

What she finds, though, is Dean - bloody, disgusting, but on his feet all the same. They've only spoken once in the waking world, and she was fairly drunk at the time, but she remembers him, and she remembers his name, and she can't help feeling overwhelmed with panic at the sight he presents.

"Christ," she says, wide-eyed, "what the fuck happened to you?"

[kickingand]

The one thing Dean was hoping for - to get out of this easy - slips away in an instant. He was only walking his way back and of course it'd be too much to ask to keep from running into anyone he's met iin the process. In Purgatory, there was no one there to see, not to mention being covered in gunk? Kind of obligatory. But like this, here with reasonable people, being in a state this severe is anything but normal and while he's aware of that, there is little he can do.

Knowing he's been caught red handed, Dean makes quick work of shoving his colt into his back pocket. He's failing at being nondescript simply because he wasn't thinking, and then he clears his throat and manages to make a face that's meant to say that he's not entirely sure, but hey- he's still alive, right?

"I got bored." He even tries to keep it from sounding sarcastic, as if it's about as honest as he can possibly get with this. But he already knows that questions are going to be asked and ones he has no way to answer without sounding like his own personal freak show. But saying he had to do it is just something he can't manage, not with anyone.

[bekommen]

"You got bored? Seriously?"

Just like that, the feeling of trepidation drops away, replaced by irritation and an exaggerated rolling of her eyes. What is wrong with people in this place?

"Is there some kind of merit badge in the Macho Scouts for fighting cave monsters or something? Fuck." Nick turns half away, throwing up her hand in aggravation and disgust. "You know what, I'm sorry I asked."

[kickingand]

"It's got fuckall to do with trying to be some kinda head honcho." It's meant to be a joke but he snaps it back, loud and frustrated and altogether stung by the accusation. It's not her fault that she doesn't know, that he hasn't explained why he's here. But he's here because he's trying not to hurt anyone, trying to take his own compulsions away - doing everything he can to save a life when he knows he'll snap at any second.

He's exasperated himself, runs dirty fingers through his hair and all but growls as he drops his head, shaking it slow with annoyance. "Not looking to make into the next Lord of the Rings."

[bekommen]

"We already are in the next Lord of the Rings," she says, sighing heavily, hands propped on her hips. "Haven't you noticed? I mean, I know you're new here, but you're not that new." He's been here long enough to know that fighting monsters is dangerous - that's such a given Nick can't believe anyone here is actually stupid enough to go looking for that kind of a fight voluntarily.

"So - what? If it's not some macho bullshit, what is it? They started it first?"

[kickingand]

Dean doesn't know what to say. Can't find the words immediately which is enough of a problem unto itself - there's nothing to snap back with, no smartass reply he can think of that will wrap up what he's done into a neat little package. And god, he wants one. He wants an easy answer to this more than he wants near anything else right now because he has nothing to give anyone. He can't even say the words to Sam let alone someone he barely knows so now what?

What's left to say?

"It's a necessary evil." It's the closest he knows how to get to I have to do it, without outright saying the words, but it's a start and an apologetic one at that.

[thechoiceisyours]

Chris usually doesn't have much reason to be on the outskirts of the city, but he's basically been going back and forth between the house to the bar and nowhere else all week. So he's just gone for a walk, a bit, still keeping a careful distance from the caves, though he happens to be close enough at the right time to catch sight of Dean.

He recognizes Dean from the network, but even if he hadn't the sight of him is so shocking he would've approached in concern anyway.

"A-Are you okay? What happened?"

Is Dean hurt? He can't tell, but he looks... Really not great. Something had to have happened.

[kickingand]

He's just trying to make it back without problem, but Dean isn't clueless to the fact that he looks a mess. He can feel blood congealing, sticky between his fingers and the layers of his clothes. He'll have to throw these away, there's no saving them from the destruction he's caused, not that he needs to be worrying about his clothes right now. All he knows is that he feels better, but for how long? How long is this going to honestly fix anything?

It's the voice that catches him off guard, one he heard over the network and had a simple enough chat with and he looks up, blinks a few times as if he's been caught in the middle of doing something he wasn't supposed to.

Which, well, you could make the argument that he totally was.

"I'm good- it's not mine." Oh yes, because that just goes and makes everything so much better and he cringes, trying again, not wanting to make it sound as if he just slaughtered a whole herd of humans. "Isn't anyone else's either."

[thechoiceisyours]

That it isn't Dean's blood is reassuring but it just kind of raises more questions, though Dean answers one of those soon enough as well.

"Was it um... Monsters, then?" Because that's... Kind of crazy, for a different reason; it's definitely the best of the three explanations, but geez. Dean would've had to kill a lot of monsters and those things are dangerous, though there's also a really practical reason Chris is asking.

[kickingand]

Dean somehow figures that making sure it doesn't look like he's gone on a Patrick Bateman killing spree is fairly important to someone he hardly knows. Granted, the guy has no reason to believe him, but at least he manages to anyway (or seems to), something Dean is at least somewhat grateful for.

Finally, though, Dean gives a nod- a single one, his head bowing just enough for it to be seen. "Yeah, me and the fuckers had it out. Good times." Because turning the whole thing into a joke seemed the only obvious respite from it, hiding from the seriousness by acting as if he'd just done the whole thing for kicks.

[thechoiceisyours]

Okay. Well, that's... Kind of terrifying, but it's definitely the best possible explanation for how Dean looks and so Chris is slightly less worried than he was to begin with. "Well uh, remind me to call you if I ever have a monster problem, but um... If you just like, killed a whole bunch of monsters, you might want to trade with Rage; she um, trades bullets for killing monsters."

Chris is too practical not to mention that, especially if the monsters are already dead. Dean might as well get something out of it.

[strangelic]

It was fortunate for Dean that Castiel was looking out the window--had been looking out the window almost from the moment Dean had left. He was just enjoying the height, the safety, the simulated light, his cheek pressed against the window frame and his eyes open, sitting very still as he stared out into the city.

And then he caught it, the smell of blood and death lifting from below, and the angel sat forward, staring down into the courtyard below as the bloodied, messy man approached. It took him a moment to recognize Dean, under all of it, and when he did, Castiel took wing, landing lightly ahead of him, between Dean and the door.

He wasn't coming in looking like that, covered with all that mess, but moreover he wasn't coming in as troubled mentally, internally, as Castiel could feel from him now. Yes, Castiel had sensed the writhing rage building for some time now, but this was another thing entirely.

He held his ground, troubled and wary.

[kickingand]

Dean really should have been anticipating Castiel's style of approach. He didn't know quite what he was thinking in that regard, as if he'd be able to sneak past Cas without him noticing or freaking out or whatever it is he'd do. If there's one thing he should've considered it was how Cas was going to react to this, as Dean was trying so damn hard to keep from upsetting him.

But this had to happen sooner or later. Something had to break. Not so it could get better, but because breaking was what they did. Breaking was the only thing Dean could do to keep from breaking something else. And when he snapped, it would've been something far more important.

Castiel dropped in front of him from nowhere and Dean's gaze immediately slid sidewards, staring off at nothing in particular just to hold himself together for the barest of moments, trying to think of something to say. But there was no easy explanation to give, nothing he could spill over with some simple explanation as to why he'd done what he'd done and why, exactly, he wanted more.

"You gonna let me in?" The answer to that was an obvious one considering Cas stood rather obviously in his way, but he had to spit out something. And that seemed the easiest, no matter how dull his tone had become.

[strangelic]

"If you had the sense of smell that I have, you wouldn't let you in either," he answered, blandly. It was cover, really, to avoid taking on the actual topic head on. The mark on Dean's arm, that was all but purring with contentment in the wake of Dean's gorefest--how did he even begin to discuss it?

Discussing how dirty Dean was? That was easier. So, so much easier. He lifted his chin defiantly, trying to look Dean in the eye. Honestly, it surprised him to find him evading his gaze. That? That was guilt. Shame. It was muted, slightly, perhaps, maybe dulled by the euphoria that Dean had settled into when he'd killed all those monsters. Castiel couldn't decide if he was more or less afraid of him now than he had been before he'd left. Less on a knife edge, maybe, but... Was this really the man he knew?

"Where did you get that mark, Dean? How?"

[kickingand]

"Yeah, well i've smelled worse."

It was sheer avoidance and an excellent attempt at that. He was happy to talk about the fact that he smelled like crap for the rest of time, until Cas sprayed him down with a hose maybe and let him back inside. It would've been so much easier that way, to ignore the whole thing altogether until he had to do this again. And again. And again. And no matter how many times it took until he couldn't stand it anymore and the real cravings began to kick in because that's what he was most terrified of, the fact that this wouldn't be good enough. That he would crave again within hours, that this wouldn't be what the Mark actually wanted.

But Cas' words finally had Dean's gaze rolling back, not so much defiant as it was hurt, sheer corrupted agony that he wanted to refuse so desperately but knew was now his burden to bare. He was ashamed of himself, sure, but he was equally as invested in the fact that this was better than the alternative.

"I didn't have a choice, Cas."

[strangelic]

"Then explain it to me," he whispered, and he crept closer. Oh, he was scared, but he could feel the pain lifting away from him. The agony and fear that Dean was feeling lifted off him in waves, and Castiel wanted to fix it, even though it terrified him in equal measure. Dean was the flame, and if he got too close he was going to burn his wings--but when was that ever new?

He took just one step at a time, and hesitated just in front of him, lifting his hand up toward the gore coating one shoulder. He could just tap it, and remove it all, but it seemed like Dean needed it for a little longer, and so he withdrew his hand again. They both wore shrouds of their own making. The healing had to go on under them, before they could accept it, before they could return to what they really were. It was why Cas was still wearing his hospital clothes underneath his coat.

"Tell me what happened."

[amos_moses]

A jabberjay drops from the top of a building, wings over Dean's head and calls "hey sugar! " in Sam's voice. Amos can't help but snort with amusement as the bird lands on his shoulder. He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a handful of breadcrumbs for the bird, even as he comments to Dean: "You look like you've had a rough night."

No horror, no shock, simply acceptance and vague spectulation. Coming from a world where every myth and legend told lives alongside humanity in the flesh, Amos has seen wierder and more violent sights. Working for one of the largest yakuza branches in Japan, he's ended up with gore on him as well. He doesn't enjoy violence, but it's part of life and he doesn't even blink at Dean's state.

[kickingand]

The bird overhead almost makes him duck, not exactly skittish but Dean doesn't have the biggest thing for birds, especially after the whole..... dog incident. But that's utterly beside the point, because Dean tracks the animal with his gaze until it lands on a kid's shoulder, as if he owns the thing. Which is kind of weird but what the hell isn't weird about life anymore. Dean still manages to snort though, at his words, even if his response is somehow appreciated.

He isn't freaking out, isn't pointing with terror, he's just looking, and while Dean has to wonder why exactly, it's not as if he would be caught entirely off guard himself if he saw someone covered in gore. Sure, he'd be worried, but this kind of thing was an every day occurrence. It wasn't that off base from the sort of shit that happened at home and for that, Dean was almost thankful.

"That's one way to put it, sure."

[amos_moses]

The bird eats a few crumbs from Amos's palm, then launches off his shoulder again. As it goes it repeats Dean's words and voice: 'one way to put it.'

Amos pockets the rest of the crumbs and shakes his head a little, grinning. He likes the jabberjays, their energy and curiosity. Plus they're pretty clever. "Any of that yours? I hope not, 'cause I suck at first aid." He doubts it, Dean seems to be too alert and moving too well for any of the gore to actually be his...and all his limbs look pretty well attached.

[kickingand]

Dean watches the bird for a few seconds, gaze narrowed against it as it flies off. For at least a few good second he has to convince himself that it's not trying to mock him before he's back to attention, eyebrows lifting at the question before he gives his head a shake.

"If it was mine, you'd know. But I appreciate the sentiment." He does, sure, to a certain extent. But he's also not entirely sure that were he injured, he'd hop on the train to just letting anyone patch him up. And at the same time, he knows he shouldn't be so stingy - he's lucky that he has people here and not being so unsure of everyone might do him some good.

[amos_moses]

"Oh, don't mind 'em, that's just what they do. They repeat what they hear, don't mean nothing by it. They're not smart like that, even if they do like making a fuss."

Amos saw that look, and any chance to foster good-will towards the birds, he'll take. They're loud in the absence of other animals, and Amos likes their chatter. Plus, they're dead useful for messengers and lookouts.

"You must be pretty used to fighting, to get that messy an' still be in one piece, chief."

[morphinum]

Johanna dimly recognizes the man as the one she shared a drink with, a few months ago. He seemed pretty good-natured, kind of an idiot. Johanna promptly forgot about him.

It's hard to forget someone twice though, especially when they're doused in blood. Johanna wolf whistles as Dean walks past. He looks like Johanna in the blood rain. He looks like a victor.

"How many did you murder tonight, pretty boy?"

[kickingand]

The last thing Dean expects is to be wolf whistled like this and he outright stops in his tracks, blinking wide from surprise. Glancing around, it doesn't take too long for him to find the source of the commentary, giving himself a second to think of a response before his eyebrows raise, not sure if this whole thing has been turned into a joke or if it's... somehow twice as serious.

But of course, he can't take figure it's anything but sarcasm. Even if his response is honest enough.

"I dunno, lost count after five, ten- what's it matter."

[morphinum]

Good. The guy has enough sense to respond to sarcasm with sarcasm. Johanna saunters over and drapes an arm around him, getting herself all bloody in the process. She doesn't seem to mind.

"See, I gotta know so I can one-up you. In my last games, I think I slaughtered five people in their sleep? I should get extra points for doing it the asshole way, though." Johanna removes her arm and pats him on the back. "C'mon. Stop sulking. You're gonna stain your clothes if you don't hurry up and get clean."

[kickingand]

Wow, he sure wasn't expecting that. The arm flung around his back makes his eyes go wide for a moment, simply out of sheer surprise before he just goes ahead and lets it go. If she doesn't care than more power to her. Let both of them ruin their clothes.

Though okay, her words are infinitely more... what- shocking? Interesting? Concerning? He doesn't quite know, and he mostly ends up looking baffled, failing to catch up with whatever the hell she's talking about and instead just replying to the easiest thing he was offered. "Wouldn't want to ruin a good pair of jeans."

Okay, but wait.

"You should always get more points for doing it the asshole way, but we talkin' games here?"