[h3] Dean Winchester and Cason [/h3]

As Cason panted in a laugh, almost pressing the knife into his own throat by leaning up into it.  Dean couldn’t help the growl that left his throat, even as Bobby held the back of his neck, driving his fingers into Dean’s veins, threatening to choke him out from lack of blood flow.

“Let me go, Bobby…”, he sneered quietly.  But Bobby’s grip just tightened as Mika stepped over to him and he heard Esme’s heightened and very angry voice pierce through the room.  He didn’t budge, but when Cason flinched at Esme’s voice, the demon’s skull flashed beneath his skin, showing that the flinch had caused the knife to cut him pretty deep.

The red in Dean’s eyes started to fade just a bit and he turned his head to stare at Mika, flinching as Nat touched his hand, which tightened around the knife under her fingers.  

[i] I love you [/i]

Cason had begun to shiver at that point, under Dean’s weight.  He was almost just as afraid of Esme’s anger heating up the room as he was the certain death that sat on him.  If she exploded again, he was going to burn, and there was nothing that could stop it.  Only this time, there was a chance that everyone in the room was coming with him.  He closed his eyes, giving in and hoping that Dean would listen to the rest of the room so he could vanish, or at the very least get as far away from the hunter as possible.

Turning his face toward Mika’s, Dean glared at her, his nose dripping blood from his chin as he did so, like a man possessed.  He didn’t even realize how much he was sneering, until he kicked his elbow out against Nat’s arm to shake her hand off of his and pushing Bobby back with the force, raised the knife high in the air, crashing it down with a loud ‘crack’ and a growl.

“Dean, no!”, Bobby screamed, as he slammed the knife into what Bobby had assumed was Cason’s chest.  Instead, when Cason’s face came back into view over Dean’s head, he was still very much alive and the knife was stabbed into the wooden floor, still wiggling.

Dean had driven the knife into the floor, just centimeters from Cason’s face, and sat there, panting and growling.  Bobby released his neck with a relieved sigh, moving his hand down to Dean’s back as Dean stood carefully from Cason’s hips, and with a huff started to walk away.

“Dean…”, Bobby called to him as he approached Esme, “Dean where are you going?!”

Dean didn’t answer him, only kept walking, shrugging himself past Esme and out the door as Cason groaned, his eyes still on the knife by his head.