36. The Title Fight

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36. The Title Fight

This can't be happening. Not now. Not when we're so close.

I can't look away even though I really should. Sam and I are strung up high like cattle about to be slaughtered. Where's Dean, you ask? Amara has him free, working her seductive charm on him. Chuck is nowhere to be found, and Lucifer's—or Cas's body, whoever's it is—is slain and matted with blood, still. It lays on the floor. She had killed him like he was nothing. A bug zapper frying its prey.

The worst part is that I swear I saw Cas in pain, too, along with Lucifer.

The setting is perfect for a murder: a dark building, a storm overhead. There's no rain, only the occasional lightning strike and the deep familiar rumble of thunder. The storm isn't the thing that's bothering me right now.

I hate watching the corruption of my older brother, as Amara whispers things to him, things that Sam and I can only imagine. I struggle fruitlessly against the chains. This can't happen. He's fought it for so long. He can fight just a little more. It's something we were bred to do: endure.

When Dean turns to us, my breath catches. His face is changed. It's not blissful like I imagined, there's a determination on his face. A fire I've seen in his eyes before. The intention to kill.

I feel beads of sweat drip down my forehead.

"Dean," I plea softly. "Dean, it's us. It's Jo, it's Sam. Hey." My lip trembles. "Snap out of it." I glare past him at Amara. "You twisted bitch."

"You should have known it would end like this," she says in her soft lilt. "You should've ran when you had the chance." She looks at Dean. "You know what you have to do."

"Well, it's not kill us, that's for sure," I sass the Darkness. But Dean takes those steps towards us. "He won't do it." It's just for show. It's to trick her. But he's risking a lot to try and trick her, his life for starters.

"Dean, come on, this isn't funny," Sam says in a wavering voice.

When the hell did that get there? I see the First Blade nestled into Dean's right hand. My breathing escalates when I see the familiar red Mark of Cain on his right forearm. But isn't it gone?

"Dean, hey," I say loudly. He doesn't even flinch, he makes his slow way towards us. "Hey, come on. You've beat this before, do it again. Please." The animal jaw blade remains low at my brother's side. He's not snapping out of it.

"If you chose our side, this wouldn't have to happen," says Amara.

"Like he chose this? You brainwashed him!" Dean seems to hone in on me first. "Dean, if this is an act, now's the time to show it." His silence scares me. His eyes are focused but not at the same time. "Please. Don't let her win. Don't choose her over us."

"I already did."

I don't even scream as he thrusts the First Blade through my chest, but Sam does. At the same time, as though the weather knew this would happen, a rumble of thunder sounds overhead. The breath is knocked out of me, and I stare at my older brother in horror. He doesn't bat an eye, doesn't even shed a tear. It's like he's become Amara's puppet.

He's just sentenced me to eternal death. He's sentenced his niece to death. Will this be a dream, when he wakes up and realizes what he's done? I see past my brother to find Amara smirking. I want to claw that stupid smirk off her fucking face.

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