Chapter Text
Death was inevitable. From the time one is born, they are already dying. It's only the factor of time that dictates how long a wait one has until death ultimately won.
With that being the case, death was also utter bullshit. There was nothing on this earth or beyond that played with your emotions more, that tempted, enticed, and scared you more than the thought, the scent, the reality that was and forever would be death.
How fitting, then, that Death would toy with you once again.
Or was it once again? For all you knew, you had been dead since Oklahoma. Either that, or everything up to this point was just a dream, a messed up, violent dream filled with so much anger and resentment and pain that it had almost felt real.
It was the only explanation you could come up with, after all. There was just no way any of this was real. Nothing made sense anymore.
Maybe this was your own personal Hell. You were pretty sure you would have seen Crowley roaming around somewhere by this point, but besides the absense of said demon, it certainly made more sense to be dead than anything else.
"It's nice to see you again, sister of mine. Can't say it was unexpected, though that boyfriend of yours sure helped the processes along."
Oliver's smile was warm and familar, and his eyes shown lovingly in the dim light as if they were glowing. Now that you knew the truth, however, you could see that there was something very, very wrong with the man standing before you.
"Who are you?" you ground out, your eyes narrowing as you slowly backed up a few paces.
Oliver followed suit and moved with you, not allowing himself to corner you and, instead, choosing to maintain the initial distance you had kept from him. His head tilted just slightly to the side in a curious manner as if he were actually confused by your question.
"Don't be silly, (Y/N). You know exactly who I am. I haven't changed much; well, except the "being dead" part, but you knew that."
"Alright then. What are you?"
His smile turned to that of a grin, teeth flashing and eyes glinting almost dangerously for half a second. For that brief moment, he looked more like a dangerous predator than your brother, one who knew he had the upper hand and had maintained it for quite some time.
"Ah, now there's the right question. You've always been one to catch on quick. Remember that Wendigo when you were tweleve, the one you hunted down all by yourself? Oh, wait, it was a vengeful spirit, wasn't it?"
He tsked at himself as his steps led him further away from you, his eyes drifting around Bobby's place as if reminiscing. You remained in your spot across the way, keeping your gaze locked on Oliver. He didn't seem to want to hurt you, at least not at this moment, but erring on the side of caution was the best option you had.
"It's funny how easily the mind can mix things up. Then again, I've mixed up your mind so much, it's a wonder you're not in an asylum. It wasn't my intention, of course, but as the saying goes-"
"Is what Dean said true?"
Oliver's eyes moved to you suddenly at the interruption, his somewhat pleasant demeanor spiking quickly to that of disgruntlement. His pleasant smile returned, however, though it was of little comfort to you now.
"You were always one to ask alot of questions, too. I don't blame you; knowledge is power, after all."
"Is it true or not?!" you shouted, feeling your hands shake with the force behind your words.
"I suppose he wasn't completely wrong," Oliver mused, "I mean, he did "kill" me, persay, rather brutally, I might add. Lots of blood. But there wasn't a demon. Well, not necessarily a demon."
Oliver's eyes flashed then, and for a moment you were struck with a sense of familiar fear at seeing his eyes change to that of a singular color. There was something off about the change, however, and instead of possessing a pair of blackened eyes as most demons had, only his left eye carried the trait as the right gave an even brighter green glow.
You were equal parts facinated and horrified at the man before you.
"What...what happened to you?"
"Exactly what I wanted to happen to me," he answered, giving a slow blink and a roll of his shoulders. When his eyes opened again, they were the same bright green hue you had always known.
"Why don't we take a walk?"
You eyed your brother warily before looking to the right, your eyes lingering in the direction of the bathroom. Oliver gave a light laugh as he moved passed you and to the front door, causing you to jump slightly at his sudden but brief closeness.
"Don't worry, I have no intention to harm anyone, so long as you humor my want for conversation. Let's take a walk."
With that, he disappeared before your eyes, presumably outside, and not but a moment later, you were following after, walking in a tense silence with who you used to know as your caring, protective brother through the automotive junkyard that was Bobby's backyard.
"I was lucky, (Y/N), lucky to be born in this life, aware of all things supernatural," Oliver began almost reverently.
"Instead of keeping me away from the dangerous world we know, our parents made sure to teach me anything they could, knowing that my naiveté would not protect me from the evil in this world. I learned quickly, and before long I was able to fight alongside them on small cases, even at my young age.
"It was all I knew then, being a Hunter. I idolized our parents for how agile they were, how efficient and knowledgeable of the unknown they had become, and I became obsessed with the want to be just like them.
"And then, they had you," he said, voice going soft at the memory, something you had not expected.
"I was nine when you were born, and my facination shifted. Suddenly, my obsession with becoming like our parents morphed into an absolute need to protect you.
"In that sense, I took to the role of big brother very well. Perhaps too well, as I attempted to kill our mother one night, mistaking your cries for hunger as a sign of distress. She stopped me, of course, because she was stronger, quicker, more alert and ready to fight, if need be. It was then I realized how unbelievably weak I was.
"Strength and knowledge of the supernatural that neither Mom nor Dad could give me became my new obsession. By the time you were three, I had learned more than a lifetime's worth of information on the mythological, the supernatural. By the time you were five, I could handle killing a small group of vampires, all on my own. Still, it wasn't enough. I was still weak, but then I realized how to change all that."
Oliver's gaze bore into your own as he paused in his step, effectively stopping and locking you in place.
"Do you remember the night you first learned of the evils that haunt this world?"
You nodded slowly, lips quivering just a moment as you recounted that childhood memory.
"I was eight. It was well after midnight, but I kept hearing these noises...awful noises. I was scared, too afraid to call out to anyone, but I wanted to know what was happening. You ran into my room before I could even think to open the door. You were covered in blood-"
Your sharp inhale couldn't be helped as all the pieces suddenly came together.
"You said...you told me it was a shapeshifter that killed them, but it was you."
"The only way to gain power is to destroy any obstacles that are in your way. They were no longer the idols I thought them to be; after they taught me all they knew, our parents were nothing but a hinderance to my gain. My aim was for something much more than mortality had to offer, to become a being so great that not even all the forces of Heaven and Hell could overpower it. All it took was that first step, and the possibilities were endless."
"I was only eight, Oliver...you killed our mom...our dad!"
Your sickened disbelief was palpable in your words, though Oliver seemed to expect as much. He gave a soft smile despite the way you flinched at the unwelcoming display.
"It was all for you, (Y/N), don't you see? Everything I ever did was for you, to protect you, to find a way for you to protect yourself."
He made to reach for you, an act that was reminiscent to that day back in the hospital, and you instantly stepped away.
"No, Oliver. I never wanted any of this! Whatever you are...whatever happened to you, we can fix it, Olly. We can fix it, this whole messed up situation, but you have to stop whatever you're trying to do."
Oliver's gaze was relentless as he stared you down, his expression unreadable as you pleaded with him. Even with the fear of what he had become, with your fear of knowing what he had done to you, to your parents, to Dean...even knowing that he was not the Oliver you knew growing up, he was still your brother.
"I did this for your protection," he urged vehemently, eyes narrowing in near disbelief at your want to change what he had so painstakingly worked up to.
"Don't you get it? I don't need your protection, Olly. I haven't needed it since you left me, and I still don't need it now."
This seemed to strike a chord within your brother, as his expression suddenly turned to that of distaste.
"I see," he spoke quietly, his eyes cutting to glance at Bobby's house before finding your gaze once more. "I suppose you wouldn't need me anymore, now that you've got someone else."
You were confused by his words for only a moment before realization dawned on you. In that moment, you felt fear as you had never experienced it before.
"Oliver, don't-"
"This little conversation of ours is now over, (Y/N)."
With that, he disappeared from before you, and all at once, the reality of the situation came crashing down around you.
Dean was going to die.