A/N: It is not necessary to read "The Plan In Action" in order to follow this story. However, this is set within that universe and there are many references to it.
If this was Hell, then it wasn't bad, although Sam was pretty sure there was more to where he was than what met the eye. The place he was in was immaculate, as were a lot of the people standing in line with him. A great many of them seemed to be wearing business suits, and expensive ones at that. Sam had a sudden wish he'd been able to dress for Hell a lot better than his knit shirt and jeans. Oh well. Obviously the Devil hadn't thought it was important for Sam to fit in.
Looking around, Sam tried to take it all in. He looked like he was in the lobby of an incredibly expensive hotel. It was massive. And high. Sam thought the Work Bench would fit in it at least a couple of times over. It was also extremely ornate. Silver, gold, mahogany, and what looked like ivory decorated everything, including the tiles he was standing on. At one end of the lobby were two large white doors. They were at the top of a short flight of stairs, and reached almost to the ceiling. The doors were intricately carved, although from where he was standing, Sam couldn't see by what.
There was no one else in this place other than him, the people standing in line, and what Sam assumed to be a demon, since he didn't have horns. The uniformed demon stood behind a check-in counter. The people who had already checked in were standing in a group at the bottom of the stairs by the doors. Most of them held the same expression: relief. Several even looked quite smug. Sam also noticed that out of all the people in the room, he was by far the youngest.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only an hour, Sam finally made it to the check-in. He walked up alone to the counter. The demon didn't even look up as he approached.
"Hello," Sam said hesitantly, putting his hands on the counter.
"O'Connell, David. Check. Welcome - " The demon looked up at him with a falsely warm smile but quickly stopped. He was eyeing Sam's wrists. Sam looked too. His wrists were covered with gold bands, but he was pretty sure they weren't real gold. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed them before. They certainly hadn't been there before he'd come to Hell. Sam wished the demon hadn't pointed the bracelets out, because now he was acutely aware of how much they chafed. The demon looked puzzled and rechecked his paperwork, which seemed to give him no answers. Curious, he turned back to Sam.
"My mistake. I wonder how you got here. We never get contracts at this entrance." The demon made an insincere attempt to control his laughter. "They know what to expect." Looking directly at Sam he said in amusement, "You must be a real moron if you didn't even think to get a longevity clause. I hope whatever you traded your soul for was worth being so stupid."
Sam started to argue that he hadn't traded his soul for anything, but decided against it. What did it matter? He was still in Hell. With a laugh that Sam knew wasn't even close to being friendly, the demon told him, "Welcome to Hell, Slave. Enjoy your stay. Now go stand with the others."
Sam gave an instinctive 'thanks', which drew a raised eyebrow from the demon. Then Sam went to join the crowd gathering by the stairs. Everything about this place confused him. This was not what he expected Hell to look like. The Devil had told him not to be scared, but Sam really hadn't taken him seriously when he said it. He was going to Hell for God's sake. Hell was desolate. Dark. Torturous, even. Sam had never considered it might look like the Waldorf-Astoria.
Then a memory came back to him. A lost load of apples, a dead man in a crashed truck, and the Devil, as usual, mocking him. Minions? Do you know who works for me in the office? White collar criminals. They hate their jobs. They hate me. I'm lucky if I can get a cup of coffee in the morning.
It dawned on Sam that this place must be a classic bait and switch. Make the new souls think they've made it to Heaven. An evil way to start their afterlife with false hope cruelly taken away. Perhaps they even thought the white doors were the Pearly Gates. It made sense that there would be a sterilized Hell made for the souls for whom endless paperwork, inkless pens, easily broken pencils, manual labor, and the like would be enough to drive them insane for all eternity. Like water torture, the first few drips were manageable, but after the suffering of unceasing relentlessness, it became pure torment. God knew all it took to drive Sam nuts was a simple conversation with the Devil. If he was subjected to that 24/7 no way would his sanity stay intact.
Sam had been near the end of the line. It didn't take much longer for the demon to finish check-in. As soon as he was done, the white doors slowly opened emitting a blinding white light. But that lasted only until a new demon appeared, and there was no mistaking this one as anything other than a monster. His job was obviously to introduce them to where they truly were, and Sam watched as relief and arrogance faded quickly away to be replaced by terror and despair.