Hi. I know there's been a wait for this story. I wanted to start posting it last week, but needed to fix a few things in chapters that didn't quite go right with the continuity. It picks up a month after the last story On the Path of Grieving. If you haven't read the stories before this, I recommend reading them, as it will explain a lot of things that happen in this story.

Chapter 1

Melinda drank the wine. It was amazing wine, but there wasn't enough of it. It didn't dull the humanity that would come back every now and then. She'd struggled with this, especially after last month when she heard about the infiltration from the angels. They'd tried to save her; save Riley and then her. Her family was still holding out hope for her, and she'd gone and become the Queen of Hell.

Had they realized that she was Queen of Hell by now? Maybe that was why it had been 100 years since she'd died. Not that she looked a day over 22. She was still the sexy Halliwell she was when she was alive.

Her heart pained for a second, as she remembered back to her old life. Her memories had faded now. Only now and then would some of the feelings of humanity come back. There were faint memories of her time as human with her brothers, her cousins and Dean Winchester, but they weren't enough to completely taken over.

Melinda took another mouthful of the strong red wine, savoring the taste. It helped a little, but there just wasn't enough of it.

Finishing the glass of wine, the Queen of Hell stood. Her demonic servants jumped at the sound of her black heels hitting the ground. They followed her quickly, trying not to get caught in the flowing chiffon green dress, as she walked from her room and down the corridor. She needed something to take her mind off the feelings springing back up, of the memories of her family coming back to her. She needed something to make her feel better.

There was one place in Hell that could do that.

She stopped at a doorway and placed her hand on the knob.

"My liege, what are you doing here?" A demon quickly rushed over to her, "We were not expecting you for another..."

"Do not finish that sentence if you want to keep your tongue." Melinda warned the demon and then opened the door. She smiled evilly, as she looked at the man that hung from the chains. She picked up the sharpest knife from the tray that magically appeared by the door. That was the rule that Alistair had taught her. Never the largest, but the sharpest to start with.

Walking around the man in chains, she ran the blade of the knife along his neck. He let out a moan of pain, but had clearly been through a number of rounds of torture already that day. The moan wasn't enough, so she grabbed the man's dark hair, pulling it back harshly and looking into his brown eyes. She ran the knife down his cheek, her eyes glistening at the sight of his blood.

"Please..."

"Please what?" Melinda asked him with a mocking tone. She walked around him so she could look into his dark brown eyes. This man had been with her for 60 years now. And he hadn't broken yet. She didn't really care if he ever did. It was fun doing this. It was always fun when she had known the person in her human life. This was one man that had remained in her memories, mainly because he'd come to Hell long before her own memories started fading. Long before her humanity had disappeared.

"Mel, please," the man begged, "Don't give into all this."

"It's too late. I gave in a long time ago," Mel laughed, "Now, when will you, Riley?"

The half-manitcore looked at her with sadness in his eyes. He would never give in, and deep down Mel knew that.

***LINE BREAK HERE***

Dean slammed the laptop closed, making Dana jump as she walked through from the kitchen into the living room. He didn't apologize. He never did for his mood swings, and certainly not to the whitelighter who couldn't save his girlfriend.

For the last 10 months, Dean had blamed Dana for not helping. At least, partially blaming her. When she and Chris went through with their wedding, he refused to be any part of it. They were moving on, while Mel was rotting in the ground, her soul stuck in Hell. They didn't care that she'd given up her life to save them; to save her niece. Throughout the wedding day, Dean locked himself in the apartment he'd once shared with Mel and drank himself into a stupor. Sam had found him the next morning, completely passed out.

The last 10 months had passed in a blur; a drunken blur. He remained as sober as possible for the first month, searching for any answer and idea. But eventually, he realized that it was turning into a lost cause. Hearing that time moved much quicker down there had pushed him to find her, but it wasn't possible. By now, Mel had been in Hell for a century, and part of him knew that she would have given in by now. He would have done. What's the point when you don't think anyone is going to come to save you?

There had been renewed hope around the four month mark, but then Riley went missing. Pru had gone in search for her boyfriend, who she believed was still alive and just taken, but everyone else had given up. Everyone had given up on his girlfriend. Could he even call her his girlfriend anymore? She'd been dead for longer than they'd been together.

Standing from the dining table, Dean sighed and walked into the kitchen. The room went silent as soon as he walked in. Leo, Chris and Sam had clearly been discussing him. He didn't care anymore. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, followed by the unopened bottle of scotch on the counter. The only reason it was unopened was because there was a just empty bottle next to it. This was what he'd survived on for the last 10 months. Liquid breakfasts, lunches and dinners.

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He had become Melinda when he turned up on the Halliwell's doorstep over a year ago.

"Dean?" Sam's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He could see the worried look in Sam's eyes. In fact, there was a worried look in everyone's eyes.

"What, Sam?" Dean said it with a harsh sound in his voice. He didn't mean it to come out that way. He didn't think so anyway. But he couldn't look at his brother that much anymore. Sam had given up just like everyone else. He was leaving Melinda to rot in Hell; going through God only knew what torture. He wondered whether Crowley had performed the torture himself or got his minions to do it. Minions had done it when it was Dean, but maybe it was different in Hell. Maybe it was different because it was Melinda, and Crowley knew it would hurt Dean even more.

"When did you last eat something?" Sam now asked. Dean glanced down at the glass of scotch and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't that sure when his last meal was. Honestly, he didn't really care. There was only one thing he cared about right now.

"Dean, you should sit and eat something," Chris sighed and stood from the kitchen table, "I'll make you something. What do you want?"

"I'm not hungry." Dean brushed off the younger Halliwell brother, and started making his way out of the kitchen.

"Dean, son..." Leo started.

"You're not my father, so don't call me son," Dean shook his head, anger now in his eyes, "You do have a daughter, though, one you're letting rot in Hell. Well, 'm not, Leo. 'Ma save her. I still dunno how, but 'll do it. I promised you I'd save her and I will..."

"That promise was made over something completely different, Dean, and you did save her," Leo sighed, "You helped her more than any of us could and I'm grateful for that. Now I'm worried about you. You're going down the same path she was going down. Don't do this to yourself."

"Maybe if people helped then..."

"There is no saving her, Dean," Sam spoke softly. He hated having this conversation time and time again, but Dean wasn't having any of it. He refused to accept that his girlfriend was dead and not coming back. It hadn't helped that Sam and Chris had agreed they couldn't tell Dean about the failed attempt to save her last month. Sam promised himself that he'd tell him, once Dean had accepted she was gone by himself, "She's gone and you need to accept that."

"How can I let her stay in Hell, Sam?" Dean shook his head, "What type of boyfriend would that make me? I love her, Sam. 'm so in love with her, it hurts. Every goddamn day. I'm not giving up on her. Just like I'd never give up on you if you were the one in Hell."

With that, Dean walked out of the room, but not back to the dining room. He went to the garage. Mel's Mustang was there, all built up again. Dean had repaired it, ready for her when she came back. Yes, it was when. She was coming back to him. He just needed to work out how that was going to work.

The car needed to be taken out on the roads. It deserved to be driven now and then. Pulling the set of keys out of his pocket—they were there as a reminder of her—he put the glass of scotch down and climbed into the car. One trip out wouldn't hurt. And he had the destination in mind already.


At some point, Mel and Dean will be reunited in this story. I'm just not going to share how or what will happen. I just wanted to let you know that they will come across each other again.