Hello everyone! This fic was inspired from some particular events and conversations that occurred between my friends and I while on vacation, so most of this is based around that. This will be a relatively short story, with only one more chapter to post after this.

Yes, before you ask, I have had to repost this a couple of times, as my connection with this website was being fickle. Sorry if I annoyed some of you, I had no intentions of doing so.

Special thanks to my awesome editor JustMePeyt, and to my favorite demon MacKenzie. This one is for you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. All OCs belong to me but that's about it.

Enjoy!

A small road that had laid abandoned for hours was shook up suddenly when an old, black car silently revved past. It was a little after 3am and the night was calm, but within the confines of the vehicle, two men sat uneasily.

"Is Cas sure that he heard the message correctly?" asked the man sitting in the passenger seat, who was rifling through coordinates and map directions on his phone. "I mean, I know this is urgent, but we could be walking straight into a trap."

"Set by who?" replied the driver before finishing the last sip of his coffee. "Sam, I don't think anyone would lie about Metatron over the freaking angel radio. The entirety of Heaven would be on the sap within minutes."

"I understand that, Dean. But it all just seems a little too rushed."

"What, do you expect Metatron to send out an invitation to us beforehand? Of course it's gonna be a bit of a surprise."

A road sign flashed ahead on the side of the road, pointing to an exit that led off towards

Charleston. Dean angled the steering wheel and veered onto the branching road, entering another freeway that was still void of traffic.

"I know, it's just..." Sam thought for a moment. "I wish we could've stayed in DC to finish the job. It doesn't feel right to just leave a body behind that could be traced back to us."

"It don't sit too well with me either, Sammy, but Metatron comes first. We wiped all the evidence, and the cops will know what to do with the body. I know you're still a bit shaken up from her getting the jump on you back at the hotel, but now the girl will be at peace."

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam replied, absentmindedly rubbing the marks on his wrists where ropes had dug in only hours before. Glancing over, he realized that his brother still had the same disheveled hair from earlier, the exact look he had when he exited the bathroom back at their hotel to find Sam tied to a chair with a demon standing over his shoulder. Sam shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away. He hated the idea of how easily the demon had gotten ahold of him.

There was silence for a while, both the boys content with doing their separate jobs. As the Impala ate up the miles, Dean couldn't help but mentally agree with Sam's worries. He too had wanted to burn the demon's meatsuit back in DC, but no sooner had the light faded from the dead girl's body before Cas received a signal across angel radio. It was about Metatron, and it needed to be attended to quickly. Cas had disappeared, and 10 minutes after he and Sam were already on the road. They had been driving for a good five hours heading due west, following the coordinates the angel had sent directly to Sam's phone. It didn't leave them with any extra time to dispose of the abandoned body.

But in reality, there really was nothing to worry about. The demon, whoever she was, had lit up like the Fourth of July once Cas slit her throat with the angel blade, so Dean was confident that she wouldn't be returning. He used the same sort of weapon that was capable of killing archangels; surely a mere demon like her wouldn't stand a chance against it!

Those thoughts satisfied Dean, leading him to conclude that there was no way this demon chick would be any more of a threat to Sam or anyone else. As his doubts melted, he turned on the radio and started flipping through the stations, hoping to find one that played any classic rock.

Sam, however, didn't feel quite as comfortable with the situation. He couldn't let those thoughts go like Dean did, and he wished that he could've made sure that the poor girl had been properly laid to rest. The demon had to be dead. There wasn't any possible way she could've survived that kind of injury inflicted by the blade. But still, her words echoed at the back of her mind, the ones she had whispered in his ear when she had rendered him defenseless. Ones of torture and pain, of relentlessness, and horrible power. It just didn't sit well with him as a whole.

It was like an itch at the very core of his mind, and he only hoped with time it would come to fade.

S*P*N*S*P*N*S*P*N

It's not that being sent back to her desired realm was such a bad thing.

The worst thing of all was the pain. Waking up in a musty cell with such an ache in her throat, the daily rounds of "rehabilitation", compiled with the agonizing sores that acted as a second skin. But, her rank and level of power alone kept the worst of everything away. Mostly she just sat in the corner of her cell, listening to the cacophony of tortured screams all around her.

With time, these anguished cries nurtured her desire for revenge. That cursed angel blade didn't kill her; not entirely. The cut across her neck was too shallow to destroy her completely, but it had weakened her enough that she was forced back into this hellish therapy session to slowly build her strength back up.

Idiots, those men were. To think they could finish her with such a weak cut when her powers succeeded theirs a thousandfold! But she had to wait. She knew she was lucky to be alive, but that didn't stop her from dreaming up approximately one million different ways to make those Winchesters and their precious angel die a most painful and excruciating death.

It made her own sentence a lot more bearable.

She wasn't quite sure how long she'd sat rotting in this cell in the depths of Hades itself. She lost track after 25 years or so, eventually giving up on even trying. She could stay here for hundreds of years, harnessing her powers, and the men she now hated most would still be up there, hunting creatures like her in their pretty-boy muscle car. It brought a wicked smile to the demon's face to think about etching her threats of violence into the flawless paint job on the side of that stupid vehicle.

But before any of that could really go into effect, she had to get out of here. Technically, because she had already escaped the confines of the pit before, she was doomed to spend eternity in this blasted cell. The demon thought likewise, patiently allowing her powers to grow and expand as the years of punishment filed away.

It had probably been close to about 50 or 60 years when she felt a spark of electricity flood her system. Her lips twitched up, and she felt a wolfish grin overtake her features.

Her powers had returned, and they were better than they ever had been before.

To test the limits of her new abilities, the demon walked to the edge of her cell, where iron bars engraved with Enochian kept her from escaping. She looked down the hall of similar chambers filled with prisoners, and selected one inmate with a purpose. The arrogant man, who had been in the dungeon when she returned from up above, had openly mocked her a couple dozen years before.

Yes, this is the first victim she would make suffer.

Without a warning, the short, balding man was overcome with seizures, twitching violently as he choked on his newly-asthmatic lungs. He twisted and churned, but no one gave him a second thought; this was Hell, and in Hell, you were tortured. No one cares where you end up, as long as they don't follow along immediately after. So as this man struggled and gasped, everyone within earshot breathed a sigh of minor relief. Better him than me, every one of them told themselves.

The man's face started turning a sickly bluish purple, and he started bleeding heavily out of his nose and mouth. He was nearly ripping his hair out in desperation to breathe again, and it pleased the demon sitting in the cell nearby to the very core.

She could almost see it: that same dark tint taking over Sammy's face as he slowly asphyxiated. The crimson blood that would run down Dean's body and pool at his feet. The helpless and horrified look in Castiel's eyes as his whole life force was drained out of him.

The demon started giggling. She couldn't help it; her plan was coming together so perfectly. Soon she'd have all of her enemies kneeling before her, just begging for the swift motion that would end their miserable lives. It was such a delicious thought that she let the pathetic man go just so he could live to see her hierarchy of fear.

But first things first, she had to get out of this rotting hellhole.

When the stronger willed of those being kept here weren't being punished, sometimes they talked. They talked of their deaths, their sentences, who they were before the darkness in humanity took over their minds, all that crappy stuff. But every so often, the prisoners would speak of cracks in the system; hatches hidden throughout the underground world that would lead up to fresh, sweet air and grassy fields. Rumors of these hidden passages floated around the inmates, twisting and morphing like their haunted souls. Some would pass this off as a stupid bedtime story and go on with their lives in agony, while others would feed off the hope of someday getting out of the smoke and fire.

60 years was a long time to sort through rumors and riddles and facts. The demon had no doubts about how to get out, but that wasn't her problem. The real reason she waited was because she'd need a new host.

She was vain, and only the weak demons would enter the Earth as vapor to later enter a body. No, that's not how she did it. The most powerful of her kind would always have a meatsuit when setting foot on Earth. So she reached out from the depths of Hell and thrust her conscience into the mortal world above, wincing back in her cell below from the intensity of the sun. After the initial shock she set to work, scouring hospitals, graveyards, and morgues until finally, only twenty-some miles from the heart of DC, she found a familiar, pale face.

Author's Note: It's entirely up to you guys if I should post the next and final chapter, so be sure to leave a comment if you particularly like/dislike this so far.

Thanks again for reading. And if I don't see you next time, good morning, good evening, and good night!

~Em