This is my first fanfic ever, please be gentle. It might turn into something more who knows. It just Wouldn't leave me head so here it is. Also apologies for any mistakes.

WHY.

You've been broken from the very beginning, DEAN.

Since the day your mother burned on that ceiling. A piece of you darkened.

Your soul over time slowly breaking, slowly dying, till you were nothing but an empty shell of a man. Down here we all know your dirty little secret. You don't care about the lives you save, not anymore. You care about the kill. You're addicted to it. You cravethe feeling of blood dripping from your hands, you love it, you need it.

You always tell yourself, Sammy and your angel over and over again that's it is all about the people you save, but it isn't and you know it. You try so hard to believe you do it for the humans. But deep down even you know that you don't give a fuck about anything but that feeling…that rush of power and pleasure you get when you stab, torture and kill a….monster as you called them.

But know you know you're no better than them, you once wished you were but you know you're not.

You're starting to give up now aren't you? You're using that Mark as an excuse to kill and torture, you like having that mark; it gives you a chance to be merciless, to be the killer you were always meant to be. You know the only reason you resisted so long in Hell was to prove your darling little Sammy that you were good...But you don't need to worry anymore, let it all out Deano.

You say that you kill for a reason; you say you're fighting the good fight. That these creatures you brutally kill are monsters that they belong in Hell. But as you look in mirrors, do you even recognize yourself? Don't you realize? You're already dead inside, a soul once brighter than the sun, darkened and muted by Hell….But you don't care do you? You like this change.

I know you sometimes try to convince yourself the reason you broke down all those years ago at the side of the road admitting (lying) that you wished you couldn't feel a thing was because you felt guilty. But I know better Dean, I know you never once regretted getting off that rack; in fact you wanted to say yes from the very moment you got there…

For most people Hell was supposed to be ugly, scary and fiery. It was supposed to traumatize you and make you relive every single painful moment, nightmare and fear you have ever had in life. Souls were constantly screaming and begging, demons constantly shaping and forming, and blood everywhere.

But then there was you, quiet, smart, beautiful. You never screamed, you never cried, you took every shouting, every beating and every stab. I know you didn't say yes because you were broken and tired, you said yes because you saw what we did and you wanted to do it too. From the beginning I saw, you fell in love…with Hell, you thought it was beautiful, so you gave up and tortured… for Hell and her beauty.

You always called demons monsters….monsters of Hell…..

But Dean, do you ever think back to why for you... Hell always felt like home?