You died three days ago.
Ripped apart by wild, vicious dogs that only you could see.
Dragged beneath the Earth to a place you never really believed in, even if you always had an inkling it was there.
"Welcome to Hell," says the thing that meets you where the dogs left you, bleeding and afraid. The thing looks like it may have once been human, which you find unnerving.
The thing leads you roughly to a small stone cell and locks the gate. "Just wait till you see what's in store for you," it says, and for a few seconds you truly know fear.
They leave you alone for two days, but you hear the whispers. The demons that pass by your cell take bets on how long it will take you to break. They say you'll be on the rack of the meanest sonovabitch they got. You hear something about "Picasso with a razor".
This morning they came and hauled you from your cell, down a narrow stone hallway, passed closed doors that you can hear souls screaming from the other side. They take you to an empty room, and strap you to the rack, and they leave you there. You wonder what you're supposed to be expecting. You wonder if selling your soul was worth it. You wonder if your brother is happy.
The man that walks into the room next, though, well he looks like a man. Chiseled features, strong green eyes, light hair. Doesn't look like a demon at all.
"My name is Dean Winchester," he says with a radiant smile, "and I'll be your server today."
And in that moment when the knife in his hand arcs down, Dean Winchester's eyes glint with delight, and you see what you will become.