Scattered screams coming from every corner of walls made from fresh and rotting flesh with the sound of spewing and dripping is the only decent kind of music found in Hell, and that grotesque tune is being carried by the latest addition to Lucy's Choir: Dean Winchester. As he hung by the chains that dragged him in the pit with a giant hook piercing his chest and ripping at his shoulder, Dean bit at his bloodied lip to restrain himself from singing the devils tune. Day after day, demons came to him and ripped at him for hours that felt like months until there was nothing left to play with and at the end of each day- by some miracle- Dean grew back his body muscle by slowly growing muscle and he would just cry out to his dad asking and begging him to save him. There was never an answer. Then he would scream out to his brother- secretly hoping that he found a way out for him- crying for help.

"Sammy!" he choked threw tears, "get me out of here! Please! Sam, I know you can hear me, damn it! GET ME OUT!"

His screams and calls and pleas were never heard; only mixed into the soul shattering sound of Hell echoing all around. When his screaming was done and his voice grew gravel and rasped he would bite into the inside of his cheek and down on his bottom lip to salvage his hoarse voice with blood. He would rest and tried to wipe the tears that were still hanging on his face and mentally prepare for the "choir director" to reveal his disgusting face to him with tools in hand.

"Hello, Dean," hummed Alastair, "ready for another rousing rehearsal?"

Dean would just glare into his eyes and spit in his face hoping that the mask of the brave little soldier wouldn't fall. In retort, the white-eyed demon would chuckle with a hiss in his throat and start to bring out his "instruments".

"Now," he growled, "let's hear that melodious voice of yours. We're going to try a new… a new song today. Are you ready? And a-one and a-two and a-"

"AAAAAAARRRGH!"

"Three."

Alastair plunged four scalpels strategically into Dean's chest around his heart making a very bloody diamond. The sense of the hot metal blades scorching through his rib cage and muscle tissue didn't shake Dean's hate filled gaze that stayed on the demonic son of a bitch that lingered in front of his face showing that he wouldn't back down; no matter what. The demon started to slowly tug at the tug on the blade that was at the top of his "blood diamond".

"Come on, Dean," he rasped, "we both know that we can keep up this 'song' for as long as you're down here, but you can stop this. All this torture, all this pain, everything can just go away."

He took out a butcher knife that glowed white hot from resting in Hell's fire and brought it up to face Dean head on.

"Now all you have to do is just carve up a few of these unfortunate and damned souls and then you can go free. What do you say?"

As he stared into the blinding heat of the giant knife, Dean motioned towards the demon to whisper something in his ear.

"I can't wait until the day I get out of here," Dean growled "because when I do you can bet your sorry sadistic ass that I will hunt you down and make you sing like the fat opera bitch that you are."