Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, even the smallest atom. No profit will be made from this fanfic, and no artists were harmed in the making of it.
Warnings/Summary: Prologue of a short little series I'm considering. My first little Destiel piece. Going to be rather dark, very adult themed, smut in later chapters, and by later I might mean next chapter, just depending on how it goes. For all I know, there will only be one other chapter. OC making a short appearance in the form of Seraphiel. Feel free to read Guiding Light where she also makes an cameo. Also, this went completely unbeta'd as I wanted to post this now and my usual Beta is asleep, so any errors are totally mine.
Never had Sam been caught so unaware. It was practically amateur of him. One moment he was walking backing to motel room after getting a very refreshing coke. The next the ground was moving quickly up towards him, the soft, dark grasp of unconsciousness scoping him up, the only warning a blinding pain at the back of his head. When he managed to drag himself to wakefulness, all he could see was bright, blinding white light. It was several painful minutes before the pounding in his head calmed slightly and his eyes adjusted enough to see something other than that painful whiteness. When he tried to move, he became aware of the fact that he was bound to a St. Andrew's cross, the upright X stretching his limbs to the limit, with bands at all his joints, tight enough to hold him immobile, but lose enough to keep blood flowing to all his extremities. The leather bands creaked as he pulled hard against them, testing his strength against their strength. They were the stronger. There was no way out of bonds that was immediately visible, so he settled back to wait.
Slowly his senses began to clear, and more details of the room around him became apparent. Oddly enough, he was shirtless, though whoever had bond him had left his at least some dignity and kept his blue jeans on. The frame underneath his skin refused to heat up, and the cold was beginning to wear on him. The light in the room came from lights set into the ceiling, the light reflecting brightly off the white floor. There was an inset drain a foot or so from where Sam was bound. He only noticed the door when he came through it. In a strong contrast with the white, he wore all black, a silky black button up, and black trousers. He was a healthy tan, and had the build of someone who worked hard for a living, despite his clothing. His hair was short, dirty blonde, and hazel eyes gleamed with amusement. He looked like a kind person. Looks could be deceiving. "Hello, Sam."
"Where the Hell am I?" Sam asked, furious for obvious reasons.
"Oh, Sam, no need to be angry. We haven't even started with the fun things yet. There will be plenty of time to be angry and yell and scream later. Oh, and beg and plead. I will make sure there is plenty of time." The man's smile became icy , and his eyes flashed flat black.
"What do you want, demon scum?" Sam asked, watching the demon warily. He was fairly sure he already knew.
"Why, for you to say yes to my father. Oh, and the exact location of your brother, so we can stop him from saying yes." The demon smiled amiably, his black eyes crinkling. "You give me that and I'll happily let you down."
"Go fuck yourself. Lucifer doesn't want me harmed. So good luck with getting anything out of me."
"Oh, Sam, I was so hoping you would say that. You see, I'm rather odd for a demon." He closed with Sam, his face mere inches away. "I'm quite willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good, and the greater good for my kind is getting Lucifer in your meat suit, and killing Dean before Michael can get in him. So, I have no qualms about cutting a yes out of your skin. Last chance to do this without me having to convince you, Sammy boy."
"Don't call me Sammy, you giant prick. And go to Hell."
"Been there... done that... got the t-shirt... Don't worry. I learned a lot while I was there, and I'll be creative with you. You'll get to see some of my best work. Well, feel at least." The razor that was in his hands gleamed brightly in the clinically white light in the room. The unnamed demon's smile became the smile of a shark, all shiny white and dangerous points. He ran long, graceful fingers over it, smiling gently, lovingly at it, almost like it was a lover. Sam took a quick look at it, and realized it was almost a box cutter, all in silver, beautiful engravings along the sides. All in all, it was a beautiful thing, and he thought it was beautiful right up until it began carving into his skin. The demon smiled wickedly at Sam's groan. "Sing for me, Sam. Sing for me."
A/N: So that was the prologue. I