Just a short one-shot of Dean's first day in hell.
People say that at the moment of death, your life flashes before your eyes. Well, that's bullshit; there's not enough time for that. But there is always a moment when everything becomes clear, when you realize the purpose of your life.
For Dean, it came when the hellhound entered the room. There's a split-second of tranquility, a moment that was filled with nothing but clarity.
In that moment, he knew that he was going to die, knew that he would experience a very painful, very lonely existance in Hell for the rest of eternity. But in that moment, he didn't give a damn.
All he saw was his brother, the brother he had saved. He didn't mind death as long as Sammy could live. The brother that he'd carried out of a burning house. The brother he'd cared for all his life. Honestly, the only regret Dean had was that he would never see Sam again.
The hellhound leaps upon him and scratches, bites, claws. Agony.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" he screams, but there's nothing anybody could do. He'd signed up for this. He would have to deal with it.
The hellhound thrashes him about like a chewtoy, until he's sure that he's cut in two. Then, the creature begans to claw him, deep gouges in his chest. He screams, struggles to breathe, and looks at Sam with terror in his eyes. Then the light goes out, and his body fell limp.
He was floating now, over his broken and battered body, so close yet so far away from his brother. Lilith still had him pinned up against a wall, but Sam was alright. Dean tried to reach for her, but his hands went right through her. Dean sighed, and enjoyed the lack of pain. How long could this last, before-
As a flash of bright white light filled the room, Dean was pulled down, so far down that he could feel the heat that radiated off of the Earth's molten inner layers. It was getting hotter-hotter-he was on fire. How could he hurt so bad, when he didn't even have a body?
All of a sudden, he found himself suspended on barbed wire. It ran through the palm of his hands, pulled his legs apart. He could hear the screams of the other souls, struggled against his boundries. But he couldn't reach them.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," a demon chided. Dean could see it's actual form-he guessed that demons don't particularly need meatsuits in the pit. "Such a pleasure to have you here."
The demon turned around, clutching a razor sharp knife. He walked around Dean, laughed as the hunter struggled. "Oh, did I forget to introduce myself? I'm Alastair. I'll be your host for the next few centuries."
Dean mustered up enough saliva to spit at Alastair. He just calmly wiped his face and grinned. "I can tell we're going to have some fun."
With that, he began carving. Into Dean's stomach, through his heart, made it burn. There aren't words for that type of agony-he couldn't move, couldn't even close his eyes. Alastair was creative-he shoved boiling water down Dean's throat, made him scream. After that, it was bleach. After that, ammonia.
Dean remembered a better time, a time when he felt like he was a part of a family. He was four, Sam had been four months, and Mom and Dad had both been alive. How he missed those days.
Even the memories weren't enough to distract him from the pain. Dean screamed, joined in with the rest of the souls of the damned.
"Like it?" Alastair asked nonchantly, cutting through the flesh of Dean's thigh. "We're thinking of starting a choir."
The time drew on and on, until the only thing that was left of him was a bit of muscle. Then, Alastair put down his razor and walked up to Dean's side.
"Well, Dean, would you like to get off of this rack?" he asked as Dean's flesh remolded to his body. Even though Alastair wasn't cutting into him anymore, he was still burning alive-it's hot in hell. "All you've gotta do is join the rest of us."
"Stick-it-up your ass," Dean gasped as flames engulfed him, and he began to bleed from the mouth.
"Such a rude boy," Alastair shook his head, grinning. "We'll work on manners tomorrow. Goodnight, Dean!"
Alastair disappeared, and Dean was left hanging on the rack, his skin bubbling off of his bones, blood pouring from every orface of his body.
"SAMMY!" he screamed, desperate. "SAM!"
One day down, infinity to go.