Empire of Dirt

Authors note: This is a sequel to my story "Still Breathing". This is a series re-write of seasons 4-5. I know I said it would take a couple weeks for the first chapters but I really wanted to write this chapter.

Ch 1

The moment Dean died on that random floor in New Haven, Indiana was also the moment his eternal sentence in Hell started. He opened his eyes from the searing pain and found himself somewhere that no sane mind could ever imagine. The pain had just started to work its way into his brain and already was more than he thought he could bear. Metal chains encircled his middle and legs, giant hooks pierced his shoulders and thighs, holding him stretched out and suspended on a giant spiderweb of misery. He screamed for his brother, his father, for River, for anyone to help him, to save him. The sky, if you could call it that, was a sickly black and purple, with shifting clouds of ash, lightening flashed and occasionally struck the chains that suspended the damned.

And this, this was just the welcome wagon to hell. It gave the new arrivals a few days to reflect on their definition of pain; to allow any hope they may have for salvation to burn out before they were taken to some new area for eternal torture. But not Dean Winchester, he stayed on that web of pain for months, focusing on the faces of his loved ones and the happy memories he could still recall through the pain.

Until one day it was his turn to be pried off the chains and put on the rack; there he learned what real pain was. The things that took their turns with him had no names, no faces, no describable features at all. The only thing memorable was the way they tore, and stabbed and bit and took from him. Took things Dean never thought he could loose, the first time they slit open his chest and pulled his ribs out he thought he'd gone insane. But when he woke up was whole again.

Time passes funny in hell, minutes drawn out to hours and days, days to weeks then months and soon a decade has passed. Then two decades of pain and terror with the same faceless torturers. Then one day, a white eyed demon with a long face and pointed nose appeared before Dean. This demon promised Dean would never forget him, his name was Alastair and he told the former hunter they would soon become close friends. Alastair was an artist of pain ,the last twenty years had been a walk in the park compared to the pain he could elicit from Dean. The cries of agony that Alastair pulled from Dean echoed through Hell. Each day as their games started, Alastair made Dean an offer. Dean could get off the rack if he became the torturer; turning the tables and inflicting pain on other souls. Alastair was a wonderful teacher and saw a pupil with true potential in Dean Winchester. Dean refused for another fifteen years. Then Alastair brought Dean a present. "Look, look what I've brought you my special pet," Alastair's nasally voice echoed off the stone walls of his favorite torture chamber.

Dean groggily opened his swollen eyes, "Is it pie? I love pie."

"Oh no, no, no, no," the demons laugh came out as high pitched sighs, "Took me a while but…" Alastair stood in front of Dean and held out a covered platter. Thick red drops rolled off the edges of the platter as the white eyed demon set in front of Dean. "Open it, see what I have brought you."

Dean shook his head, "No, I'm good. Why don't we just get right to the anal rape? It's been a couple days since we played that game…" The cockiness was the last part of Dean's old attitude to die and it was about to be snuffed out.

"I said OPEN IT!" Alastair grabbed the back of Deans head and pressed it towards the covered platter. Dean raised a shaking hand and grabbed the lid off the platter. Laying on the silver tray beneath were two fetuses about eight months old, boys, laying side by side as they would have in the womb. "Thought you'd like a family reunion." Alastair laughed again as Dean screamed.

Time is funny in hell, minutes drag on into days, days to weeks, weeks to months and months to years. Dean Winchester had built himself quite a reputation; Alastair's prime pupil was rumored to soon surpass his mentor as Hell's prime inquisitor. Dean spent his allotted time in the chamber, soul after soul being brought before him to experience his craft. Dean hardly spoke anymore except to Alastair and then it was "Yes, sir" or "No, sir" but he listened to everything. He heard whispers of some sort of battle, demons being sent to some far corner of Hell never to be seen again. They were legion and the legion was under siege. The whispers meant nothing, there was no escape, no salvation, his soul damned for eternity and eternity was a very long time.

The days passed, Dean would spend hours in the chamber torturing souls as Alastair directed and nights he got to spend in solitude in his chamber. The barren, stone walled cell was the only place he got a few hours respite. He spent the quiet hours sitting on his thin cot, eyes closed in concentration as he tried to focus on his brothers laugh or River's terrible singing. He was pulled out of his meditation by screams, not that screams were unheard of in Hell but they never echoed this far down. The screaming came from right outside his door, the shrieks died as quickly as they started. A bright blue light shone around Dean's cell door, a color so bright and vibrant he hadn't seen in decades. He blinked several times trying to clear the hallucination but the color remained. A comforting warmth emanating from the light and almost reaching his cold skin. His cell door flew off it hinges and clattered to the ground with a dull thud. Dean stood, then fell to knees in awe as a being made entirely of the beautiful blue light stepped into his cell. Before He closed his eyes against the radiance he swore he saw huge black wings fold tightly around the creature. The being held a shining, silver dagger and swept into the room. "Please," Dean murmured, wishing to feel the dagger pierce him and end his suffering once and for all.

"Stand up, Dean Winchester," the deep, gravely voice commanded. Dean stood on unsteady legs, legs that had been broken, torn, ripped from his body innumerable times only to reappear so the pain could continue; averting his emerald green eyes, eyes that had been plucked from their sockets and then shoved back in, against the brilliant light. Screeches echoed from the hall outside Dean's cell. The being grasped Dean, pulling Dean's bruised and battered back close to it's firm chest, one strong arm holding him, a warmth spreading through Dean's body where the creatures hand held firmly onto his shoulder. The other hand held the dagger out, ready to kill any attacking demons and it yelled to the heavens, "Dean Winchester is saved!"

Dean awoke a few moments later. Wherever he now was it was dark, pitch black and the walls were suffocatingly close. He raised his hands and tentatively touched the walls around him, his calloused yet sensitive finger felt wood, firm but yielding with enough pressure. He reached down to his pockets ( he had pockets?) and found a cold metal lump. He pulled the metal out and used muscle memory to flick the cap back and ran his thumb around the spark wheel. The flint caught and a bright orange flame erupted from the end of his lucky lighter. Panic flared for a moment as his brain registered where he was. He was in a wooden coffin, which meant he should probably cut the flame and focus his strength on breaking the wooden boards and digging his way out of six feet of dirt. Thankfully John Winchester had made his boys practice for such an event when they each turned 14.

Dean pulled his sweaty, tired body out of the hole in the ground less than an hour later. He flopped onto the dirt, relishing in the feel of the sun, the sound of birds and wind and the smell of the earth around him. He opened his eyes and looked around, part of him still sure this was some elaborate new torture and saw the forrest around him. "What the…" he muttered. Trees lay shattered and burned out in a ring, as if some great bomb had gone off and his grave was the detonation point. Dean walked away from the devastation and headed west, knowing eventually he would end up somewhere useful.

And eventually he did. Dean walked carefully up to a gas station, the pumps empty and a "Sorry we missed you" sign hanging in the window. He wrapped his trusty flannel shirt around his fist, punched through the glass panes on the door and reached up to turn the lock. He hit the cooler first, gulping down two bottles of cold water. Tears of joy leaking from his eyes as he savored each sip. His thirst satiated for now, he glanced around the store and noticed a newspaper stand. He picked up the paper on top and checked the date, "September? Jesus, I've been gone four months." He muttered to himself.

He turned from the newspaper stand and saw a phone sitting on the counter. He picked the phone off the cradle and laughed when he heard the dial tone. Phone numbers jumbled through his brain, Sam? Bobby? Ellen?. He decided to call Bobby; knowing the man almost always answered, unless he was drunk or on the toilet.

" 'ello?" Bobby's voice drawled on the other line. Dean took a deep breath, the sound of Bobby's voice more beautiful than a Led Zeppelin song right now.

"Bo-Bobby? It's me." He stuttered into the phone.

"Who is this!"

"It's Dean, Bobby. It's me, please."

"Fuck you, ya idjit!" Bobby hollered into the phone. Dean stared at the phone, he'd only heard Bobby swear a handful of times. Before he could dial another number a high pitched siren wailed, the small TV on the counter flicked to life blaring white noise and static. The tenor of the wailing increased causing the fillings in Dean's teeth to ache, he held his hands over his ear desperate to drown out the sound. The glass windows cracked, then shattered, Dean ducking behind the cashier counter as the glass exploded. The noise stopped but the ringing in his ears remained for several minutes. "What the hell?" he thought to himself. He ran his hands through his hair and looked out the now broken window, noticing for the first time a small car sitting in the dirt lot next to the gas station. Dean grabbed an armload of water bottles and candy bars and walked to the car. He quickly hot wired the car and headed towards Sioux Falls, South Dakota.