The Winchesters? Please, this is my story. It starts off in a place we know well. Hell.

I was there. Deep in the pits of Hell. Time was endlessly painful. Sometimes I would close my eyes and hope that I would wake up. But every time I did close my eyes, I could still feel the pain and smell the stench of fear. Day after day I was tortured. My limbs were ripped from my body; my eyes were gouged out, the list of physical torture was infinite. On top of the physical torture, you can the mental torture, which was enough to drive you insane.

I didn't know many people in Hell. My torturer was the only one I knew by name. His name was Alastair. When I pleaded with him to stop torturing he would ask if I wanted to learn the skills of his trade. I did not know what would be worse; torturing or be tortured. As I lay in a web of chains, the hooks inserted into my skin were yanked. I kept in my screams but tears ran down my cheeks.

Finally, I gave up. I took Alistair's offer.

He looked at me with his emotionless glare and said, "Took you long enough. A weakling like you can only deal with so much pain."

I frowned but I knew he was right. Alistair explained to me the techniques of torturing whilst I observed him slicing through a wailing man's chest.

"Now," he told me. "You always want to take your time. Not too slow, though. But slow enough to create as much pain as possible through your actions." I gazed at him with worry. "This is Hell, darling. Deal with it. No pain, no gain."

I gulped and continued to make mental notes. Slice this; cut that; burn them; gouge those; rip these; anything to produce pain. After a few bloody demonstrations, I was now ready to be the torturer. The first one will be the worst, I repeated to myself. I need to do this. The body lay in front of me on a bed of fire. I never thought of them as a person. They were a body. A body. I sliced, diced, burned, ripped, sawed, hacked, chopped, gouged and stabbed the body.

The first time I completed my torturing session Alastair smiled at me. "You're a natural." That sent a shiver down my spine.

Underneath the constant screaming there grew whispers. John Winchester, they hissed. I had no idea why this John was such a big deal. I continued on and tortured. I remember overhearing Alastair's glee when someone mentioned this Winchester bloke. A man with ruffled black hair appeared on the bed of fire. He was the first person to never plead for his life. His powerful eyes gazed at me.

Alastair crept up beside me. "Looks like you're in for a treat, John." At the word 'John' he made a disgusted sound. "This is one of the best torturers in Hell, besides me, of course. But I can't keep you all to myself. There are many here who would love a chance to make you writhe in pain."

When Alastair left, John spoke. "You know I can see you don't want to do this." I went over to where the equipment was kept. "I can see it in your eyes. I'm in Hell, of my own accord. I will deal with the consequences of that."

I picked up a blade and slowly met his gaze. "Why would you come here, out of choice?!" There was anguish in my voice.

John smiled. "My family. I would do anything for my boys. I would burn in Hell for all eternity for them."

I stood in silence for a while, contemplating what to do next. His words were heroic.

"Do what you have to do." He told me with sincerity.

I zoned out as I usually did when the torment began. The thing that I remember very well was the silence. He never screamed once.

Only when I had finished he muttered something under his breath, "Sam... Dean…"