He was told not to stop until he reached the Angel's objective but it was so far beyond that now. Dean lost all remembrance of the mission the second he walked into the room.

Although he begged not to let it happen with all his heart, ..'please. don't make me do this. you can't. i can't.', he now reveled in the moment.

On display before him was Dean's worst and best nightmare not involving his father come true; causing him to stand and drink in the unbelievable beauty before him.

The sight of heavy, cold iron restrained the most horrendous yet wonderful sight he had ever seen.

xxx

It was wrong. All of it.

The pain he was going to inflict. The purposeful torture and destruction of a innocent human being's flesh.

But he didn't care.

His vision now singular. Focused. Hypnotized and lost, he no longer saw a man, only Alastair.

Dean thought if the time ever came he met the demon again that fear would consume him so wholly he actually believed he would die from fear, knowing himself well enough that he'd be too frightened to move, beyond convinced he could not go through that again.

Ever.

But it didn't happen that way.

The moment he saw Alastair, it all changed. He changed.

Dean reverted back into something he worked so hard to repress. With every pill, every self-inflicted cut to his body, each bottle of whiskey and with a feigned impression of humanity prayed he'd never allow himself to become again, came flooding back; hitting him hard, ripping the very breath from his lungs.

He couldn't get enough. Couldn't stop the malicious, willful torture. Not because he had yet to get the information but because he didn't want to. Dean wouldn't have stopped if John Bonham himself appeared and told him to.

Today was a good day. The one time he, for once is his pitiful mess of a life, Dean Winchester was truly allowed to let it all go.

With a heart so gray and full of hate, Dean violently maimed and tore at Alastair in so many ways it made even the Angels cringe, tuck themselves into their wings and turn their heads.

But Dean didn't mind nor did he care anymore.

The man wasn't man anymore.

The boy Winchester now long gone. Nothing but a faded distant memory only recalled by Sam. Dean was less than human. Willfully becoming no better than Alastair and with every fiber of his being he loved it.

xxx

When it was over, there was nothing left. Nothing of Alastair and nothing remotely resembling Dean.

He sat upon the cement floor staring at hands stained with blood he knew would never come off nor did he want it too.

He wanted to remember Alastair this way forever.