If there was one thing that everyone was mistaken about Alastair, it was his choice of soul. Anyone would think that such a twisted, merciless – maybe even perverted, infamous torturer such as Alastair would relish the opportunity to get his hands on a dirty, evil soul. But the truth was far from that.
In fact, the kind of soul he loved and enjoyed the most was a pure, clean soul – a soul the likes of Dean Winchester.
When Dean Winchester first arrived to one of the deepest depths of hell, Alastair was thrilled. He had not met the young hunter before but he had heard enough to be interested in him. All demons or any other souls that knew of him said the same thing – handsome, arrogant, brave, stubborn, determined, hot-tempered and righteous.
And, all demons who had been sent back to hell by Dean Winchester wanted to have a go at him.
Knowing this, Alastair declared that Dean Winchester was his and under no circumstances, any demon was to touch him unless he permitted it. No demon would be crazy enough to go against Alastair – not unless they wanted to spend some "private time" with the infamous torturer that even Lucifer was fond of.
On the first meeting, the young hunter spat at the infamous torturer. All the demons who were watching nearby, gasped in horror. No one had ever dared to risk such an act. They knew the last demon that did that had not lived to tell the tale, having got itself brutally carved up by Alastair and fed to his personally trained Hellhounds. And, Dean Winchester had just spat at the infamous torturer's face.
What would become of the young hunter, no demon knew; but one thing was sure – he was in serious hot soup – or should we say hot fire in this case – and no way in hell he was going to get away that easily.
The demons watched nervously as Alastair wiped the saliva off his face. Their breaths stopped for a moment when they saw Alastair smile. The torturer was smiling. That was not good. When Alastair was smiling, every demon and every soul knew what to expect next. Whatever that was going to happen to Dean Winchester next, was no walk in a park.
"Dean, I'm utterly disappointed. Here I am thinking that we could have a great start together –" said Alastair as he brought out his blade and raised it to the hunter's left cheek.
"– the start of a long beautiful friendship!" the demon torturer piped cheerfully while drawing a diagonal line with his blade, slicing Dean's stubble-covered cheek and tearing open the skin at that area.
Next, he drew another similar line, which mirrored the other one and another horizontal line, before taking a step back to admire his handiwork. Blood was escaping from the cuts and flowing down the cheek in slow trickles. Alastair looked at the young hunter's left cheek and felt proud of his accomplishment. He had just made his first mark on Dean Winchester, citing the hunter as his property with a bloody "A".
"There's nothing beautiful," spat the young hunter defiantly; seemingly unfazed by the cuts Alastair had just inflicted on him. "And certainly no friendship with a filthy son-of-a-bitch like –" his words cut off as a scream erupted for the first time from his throat.
Alastair had just stabbed his chest with a sword that had been produced out of nowhere, and was dragging the blade down his chest slowly, ripping the flesh open and exposing the contents underneath. Despite his own screams, Dean could hear the sound of his rib bones crushing as the sword created its own path through his upper body.
And, just when he thought it was over, Alastair reached into the open hole in his chest and clamped his fingers around his rapidly pounding heart. Dean felt nausea in his throat when the fingers started to rub the surface of his heart, which was pumping even more hysterically now.
Speechless, the young hunter stared wide-eyed at Alastair. The demon was smiling gleefully back at him. Dean could see amusement in the demon's eyes. He shook his head desperately, knowing what the demon was about to do next. It was fruitless. A louder scream tore out of his throat this time as the fingers gave a grip-like squeeze around the heart, squeezing it tighter until the organ was no longer how it was shaped initially.
Dean threw his head back and screamed for a long time until his voice was hoarse. Then, he dropped his head and started choking on his own blood which was now coming out of his mouth. He could feel his vision blurring and his head was swinging with dizziness. His heart had been crushed and his guts and blood was spilling out of his chest. How he could still be alive while suffering from such a massive wound, he had no idea.
Things here probably work a lot differently from the human world, he thought.
And, for the first time since his arrival in hell, he absorbed the fact that he was indeed in hell and realized that this was how things were going to be for him from now on.
Alastair could see Dean showing resignation for his own fate in hell. He was slightly disappointed. He thought the famous young hunter would put up more of a fight. Curling his fingers around Dean's hair, he pulled the hunter's head up to level his face with his own before proposing his plan.
"Dean, seeing as how generous I am – let's make a deal," Alastair proposed and paused for a reaction but Dean stayed silent. Hence, he continued, "How about we take you off the rack and you pick up the blade? What do you say?"
"To do what?" Dean managed with a ragged voice.
"Oh, you know – the usual stuff. It's very easy. Just slice all of 'em open like what I did."
Dean froze at the reply. As painful as it was for his first day in hell and no matter how much he wanted the pain to stop, he certainly was not going to sink down to their level. He sure as hell would not torture some other soul just because he was too weak to deal with the pain and torture for the rest of his stay in hell. He was not one of them; not one of these low son-of-bitches demons and he was determined not to become on either, no matter what happened in future.
"So what do you say, Dean?" Alastair asked. He was getting impatient with Dean's sudden silence. Then, he heard a murmur from the hunter. He leaned in to hear but he could not make out the words. "What's that you say? You're gonna have to speak louder, boy."
"I said – "Go to hell" you sonofabitch," Dean said angrily.
Alastair stared at the young hunter's angry and determined face. From Dean's earlier look of resignation on his face; he was fairly certain that the hunter would give in and start torturing. However, he had underestimated him.
Alastair rejoiced silently for the unexpected reply. It looks like Dean Winchester was going to prolong his stay on the rack. To break a clean, righteous and stubborn soul like Dean Winchester would be a challenge but the pay-off would definitely be worth the wait and effort.
Oh, the things I could do to make you scream and have you pleading on your knees, Alastair thought excitedly. And, finally seeing you submit to me and break. It will be the best start of the end …
Dean could feel his body numbing as his consciousness began to dissolve. He felt truly glad as the pain from his still bleeding wounds was becoming too much to take. Hell was a treacherous place filled with lots of demons that may attack him anytime but for just a short time, he would like to escape from the pain. He knew that he would not be able to feel the pain anymore if he just let himself fall into unconsciousness.
Dean's vision started to darken and soon his eyes drew to a close and refused to open again. He did not try to fight it but instead gave in and welcomed it. He could hardly hear the faint screams surrounding the place now. What Alastair was doing now, he had no idea either and he did not want to care. His mind was closing in on him rapidly.
Before the young hunter became dead to the world, he heard the faint murmur of Alastair's amused voice at his ear.
"Try to keep up, boy. This is just the start."
Then, there was nothing.