Part 2: Into the Inferno

Author Note: Please read and review!

Alex opened her eyes groggily, feeling her tongue dry and heavy against the roof of her mouth she instantly regretted accepting the drink she was given the previous night. Brandy had never agreed with her and the dull, persistent throbbing in her head only served to reiterate that fact. Sitting up gingerly, she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, mesmerized slightly by the dancing lights and patterns that cavorted across her eyelids as she did. She looked around the room, noting the four-poster bed she was lying in as if for the first time and glaring sullenly at the arcs of sunlight stabbing through the heavy curtains. She groaned, pushing the covers aside and swinging her legs out of the bed; taking in her appearance she hoped that Crowley would not mind one of his employees looking somewhat dishevelled and crumpled. Opening the door and stepping into the corridor she was greeted by Crowley walking towards her, holding a cup. He looked her up and down, raised his eyebrows and handed the cup to her.

He studied her as she took it and smiled; even with the plum-coloured bruises under her eyes she looked endearing, he thought. Hell would eventually knock that right out of her. "Well," he watched her sip the drink, "I was going to ask how you slept, but I don't think I need to."

She didn't reply, simply rolled her eyes and carried on drinking. Crowley almost laughed at the audacity of the gesture. "Right, you need to get yourself ready. We have things to do today."

"Like what?"

His face was stern, "We need to go back to Hell. I should show you around." He turned his back, walking towards the stairs, "If you're going to work the Crossroads, you need to see what you're selling people into."

She waited for him in the study, scanning the rows of books and running her fingers across the leather bound spines as she moved along the shelves. Dante's The Divine Comedy, Milton's Paradise Lost, Blake's Marriage of Heaven and Hell.

Crowley watched her as she looked at the books, noted how her lips moved as she whispered the titles to herself. The ones she was looking at now were some of the oldest he owned; he had bought them when he was still human, they were some of the first to make up his collection when he had begun his study of the occult, of Satan, of descent into Hell.

Alex ran her fingers over the depressions of gold ink where the title had been etched into the leather of The Divine Comedy and slowly drew it out from its space on the shelf. The ink inside was printed so thickly that she could almost feel the letters beneath her fingers.

Crowley continued to gaze at her with interest, a shiver running along his spine as she started to read:

"Through me the way into the suffering city,
Through me the way to the eternal pain,
Through me the way that runs among the lost.
Justice urged on my high artificer;
My maker was divine authority,
The highest wisdom, and the primal love.
Before me nothing but eternal things were made,
And I endure eternally.
Abandon every hope, ye who enter here."

He stepped forward taking the book out of her hands, "We need to go."

She looked up at him, "Is it really like that? Hell."

Crowley nodded, "You'll see for yourself."

The first thing Alex noticed was the smell: sulphur. No matter how closely she pressed the sleeve of her jumper against her nose and mouth it managed to filter through, invading her nostrils, causing her eyes to water wildly. She coughed.

Crowley glanced at her, noticing a bead of liquid roll down her cheek, "Pleasant, isn't it?" He lowered his eyes back to the floor, firmly fixed on the path ahead of them. "Of course, you wouldn't have noticed it yesterday; we're deeper in than you were. If you'd kept on walking and not followed me, this is where you would have ended up."

There was no hint of sarcasm in her voice when she choked out, "Thanks."

He stopped at a door, placing his hand against the wood, feeling it creak and move. "You can take your hand away from your face now. It gets better from here on in, sulphur-wise anyway."

She dutifully lowered her hand and nodded her head at the door, "What's through there?"

"The second circle of Hell."

Alex raised an eyebrow at him, "Second?"

He jabbed a thumb in the direction they had come from, "Yes, the first circle is Limbo. Back that way. It's where I found you yesterday. It's very dull and very boring, and there's a lot to see behind this door. But, Alex..." he paused, staring at her, "you have to promise to stick to the path, to follow me. Technically, the contract you signed makes you exempt from becoming...lost, in any of the circles, but just to be on the safe side I need you to stay alert."

She nodded, eyes glued to the door in front of her.

Crowley shook his head, unsure whether his message was clear enough, "Alex, Hell is a cruel place. This, what you're going to see, will help you to...understand me better, I think."

She nodded again, "I'm ready. Show me."

He pushed against the door, hard, finally feeling it yielding and creaking inwards under his weight. Leading the way, he stepped through into the darkness.

Alex gasped, struggling to regain her footing as a gust of wind buffeted her backwards spraying cold, salt water into her face. Through slitted eyes she stared into the gloom, making out a deeper column of shifting, rotating darkness at the centre of the space. The sound coming from it was deafening, a loud howling, whirring sound that made her want to run back the way she had come; it was not thunderous enough, however, to muffle the unmistakeable human cries, shrieks of fear emanating from within its seething mass.

Crowley leaned closer to her, shouting over the noise, "It's basically a big hurricane, spinning forever. There are people inside it." He smirked slightly, "Quite funny really."

She turned to him, frowning, "But, why?"

He shrugged, "Eternal torment. In life the people in there were constantly flitting about governed by the...swirling tempest of their emotions, their wants and lusts. In death they'll continue to do the same thing, in a manner of speaking. It's dramatic irony."

The sound grew louder as the column of air span closer, closer to the path that she and Crowley were precariously perched on. She could see them now, men and women trapped inside, the wind jerking their limbs from side to side at unnatural angles. Some of them reached out, desperately, futilely, wailing for help. Alex felt Crowley's hand on her arm, "We should move on."

She nodded, eyes still glued to the dark tower in front of her for a moment, before they began edging their way around the narrow path. The wind seemed to follow them as they walked, tugging at their clothing, threatening to suck them in.

Crowley turned to her as leaned against the next door, "I wonder which level you would have ended up in, if I hadn't found you." His voice was friendly, whimsical, as though his musing was a perfectly natural comment to make.

Alex shook her head, still distracted by the roaring gale behind them, "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

The next room was also dark, but the air here was still and the stench of decay and putrefaction hung in the atmosphere like a cloud. A thin, greasy rain fell from above them, falling to the floor in warm, steaming pools. All around were bodies, naked, grotesquely malformed; some with huge patches of decayed and ulcerated skin adorning their limbs.

Crowley's voice was quiet now, almost reverent, "This is where we keep the gluttons, people who gave in to all kinds of excesses in life." He looked at her pointedly, "I spent some time here when I first came to Hell. Maybe I'll show you the scars at some point."

She frowned, "Scars from what?"

His voice became even quieter as he scanned the room, edgily, "There's a Hell Hound, Cerberus, he lives here. He walks around constantly, tearing people open every so often. They heal, then he does it again. Forever, unless you're very lucky."

Alex closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of her own flesh tearing, rendered into a new form by claws and teeth she couldn't even see. She shivered.

Crowley nodded at her, about to say something else. His eyes flicked to a spot just behind her, "Time to go." He began walking, dragging her towards another door.

Glancing over her shoulder, Alex could see nothing but she was dimly aware of a low growling sound which echoed against the walls surrounding them.

Crowley grimaced as they reached the door, turned back, "Get back, you bloody mutt! We're exempt. Exempt! Do you understand?"

Through the next door, Alex walked a short distance only to find she was standing at the top of a great, rolling hill. Along its incline were men and women each engrossed in pushing what appeared to be heavy boulders up and down the slope. She frowned and turned to Crowley, who smiled slightly.

"Greed. These people wasted their lives in pursuit of material possessions, wealth, status. Their punishment is to spend eternity in pursuit of a similarly meaningless goal; getting the boulder up and down the hill as many times as possible." He peered into the distance. "I've spent time here too."

Alex stared at him, "Is there any circle of Hell you haven't spent time in?"

He laughed and shrugged, almost apologetically, "Very few, darlin'. What can I say? I'm a sinner." He began to walk down the hill, pointing into the distance, "Up ahead is the River Styx. That's Level 5, somewhere, you'll be pleased to hear, that I've never had the pleasure of spending much time."

She was aware that he continued to talk as they walked down the hill, like some kind of macabre tour guide, however her attention was on one of the men who had stopped pushing his boulder and now seemed to be staring at them intently. Her heart thudded dully against her ribcage as recognition hit her; she reached out, tugging at Crowley's sleeve and pointing at the man, "Isn't that...Jason was it? You're old apprentice?"

Crowley smiled and threw a mocking wave at the boy, "So it is."

Alex took in his appearance; suit dishevelled and stained with sweat and blood, hair hanging around his face in wet clumps, skin baked by an overwhelming heat emanating from somewhere above them. She looked back at Crowley who shrugged.

"This is not my fault, darlin'. He's no longer working for me so he came back to Hell. This is just his circle."

She shook her head, "What did he do that was so bad?"

Crowley smirked and turned, commencing his walk down the hill, "He was a banker."

As they approached Alex saw a small dock with a boat bobbing gently on the river's surface. Crowley waved his arm at the view in front of them, "This is the River Styx. We have to cross here to get to the city."

She nodded, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on his back. She grimaced at the sound of flesh meeting bone, a dull groan of pain and then the sharp crack of body against body. The river's banks were teeming with people fighting, tearing and hitting each other, gouging at each other's eyes, gnawing through each other's flesh with their teeth. She followed Crowley as he stepped onto the boat, made small talk with the oarsman for a moment. She looked at him, "What are these people doing?"

He looked around, "Fighting. These are the wrathful; the angry and violent. We keep them here because they'd only cause trouble in the city." He turned to look at the towers, iron walls rising in front of them.

Alex tugged at his jacket sleeve again, "Does Satan live in the city?"

He laughed, "No."

They entered through an incongruously small door carved into the side of the city; it opened onto a vast field stretching back as far as the eye could see. Dotted around were huge mausoleums, each one lit up like a bonfire with flames and acrid black smoke pouring out. The smoke filled her lungs, making her chest tighten. She held her arm up to her nose again, "This isn't a city Crowley. It's just a field."

He rolled his eyes, "Please, some people are never impressed. What were you expecting? Posh restaurants and trendy wine bars?"

She shook her head, walking forwards, "What's in the tombs? Why are they on fire?"

He rubbed his hands together as he stared at her, "Blasphemers. Those who in life did not believe in God or an afterlife. The tombs lead down to the pit, you've probably heard of it; fiery torment and torture for eternity." He moved closer to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear as she cast her eyes about, "Also, just FYI, anyone who makes a Crossroads deal ends up here for at least a little while."

Alex closed her eyes, shook her head, "But, I did believe in God, Crowley. At least I tried to. I prayed, often, and he didn't answer." She felt bitterness rise in her throat, "How is it right to punish people who turn away from you, when you give them no reason to believe?"

Crowley looked at her, taken aback for a moment, "Faith. Blind faith and delayed gratification, love. That's what Heaven's all about. Don't take it personally."

"I made the deal for good reasons. I made it to save someone else. How can that be so wrong? If I wasn't working for you..."

He nodded, "You'd be here." He looked around them, "But you wouldn't be alone. You wouldn't be the only one who doesn't deserve what they're getting."

Alex realised she'd chewed so hard on the inside of her cheek that there was blood on her tongue, metallic and salty. She shook her head again, "This isn't right."

He sighed and placed a hand on her arm, "Come on." Sensing her resistance he moved closer, placing his face close to hers, "I need you to follow me. We can talk about what's right and wrong at home. For now, you are my apprentice and I need you to act like it. If there's even the slightest hint that you're not the right person for this job I'll drag you straight back here and you can rot like Jason and all the others. Is that clear?"

She looked at him then, really looked at him; his eyes were black and glazed and now, as she thought about how long he'd spent in various circles of Hell before becoming what he now was, she could understand the waves of anger that rolled off him. How could anyone not be angry about this?

He turned his back, began to walk across the fields, weaving between the mausoleums, "Next is Level 7. If you think this isn't right, wait till you see what's coming."

Crowley fell silent in front of her as they walked slowly around the edge of a small island. Crowded on this small spit of land were countless people and the sound of their screams, cries, shouted prayers to God, were enough to make her want to cover her ears. At her feet the river boiled; the liquid filling it not clear but thick and red. A river of blood. Suddenly Crowley was by her side, "They can't leave the island." He pointed upwards, and she gasped. Perched above them on small outcrops of rock were hideous, twisted winged creatures; their body's sharp and angular, bones sticking out horribly and their wings scything the air around them as they trained bows on the naked bodies below them. "They're angels. The ones who fell with Lucifer."

Alex nodded, turning her head away from them, "What did these people do?"

"They're murderers, tyrants, war criminals."

She considered this for a moment. Was it right to punish people who had lived their lives causing others so much pain? She remembered before she died watching the news on television and wondering how some people could be so cruel to others. She had wondered why they were allowed to get away with it. Now she had her answer; they paid for their crimes in the afterlife.

Crowley nodded at her, and then walked away, "Last level. Come on."

She shook her head, confused for a moment before she caught up to him, "Wait, you said this was seven. So, there are two more levels, right?"

He spun around, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer, "There is one more level. We're not going to the ninth circle."

Alex shrugged, wincing slightly at the pain in her wrist, "Whatever you say."

He let go, glancing down at the small, white crescent moon shapes visible on her skin where his nails had dug into her, "Fine. Follow me."

She followed in silence, casting a final glance back at the island and the monstrous winged figures towering over them.

Walking through the final door, Alex found she was staring down at a vast stage. All around were stone seats, which encircled the stage.. The seats were empty at the moment and the silence was profound. As she peered closer she noted that the floor of the stage was stained, black, brown and, mostly, red.

Crowley watched her, "This is the Malebolge. You can think of it kind of like a giant Multiplex; the best for Friday night entertainment in Hell." When she said nothing Crowley clarified, watching her face carefully, "It's a live torture arena, basically. Demons come here to watch and, sometimes, they bring along souls they want to torture in front of other people. Most of the souls here are those who dabbled in the occult, witches and the like." His voice became quieter as he spoke, "Sometimes, though, the demons that come here like to search the other lower circles for victims."

He moved closer to her; put his arm on her wrist again, gently this time, "A lot of people from the Crossroads end up here."

Alex held her breath; entertaining for a moment the horrible thought that Crowley had tricked her, that this had all been some ruse to get her here.

"A lot of people from the Crossroads are like you." He continued. "Relatively good people who get caught in a bad situation and turn to the wrong people for help." Her skin was cold under his hand, and he wondered how much of it was caused by fear and how much she was able to sense just how close they were to the very core of Hell, a place furthest removed from the source of all light and warmth. "They stumble out of the Pit, broken, tired, riddled with wounds. Easy prey for any passing demon."

She nodded, "Like you?"

He looked at the stage, "Yes. In the past."

Alex looked away from him, "I'd like to go now, if that's ok."

Crowley looked around for awhile, "Of course." He turned to her, "I told you Hell is a cruel place. It changes people; I wasn't a nice person while I was alive, but it's nothing compared to what I've become." He let his hand drop from her arm, "It's why I needed you, someone who hasn't been around any of this for too long. You can still make decisions based on right and wrong." He turned and walked away from her, "I barely understand what those words mean any more."