Dean was numb all over and couldn't think at all. He was groggy and just wanted to go back to sleep. Wait a minute. Groggy? Numb? Something was wrong. Dean wretched his eyes open and tried to take in his surroundings.
"Well looks like the princess is awake!" There was a scrawny man with a pathetic beard. His face was calm, but there was no doubt about the craziness that resided within his dark blue eyes. Dean attempted to sit up but he was bound. Panic surged through him as he struggled against his bounds.
"Oh you might not want to do that dear. You're on what humans like to call, "torture bed"? Mmm?" The man traced of all the belts that bonded Dean to the horrid bed. Over his ankles, waist, his wrists, his neck. Dean forced himself to calm down. This man clearly was a sadist and he would most definitely not give him the satisfaction of bringing about fear.
"Who are you?" demanded Dean. Dean was trying to stall in order to be able to by time for an escape plan.
"Wouldn't you like to know? Hmm, let's go with, you're worst nightmare." The man said with a playful tone and brought his face up close to Dean and he could smell his disgusted breath. It smelled like, sulfur. Oh no. Sulfur. This thing couldn't possibly be a demon, could he? Dean tried to think back to what happened, how he'd end up here. Earlier he was in the bunker and he'd been watching Dr. Sexy eating a beloved pie. In fact he'd went to the store just to buy some. He remembered relaxing on the couch with a beer in one hand, warm pie in his lap and a spoon in the other. Well technically he was pouting on the couch, but Dean refused to admit that. There'd been no one at home and he'd started to feel lonely. Everyone had stuff to do. Charlie was hitting the club, probably getting all comfy with another gal, Sam was at the library reading about all the monster he could. He'd rushed out earlier that that with this childish gleam in his eyes. There was way Dean could've stopped him even if he wanted to. In all honesty, Sam had invited Dean, but there was no way in hell he'd go to a library. Dean did not do books. And Cas. Cas was up in heaven doing something "important". He couldn't remember. That one irritated him the most. Even Cas the stupid angel had something better to do. Something better to do than, well for example, being with Dean. There was no reason to expect the angel to stick around the bunker on a quiet day, but he'd kinda wanted to just hang around with Cas today. He made a point of messing up the entire bunker so everyone would have to clean up. It was a petty retort, but Dean was nothing if not petty. But that was besides the point. Dean had been moping around getting himself slightly drunk when he'd heard a sound. Immediately something triggered in his mind. It wasn't anybody he knew. This was a break in. Dean grabbed a salt gun, prepared to shoot whatever had come in. He'd went into the next room, when he felt something hit his head and…Dean drew a blank. He must've gotten knocked out. Dean looked up and glared.
And spit.
The man only smirked much to his disappointment.
"Ah, A feisty one I see. This will be oh so very fun!" Dean's eyes widened when he noticed the knife in the man's hand.
"This right here? Is a knife. Knives hurt, would you like to see?"
"Bite me." Dean did't like this man one bit.
"If you say so little angel." and the man slashed at Dean's bare chest. Dean grimaced but held back the cry of pain.
"What the hell are you? A demon?"
"Right you are. I wonder, can you guess my name? Perhaps, we shall play a little game today?" He flashed his pitch black eyes at Dean.
"How about you shove it up your ass, you and your stupid little game?" Dean bit back.
"We're going to have to discipline you most certainly. How about we start right…" The demon drawled out, and he took the knife and started cutting across his shoulder.
"Here." He smirked. This cut actually hurt a lot more than the previous one. the wound was deeper and sliced open slowly and carefully, like it was a piece of art. This time he whimpered.
"You're sick man."
"So I've been told. Now be a good boy and stay quiet. While I love the beautiful sounds coming from you, they are very very beautiful, but this sonly the start. I can't have your throat sore for the important part." The demon began to unwind a piece of duct tape, no doubt to shut him up. As he began to close Dean's mouth, Dean couldn't help but began to feel a spark of fear deep within him. He hated that. But here he was pathetically lying on a table strapped down with a demon cutting at him. What worried him the most was that this demon didn't seem to just want to hurt him with cuts. He was really really hoping this demon didn't want to mess around with his mental state.
"Good boy. Now your reward? My name. Alastair."