She heaved in a gasping breath that consisted of nothing but searing heat and choking smoke. Her lungs rebelled but she held the air grimly within her ignoring the pain, all too soon it would become insignificant. Heavy chains were being looped around her wrists, tightly pinching the skin and as they were dragged above her head she felt warm blood running down her bare arms. She bit her lip as her weight was pulled off the ground and rested on her wrists and shoulders, her toes barely scraping the staining red earth under her feet. Her breath began to come quicker as she closed her eyes tightly trying to ignore the shadow approaching. Desperately she sought to hold onto something, anything, but so much was gone. Great gaping holes of darkness were all that remained in her memory and every second they were being refilled with blood, pain and fire. For a second there was a face, the most beautiful face she had ever seen, the baby girl smiled and she smiled with her. Somewhere, far away, that face lived still, whoever she was she was important and the knowledge the child lived gave her strength. She opened her eyes seeing her nameless body dangling from the chains as she lifted them to the demon before her. She gasped and flinched back but was too late as the white hot brand was pressed into her eye. The face fled her mind, the last memory, the strongest, removed at last. Her scream of agony almost tore her throat, but death was unknown and unconsciousness merely a long forgotten dream.

Soda staggered down the dark alley her hands gripping the sides of her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Stop" she moaned out loud falling against a brick wall, "please stop!" But the images wouldn't leave as the pain and despair once blissfully forgotten flooded through her as though a damn had broken. Clutching her chest as sobs threatened to shake it she fell to her knees.

The sounds of hell thumped painfully through her mind, the screams, the groans, the crackle of greedy flames, the merciless chuckles and taunts of the tortureres. She longed to cover her ears but her broken arms hung uselessly at her sides as she was dragged by the hair. It wouldn't make a difference anyway, no aspect of hell could be denied it thumped inside you like a pulse. She was lifted and thrown roughly against the rack, how familiar it was against her back, had she ever known anything before this? Her arms were strapped into place and as the straps were tightened she felt the bone move beneath the skin before it punctured through. She couldn't bite back the cry of pain as she struggled to regain the breath she had lost. She heard something move infront of her and raised her head uselessly. What could she see without eyes? But she didn't need to see the torturer stepping closer, she knew only too well what they would do, it was all she had known. It had never begun and it would never end, it simply was. A wave of heat passed her bare stomach and as a reflex she tried to sink back away from it but there was no where to go. She heard an intake of breath in front of her and knew who stood infront of her, the soul, the soul who had taken himself off the rack and put others on in his place. The soul who had transferred his pain to her. She raised her head defiantly and snarled, baring her teeth through bloody lips. If she had to endure an enternity of torment this at least she would swear. Even if she was nameless, empty and broken this she would hold. She would see this soul before her bleed, for every cut, for every burn, for every slice, he would bleed. She screamed as he pressed the brand into her, smelling her flesh burn as he pushed it deeper. Her promise remained at the forefront of her mind like a great flame in a pool of darkness. He would bleed.

Soda was shivering, her jacket pulled tightly around her as she hugged herself as though trying to hold herself together. She stood shakily and looked down at the jacket Dean had himself pulled around her. Dean, the soul, the torturer, it couldn't be true! But it was and he knew that aswell as she did, he had known who she was all along. "He helped you" she whispered through trembling lips. He tortured you! her mind snarled back and another tear broke free. Her teeth gritted and she ripped the jacket from her back throwing it as far from her as she could into the darkness. She walked on unsure where she was going for where was she meant to go? She was empty of everything but pain and despair, flashes of memories may be returning but she was still an empty shell. She had no idea who she was other than that she had once lived in the human world, but that had been countless years ago, hell was all she knew, hell was all she had left. Her memories since leaving were hazy. Memories of hunger, fear, anger and confusion combined together to whirl sickenly in her mind as she tried to focus. She had been lost and disorientated and then he had found her. He had given her food, he had taught her, he had protected her and she had clung blindely to that not knowing the truth. She would give anything to have that blissfull floating absence back.

"Deen an Soda frend?"

"Yeah, Dean and Soda are friends."

Violent anger surged up in her so strongly she had to fight the urge to be sick as she pushed the memory away, suppressing it amongst the burning images of hell. She no longer could see where she was walking, her thoughts were spinning and her tears had blurred her sight. Surely she must still be in some form of hell, how could they have given her the very thing she needed and then taken him away? Why did she have to remember what he had done? Why did she have to remember what she could not forgive? "Surely it is better to know" she whispered almost silently and in her mind she saw him again. His face twisting with anguish and guilt as he stood so still before her, how she had longed to tear him apart! But she hadn't. Before her she could see the torturer, the soul whose eyes had flashed with pleasure when she screamed but she could also see mingled with him the man who had befriended her, helped her. Without realising she was doing it Soda was running, her breath was pulling painfully in her chest, her legs were burning but she was beyond pain. She just wanted to run and run until it stopped, until everything stopped, surely if she ran fast enough, if she ran far enough?

At last she fell sobbing for air into the cool grass of the park, squelching into the rain soaked ground. Her hair darkened by rain lay splayed across her face but she didn't push it off. She closed her eyes are more memories arrived bringing with them more hurt, more pain. She gripped her head with her hands pulling at her hair in anguish, why wouldn't it stop?

"I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER!" she screamed to the dark, rain soaked night, her throat burning in protest. She sat up, her wet, ice cold limbs shaking violently. The torturer would suffer for what he had done and then she would be done with it all and she would never look back. She would begin again, choose a new name, wipe the slate clean, forget the pain, forget the madness, forget him. But first he must bleed.

Dean slammed the bathroom door closed with a bang the echoed through the tiny room causing Sam to jump violently out of sleep. "Where are the dam angels?" Dean snarled kicking the mattress angrily as he passed, "They should have been back hours ago! They could have been looking for Soda."

"They won't find her man" Sam muttered rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he uneasily watched his brother pace, "Remember they came to you in the first place because they couldn't find her."

Dean sighed and seemed to deflate as he sank into a chair placing his elbow on the table and burying his face in his hand. "Did you see the way she looked at me?" he whispered and his voice was so distraught that Sam didn't want to see his face, "Did you see how much she hates me?"

"She spent over a thousand years in hell Dean" Sam said gently "Who knows what memories she has now." The brothers fell silent. Dean didn't move and Sam didn't press him.

Dean kept his eyes tightly closed but in the darkness he could see flames and in the silence he could hear screams. Forty years. . .it had seemed so long. . .a lifetime and yet now he knew he had barely scratched the surface of hell. What was forty years compared to over a thousand years of torment? He felt a shiver run down his spine as he recalled Soda's eyes when she had seen him, there had been anger, pain, hate and fear yes but there had been madness there aswell. Whatever memories were returning to her were driving her insane, recalling the madness that her years of torture would have instilled in her. He had to find her. Dean stood and kicked his chair back away from the table, it flew across the room and crashed into the wall. Sam jumped but Dean ignored him throwing his jacket around his shoulders, "Call me if the angels show" Dean muttered wrenching the door open.

"Dean" Sam called jumping up "You'll only find Soda if she wants to be found and if she lets you find her I am willing to bet that it wont end well."

Dean froze in the doorway his hand tight around the door handle paused in the action of pulling it closed behind him, "I've gotta try Sammy" he whispered and left Sam alone in the middle of the dim silent room with the firm click of the door.

Dean lost track of how long he had been walking the darkened rain washed streets. His hands were pushed firmly into his deep pockets, one hand closed around a flask of holy water and the other gripping the demon killing knife. Since being attacked with Soda by the three errand boys he had been carrying it with him on every night venture. Like he should have been doing all along but he had been so preoccupied with his own misery that he'd been letting the little things, which should have been second nature, slide. His eyes searched out every shadow, Lilith and her minions were in town ensuring the plagues continued and the next seal was broken, they would be searching for Soda or Sam or himself and he was ready. Let them come.

"Where's your friend?" a voice asked and Dean stopped a slow satisfied smile spreading across his face. He turned slowly to see the two demons standing behind him in the road. One was a tall man with a gaunt face and sunken dark eyes. The other, the one who had spoken, was a slender woman with flame red hair and red lips.

"About time a few of you turned up" Dean replied tightening his grip on the hilt of Ruby's knife, "In fact i've been waiting."

"Oh really" the red haired demon said slowly as she took a step towards him, her red dress darker than blood in the shadows, "Now why would you be waiting for us Dean? Not that anxious to die again are you?"

"Maybe not to die" Dean admitted, "But I have been itching to see a few of you bastards die." He smiled pleasantly as the red haired demon scowled her smile dropping from her face. "Come on then bitch" Dean taunted pulling his hands from his pocket, the knife gripped in his right hand and the flask in his left. The demons leapt forward and Dean quickly swung the flask at the red haired demon coating her with holy water. With a hiss of steam and a cry of pain she fell back and in the same movement Dean dropped a knee ducking under the male demons swinging punch. He came up underneath his arm and slammed the knife home in the demons chest, searching for and finding the heart. He wrenched the knife free and turned to face the red haired demon who had recovered and was reaching out for him her face contorted with rage and her eyes pure black. Dean sensed rather than saw the body behind him hit the ground but it was already pushed from his mind as he traded blows with the remaining demon. Within seconds he had found the opening he needed and with one swift movement her panting breath was cut off in a choking gurgle as she fell twitching to the ground his knife buried to the hilt in her throat.

Dean lazily stretched his shoulders feeling his spine crack before reaching down to pull the blade free wiping it clean on the demons dark red dress. For a second his gaze lingered on the woman's face, somehow not peaceful, even now in death. She'd probably had a family, people who were worried about her, people who were wondering where she was, people who were hoping she was okay, people who would never know what had happened to her. You can't save everyone, Dean thought to himself but he'd never been able to console himself with that truth, it never made him feel better. It was only something he told Sammy on the off chance it might make their life more bearable for his little brother. More and more often these days the host wasn't surviving the joy ride the demons had taken it for, they would exorcise the demon and still lose the innocent. It had been months since a civilian had survived an exorcism.

Dean suddenly felt the unmistakable feeling of someone's eyes on him and slowly he straightened up not turning around. Securing his grip he turned, his wary eyes raking ever shadow, searching for the stare he could feel searing into him. "You know it's not nice to sneak up on people" he said as he completed his turn and his eyes immediately fell on the figure in the shadows. The slender form stepped forward and Dean froze, his breath catching in his throat. She was bedraggled and shivering, her clothes soaked by the earlier downpour but her burning eyes were fixed on his face.

"Soda" Dean breathed his hand dropping to his side, the knife hanging uselessly from his fingertips, "I'm glad you're okay."

Soda didn't say anything as she took a single step out of the shadows allowing the moonlight and distant light of a street light to fall gently on her face. The light created shadows beneath her eyes and they looked like pools of black in a pale face.

"Soda I know you have every reason to hate me for what i've done" Dean said quietly, sadly, "I know there is nothing I can do to ever make it up to you, but please, just let me explain."

"I don't need you to explain" Soda replied her voice cold and Dean felt a pang in his chest, her voice was no longer light, childlike and curious, it was hard and bitter. She had moved closer now and Dean could see her eyes shining out of the black pools the shadows were creating. His chest constricted as he read them. There was more than death in her eyes . . . . but he didn't step back.