Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural or any recognizable characters.
Trigger Warnings: Mention of past rape, torture scenes, self-harm, very crude and obscene language and suicidal thoughts/tendencies. I might have gone a little ballistic with the torture scenes so please tell me if I should tone it down.
Dean is a bit of an asshole to Sam in this chapter.
Some canon parts from Torn and Frayed (8x10)
Dean had to haul ass to Kermit, Texas to find Sam. When he got to where Sam was staying, GPS on phones really are handy, he asked at the counter for his room number. He went to where Sam was roomed and knocked on his door, wondering if Sam was even going to let Dean talk to him.
Sam opens the door, he didn't even have locked, the fuck? He taught the kid better than that. When he sees Dean he partly closed the door, looking angry, but worst, also looking hurt. Sam seemed to have second thoughts of shutting the door on Dean's face and opened it completely to let Dean in.
"Who did you expect?" Dean asked, trying to make the situation lighter.
"Long drive?"
"Well, I wouldn't have had to make it if you hadn't have hung up on me."
"Yeah, well, I heard all I needed to hear." For some reason, Sam saying that got Dean mad. Sam wasn't even giving him a chance to explain what happened. He knew he should keep his mouth shut but he couldn't
"No, you heard whatyou wanted to hear. I told you Benny wasn't killing. Hell, I watched him end the fang banger that was."
"How about Martin? How did he end that?" He asked, with anger coloring his voice.
"Stupid—just like I said it would. Crazy son of a bitch didn't give Benny a choice. It was self-defense."
"Seriously, Dean," Sam voiced with disbelief in his tone and anger and betrayal showing on his face. Damn, Dean was fucked, "That's the story you're going with? That the vampire was the real victim here?" Sam got closer to Dean. He felt his anger rising again with every word Sam said. Dean swore that talking to Sam right now was making his emotions go through a roller coaster ride.
"Hey, like it or not, that's the truth, okay? There was a time when that actually meant something."
"Yeah, yeah. No kidding." Sam said, giving Dean a pointed look.
"What does that mean?"
Sam's whole body language seemed to flinch and then he gave Dean a wounded expression. Oh, no, Dean was not falling for that right now. He was getting angrier by the minute and he swore every bad emotion he's been trying to repress these past few weeks were coming up tenfold.
"You think this is just about Benny?" His voice sounded so sad when he asked Dean that question.
"What the hell are you talking about," Dean couldn't really think past his anger and didn't get Sam's meaning. If he would just say it instead of playing coy he wouldn't be confused about Sam's meanings. Careful, a voice in the back of his head whispered, you've already fucked up, you don't want to make it worst. Calm the hell down now before you say or do something stupid. Dean knew he should be listening to that voice but he kept staring at Sam, his anger rising, rising.
"What the hell do you think I'm talking about?" Suddenly, it clicked.
"Amelia," Seriously, that why he was being prissy, "Oh, come on, man. I sent you that text 'cause I needed you to—to…"
"You needed me to what, to tear ass to Texas? To be afraid that what happened to Jessica…" Sam's voice cracked a little over Jessica's name, "what happened to... everybody that we care about might have happened to her?" Damn if those questions didn't damper Dean's anger and made him feel like the fucking scum of the Earth. He knew it was wrong what he had done but he couldn't have Sam and Benny going at each other's throats. What if they have gotten hurt? Worse, what if Sam had gotten killed?
"You were gonna kill Benny. What was I supposed to do?" His voice sounded tired to his own ears.
Sam turned to look at Dean and with a pleading expression he asked Dean "Is that what we are? You save a vampire by making me believe that the woman I love might be dead?" He seemed to want to break down, the last question coming sorrowful.
"What do you want to hear, Sammy? That I was wrong? I was wrong, okay. But if you'd have just heard me out, if you'd have trusted me, all of this could have been avoided."
For some reason Sam snapped his head up suddenly and anger returned to his expression, "You didn't want me to trust you. You wanted me to trust Benny, and I can't do that!" He shouted at Dean.
"Right, okay, well, then, what the hell do we do now? You want to go find Benny and kill him? He was there for me when I needed him, Sam!"
"Look, all I'm saying is that you shouldn't have done what you did. I thought I had lost Amelia." Dean could feel the blood pumping through his veins. Okay, calm down count to ten.
"Well, all I'm saying is if you had trusted me, I wouldn't have had to do that."
"Seriously, Dean, you're going to bring that up. For me to trust in your judgment because last I remembered I asked you the same for Amy and you still went and killed her!" He yelled at Dean, "Even putting that aside, haven't you learned anything from my mistakes or have you forgotten Ruby?" How the fuck would Dean forget that bitch? She's the reason most of shit in their life was there to begin with. Still, Dean did not like the fact that Sam was comparing Ruby to Benny. This is a whole completely different story.
"You know, Sam, it seems to me as if you're projecting your inability to trust the right people onto me. I trust Benny, okay? Just because you're unable find good people to trust doesn't mean I can't!" Dean felt his anger mounting with every word he said, "Maybe, just maybe, you're the one who needs to work on who you trust. Then you wouldn't have fallen into Ruby's trap to start the Apocalypse or, hmm, I don't know, maybe you wouldn't have gotten captured and fucked for a whole month leaving me to clean up your mess, again! Ever thought of that?" He yelled.
When he finished his rant the words that he had just shouted at Sam caught up to him. Oh, FUCK! Sam's mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, he looked hurt, betrayed and disgusted all at once.
"Sam, I'm sorry, I…" he tried to apologize before Sam pushed him, hard.
"Get out," he whispered.
"Sam, wait I'm sorr-"
"I said get the fuck OUT, now!" He screamed at Dean. There was a pounding on the wall and someone telling them to 'shut up.'
"Sam," he tried to get a hold of his brother but Sam flinched away in fear. That broke Dean's heart even more and had him hitting himself in his mind. Stupid, stupid, STUPID, why would you say that shit? What the fuck did he do? He didn't have to say that shit, especially since it was fresh in Sam's mind. Not to mention that he just told his brother it was his fault that he had gotten raped.
"Just, get out, please," Sam begged, looking at Dean with unshed tears in his eyes. Dean didn't know how to make this better so he walked towards the door. He put his hand on the door knob and turned to Sam, who had his back at him, and tried to apologize one last time, "Sam, really, I'm so sorry."
Sam raised his head to look up at the ceiling and Dean could see tears rolling down his eyes.
"Just go, please."
"I will, but Sam, please don't do anything stupid. Please."
Sam nodded and Dean walked out the room. When he closed the door behind him he punched the wall repeatedly until his knuckles were bleeding. He walked towards the Impala and got into the car. When he tried to get his phone out of his jacket, he hissed from the pain. Dean probably fractured one or two. Still, he had other things to worry about than his possibly broken knuckles. He went through his contact list before finding the name he wanted.
He waited for the other line to answer, hoping that the person he wanted would pick up. After a few tense rings he heard a gruff voice say, 'Dean.'
"Cas, hey, I, uh…Man I fucked up big time. It's Sam can you please come meet me up?"
Castiel felt like punching his friend. Of all the moronic things Dean has done this has to be the most idiotic, childish, thing he has ever done. Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. Angels couldn't get headaches but he believed one was trying to make its presence known.
"Let me just reiterate. You got mad at Sam for having someone keep a watch on Benny, which if it was any other vampire you know you probably would've done the same. Then lied to Sam and made him believe that the woman he loved was in danger or worst. Then to make matters worse the hunter, Martin, was killed by Benny and you came here just to get mad at Sam and blame him for his rape. What is the matter with you?"
Dean was nursing his hand close to his chest. Castiel knew one knuckle was broken and another was fractured. He was going to heal it but, the angel was mad enough to make Dean wait a while longer.
"I know, okay? I know! I was an asshole and a fucktard! I didn't even know I had said all that shit before it was too late and now, instead for being there for my little brother, I've added more shit on his already shitty, shit filled plate!" Dean yelled while pacing back in forth.
Castiel understood. Dean tended to let his mouth run when he was angry. He was distraught, that much was clear. Unfortunately, the damage had been done, so now Castiel had to be there for his friend, both of them.
"I will keep an eye on Sam, don't worry."
Dean visibly relaxed at Castiel's reassurance, "Thanks Cas, I really owe you one."
The angel nodded and asked, "What will you do while I'm with Sam?"
Castiel had his suspicions confirmed when he saw Dean's eyes tightened, "I'm going to go hunting," Dean growled out with a feral smile gracing his lips.
OoOoOoOo
After Castiel healed Dean's hand, he went to check on Sam invisibly. What he saw shocked him. Sam was sitting in a corner of the room with a bloody knife by him. His arms were littered with freshly made cuts. Sam was drinking straight from a bottle and taking pills at the same time. Castiel became visible.
"Sam, what have you done?" Sam looked up, startled.
"Cas, I was…It's not what it looks like, I swear. I just…I wanna sleep and I took a few…" he motioned his hand in the general direction of the pills. Castiel stared at the cuts. Sam seemed to notice he had him and his cheeks got flushed with red.
"I just…" Sam shook his head and then let it hang. Sorrow and self-disgust were rolling out of Sam in waves.
"Sam," he walked up to the young man, "how many pills have you taken?"
"I don't…three…maybe five. I don't really know," he whispered.
Castiel helped Sam stand up and then he took him to the bathroom.
"Kneel by the toilet. I'm going to purge every last drop of alcohol and drugs you have taken. It will be…unpleasant."
Sam gave a little nod. Castiel quickly put his hands on Sam and took out every toxin that was in Sam Winchester's body. Like he said before hand, it wasn't pleasant. Sam regurgitated every last drop of alcohol and drugs that was in his body. After a few minutes, Sam was dry heaving into the toilet while Castiel rubbed his back to help ease with the retching a little; he didn't think it helped much.
Castiel helped Sam to the bed. Sam sat down and made no move to lie down to sleep. The younger Winchester hung his head down; he seemed ashamed to look at Castiel straight on.
"Thanks Cas," he whispered, his voice cracking after all the vomiting he did.
"No problem," he remained silent for a moment before asking, "Do you wish to stay here or do you want to go to Rufus' cabin? I know for a fact Dean won't be there."
"Don't need a baby sitter," he mumbled.
"No, you don't, but you do need a friend." Sam looked up, his eyes getting impossibly wide. I would've been comical if it didn't hurt Castiel to seem that expression on the younger man's face.
"Can…can you take me to the cabin, please?" he pleaded. Castiel put his fingers on Sam's forehead and, without another word, flew to his new destination.
Dean drove for 14 hours straight to get to the address Mandy had given him. He had called her along the way and asked for the names of the people her brother would usually be around with.
"If you're asking who else would join his sick games they would be: Joe Smith, Harold Laurens, and Billy Carlsen. They always would come over to my father's place and take part of the rapes."
Dean gave a feral smile; he had names. He was close to where Fred lived and he could just feel the blood of those four bastards coating his hands. The back of Dean's head whispered a warning; Careful, you're going down a dangerous path. Don't lose your humanity killing monsters.
Dean ignored it. He let the dark side he kept locked up, the side he had under lock and key since he got out of hell, come out. That, combined with the side of purgatory that was still very prevalent, came out. Dean let it, he embraced it even. It was those two sides that would give his little brother, and himself, peace of mind. Besides, when torturing and killing monsters, one couldn't help but become one, too.
OoOoOoOo
Dean almost thought that the little worn down path he was driving in would lead him nowhere. It was an hour before he saw the house he was looking for. It was so obscured by trees that he almost ran into it before he saw it. House was a bit of an understatement. It was more of a three-story A-frame house. Most of the front was covered in trees and it was painted green, white and brown to blend in with its surrounding.
So this was the place. The place his little brother got violated and tortured in the worst kind of way. The dark emotions that were simmering just underneath his skin came out in full force. His anger was so great that, instead of feeling out of control, he could think clearly. His anger was helping him. He was numbed from any other emotions except for anger, anger and hatred. He didn't just bust into the house. No, if any of those bastards were around he was going to stealthy sneak behind them; they wouldn't know what hit them until it was too late.
Dean stayed hidden for almost three hours. It was night now. It was cold, what with winter coming early this far up north but, strangely enough, he didn't feel it. It seemed that hatred and revenge were enough to keep him warm. When it became clear that the house was empty, he got out of his hiding place and broke into the house.
Dean looked around the house, it was empty. The house itself had a very pleasant interior. It was painted beige and browns and there was comfortable, if not a little expensive, looking furniture. Nobody would guess the horrors that have gone in this house with just one look. Dean walked quietly around the house just in case there was somebody there. He checked every room in the first floor before he determined that it was truly empty.
The last place he checked in was a study. It had a computer and a desk but two things caught Dean's attention. One was a door. It was pad locked, had a chain on it and a few locks that were locked on the outside.
"In case you were wondering, it has a basement, a big basement that can doesn't let any sound escape no matter how hard you scream and scream."
The basement, the place where his brother had been locked and tortured in; Dean wanted nothing more than to get in there and tear the place apart. He wanted to destroy every last piece of evidence the place held then salt it and set it on fire.
He turned away from the door and swept his gaze over the other thing that had gotten his attention. Monitors; there was a wall that had at ten monitors. He went over to them and turned it on. He almost got sick. They were security monitors that showed every corner of the basement. The basement seemed to be as big as the whole first floor of the house which was enormous. Dean could see clearly, in color no less, everything that was in the room. There was a bed that seemed to be bigger than a king size. There were chains on all the bedposts. Not only that, but there were several chains hanging from the ceiling over the bed and various other places. There was a wall that had chains, whips, cuffs, and other tortured device lined up in neat rows. There were several chests and cabinets scattered all over the room that Dean had to presume was full of more torture devices. There was a Saint Andrew's cross, some type of sling, a sawhorse, stocks, a whipping bench and X-cross. There were so many other types of fucked up looking furniture that he had seen in his time in hell scattered all over the room.
That's were Sam had been for a whole month. He had to stay there looking at a wall full of instruments used on him. He had to stay there and have his body manipulated and used on those torture devices. He was used as a real live sex doll and, used for others pleasures and amusements. If that wasn't bad enough, these bastards had recorded it to watch his brother suffer over and over again. He saw a wall full of untitled DVD covers. He walked over to it and looked through them. They were catalogued in alphabetical order by last name. He got to the W's and saw Winchester, S. There were fifteen of them; fifteen DVDs with his baby brother being tortured and raped in them. He took them all and went through the drawers of the desk until he found an address book. He took it with him and went outside. The moment he breathed in fresh air his stomach decided to spew everything out.
OoOoOoOo
Dean didn't bother to book a motel room. He was a man with a mission and didn't have time to sleep. He parked in a park in the middle of the night and took out his laptop. He put in the first DVD and watched as his brother was raped for the first time. He heard his little brother beg for it to stop. Sammy, his little brother, was begging to a monster that had no heart whatsoever. He fast-forwarded. He saw his brother be humiliated, tied up, beaten, raped and tortured over and over again. When all was done, Dean felt something in him break.
He was beyond angry; he felt a cold fury passing through his whole veins. He felt vicious, he felt murderous but he also could think with a crystal clear clarity that would've frightened him if he stopped to analyze it. The faces of every last one of Sam's tormentor were etched into Dean's mind that he knew would be there even in the afterlife. He knew what had to be done. Dean took out the address book and thumbed the address that was under H. Laurens. Laurens lived just a few hours away from where he was. He had his first victim; he gave an inhuman grin that could've made demons blood run cold. He shifted the car into drive and drove towards his next destination.
Crowley didn't scare easily but at the time he felt as if, not only his life was in danger, but his very existence. Dean Winchester stood in front of him and in that moment he felt that the hunter could've scared the shit out of legions of the his demons. He almost felt sorry for the bastards that were stupid enough to have hurt Sam. Crowley wondered if it would've been worth it.
"So, to make this clear, I play with these bastards and you make sure that their souls end up in hell. They don't end up here earth bound, they don't go anywhere but Hell." Dean made it a command.
"Yes Squirrel, as per our agreement you get to toy with them and I get four new additions in my domain. I'll even sweeten the pot by promising you that, as long as I'm King, they will never set a foot out of the deepest bowels of Hell."
Dean seemed satisfied with Crowley's statement and gave a little nod of dismissal, his eyes already straying to the lone cabin with the lights on. Any other time Crowley would've been annoyed with it but, at the moment, he didn't want Winchester's attention on him.
"By the way, Dean, as a show of good faith, I've decided to bring you some pressies," he snapped his fingers and a demon gave him the bag of goodies and quickly stepped away, out of fear of Dean. Crowley needed to get bodyguards with more spines on them. "Now, being as you were Alastair's most talented pupil, I'm going to assume you know how to use these babies."
He gave Dean the bag. When Dean took it he looked inside and stilled for a second. When he looked up he had a twisted smile on his face that made Crowley want to haul ass out of the meat suit he was in. Yep, Crowley was feeling sorry for the bastards Dean was going after.
Dean ignored the demons Crowley left behind. They were there to inform the King of Hell when Dean was done; they would be waiting a while because Dean planned to take his sweet time. He decided not to sneak into the cabin; instead he went to the front door and knocked. He waited a moment until he heard somebody unlock the door. There he was, Harold Laurens. He was in his late to early fifties with graying red hair and as tall as Dean. He was wiry but Dean could tell he could hold himself in a fight. Not like it'll help him today. Laurens gave him a one over and gave a lecherous grin.
"Can I help you?"
"Depends, you Harold Laurens."
"Sure am, sweetie."
Dean gave him a smile and told him, "I'm Dean Winchester."
Before the man could react, Dean punched him and knocked him out. He stared down at the unconscious man before dragging him in the cabin. This was going to be fun.
OoOoOoOo
An hour later Harold started coming around, Dean put his phone down and watched as he roused. He gave a groan and seemed confused for a moment before his eyes widen in realization and then they looked around the room until they settled on Dean.
"Howdy, 'bout time you woke up. Here I thought I was going to have to start the party without you. Don't try to struggle; it'll be useless. I learned how to tie knots from John Winchester and he was a great teacher and I was a good student."
"Great, so you got me here, what do you want?"
"Well, I would love to see you burning in Hell for eternity but, seeing as I'm destined to go there, getting to you up here is just as good as it'll get."
"Look, is this about Sam? Because whatever he told you, it's a lie. He came on to me, begged me to fuck him." Dean made sure that he his face was impassive, for some reason it seemed to spur the asshole on.
"I mean, at first I said no, but he kept insisting and insisting. Then he wanted to go to the harder stuff and I complied, even if it was against my better judgment."
Dean decided to play along with the bastard's game; it would be sweeter when he started carving the asshole's flesh. He got up and walked up to him, using his bulk height to his advantage.
"Really, because Sam, he, uh, told me differently."
"Well, he's lying!"
Everything was silent for a moment then, without giving anything away, he smacked his captive across the face, busting his lip.
"Let's pretend for just a minute that I would ever believe you over my little brother's word, I saw the videos," he sneered. Dean got a sick kind of satisfaction when he saw the bastard's face go white with blood lost.
"See, it took a while. Hell, longer than I would like to admit but, I figured it out. Then when Sam told me everything, well, you have no idea how much I wanted to get my hands on you fucked, pieces of shit. I'm going to enjoy this."
Dean went to the table and opened the bag Crowley had given him. It had a myriad of torture devices. All of them had been used by Dean in hell before and all of them hurt worse than anybody could conceive.
While he lined up the instruments in front of Harold, Dean kept chatting away, "You know, ironically enough, Sam is the sweetest, kindest kid you'll ever get to meet. He doesn't deal with demons. Well, that one time, wasn't his fault, he was brainwashed. But, he hates dealing with anything demonic. Me on the other hand," he gave a dark chuckle and picked up a knife, "I have no problems with using everything in my disposal. See, Sam, he went to Hell with the Devil and Michael to save the world, me I went to Hell for a different reason. And, let's say, unlike Sam, I have tortured and I have enjoyed it. Craved it, even. So," he walked up to the bound man, "let's get started shall we?"
Half an hour later, Harold was littered with cuts all over his chest, face and arm. He was heaving heavily and Dean was wiping his hand of blood.
"That…all you got…bastard? You know, that brother of yours, he was a sweet piece of ass. Tight, too," he panted out. Dean just leaned on the table and took a swig of the beer he had taken out of Harold's fridge. That's it bastard, keep saying shit. Dean said nothing and let Harold dig his grave even deeper.
"He would beg…God, it was so nice to hear him bag," he chuckled, "No matter how much he was fucked, that hole, mm-mmm, it stayed so tight and delicious. You know, funny thing is, every time I showed up, I could see a spark of happiness in his eyes. Wanted to bring, ugh, the little whore here with me, keep him locked up. Keep my personal little sex toy. Never got around to hunting him down…to getting that sweet boy pussy again."
Dean said nothing. He stared at the man. Dean knew what the bastard was doing. He was trying to rile Dean up so he could do something stupid. Joke was on Harold, though, because Dean could see right through him. See, Dean had purposely left the ropes a bit of slack so that he could give Harold a false sense of hope of escaping. Dean gave a dark chuckle which had Harold stop his 'escape.'
"I saw the DVDs, Harold. You're one of the ones that like to use psychological torture. Get inside your victims head; make them believe you're on their side before you hurt them. Fuck, you make them believe that you're their only ally which only makes you even sicker in my watch." He went up to Harold and tightened the ropes, much to his surprise.
"Now, sit tight while I finish." He went back to the table and got a gag. When Harold saw it he shut his mouth tight, not like it'd do any good. Dean held the man's nose shut until he opened his mouth to take a breath. He quickly put on the gag and then went to get something off the table. He showed it to Harold. His eyes widen so large, they looked ready to pop out of his sockets.
"Like it? It's a knee splitter. Commonly used during the Inquisition," he let Harold take a good look at the device. It consisted of two spiked wood blocks which were placed in the back and front of the knees. The blocks were then connected by two large screws which would be turned to close towards each other, destroying the knees.
"You know all those rumors you've probably heard of me and Sam dying and coming back and dying again?" He smiled up at Harold, "They aren't rumors. Just me, well, I've died over a hundred times though I don't remember the majority of them. Last time I dyed, well I'm thinking it as a death, was this last time Sam was looking for me. Killed the head Leviathan, ended up in Purgatory; monster heaven, it was…It was so pure. Kill or be killed; black and white, no gray in between. Anyway, back to my many deaths. When I died a few years ago, I ended up in Hell. Was dead for four months, was downstairs for forty years. I was tortured for thirty of those years and then the last decade," he tightened his eyes while giving Harold a grin, "I did the torturing. I was the Master Torturer's best pupil. Seems I can put to use now."
He tightened the left knee splitter first. Not even the gag could silence the screams Harold was giving. Dean took his sweet time on the first knee, stopping just to hear the pathetic whimpers the filthy asshole gave, only to start again. Just when he finished breaking the first knee completely the jackass fainted.
"Hey none of that, now," he whispered while walking to the table and getting smelling salts. He put them under the tortured man's nose and he woke. Dean smacked Harold's face to finish waking him up and the bound man gave a sob. He seemed to be pleading behind the gag.
"Now, when Sam was pleading you to stop you told him, 'Shh, little boy'…" Dean finished whispering it to Harold's right ear, "'…I'll take care of you. Relax.'"
Dean suddenly tightened the right knee splitter all the way destroying without any hesitation. Harold gave a loud, guttural scream that even with the gag on, the demons standing by the door outside could hear it. When they heard it a chill ran up their spines and they flinched, almost as if they were the ones on the chair.
Harold fainted and this time Dean let him be. He had to prepare for the next round anyway. Dean took out a hammer, a few nails and some thumb screws. He turned to look at the fainted man, who by the way had shit and pissed himself, and couldn't help but feel satisfied with his work. Now for the last part of the phase and he would go after the other ones.
Dean woke Harold up with the salts again and with slaps and kicks. Harold opened his eyes and tears came out of them.
"Oh, is little baby hurting," he mocked, "don't worry, it'll all be over soon. Dean got the thumb screws and then got a hold of one of Harold's hands. He tried to open the clenched fists to get to the fingers but Harold wouldn't let him. Finally, after a few minutes of struggles he was able to put it on the left hand and he got to work. God, as sick as it sounded Harold's muffled screams of agonies was music to Dean's ear. He finished breaking every last one of the man's fingers and got the hammer and nails last.
By the time Dean was finished with the thumbscrews, Harold's eyes were glazed over. Pity, really, he wished he could've gotten some more reactions out of him. Still, doesn't mean he should let the nails go to waste.
"Now, Harold, look at me…" he slapped him a few times until the glazed eyes were staring at him, "since you at least tried to take care of Sam, even if it was in your own twisted way, I'm going to kill you now. Don't worry though, the rest of your friends, they'll be alive to feel even worst torture. It's only been," he looked at his watch, "Six hours since I started with you and now, I'm ending it."
Dean hammered a few nails into Harold's hands, feet, ankles and other sensitive parts until he got the last nail. It was twenty inches long and made of iron. Dean couldn't help it; he gave a grin that would made the dead's blood run colder and pressed lightly on Harold's forehead. With a few hits of the hammers started going in Harold's head. It was slow, the skull protecting the mushy part inside but eventually, it got through and Harold was no more.
OoOoOoOo
Dean opened the door to see four demons standing outside, all of which seemed a little pale.
"Alright boys and girls, I'm finished. Call your Daddy and tell him to get here. I'm going to clean up."
He walked away to the Impala and the demons couldn't help but peek inside; what was left of Harold was so mutilated that it looked like pounded meat.
Both Crowley and Dean watched the cabin burn to the ground. Crowley had seen the body and was rather impressed that the 'Righteous Man' had been able to torture to that extent. He did pity the idiots he was hunting down but, he got a good deal out of this. A few new souls, the demon tablets and watching a Winchester fall into a dark path. He gave a grin; things were looking good.
Yes, I'm spoiling you guys. Here's the first torture scene. Please, I don't usually ask for this, could you guys give me some feedback on how I did. I hope it wasn't too overboard, or it wasn't enough.
Hope you enjoyed.