A/N: Sorry for the cliff-hanger at the end of the Welcome to My World. I fully intended to be quick about posting the first chapter of this series so anyone reading wouldn't have to sit with it long and then life interfered. Also sorry this chapter is a bit short compared to my usual stuff. I had a very specific idea of how I wanted to set this up and adding more just seemed to muddle the tone I wanted to set. I will hopefully get more up soon. This title for this part of the Welcome series comes from Welcome to My Nightmare by Alice Cooper. The first chapter song comes from the song Way Down We Go by Kaleo.

Chapter 1: Way Down

Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve?

Whoa, we get what we deserve

And way down we go

Way down we go

Say way down we go

Way down we go

You let your feet run wild

Time has come as we all, oh, go down

Yeah but for the fall, ooh, my

Do you dare to look him right in the eyes? Yeah

Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark

Yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall

And they will run you down, down 'til you go

Yeah, so you can't crawl no more

And way down we go

Way down we go

Say way down we go

Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'til you fall

Way down we go

Over the first week after the horrible events of New Harmony, Ty called on Castiel every day even though it had taken several days before her sight had returned to normal enough for her to even see him properly. In fact, she'd been nearly blind by the time Castiel had cleared out the remaining demons and entrusted her and Sam to Bobby's care. However, her burning eyes had been nothing compared to the pain of losing Dean. Castiel had insisted that he would take care of the body and ordered Bobby to get them out of there. Sam had almost stabbed them both when they tried to separate him from his brother. In the end, Castiel had to use his power to render Sam unconscious before they could get him out of the house. Ty barely remembered any of it. Just hands guiding her to move and distant voices saying things that didn't matter. All that mattered was that Dean was gone, murdered, and already suffering even further in Hell. It just hadn't made sense to her that any of that could really be true. Everything felt like a terrible dream.

The next thing Ty remembered, Bobby had been shaking her insistently, demanding that she answer him. She had no idea where they were or what had happened to Sam. In hindsight, she was a little ashamed that she hadn't even bothered to ask. Bobby had checked her eyes and asked if she had any other injuries. It had all seemed so stupid and pointless to her, but she'd answered his questions because she didn't know what else to do. It wasn't until after Bobby had satisfied himself that she hadn't suffered any serious injuries and they had sat together in awkward, weighty silence for some time, that he finally did something that pierced the fog of shock that had settled over her. He'd taken her hand and dropped something small on a cord into her palm.

"He would want you to have this." Bobby had said, his voice gruff, but this time with emotion.

Ty had closed her fingers around the object, the cool metal pressing into her skin. Tears had started to stream down her face once again when she realized that it was Dean's amulet, the one he always wore. The edges dug painfully into her palm with how tightly she had gripped the item, but she hadn't cared. Suddenly, all that had mattered was finding a way to get him back and the only thing she could think of that might work was the same thing that had burned out her vision.

She had immediately leapt to her feet and cried out for Castiel, ignoring Bobby's questions and protests. She didn't stop until she heard the sound of wings and felt Castiel's presence in the room.

Ty made the same demand then as she did every time she summoned Castiel over the following days: rescue Dean from Hell, bring him back to her. She'd begged and pleaded with tears in her eyes, she'd screamed and swore while beating her fists against his chest, she'd even threatened the angel although they both knew she posed no real danger to him. Every time Castiel had dodged her request and given her weak excuses about how it wasn't that simple.

After that first week, Sam had had enough. He'd left without a word, which wasn't that unusual for Sam in those days. He'd barely said a word to anyone since regaining consciousness after New Harmony. Mostly he'd just dug through Bobby's library and his liquor cabinet. But it still hurt to discover him gone, like another piece of her life had vanished. Ty knew he'd been scouring Bobby's books looking for some way to save Dean, but Bobby had been right. There was nothing that could pull a soul out of Hell, nothing but an angel, and the only angel they had access to wasn't playing ball. So after a week of listening to Ty trying to convince Cas to do something, Sam had evidently given up on them both. He'd taken the Impala and disappeared, simply leaving a note behind that said not to come after him. Ty knew that if Sam had given up on saving Dean then there was only one other thing that would be on his mind: revenge. She had asked for Bobby's help to find him, worried about the danger he'd get himself into going after Lilith on his own, but neither of them were able to track him down. Sam was too good and he didn't want to be found. It had felt like she'd failed Dean all over again.

For two more weeks, Ty had continued to try to get more from Cas anyway, even though she was losing hope herself with each passing day. It was the way that Cas's shoulders had slumped when he spoke to her, the way he hadn't wanted to look her in the eyes. And then he'd stopped responding to her calls altogether, vanishing from her life like everyone else she cared about: Alex, Sam,...Dean.

After a few weeks of being ignored by Castiel, Ty had found that she couldn't stand staying at Bobby's place any longer. It had been hard enough dealing with the nightmares every night when she finally managed to fall asleep, only to wake with Dean's screams still ringing in her ears and her hand clutching the empty spot on the bed next to her. She hadn't been able to handle facing Bobby, too. On the one hand, it had seemed like it pained him to even look at her, like she was a physical reminder of everything that had gone so wrong. Instead he'd spent most of his time drinking himself into an exhausted stupor. But on the other hand, she hadn't been able to take the sadness and pity in the older man's eyes when he actually did look at her either. She'd told herself she was leaving for the both of them, to escape the empty, heavy silences full of grief that permeated Bobby's home and made her mind wander to memories of Dean. She had steadfastly refused to consider that maybe she was running away before Bobby could leave her like all the rest already had.

She hadn't quite pulled a Sam because she couldn't bring herself to cause Bobby any more pain than he was already experiencing, but she'd wasted no time in making a break for it. She'd ended up in Northern California. It was a familiar stomping ground from her childhood since her dad had often raced horses at the tracks across that part of the state, but it was also far from anywhere she'd been while she'd been hunting. She took a gig doing contract archaeology for an engineering company, researching and checking for archaeological sites ahead of their construction projects. She even rented herself a small apartment. She kept in touch with Bobby, but she told him she wasn't up for hunting. It was a straight-up lie and she suspected he knew it, but he never called her on it.

She couldn't just let it go. It was either be paralyzed by grief or bury it with anger. Especially on the sleepless nights when her regular insomniac tendencies joined forces with her reluctance to relive that awful night in her dreams yet again. So, she did the only thing that seemed to make sense, she devoted herself to tracking down that shifty demon bastard that had stolen the Colt. Unfortunately and much to her frustration, so far she hadn't had much luck in uncovering any leads on the Colt-thief. There was tons of demonic activity thanks to all the demons that had escaped through the open gate to Hell with Lilith, but nothing matched the demon she was looking for.

She tried hard not to think about the Seals that were surely being broken. And when trying not to think about it didn't work, she took a page out of Bobby's book and drank herself to sleep. It wasn't a long-term solution, but it was all she had for now. Without the gun, or Alex, or the Winchesters, what else could she hope to do? She figured if there was any chance of stopping Lilith and maybe saving Sam, it depended on her getting that gun back. And maybe, maybe if she could get the gun back, the gun that she never should have lost, the gun that maybe could have saved Dean if she hadn't been such a worthless screw-up…maybe then she could do something right.

She didn't care how many demons she had to kill to get to him. Giving into the rage, killing those evil bastards, it almost felt good. If she had allowed herself to think about it, she might have wondered if this was how Dean felt after he'd lost his father or how Sam felt, throwing himself into the hunt for Lilith, but she kept those musings at bay. She couldn't think about them anymore than she could think about how, if she was honest with herself, the rage was with herself and it didn't matter how many demons she took it out on, it wasn't going away.

Ty swore under her breath as she shifted the bag of groceries in her arms to rest them on her hip while she struggled to dig her keys out of her pocket. Finally, she managed to extricate them and unlock her door, nudging it open with her shoulder so she could step inside and kick it closed behind her.

"Geez, about time."

Ty froze. Sitting on her kitchen counter was one of her least favorite beings in the universe, casually swinging her legs back and forth. Ty dropped the bag of groceries and automatically started looking for a weapon even though she knew that nothing she had access to would do her much good. Sam had the knife and the Colt was still in the wind.

"How…" Ty began to demand, backing up and reaching behind her for the door knob.

"Did I get in?" the demon, Melchiresa, finished for her, grinning cheekily through the face of the distant cousin of Ty's she'd found and possessed, "Salt lines weren't quite as pristine as you thought. I think you've got a pest problem."

"You can say that again." Ty said dryly. She yanked open the door, "Get out."

The demon hopped off the counter, making a face at her, "Ty! Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"We're not friends. Now, get out." Ty snapped.

Melchiresa ignored her command, tilting her head to one side as she gazed at her, "You changed your hair."

Ty automatically reached a hand up to touch her now much shorter hair. It had grown back a little since she'd sliced it off to get free of the demon in New Harmony, but it still just brushed her shoulders in the front. It turned out using a blade to hack off your own ponytail didn't result in the most even haircut, so she'd recently gone to a salon to try and rectify the situation, but it was still shorter in the back than the front. She couldn't help feeling self-conscious about it even though it was the most miniscule of all the things they had lost that day. And, in a way, it almost seemed fitting that she had left behind something of herself physically, something that Dean himself had commented on and said he liked. Ty frowned as the thought once again crossed her mind that maybe she'd never feel right about having long hair again.

"You know, it's hard to track you down." the demon continued casually when Ty didn't respond, drifting across the kitchen to pull open the door to the fridge and peer inside, "Someone's been covering your tracks."

Ty didn't know what she meant by that. She didn't have one of those hex bags that Ruby had made for the Winchesters. Sure, she'd warded her place, but clearly that hadn't been foolproof. But none of that really mattered. Melchiresa had managed to find her eventually. The old Ty knew that the smart thing to do was to get herself as far from this demon as possible. But ever since New Harmony, since Dean, well…this Ty didn't really care about being smart, which is why this wasn't the first time she'd seen the demon over the past few weeks. She'd summoned her herself, looking for leads. Part of her had even wanted to ask about Dean, but she'd been afraid to hear her answer so she'd continued to do what she'd been doing, focusing on the gun.

Of course, she should have known Melchiresa wouldn't be interested in helping her. She'd jerked her around, tried to talk her into a deal. When she'd brought up Dean, Ty had lost it. She'd launched herself at the demon, not caring whose body she was using, intent on doing damage. Melchiresa had tossed her aside like a ragdoll and vanished. Ty had figured that was the end of it, but here the demon was again, somehow in her apartment, digging through her fridge.

"What do you want?" Ty growled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"At the moment, a decent drink but the contents of your fridge are…disappointing, to say the least." Melchiresa replied, straightening and closing the door. She rolled her eyes at Ty as she moved into the main living space and plopped down on the couch, "Relax. I'm just here to talk. You don't have to stand in the doorway."

"Like I trust a word you say." Ty scoffed, but she reluctantly kicked the door closed again. Despite her words, she did actually believe that Melchiresa didn't intend to hurt her, at least not physically. As long as she still wanted her for a host, she wouldn't hesitate to inflict all kinds of mental torture or even some minor physical trauma, but she wouldn't kill her. Ty was almost certain she'd regret the decision as soon as the words left her mouth, but she went ahead and said, "But fine. Talk."

Melchiresa flashed that infuriating grin again, the one that said clearly that she held all the cards and they both knew it, "Still interested in finding out who has the Colt?"

Sam lifted the bottle to his lips only to find that it was empty. With a sigh, he tossed it aside. The sound it made when it shattered briefly distracted him. Somewhere deep in his mind there was a half-formed thought that maybe whatever had broken inside of him when Dean died had sounded like that. But before he was really even aware of the thought, a groan pulled his attention back to the task at hand.

"Tell me where she is." Sam repeated for what felt like the millionth time. It was to the point where the words almost fell out of his mouth without him even thinking about it. It was just part of the routine. Track down a demon, snag them, torture them for Lilith's location. How long had he been doing this? Well, to answer that question he would first need to know what day it was and he hadn't cared enough to bother with that for a while now.

"I told you, I don't know." the demon replied, his words slurred and garbled by the blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. Still intelligible, though, which meant he could still take more. He could still be lying.

Sam briefly closed his eyes and took a breath. The old Sam might have needed a moment to convince himself that this was the only way, but now…he was just tired. He just wanted it all to end. The world could crash and burn for all he cared, so long as he took out Lilith beforehand. So this Sam just needed a moment to deal with the disappointment and frustration that once again something had decided to keep him from that goal, to force him out of drink-induced numbness and back into this world of pain and misery.

When Sam reopened his eyes, they were no longer unfocused and distant. They were once again filled with the hate and fury that alcohol could only temporarily deaden. The demon caught his gaze and flinched.

"I don't! I swear!" he exclaimed, resuming a fruitless struggle to escape as Sam stalked closer to the chair he was bound to inside the Devil's Trap, "Everyone knows you're looking for her so she's staying out of sight. I don't think anyone's even seen her since…"

The demon stopped abruptly as Sam loomed over him. He'd once heard that the younger Winchester was the softer one, not as much of a problem as the older brother or the father, but that had clearly changed. Now he was hard-pressed to say who was more intimidating, Lilith or Sam Winchester.

"Since when?" Sam demanded, his voice soft and low, but with a clear deadly promise that the dark look on his face underscored.

The demon swallowed. He knew his answer was just going to piss the hunter off even more, but he doubted he had much of a choice, "Since New Haven."

Sam stood frozen for a long moment after the demon spoke. The demon waited anxiously for the other shoe to fall.

"Were you there?" Sam finally demanded. His voice had gone even quieter, but was somehow even more terrifying for it.

"No." the demon answered immediately, "No, but everyone knows about…"

The demon trailed off as Sam's eyes narrowed. He flinched, waiting for the next wave of excruciating pain to land. A long moment passed and the Winchester didn't move. Confused, the demon looked up at him again.

"Seems like you've all been doing a lot of talking." Sam finally spoke, "Why don't you spread this around? Lilith is mine. And I don't care how many demons I need to kill to get to her."

With that, Sam turned his back on the demon and strode to the edge of the Devil's Trap. He knelt for a moment, pulling a knife from his pocket and scratching a break in the seal. The second the seal was broken, the demon fled its host in a roaring surge of black smoke. Sam didn't even bother to glance behind him.

"That wasn't a smart move, Sam."

Sam's gaze shifted to the shadows in the corner of the room, watching as a familiar pale brunette materialized out of them. He shrugged and headed for the door. He really couldn't care less about Ruby's opinion. It was late, but there was bound to be someplace selling alcohol still open somewhere.

Dean wondered idly as his mind drifted in the fog how long he'd been there. It felt like forever. Long enough that he had stopped wasting his breath on threats and curses, begging and pleading, or even screams and whimpers. Even silent tears or flinching seemed to be a thing of the past now. It wasn't that it didn't hurt anymore. It hurt. Hurt in ways he'd never imagined. Hurt in ways that he couldn't describe. It was just that, at a certain point, his body and his brain both seemed to have reached critical mass when it came to the pain. Pain was the new normal.

Everything from before the pain was just a hazy, distant memory. Maybe it wasn't even a memory. Maybe it was just a delusion, planted there to make the torture more effective in comparison. He'd spent so long trying to hold on to memories of his life before this, but maybe that had been a mistake. Maybe if he just let them go, forgot about Ty and Sam and everyone else he'd ever known, maybe then…

No, it was pointless to even allow himself to think about it. He should know by now. It didn't matter what he said or did or even thought. It wasn't going to stop. It never stopped.

In the beginning, he'd held out hope that maybe this wasn't what it seemed, that he wasn't being mercilessly tortured by his own father. No, this had to just be a necessary part of the plan. This had to happen while the demons were watching, particularly that sadistic asshole, Alistair, who acted like he was John's best drinking buddy, but once an opportunity presented itself, then his dad would stop and reveal how they would escape.

But it didn't happen. Instead, Alistair would clap John on the shoulder and congratulate him on another good day's work and they would walk away, leaving Dean wallowing in his own blood and guts until they returned to start in on him again. And that was the thing about it. It didn't matter what they did to him because at the start of every new day (as much as there were days here), his body would somehow have pieced itself back together so they could find some new way to tear it apart.

When the hope that his dad was just playing along until he could find a way to save him finally died, Dean began to wonder why. In some ways, questioning why his dad would do this to him hurt more than the blades and wicked tools he applied. Had Dean done something to deserve this? Or had his father always hated him and he was just too stupid to realize it until now?

But now…now he wondered why he'd thought it even mattered? Dean's thoughts drifted and his vision started to blur. He recognized the signs of encroaching oblivion, the one thing he ever had to look forward to in this place.

"Dean. Dean!" John snapped, leaning over him where he was strapped down on the rack until Dean was forced to meet his disapproving gaze, "Don't you pass out on me, son. I thought you were tougher than that."

The old Dean, back when he was still alive, would have had a snappy comeback. Dean from the early days of Hell might have tried something, anything to end the torture even if it meant his own extinction. But the Dean he was now barely blinked, barely even processed his father's words. If he was completely honest, he wasn't entirely sure how much Dean was even left in him. Maybe that's what they were really carving out of him. Hadn't Ruby once told him something like that? Maybe they were digging in deep to pry out every last hidden ounce of who he was. Maybe when it was all gone, maybe then…